Memoirs of a Surrey Labourer

nal matter relating to Bettesworth was recorded; it just suffices to

th the dazzling drops into which the sunshine had converted the rime of the dawn. Most of these drops appeared blinding white, but now and again there would come from them a sparkle of flame-red or a glisten of emerald, or, best of all, a flash of earnest burning blue, as if the morning sky itself were liquefying on the bare b

arden had been cheered by the companionship of a robin. How often he remarked, "You may do anything you mind to with 'n, but you mawn't hand

ge of the grass. And as we stood to admire, "There's a little chap!" he exclaimed exultantly. Then he took up his shovel to resume work near the tree, and "Little Bob" hopped down, every minute picking up something to swallow. I could not see what tiny morsels the bird was fin

for all one could hear to the contrary, might have come from some distance behind or beside us, and co

er a man's at work there's sure to be a robin find him out. I've noticed it often. If I bin at work in the woods, a robin 'd come, o

then: "I don't hear no starlin's about. 'Relse, don

o do with the absence of the starlings, and Bett

the servant opens the door, she" (the cat) "is out, prowlin' all round. And she don't mind the cold; you see, she liked the snow-played with it. Now

hey was to close to-morrow" (Saturday, the day of Queen Victoria's funeral), "out of respect to our Queen's memory. 'T least, they're requested to-en't forced to. But

ls me he put them in overright Mr. Watson's forty-five years ago, and look what trees they be now! They terrible wanted to cut 'em down when th

time there was talk of the doctor, whom he had seen going down the lane on a bicycle, and had warned against trying to cross the stream, which the coming of the mild weather ha

that when he went to get it on this same glistening morning the butcher commended him for coming early, because "people was reg'lar runnin' after him for 'em." So early was he that the bullock had not been killed an hour, and he had to wait while they s

the first afternoon of March I noticed Bettesworth's "mate" with him again, "twiddlin'," as usual; but I fancied and said that he looked larger than before, and Bettesworth suggested that perhaps he was living better-getting more food. Then I thought that the robin's crest seemed more feathery, and was told at once, "That shows

There was a neglected grass plot, never mown before save with the scythe, over which he tried this spring to run the machine. But failing, an

ocks of this grass. "Why, even down there where I bin cuttin', see how she took they cuds i

ufts of grass, which only persistent rolling

to the longest days. Here the record alights for a moment, just long enough to show a wet mid-June, and Bettesworth keenly alive to the duties of husbandmen in it. He glanced down towards

i' that little bit o' hay dow

the previous day, as I ventured to su

to cover his rick over. He'd heared it rainin'. Why, he might ha' bin aslee

ack to the past harvest, a glance round at the earliest autumn prospects, and a strange suggestion of the first-class importan

e were inclined to fear, it had certainly ruined sundry sowings of

lives over here at this cot" (the brother, that is, of Porter, who lives over here), "he bin down to Sussex harvestin' for the same man I worked for so many years. Seven weeks. But then he bin hoein'....

was 'long with 'n. Seven weeks he" (which?) "was away, but it seems he had a bit of a miff with his wife, and went off unbeknownst to her. She went to th

was

n a brick-works. And she thought very likely as he was gone off in

cause of the picture it calls up. I remember a very still Saturday afternoon, a sky curtained by quiet cloud, the air mot

with extra care, and on this afternoon had taken the sweepings into the

he says." He mimicked a high-pitched and affected voice. "'Mister Bourne,' I says. 'Iss he a gentilman?' she says. 'You don't s'pose he's a l

who the

people to be inquisitive. What should she want to know all about you for? Might ha' knowed

they doing

e that! Silly questions! I don't see what people wants to ast 'em for. She went off 'long o' the man, hu

us to November, and shows us Bettesworth proposing to himself a task appropriate to the season. The sap was dying down in the trees; the fruit bushes had lost t

again in rotation"-in a straight row, he meant, as he went on to exp

agged about, were duly moved, and stand to this day in a line. At th

a constant animosity. His patient sweepings and grumblings were one of the not

se "they be reg'lar poison to the ground"? Or, "if you opens a hole and puts in a bushel or two to form mould, they got to bide three years, an' then you got to mix other earth with 'em." As litter for pigs, he admitted, dead leaves we

" contrasted nobly with "Will Crawte down 'ere," who had little pigs at this time "up to their belly in slurry." They could not thrive-Bettesworth was satisfied of that. His wife, in the days of

gard to rowatt, it makes a good litter and a tolerable manure, said Bettesworth; with this drawback, however, that "if you gets it wi'