never saw people look so thoroughly
ashamed of themselves. The Squire proceeded--"I don't say it was all
your fault; perhaps it was mine."

"Noa-noa-noa," burst forth in a general chorus.

"Nay, friends," continued the Squire humbly, and in one of those
illustrative aphorisms which, if less subtle than Riccabocca's, were
more within reach of the popular comprehension; "nay--we are all human;
and every man has his hobby; sometimes he breaks in the hobby, and
sometimes the hobby, if it is very hard in the mouth, breaks in him. One
man's hobby has an ill habit of always stopping at the public house!
(Laughter.) Another man's hobby refuses to stir a peg beyond the door
where some buxom lass patted its neck the week before--a hobby I rode
pretty often when I went courting my good wife here! (Much laughter and
applause.) Others, have a lazy hobby, that there's no getting
on;--others, a runaway hobby that there's no stopping: but to cut the
matter short, my favorite hobby, as you well know, is always trotted out
to any place on my property which seems to want the eye and hand of the
master. I hate (cried the Squire warming), to see things neglected and
decayed, and going to the dogs! This land we live in is a good mother to
us, and we can't do too much for her. It is very true, neighbors, that I
owe her a good many acres, and ought to speak well of her; but what
then? I live amongst you, and what I take from the rent with one hand, I
divide amongst you with the other, (low, but assenting murmurs.) Now the
more I improve my property, the more mouths it feeds. My
great-grandfather kept a Field-Book, in which were entered not only the
names of all the farmers and the quantity of land they held, but the
average number of the laborers each employed. My grandfather and father
followed his example: I have done the same. I find, neighbors, that our
rents have doubled since my great-grandfather began to make the book.
Ay--but there are more than four times the number of laborers employed
on the estate, and at much better wages too! Well, my men, that says a
great deal in favor of improving property, and not letting it go to the
dogs. (Applause.) And therefore, neighbors, you will kindly excuse my
hobby: it carries grist to your mill. (Reiterated applause.) Well--but
you will say, 'What's the Squire driving at?' Why this, my friends:
There was only one worn-out, dilapidated, tumble-down thing in the
Parish of Hazeldean, and it became a