farm was not so large nor of so good a character as had been the case. The
manner of men visibly changed towards him. The small dealers, even the
very carriers along the road, the higglers, and other persons who call at
a farm on petty business, gave him clearly to know in their own coarse way
that they despised him. They flatly contradicted him, and bore him down
with loud tongues. He stood it all meekly, without showing any spirit;
but, on the other hand, without resentment, for he never said ill of any
man behind his back.

It was put about now that he drank, because some busybody had seen a jar
of spirits carried into the house from the wine merchant's cart. A jar of
spirits had been delivered at the house at intervals for years and years,
far back into his father's time, and every one of those who now expressed
their disgust at his supposed drinking habits had sipped their tumblers in
that house without stint. He did not drink--he did not take one-half at
home what his neighbours imbibed without injury at markets and auctions
every week of their lives. But he was growing poor, and they called to
mind that brief spell of extravagance years ago, and pointed out to their
acquaintances how the sin of the Prodigal was coming home to him.

No man drinks the bitter cup of poverty to the dregs like the declining
farmer. The descent is so slow; there is time to drain every drop, and to
linger over the flavour. It may be eight, or ten, or fifteen years about.
He cannot, like the bankrupt tradesman, even when the fatal notice comes,
put up his shutters at once and retire from view. Even at the end, after
the notice, six months at least elapse before all is over--before the farm
is surrendered, and the sale of household furniture and effects takes
place. He is full in public view all that time. So far as his neighbours
are concerned he is in public view for years previously. He has to rise in
the morning and meet them in the fields. He sees them in the road; he