18 THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 



that the lovely budding — a very sea of blossom — came 

 to nothing after all. Nay, and worse still, even they 

 that did not thus 



** Unbeseem the promise of their spring," 



— the ripened apples — they do not keep ; there is that 

 within, which preys upon the damask of their cheek. 



Would that this failure of the apple crop were a 

 turning point in the cider nuisance question ! The 

 quantity these native people drink — no matter how 

 vile, how muddy, or how sour — the destruction it is to 

 their energy, most sure forerunner of rheumatism, 

 grand cause of constant listlessness, and ultimately, too 

 often, of mental alienation : — it is the very curse of the 

 country ; for, after all, they value it no more than 

 water, and scarce thank you for the giving : but of this 

 more again. I am thankful that I have been followed 

 by Welshmen, who do not appreciate the drink any 

 more than Herefordshire would their potatoes and 

 buttermilk, that most delicious of all food to the bom 

 Cymry. The worst is, they do not associate enough 

 with their Saxon neighbour. Yet, hereabouts, is it 

 scarcely English. The names of places bespeak their 

 old nationality, and at the post-office there is a notice 

 in the language of ancient Britain. 



But somehow or other there seems no affinity at 

 heart between the respective races. They run distinct, 

 as the waters of the Moselle down the enclosing but not 

 intermingling Rhine. And yet, after all, one cannot 

 be quite vexed : there is a something comforting in the 

 clanship that yet undoubtedly keeps up its head amidst 

 the natives of the Principality. Travel anywhere you 

 wish, and, if English, you will get, I fear, but scant 



