rdles or sold to the crate-makers in the potteries for
crates in which to pack earthenware goods of all descriptions. The men
employed at the lopping had to stand on the heads of the pollards, and
it was sometimes quite an acrobatic feat to maintain their balance on
a small swaying tree, or on one which overhung the water.

There was a local saying that "the withy tree would buy the horse,
while the oak would only buy the halter," and I believe it to be
perfectly true; for the uses of the withy are innumerable, and
throughout its seven years' growth from one lopping to another there
is always something useful to be had from it, with its final harvest
of full-grown poles. One year after lopping the superfluous shoots are
cut out and used or sold for "bonds" for tying up "kids" or the mouths
of corn sacks. As the shoots grow stronger more can be taken--with
ultimate benefit to the development of the full-grown poles--for use
as rick pegs and "buckles" in thatching. The buckles are the wooden
pins made of a small strip of withy, twisted at the centre so that it
can be doubled in half like a hairpin, and used to fix the rods which
secure the thatch by pressing the buckles firmly into it. In Hampshire
these are called "spars," and they are sold in bundles containing a
fixed number.

I heard an amusing story about these spars. A certain thatcher, we may
call him Joe, was engaged upon the roof of a cottage, when the parson
of the parish chanced to pass that way. Joe had of late neglected his
attendance at church, and the vicar saw his way to a word of advice.
After "passing the time of day" he took Joe to task for his neglected
attendance and waxing warm expressed his fears that Joe had forgotten
all his Sunday-school lessons; he was doubtful even, he said, if Joe
could tell him the number of the Commandments. Joe confessed his
ignorance. "Dear me," said the vicar, "to think that in this
nineteenth century any man could be found so ignorant as not to know
the number of the Commandments!" Joe bided his time until the vicar's
attention had been called to the spars, when Joe asked him how many a
bundle contained. It was a problem that the vicar could not solve.
"Dear me," said Joe, "to think that in this 'ere nineteenth century
any man could be found so ignorant as not to know the number of spars
in a bundle!" Joe always added when telling the story, "But there," I
says, "every beggar," I says, "to his trade," I says.

Sometim