o work on. After a while the mowers come back,
thoroughly tired and exhausted with their debauch, and go on feebly to
work. There is hope again. But our climate is notoriously changeable. A
fortnight of warm, close heat is pretty sure to breed a thunderstorm.
Accordingly, just as the scythes begin to lay the tall grass prostrate
again, there is a growl in the sky, and down comes the rain. A
thunderstorm unsettles the weather, and here is perhaps another week
lost. The farmer dares not discharge his haymakers, because he does not
know but that he may require them any day. They are put to turn
dung-heaps, clean out the yards, pick up the weeds in the garden, and
such like little jobs, over which they can dawdle as much as they like.
All the while they are on full pay. Now, what manufacturer could endure
such conduct as this? Is it not enough to drive a saint out of his
patience? Of course the larger farmers who can afford it have the
resource of the mowing-machine, but there are hundreds and thousands of
farms upon which its sharp rattle has not yet been heard. There is still
a great divergence of opinion as to its merits, many maintaining that it
does not cut so close to the ground, and therefore wastes a large
percentage of the crop, and others that the action of the scissor-like
knives bruises the grass, and prevents it growing up into a good
after-math. Therefore many farmers who could afford it will not admit
the mowing-machine into their fields, and the mowers may still be seen
at work over miles and miles of meadow, and are still the plague of the
agriculturist. The arable farmer has just the same difficulty to keep
his labourers at their work, and unless he is constantly on the watch
valuable time is lost daily. In the harvest, however, he has an
advantage. The corn is reaped by piece-work, and the labourers therefore
strain every nerve to do as much as they can. But then he must be on the
lookout to see that they do not "scamp" it.

The traditional bacon and greens dinner is passing away, though still
the usual fare in the small farmhouses. Most of the fairly well-to-do
farmers have a joint twice or three times a week, well supported with
every kind of vegetable. There is no attempt at refinement in cooking,
but there is plenty of good substantial food.

The hill farmer, whose staple is sheep and wool, has generally a great
deal of walking or riding to get over in the day. The down farms are
sometimes very large