But there are few (however temperately they may have lived during the other months of the year) who do not spend a great deal of their money on filthy debauches over poisoned beer. This is called the “harvest drunken touch.” With some it lasts no longer than one night; with others a week, a fortnight, or even longer. It is one of the sacred impurities of our forefathers, which descend from generation to generation, fathers and grandfathers industriously setting the bad example.
I have to describe a jovial and a far happier scene, and to take you to a Plat or orchard, belonging to Stoke Ferry Farm. John Ashbrook was, as we have already seen, a most prosperous man.
It was a bright day for him when he left Oakfield House to take to Stoke Ferry Farm, and to espouse its then owner’s charming daughter.
Very different was it with the other brother.
Richard Ashbrook, who had married the girl Jane Ryan, seemed to go from bad to worse after his brother had left him, and his wife died.
He seemed to lose all heart, and the consequence was that his farm was neglected, for the simple reason that he did not appear to care about anything. The result may be easily imagined. Richard was as unprosperous as his brother was flourishing.
Nevertheless, when the harvest festivities were about to take place at Stoke Ferry, John insisted upon his brother and sister doing honour to them by their presence.
It was a goodly gathering. Brickett was present, as were also old Nat, whom the reader will doubtless remember as one of the parlour customers of the “Carved Lion;” Mother Bagley, the personification of spotlessness in dress, and sedateness in demeanour; and Master John Ashbrook, puffing out his cheeks like the sides of a red balloon, and rubbing his broad brown hands, and Patty as loveable and charming as she had ever been.
There were sports to be played at, and prizes to be contended for; pole-climbing, jumping in sacks, wheelbarrow races blindfold, hurdle jumping, ball throwing, and quoit throwing were the order of the day.
These games occupied the whole of the forenoon, and when six brawny fellows took their places, the whole of their bodies being encased in sacks, with nothing but their heads visible, there was a roar of laughter, and peal after peal followed in quick succession as one or more stumbled, and frantically strove to rise upon his legs again.