160 CHRONICLES OF A" CLAY FARM. 



as we remarked this morning. Rents rising, and 

 prices falling ! ' 



' Aye ! and the farmer's business getting wuss 

 every year. 'Tisn't like what it used to be.' 



' Just so ! and competition keeping up the rents 

 notwithstanding ! ' 



' Aye ! that Competition ! It didn't use to be so. 

 And what is it after all ? No sooner a Farm's 

 vacant than a hundred fellows come yelping after it 

 like a pack-o'-hounds, offering a high rent, and not 

 one of 'em perhaps with the valye of a team o' horses 

 of his own, scarce : and when they get in, what do 

 they do ? Crop every field that '11 bear a crop, sell 

 all off for a few years, and then leave it clean 

 beggared, and the landlord without his last year's 

 rent p'rhaps.' 



e No Turnips they take no root, Greening !' 



( Turnips ! they've no stock to give 'em to ! 

 What's the use o' them growing Turnips ? that's not 

 their sort o' business.' 



' And they outbid the honest cultivator, and the 

 skilful one : in fact they can afford to do so, because 

 they can afford to rob : just as though a man offered 

 you a higher rent for your house, meaning to sell off 

 the furniture.' 



