CHAPTER V.

Thus Bo Peep lost her sheep, leaving these fleecy tail-bearers to come home solitary to the accustomed fold. She did but humble herself before the manifestation of a Wessex necessity.

And Fate, sitting aloft in the careless expanse of ether, rolled her destined chariots thundering along the pre-ordained highways of heaven, crushing a soul here and a life there with the tragic completeness of a steam-roller, granite-smashing, steam-fed, irresistible. And butter was churned with a twang in it, and rustics danced, and sheep that had fed in clover were "blasted," like poor Bonduca's budding prospects. And, from the calm nonchalance of a Wessex hamlet, another novel was launched into a world of reviews, where the multitude of readers is not as to their external displacements, but as to their subjective experiences.

[THE END.

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"THE LAST STRAW."--For further particulars apply to the gleaners.

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THE WEATHER AND THE CROPS.--_Note._ Always have your hair cut very short in the hottest weather.

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GARDENING AMUSEMENT FOR COLWELL-HATCHNEY.--Spinning turnip tops.

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ADVICE TO THE FARMER.--Keep your weather eye open.

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AT A CATTLE MARKET

AN AUTUMN REMINISCENCE

SCENE--_A large open space near a cathedral town. Fat old farmers in white hats, and smart young farmers in Newmarket coats and neat riding boots; elderly shepherds in blue, grey, and white smocks. From time to time there is a stampede of bewildered bullocks, whose hind legs are continually getting hitched over each other's horns. Connoisseurs lean over pen-rails and examine pigs reverently, as if they were Old Masters. Others prod them perfunctorily. The pigs bear these inconveniences meekly, as part of the penalty of greatness. Sheep look over one another's shoulders and chew nervously on one side of their mouths._

BY THE PIG-PENS

_First Enthusiast._ Did y' iver see sech a sow as that theer? _I_ niver did, and (_aggressively_) naw moor _yo'_ didn't neither, 'Enery, _did_ ye now?

_'Enery_ (_unimpressed_). I doan't see naw 'dvantage in heving pigs so big as that theer.

_First Enth._ Big! She's like a elephant. _Theer's_ a lop ear now--weighs thutty-four stoan if she weighs a hounce, she do!

[_The sow grunts complacently._

_'Enery._ Ah. I 'ad one loike 'er, I 'ad. Eat three bucketsful a day, she did, and (_with a sense of unforgettable injury_) mis'able little pegs she 'ad with it all!

_Second Enth._ I go in fur Berkshire myself, but Sussex are very good; they scale so much better 'n they look; _full_ o' flesh they are--weigh a good stun moor nor ye'd take 'em fur, and then they cut _up_ so well! (_With a dreamy tenderness._) Yes, I'm fond o' they Sussexes, I am--_very_ fond of 'em!

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_A Dealer_ (_trying to dispose of a litter of small black pigs_). Seven good ole stiddy little pigs! I don't care '_oo_ buys 'em (_as if he usually required the strictest testimonials to character_). I _must_ sell 'em. Pig-buyin' to-day, sir? You'd _better_ 'ave that little lot, sir.

[_Persuasively, to a passer-by, who however appears to think he had much better not._

BY THE SHEEP-PENS

_Intending Purchaser_ (_to Seller_). What d'ye carl them yoes now? Southdowns?

[_He fixes his eyes on the cathedral spire, and awaits the next move._

_Seller_ (_after watching a rook out of sight, stirs up the sheep meditatively, and decides on candour_). Well--bout aaff an' aaff.

_Int. Purch._ Old yoes--well, ye know, 'taint like _young_ yoes, _be_ it now?

_Seller_ (_when he has finished shredding tobacco in the palm of his hand_). That's true enough.

_Int. Purch._ I dunno as I can do wi' any moor shep just now, if 'twas iver so.

_Seller_ (_listlessly_). Cann't ye, now? Theer's bin a genl'man from Leicestershire 'ere, wawntin' me to run 'im off a dozen or so--fur his perrk, d'ye see?

_Int. Purch._ (_with unaffected incredulity_). Ah.

[_A protracted silence, employed by each in careful inspection of his boots._

_Seller_ (_addressing space_). They're a tidy lot o' yoes.

_Int. Purch._ (_as if this was a new view of them, which would require consideration_). Come off o' your own farm?

_Seller._ Druv 'em in myself this very marnin'.

_Int. Purch._ Ah. (_A pause apparently spent in mental calculation._) What might ye be askin' for 'un now?

_Seller._ For them yoes?

_Int. Purch._ Ah.

_Seller_ (_falls into a brown study, from which he at length emerges to tap the nearest ewe on the forehead and expectorate_). I wawnt five-an'-twenty shellin' a yead for them yoes.

_Int. Purch._ Five-an'-twenty?

_Seller._ Ah, that's what _I_ wawnt.

[_A longer silence than ever._

_Int. Purch._ I s'pose ye aint seen ole Jim 'Arrows 'bout 'ere this marnin', hev ye?

