id not charge them all.
Still, he's a decent fellow. Honesty is uncertain--never met an
honest man. Doubt if world could hang together. Bartholomew is
honest enough; but either he has won some money, or he really does
not want the drawback at audit. Takes care his horses don't look too
well. Notice myself that farmers do not let their teams look so
glossy as a few years ago. Like them to seem rough and uncared
for--can't afford smooth coats these hard times. Don't look very
glossy myself; don't feel very glossy. Hate this wind--hang kings'
ransoms! People who like these winds are telling falsehoods. That's
broken (as one of the teams stopped); have to send to blacksmith.
Knock off now; no good your pottering there. Next team stops to go
and help potter. Third team stops to help second. Fourth team comes
across to help third. All pottering. Wants Bartholomew among them.
That's the way to do a morning's work. Did anyone ever see such
idleness! Group about a broken chain--link snapped. Tie it up with
your leathern garter--not he; no resource. What patience a man needs
to have anything to do with land! Four teams idle over a snapped
link! Rent!--of course they can't pay rent. Wonder if a gang of
American labourers could make anything out of our farms? There they
work from sunrise to sunset. Suppose import a gang and try. Did
anyone ever see such a helpless set as that yonder? Depression--of
course. No go-ahead in them.'

'Mind opening the gate, you?' said a voice behind; and, turning, the
thinker saw a dealer in a trap, who wanted the gate opened, to save
him the trouble of getting down to do it himself. The thinker did as
he was asked, and held the gate open. The trap went slowly through.

'Will you come on and take a glass?' said the dealer, pointing with
the butt-end of his whip. 'Crown.' This was sententious for the
Crown in the hamlet. Country-folk speak in pieces, putting the
principal word in a sentence for the entire paragraph.

The thinker shook his head and shut the gate, carefully hasping it.
The dealer drove on.

'Who's that?' thought the grey man, watching the trap jolt down the
rough road. 'Wants veal, I suppose. No veal here--no good. Now,
look!'

The group by the broken chain beckoned to the trap; a lad went
across to it with the chain, got up, and was driven off, so saving
himself half a mile on his road to the forge.

'Anything to save themselves exertion. Nothing will make them move
faster--like