being an idle scoundrel, and no farmer will take him on. It is some time
before you are able to find him out; for as he goes decidedly lame as he
passes you in the village street, he generally manages to persuade you
that he is very ill. Like a fool, you take compassion on him, and give
him an ounce of "baccy" and half a crown. For some months he hangs about
where he thinks you will be passing, craving a pipe of tobacco; until
one day, when you are having a talk with some other honest toiler, he
will give you a hint that you are being imposed on.

When a loafer of this sort finds that he can get nothing more out of
you, he moves his family and goods to some other part of the country; he
then begins the old game with somebody else, borrowing a sovereign off
you for the expense of moving. As for gratitude, he never thinks of it.
The other day a man with a "game leg," who was, in spite of his
lameness, a good example of "the village impostor," in taking his
departure from our hamlet, gave out "that there was no thanks due to the
big 'ouse for the benefits he had received, for it was writ in the
_manor parchments_ as how he was to have meat three times a week and
blankets at Christmas as long as he was out of work."

It is so difficult to discriminate between the good and the bad amongst
the poor, and it is impossible not to feel pity for a man who has
nothing but the workhouse to look forward to, even if he has come down
in the world through his own folly. To those who are living in luxury
the conditions under which the poorer classes earn their daily bread,
and the wretched prospect which old age or ill health presents to them,
must ever offer scope for deep reflection and compassion.

At the same time it must be remembered that in spite of "hard times"
and "low prices," as affecting the farmers, the agricultural labourer is