Revolt


In spite of our pottering and lifting, with the exception of five, all
our cows eventually died; and even these and a couple of horses had as
much as they could do to live on the whole of the thousand acres which,
without reserve, were at their disposal. They had hardly any grass--it
was merely the warmth and water which kept them alive. Needless to say,
we were on our beam-ends financially. However, with a little help from
more fortunate relatives, and with the money obtained from the sale of
the cowhides and mother's poultry, we managed to pay the interest on the
money borrowed from the bishop, and keep bread in our mouths.

Unfortunately for us, at this time the bishop's agent proved a scoundrel
and absconded. My father held receipts to show that to this agent he had
regularly paid the interest of the money borrowed; but through some
finicking point of law, because we had not money to contend with him, his
lordship the bishop now refused to acknowledge his agent and one-time
pillar of the cathedral, and, having law on his side, served a writ on
us. In the face of our misfortunes this was too much: we begged for time,
which plea he answered by putting in the bailiff and selling everything
we possessed. Our five cows, two horses, our milk separator, plough,
cart, dray, buggy, even our cooking utensils, books, pictures, furniture,
father's watch--our very beds, pillows, and blankets. Not a thing besides
what we stood up in was left us, and this was money for the payment of
which my father held receipts.