hly understood the farming business. Moreover,
that he had succeeded in making himself somewhat of a terror to certain
timorous time-servers, on account of his heterodox and obstinate
principles. For example, he had sent his children to school because
Government compelled him to do so, but when their schooldays were over,
he had informed them that the sooner they forgot all they had ever
learned during that period and took to "clean an' 'olesome livin'," the
better he should be pleased.

"For it's all rort an' rubbish," he declared, in his broad, soft
dialect. "I dozn't keer a tinker's baad 'apenny whether tha knaw 'ow to
'rite tha mizchief or to read it, or whether king o' England is eatin'
'umble pie to the U-nited States top man, or noa,--I keerz nawt aboot
it, noben way or t'other. My boys 'as got to laarn draawin' crops out o'
fields,--an' my gels must put 'and to milkin' and skimmin' cream an'
makin' foinest butter as iver went to market. An' time comin' to wed,
the boys 'ull take strong dairy wives, an' the gels 'ull pick men as can
thraw through men's wurrk, or they'ze nay gels nor boys o' mine. Tarlk
o' Great Britain! Heart alive! Wheer would th' owd country be if 'twere
left to pulin' booky clerks what thinks they're gemmen, an' what weds
niminy-piminy shop gels, an' breeds nowt but ricketty babes fit for
workus' burial! Noa, by the Lord! No school larnin' for me nor mine,
thank-ee! Why, the marster of the Board School 'ere doant know more
practical business o' life than a suckin' calf! With a bit o' garden
ground to 'is cot, e' doant reckon 'ow io till it, an' that's the
rakelness o' book larnin'. Noa, noa! Th' owd way o' wurrk's the best
way,--brain, 'ands, feet an' good ztrong body all zet on't, an' no
meanderin' aff it! Take my wurrd the Lord A'mighty doant 'elp corn to
grow if there's a whinin' zany ahint the plough!"

With these distinctly "out-of-date" notions, "Feathery" Joltram had also
set himself doggedly against church-going and church people generally.
Few dared mention a clergyman in his presence, for his open and
successful warfare with the minister of his own parish had been going on
for years and had become well-nigh traditional. Looking at him, however,
as he sat in his favourite corner of the "Trusty Man's" common room, no
one would have given him credit for any particular individuality. His
round red face expressed nothing,--his dull fish-like eyes betrayed no
intelligence,--he appeared to