Village Ind^ls tries 59 



not understand how to mend many of these new-fangled 

 machines, but they have learned a good deal, though some 

 of the pieces still have to be replaced from the implement 

 factories if broken. Horses come trooping in to have new 

 shoes put on. Sometimes a village blacksmith acquires a 

 fame for shoeing horses which extends far beyond his forge, 

 and gentlemen residing in the market towns send out their 

 horses to him to be shod. He still uses a ground-ash 

 sapling to hold the short chisel with which he cuts off the 

 glowing iron on the anvil. He keeps bundles of the 

 young, pliant ground-ash sticks, which twist easily and are 

 peculiarly tough ; and, taking one of these, with a few 

 turns of his wrist winds it round the chisel so as to have a 

 long handle. One advantage of the wood is that it ' gives ' 

 a little and does not jar when struck. 



The tinker, notwithstanding his vagrant habits, is 

 sometimes a man of substance, owning two or more small 

 cottages, built out of his savings by the village mason 

 the materials perhaps carted for him free by a friendly 

 farmer. When sober and steady, he has a capital trade : 

 his hands are never idle. Milk-tins, pots, pans, &c., con- 

 stantly need mending ; he travels from door to door, and 

 may be seen sitting on a stool in the cart-house in the 

 farmyard, tinkering on his small portable anvil, with 

 two or three cottagers' children sturdy, yellow-haired 

 youngsters intently watching the mystery of the craft. 



In spite of machine-sewn boots and their cheapness, 

 the village cobbler is still an institution, and has a con- 

 siderable number of patrons. The labourers working in 

 the fields need a boot that will keep out the damp, and for 

 that purpose it must be hand-sewn : the cobbler, having 

 lived among them all his life, understands what is wanted 

 better than the artisan of the cities, and knows how to stud 



