THE NATURAL MAN 245 



dearth ; but what splendid physical manhood an Eng- 

 lish farming village, one of tilth and pasture mingled, 

 still can show ! To take part in an election the 

 farmer lent his men a great waggon and a pair of 

 cart horses; and before sundown they started for 

 the neighbouring village three or four miles off to 

 cast their votes. They took some cans of beer with 

 them, and had drained these dry enough ere turning 

 home. But they were not greatly in liquor when, 

 the votes cast and the groups about the polling- place 

 broken up, they crowded back into the waggon. They 

 were full of heart and careless good humour, and 

 at one accord broke into a loud song that seemed 

 all rollicking chorus, in spirit like an old west 

 country favourite, " The Jolly Waggoner," with plenty 

 of refrain in it about " working men." 



I watched the great horses as they clanked and 

 stamped up the little slope, starting very slowly. The 

 last trace of colour had worn out in the west, Venus 

 was lit over the trees, all the landscape in mono- 

 chrome. The burly frames of the singers silhouetted 

 against the sky, and it was fine to see the movements 

 of their arms, swinging to the music, a rude rhythm 

 in the action. There was one, and one only, who 

 could have set this grand scene of the earth-worker 

 on his canvas, the Titan among those who have 

 painted peasant toil, Jean Francois Millet. Science 

 in our public affairs, book-learning general among 

 all classes of our people, are great things no doubt ; 



