His midday meal, which is the farmer's dinner, is his luncheon. The
labourer's dinner is taken at half-past six to seven in the evening,
after he has got home, unlaced his heavy and cumbrous boots, combed his
hair, and washed himself. His table is always well supplied with
vegetables, potatoes, and particularly greens, of which he is peculiarly
fond. The staple dish is, of course, a piece of bacon, and large
quantities of bread are eaten. It is a common thing now, once or twice
in the week, for a labourer to have a small joint of mutton, not a
prime joint, of course, but still good and wholesome meat. Many of them
live in a style, so far as eating and drinking is concerned, quite equal
to the small farmers, and far superior to what these small farmers were
used to. Instead of beer, the agricultural labourer frequently drinks
tea with his dinner--weak tea in large quantities. After the more solid
parts comes a salad of onions or lettuce. These men eat quantities which
would half kill many townspeople. After dinner, if it is the season of
the year, they go out to the allotment and do a little work for
themselves, and then, unless the alehouse offers irresistible
attractions, to bed. The genuine agricultural labourer goes early to
bed. It is necessary for him, after the long toil of the day, on account
of the hour at which he has to rise in the morning.

Men employed on arable farms, as carters, for instance, have to rise
even earlier than dairymen. They often begin to bait their horses at
half-past three, or rather they used to. This operation of baiting is a
most serious and important one to the carter. On it depends the
appearance of his team--with him a matter of honest and laudable
ambition. If he wishes his horses to look fat and well, with smooth
shiny coats, he must take the greatest care with their food, not to give
them too much or too little, and to vary it properly. He must begin
feeding a long time before his horses start to plough. It is, therefore,
an object with him to get to rest early. In the winter time especially
the labouring poor go to bed very soon, to save the expense of candles.

By the bye, the cottagers have a curious habit, which deserves to be
recorded even for its singularity. When the good woman of the cottage
goes out for half-an-hour to fetch a pail of water, or to gossip with a
neighbour, she always leaves the door-key in the keyhole _outside_. The
house is, in fact, at the mercy of any o