country--never
could abide bein' shut in."

"There aren't so very many like you, judging by the towns."

The old man smiled--that smile was the reverse of a bitter tonic coated
with sweet stuff to make it palatable.

"'Tes the want of a life takes 'em," he said. "There's not a many like
me. There's not so many as can't do without the smell of the earth.
With these 'ere newspapers--'tesn't taught nowadays. The boys and gells
they goes to school, and 'tes all in favor of the towns there. I can't
work no more; I'm 's good as gone meself; but I feel sometimes I'll 'ave
to go back. I don't like the streets, an' I guess 'tes worse in London."

"Ah! Perhaps," Felix said, "there are more of us like you than you
think."

Again the old man turned his dark, quick glance.

"Well, an' I widden say no to that, neither. I've seen 'em terrible
homesick. 'Tes certain sure there's lots would never go, ef 'twasn't so
mortial hard on the land. 'Tisn't a bare livin', after that. An'
they're put upon, right and left they're put upon. 'Tes only a man here
and there that 'as something in 'im too strong. I widden never 'ave
stayed in the country ef 'twasn't that I couldn't stand the town life.
'Tes like some breeds o' cattle--you take an' put 'em out o' their own
country, an' you 'ave to take an' put 'em back again. Only some breeds,
though. Others they don' mind where they go. Well, I've seen the
country pass in my time, as you might say; where you used to see three
men you only see one now."

"Are they ever going back onto the land?"

"They tark about it. I read my newspaper reg'lar. In some places I see
they're makin' unions. That an't no good."

"Why?"

The old man smiled again.

"Why! Think of it! The land's different to anythin' else--that's why!
Different work, different hours, four men's work to-day and one's
to-morrow. Work land wi' unions, same as they've got in this 'ere
factory, wi' their eight hours an' their do this an' don' do that? No!
You've got no weather in factories, an' such-like. On the land 'tes a
matter o' weather. On the land a man must be ready for anythin' at any
time; you can't work it no other way. 'Tes along o' God's comin' into
it; an' no use pullin' this way an' that. Union says to me: You mustn't
work after hours. Hoh! I've 'ad to set up all night wi' ship an' cattle
hundreds o' times, an' no extra for it. 'Tes not that way they'll do any
good to keep people on the land.