when harvest comes, and already complain bitterly of the ingratitude of those for whom they have sometimes found work at a loss to themselves.
However, it is a law of the universe that wrong done must be avenged. Strange, perhaps, that it should be so rarely avenged on those who did it. "The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge." Happy they who suffer for their own faults; they are the favoured few. So now the present race of farmers, the present race of landlords, nay, the nation at large, will have to suffer for the accumulated wrongs endured by the agricultural poor of this land for generations.
Just as I left Wellesbourne I met two infirm men, creeping in the sunshine, one after the other. They were not very old, not older than the century. At such an age, in the higher walks of life, men manage empires and command armies, and travel from Dan to Beersheba; and yet at threescore years and ten the grasshopper was a burden to these poor worn-out field labourers.
They subsisted, so they said, on 3s. a week, allowed by their club, supplemented by 1s. and a loaf from the parish. Out of this they paid a guinea a year subscription to the club, and provided lodging, clothes, etc.
On what did they live?
They bought half a pound of pig meat or mutton once a week, a bit of lard, and some bread.
What did they have to drink?
"Taay—nothing but taay."
"A half-pint of beer a day 'ud strengthen us up, but we can't get it; taay is poor stuff."
The elder or taller had had eight children, and had buried five.
What did they die of?
He could hardly tell. Decline one died of—that he knew; it was what they call "consumpted decline."
The other had performed his part in adding to the stock of society, but it brought him no pecuniary benefit, for his children had enough to do to keep themselves, and the old father evidently felt no surprise that they did not help him. Both hoped, as it was natural they should, to be soon in a better land.
