"Aw! good for the big folks to make money out on," said old Timothy
Cooper, who had stayed behind turning his hay while the others had been
gone on their spree;--"I'n seen lots o' things turn up sin' I war a
young un--the war an' the peace, and the canells, an' the oald King
George, an' the Regen', an' the new King George, an' the new un as has
got a new ne-ame--an' it's been all aloike to the poor mon. What's the
canells been t' him? They'n brought him neyther me-at nor be-acon, nor
wage to lay by, if he didn't save it wi' clemmin' his own inside.
Times ha' got wusser for him sin' I war a young un. An' so it'll be
wi' the railroads. They'll on'y leave the poor mon furder behind. But
them are fools as meddle, and so I told the chaps here. This is the
big folks's world, this is. But yo're for the big folks, Muster Garth,
yo are."
Timothy was a wiry old laborer, of a type lingering in those times--who
had his savings in a stocking-foot, lived in a lone cottage, and was
not to be wrought on by any oratory, having as little of the feudal
spirit, and believing as little, as if he had not been totally
unacquainted with the Age of Reason and the Rights of Man. Caleb was
in a difficulty known to any person attempting in dark times and
unassisted by miracle to reason with rustics who are in possession of
an undeniable truth which they know through a hard process of feeling,
and can let it fall like a giant's club on your neatly carved argument
for a social benefit which they do not feel. Caleb had no cant at
command, even if he could have chosen to use it; and he had been
accustomed to meet all such difficulties in no other way than by doing
his "business" faithfully. He answered--
"If you don't think well of me, Tim, never mind; that's neither here
nor there now. Things may be bad for the poor man--bad they are; but I
want the lads here not to do what will make things worse for
themselves. The cattle may have a heavy load, but it won't help 'em to
throw it over into the roadside pit, when it's partly their own fodder."
"We war on'y for a bit o' foon," said Hiram, who was beginning to see
consequences. "That war all we war arter."
"Well, promise me not to meddle again, and I'll see that nobody informs
against you."
"I'n ne'er meddled, an' I'n no call to promise," said Timothy.