[_After some further preliminaries of this kind the moment at length arrives at which a bargain can be struck without any suggestion of unbecoming haste on either side._

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_First Rustic_ (_just out of the County Hospital_). An' they putt me under that theer chlorryfum--an' I simmed to go right oop into 'Evin--yes, I wur oop in 'Evin fur a toime, sure 'nough.

_Second Rustic_ (_with interest_). An' did ye 'ear a pianner?

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_Elderly Farmer_ (_who is being applied to for the character of his late shepherd_). No, I never 'ad no fault to find wi' the fellow--(_conscientiously_) not as I knows on. He unnerstan's shep--I will say _that_ fur 'en--he's a rare 'un at doctorin' of 'em, too. An' a stiddy chap an' that, keps a civil tongue in 'is yead, and don't go away on the booze. No, _I_ aint got nawthen' to say 'gainst th' man.

_The Inquirer._ Would ye hev any objection to sayin' why ye're partin' wi' en?

_Eld. F._ Well, I dunno as theer was any partickler _reason_ for 't. (_He endeavours to think of one in a puzzle-headed way._) I s'pose I must ha' thowt I'd make a bit of a shift like--and theer ye hev it.

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_First Stock-breeder_ (_to Second_). Well, an' how's Muster Spuddock to-day?

_Muster Spuddock._ Oh, 'mong th' middlins--'mong th' middlins. Pretty well fur an old 'un.

_First Stockbr._ An' how's trade with _you_, eh?

_Muster Sp._ (_beaming_). Oh, nawthen' doin'--nawthen' doin' 't all!

_First Stockbr._ (_with equal cheerfulness_). Same _'ere_, sir--same 'ere. On'y thing that's got money has been th' dead meat.

_Muster Sp._ (_without appearing to envy the dead meat on this account_). Ah, that's it. Ye cann't reckon on moor nor thrippence,--an' your own expenses, i' coorse.

_First Stockbr._ An' _thet_'s borderin' nigh on fowerpence; an' when it comes to two pound a bullock----!

[_They shake their heads with an unsuccessful attempt to look lugubrious at these cryptic considerations._

_Muster Sp._ Well, well; sheep food's goin' to be plentiful, too, right up to Christmas.

_First Stockbr._ That's the way to look on it.

[_They go off to dine at the ordinary, with a sense that matters might be worse._

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AGRICULTURAL.--The poorest farmer in the land, if unable to feed his calves, can always graze his shins.

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AT THE CATTLE SHOW.--_Young Farmer._ "Are you fond of beasts, Miss Gusherton?"

_Miss Gusherton._ "Oh, really, Mr. Pawker, if you mean that as a declaration, you must speak to mamma!"

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SYMPATHY.--_Giles_ (_ruefully_). "Villiam, I've been an' gone an' 'listed!"

_William._ "Lor'! 'ave yer, though? Got the shillin'?"

_Giles._ "Yes."

_William._ "Well, then, let's go an' 'ave a glass at the 'Barley-Mow.' Don't let's be down'earted!"

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FAMILY JARS.--_Joan._ "The _idear_ of Susan's askin' John to William's funeral, after the way 'e'd beyaved! I shouldn't certainly ever _dream_ of askin' 'im to _yours_!"

_Darby._ "_What!_ Then all _I_ can say is, I should be very much offended if you _didn't_!"

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LIVE STOCK.--_Little Miss Townley._ "Was that honey we had at breakfast 'home-made,' Mr. Stubbs?"

_Farmer Stubbs._ "Why, surely, missy."

_Little Miss T._ "Oh! Then I suppose you _keep a bee_?"

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HOW MINERS OUGHT TO SWEAR.--"I'll take my Davy."

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THE HARVEST OF CRIME.--The convict reaps the reward of his iniquity in the county crop.

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BOON COMPANIONS!--_Bargee_ (_to Rustic_). "What! Ge-arge!" (_Rustic grins in response._)

_Bargee._ "I'm allus main glad to see thee, Ge-arge."

_Rustic._ "Whoy?"

_Bargee._ "'Cause I know there must be a public-'ouse close by!"

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CONTENTMENT.--_Giles._ "A happy New Year to you, marm, and I hope you'll be as lucky this year as I was last."

_Lady._ "Oh, thank you very much, Giles; but you surely forget that you lost your wife in the spring and broke your leg in the summer."

_Giles._ "Yes, but t'other leg's all right, and as for paw Soosan, it might have been I to be took instead."

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POETRY OF NATURE.--When mist falls upon the earth, and freezes, it forms rime.

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_Customer._ "You told me that 'oss 'ad won a dozen matches agin some o' th' best 'osses in the county. Why 'e can't trot a mile in ten minutes to save 'is life."

_Dealer._ "I didn't say 'e could. You never asked me what sort o' matches. It was in ploughin' matches 'e took the prizes!"

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BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.