LAND & WATER 
Jarmary 17, iQiS 
down upon xne crcfping thing^i di'^inti^rrpd from their home 
HI thf earth bv the a<;tion of thf pkiu{<h. 
■ Ihe buy do pldigh a straight \ iirrow to'ard and vrom'ard," 
<;aid the old man. " Thougli aw never did win prizes as 
J'vi- a done. 1 mind I won a silver cup against dirty-dree 
ploughmen in the year vivty-ftve." 
No one heeded these thrice-told tale5 of his former prowess, 
and he relapsed into an old man's silent reveries. Ho turned 
the handle of the swede-cutter with slow revolutions, hi.s 
shoulders bowed,- his chest narrowed, and his right foot ad- 
\'anced before his left. His breath came short with each turn 
•1 the wheel, so. that he stood like one of. the I<"ates spinning 
each moment of his o\\7i existence. Tliere was something 
marmoreal in the concentration of his pose, as though man 
and machine were one. A shambling, ill-constructed youth 
named Jacob Fox was engaged in feeding the hopper with its 
supply of purple roots, which he did at irregular intervals. 
trrst trimming them with a knife, so that the receptacle was 
sometimes full and sometimes empty ; the ancient man, un- 
mindful <>f these gaps, continued to turn blindly like an old 
woman who drops her stitches. 
William Tuck, who sat on a milk-stool splitting hazel- 
sticks with a bill-hook, rose up and looked down at the 
heap of hairpin-shapad " .spekcs " he had prepared for the 
thatcher. He stretched his dorsal muscles and emitted a 
low whistle. 
" E.Ktra fatigues I calls it," he commented. " I wish I was 
a solfljer again. 1 can't abide the vittles ye folk gets at home. 
This war bread be like the prodigal son's— it be full of the 
Juisks that the twine did ear." 
' Aye," said the old man, meditatively, roused from his 
mechanical trance. " There'll be a mort of pjg-killing this 
year, I do think. There ain't no offals for 'em. And where 'nil 
us get our bacon arterwards?" ' 
" True, old Jarge. The Germans 'uUhave a sight ninr.' o' 
pii^-meat than us, I 'm thinking." 
' And how do ye figure that out, William Tuck ? 
" They'ir eat one another." 
At this Jacob Fox turned a horrified look upon the speaker. 
The latter noted it with mischievous satisfaction, and pro- 
ceeded to enlarge upon his theme. 
■-Yes, they hev a corpse factory where they boils all the 
dead corpses down into dripping to make lardy-cakes. But 
they always keeps the spare-rib for the officers." 
■ That be an ungodly thing to do," siiid the old man., 
" Tve heerd that eatin' live frogs is good for the consumption 
but to eat mortal man — come, now. William Tuck, thee 
cassn't Ijelave such things Though I do remember a 
miss 'nary from the~ cannon ball islands as did say something 
of the kind. Be the Germans black men, William Tuck? ' 
■' Aye, when they're dead. In hot weather. Sometimes 
they tunis green." 
" .\w well, dog eats dog. You must a seen a mort o' dead 
corpses, V\'illiam Tuck." 
" Aye, that I have. Hunderds. Thousands. Stuck my 
entrenching tool into 'em, same as I might this bill-hook into 
Jacob Fox here." 
" Let him bide, the poor natural. Cassn't thee see he's 
all of a twitter ? It do mind me o' when I wur a digging 
up on l.ongbarrow Down for a partv of gentlefolk with glasses 
on their noses, what were studying heathen larning. They 
were all round us with their tails tip, same as if we were digging 
out an old \i.\en and thev a waiting for a kill. I strikes a 
sarsen stone with my pick, and lo and behold ! there was a 
skeHington a sitting up a-waiting the Day of judgment. 
And he had a lot o' flint tools with him to help liim cut his 
Way out when aw 'eers the Last Trump. It did seem an 
imchristian thing to disturb the poor soul. I used ter double 
lock my door for a month o£ nights after that, thinking he 
was outside asking for a lodging. ' I never would do any more 
fliggmg for those ould 'newsy ' folk— a-poking their noses 
into other people's sepulchcrs. There be lots of 'em up there 
Romans an Britons and other heathen folk— all a-waitin"-' 
1 do often think what a lot of 'em be waiting like that out m 
|7.'!"'"^"PP°^ ^'^"'^- 1^0 they give 'em Christian burial, 
William luck.' 
" Znmtimes. They has 'em all registered like parish clerk 
-- rf they can fmd 'em." 
'• I once peeped over Church-yard wall and saw par.^n 
i-burymg, uiterrupted Jacob Fox, as though an.xious to show 
that he, too, had assisted on such ceremonial occasions 
Aw wore a white surplus and 'aw said ; 
• .\shes to ashes, dust to dust, 
If God won't have ye the <le\'il'nnist ! ' " 
" True, most true, and well spoken," said old Jarge " But 
I do think ye've got it a bit mixed up jn that mazv poll o' 
yourn, Jacob Fox-. Not but what it bjdn't a vefy rfous 
.sentiment Death and the powers of darkness do seem 
to l)e abroad in the land. And signs 'and portents I do 
jnmd me as the ver>- night avore Abigail Hunt got news of 
the death of her youngest lad in tlie war I was a-zitting up 
and 1 -.uddt nly 'errs a bat tapping at the winder. And 1 
looks up, and behold ! there was a winding-sheet in tiiecandl<:. 
