barometer, and wire to the bailiff in the field to be expeditious, for the
mercury was falling. Practically, there was no more necessity for the
farmer to go outside his office than for a merchant in Mincing Lane. The
merchant did not sail in every ship whose cargo was consigned to him: why
should the farmer watch every waggon loaded? Steam could drive the
farmer's plough, cut the chaff, pump the water, and, in short, do
everything. The field telegraph could be laid down to any required spot
with the greatest ease, and thus, sitting in his office chair, the farmer
could control the operations of the farm without once soiling his hands.
Mr. Phillip, as he concluded his remarks, reached his glass of claret, and
thus incidentally exhibited his own hand, which was as white as a lady's.





CHAPTER VIII



HAYMAKING. 'THE JUKE'S COUNTRY'


A rattling, thumping, booming noise, like the beating of their war drums
by savages, comes over the hedge where the bees are busy at the bramble
flowers. The bees take no heed, they pass from flower to flower, seeking
the sweet honey to store at home in the hive, as their bee ancestors did
before the Roman legions marched to Cowey Stakes. Their habits have not
changed; their 'social' relations are the same; they have not called in
the aid of machinery to enlarge their liquid, wealth, or to increase the