"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.




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