about him. But a gardener is Scotch, as a French teacher is Parisian.

"Well, Mr. Poyser," he said, before the good slow farmer had time to
speak, "ye'll not be carrying your hay to-morrow, I'm thinking. The
glass sticks at 'change,' and ye may rely upo' my word as we'll ha' more
downfall afore twenty-four hours is past. Ye see that darkish-blue cloud
there upo' the 'rizon--ye know what I mean by the 'rizon, where the land
and sky seems to meet?"

"Aye, aye, I see the cloud," said Mr. Poyser, "'rizon or no 'rizon. It's
right o'er Mike Holdsworth's fallow, and a foul fallow it is."

"Well, you mark my words, as that cloud 'ull spread o'er the sky pretty
nigh as quick as you'd spread a tarpaulin over one o' your hay-ricks.
It's a great thing to ha' studied the look o' the clouds. Lord bless
you! Th' met'orological almanecks can learn me nothing, but there's a
pretty sight o' things I could let THEM up to, if they'd just come
to me. And how are you, Mrs. Poyser?--thinking o' getherin' the red
currants soon, I reckon. You'd a deal better gether 'em afore they're
o'erripe, wi' such weather as we've got to look forward to. How do ye
do, Mistress Bede?" Mr. Craig continued, without a pause, nodding by the
way to Adam and Seth. "I hope y' enjoyed them spinach and gooseberries
as I sent Chester with th' other day. If ye want vegetables while ye're
in trouble, ye know where to come to. It's well known I'm not giving
other folks' things away, for when I've supplied the house, the garden
s my own spekilation, and it isna every man th' old squire could get
as 'ud be equil to the undertaking, let alone asking whether he'd be
willing I've got to run my calkilation fine, I can tell you, to make
sure o' getting back the money as I pay the squire. I should like to see
some o' them fellows as make the almanecks looking as far before their
noses as I've got to do every year as comes."

"They look pretty fur, though," said Mr. Poyser, turning his head on one
side and speaking in rather a subdued reverential tone. "Why, what could
come truer nor that pictur o' the cock wi' the big spurs, as has got its
head knocked down wi' th' anchor, an' th' firin', an' the ships behind?
Why, that pictur was made afore Christmas, and yit it's come as true
as th' Bible. Why, th' cock's France, an' th' anchor's Nelson--an' they
told us that beforehand."

"Pee--ee-eh!" said Mr. Craig. "A man doesna want to see fur to know as
th' English 'ull beat the Fren