And 1 knowed as ziimone was took." . . 
The conversation was interrupted by the entrance pf tlie 
toilers of the fields. The head of Levi Godbehere, a gaunt, 
sinew\' man, appeared in tlie doorway. He was a silent man 
soured by domestic strife, and he placed his seed-lip down on 
the ground without a word. He was immediately followed bv 
the thatcher, who was reputed to be a " warm '' man with a 
Post (.)Hice Sa\ings Book, and was respected accordingly as a 
great authority on high finance. Each proceeded to pull 
out of his capacious pocket a large spotted handkerchief, which, 
when unfolded, disclosed thick slices of bread and cheese. 
The thatcher's rations were further distinguished by the 
presence of a piece of fat bacon. Each of the others in turn 
produced his mid-day meal and they all sat down, slowly 
masticating t heir food like a cow chewing the cud. 
This ritualistic silence was broken l)y the entrance of 
Daniel Newth, who proceeded to remove two large incrustations 
of loamy brown soil from his lx)ots. They remained on the 
lloor bearing an exact imprint of liis hob-nailed soles. 
" Well, neighbours," he said, sociably, " toime to hev' 
a bite and sup. Let's eat, drink and be merry, for to-morrow 
we tightens our belts. If this war goes on we shall all be 
turned out to grass. There won't be nothing else to eat. We 
starves the beasts and they'll end by starving' us. There's 
mighty little oil-cake for the cattle, and no barley-meal fo* 
the pigs, and next to no maize for the jxiultry. There'll 
be as girt a slaughter of beasts as there is of men, and what 
then? Hey, neighbours ? " 
" A solemn thought, Dan'l. A solemn thought, 'tis," 
ruminated the old man. " There's Blackacre Field as hev' 
been under roots these seven j^ear, and is now gi\'en over to 
whate, and what 'uU the cattle do for winter vittles then ? 
Die they must like burnt offerings — 'tis a sacrifice, sure it 
is. It do mind me o' the old times, when I saw finly liieat 
once a week. But there'll be a powerful lot of bread, there 
^\ill. Varmcr be ploughing up pasture. There's ' little 
Scotland ' field as was laid down in '79— the year o' the 
great blight when corn fell to vorty-drec shillin' a quarter, and 
the cattle rotted in the fields. A terrible year that was ! It 
rained vort^y. days and vorty nights and the corn sprouted 
in tlie shocks, and cows and sheep ^ot the vluke in the liver 
and wasted away, like a .maid in a decline. .\nd half the 
farmers in the parish was sold up. 'Once bit, twice shy, ' 
says t'others, and they turned all tlieir arable into pasture. 
And now they've got to plough it i\|) again. Well, 'tis an 
ill wind as blows no one any good. It'll be a tidy time for 
ploughmen. There's Dan'el as gets twenty-nine shillin' a 
week. I've a-ploughcd a hacre a day in my toime with two 
liorses and only got twelve shillin' for it. And C)i could drive 
as straight a vurrow as any man. in the parish." 
" Aye, that you could, veyther," said Daniel Newth, 
propitiatingly. " We do all know as you could." 
" Y'es, and sow too. I do mind as how a.fore these seed- 
drills corned in Ive a-zowed tlcvon acres of rye, which is 
elc\'cn sacks, in a day. Rye takes .some zowing-^sliort steps, 
and a full liandful from the seed-lip for each step. . . .Y'e've 
an easy job ploughing this year, Dan'l, after the roots, 'i'hose 
roots have Ijeen hoed clane of charlock and clytes and couch, 
and ye've no skim-ploughing to do.. Them lands arc as clane 
as my hand." 
" Well, there'll be a good time coming for Eli Ruddick," 
said the ploughman. " He'll be thatching day in, day out, 
next year. Ye'll be buying liousen zoon, Eli. Ye must 
have saved a tidy bit. What do 'ee put it in, if 1 may so ax ? " 
" I lends it to government," said Eli Kuddick, shortly. 
" Well, it be better than laying yer talents up in a napkin," 
said the old man reflectively, " But what I zays is, ' Spend 
it as quick as yer can.' 'Tis tlie end of, the world coming, 
sure it is, when all earthly things 'uU pass away. Or lend it 
to the Lord. I did put an extra penny in the plate last Sunday . ' ' 
" A good hinvestment, old Jarge," said Levi Godbehere, 
gloomily breaking his long silence. " A good investment it 
be. ^ e gets a hundred per cent, on it. I do mind that hymn 
they sings in church when the sidesmen comes round with 
^ the plate all looking t'other way. aiicl pretending not to sec 
the trouscr-buttons what some folks drops in. How do it 
go? 
' \Vliate\-er, Lord, we gives to Thee 
Kcpaid a hundredfold 'iiU be.' " 
" Well, us brought nothing into this world, and us can take 
nothing out. Though 1 suppose the Almighty 'ull allow 
William Tuck to keep his wooden leg. . . .How be getting on 
Mi' that leg o' yourn, William Tuck ? " said the old man, for 
whom the soldi<ir's. wooden limb had an inexhaustible fasci- 
nation. 
" It be a useful tool to hev ! A very useful tool. Oi can 
plant taters wi' un. , . .Them doctors can do most wonderful 
