THE DAILY LIFE OF OUE FARM. 197 



apple heap with which ordinarily the Herefordshire 

 farmer (myself amidst the number) is content — the 

 fiTiit is gathered and spread eighteen inches deep, and 

 occasionally fenced about with wattled hurdles, then 

 upon these heaps, if you are curious and take a pipe 

 and spend the forenoon sitting on the bar of the chaff- 

 cutter to look on ; why, the geese waddle, and — why, 

 what don't they do ? then the hens pick daintily here 

 and there, and the dirty-footed duck tribe go dabbling 

 in with inquisitorial beaks, and the old sow, too, steals 

 an occasional crunch. 



Eh dear 1 to think what reversions of fortune the 

 crop has gone through before its yield is committed to 

 the cask, and after all it is really good stuff; very 

 grateful to the senses, especially that one of taste (the 

 liquor being new), and what's more — it's very odd — but 

 the system on an apple-growing soil seems to require 

 it. I am one of those who hold out against the truck 

 plan of paying my labourers so much in money and so 

 much in drink. The arrangement is deplorable. Give 

 the poor fellows their full share of the coin of the realm, 

 and let them buy from your cellar what they feel they 

 require and can afford, and you'll be surprised what a 

 little they content themselves with ; and then what a real 

 pleasure it is to you to find that their family is better 

 off, and you are not disappointed when you have a cask 

 a trifle tart, which must be emptied before next year. 

 It is a pleasure to reward men who have denied them- 

 selves ; and the slightly acetous drink is more grateful 

 to their taste as a rule, and more serviceable to their con- 

 stitution than the sweet readily-saleable drink. Problems 

 there are on every soil ; and a stout problem here is 

 the question of drink. The water of this district, at 



