92 CHRONICLES OF A CLAY FARM. 



"Well, now suppose I were to put it as a sort 

 of history of this Farm, as it was, and as it is, a 

 sort of chronicle call it the 'Chronicle of a Clay 

 Farm'?" 



"Oh that's capital! Lord how I should like to 

 see it : that 'ould be summat like, that would ! none 

 o' them there long words about Chemists and Drug- 

 gists and Doctors' stuff, as if farmers was a parcel o' 



old women, like my poor old Missus oh ! thank 



you kindly Sir for what you sent her, it did her a 

 sight o' good, she was able to eat her vittles better 

 arterwards than she 's done for many a day 



" But you won't believe I can doctor the field and 

 give that an appetite, eh Dobson?" 



"Well I don't know I ben't no scollard, Sir 

 one thing however, you've tapped the dropsy on it, 

 for one thing, that 's sartin !" 



" And you '11 believe the other when you 've seen it. 

 Well, good night Dobson ! " 



And with a hearty t good night ' in return, trudges 

 poor old Dobson home from his hard and wet day's 

 work, with none the heavier heart or less elastic tread 

 for a few cheery words to enliven the dull blank of 

 the body's labour, and illuminate for a moment that 

 hateful chasm that lies too broad and forbidding 



