Throughout the course of my farming the gloomy note of the machine was that which predominated, but in the spring of 1877, on the prospect of complications with Russia, when wheat rose to I think nearly 70s. a quarter, it was again a cheerful sound, for I had several ricks of the previous year's crop on hand. I do not remember that bread rose to anything like the extent that occurred in the Great War. Forty years has marvellously widened the gap between the raw material and the finished product—that is, between producer and consumer; immense increases have taken place in the cost of labour employed by miller and baker, and rates and other expenses are much higher.
Farmers do not lose much in "bad debts"; they have to lay out their capital in cash payments so long before the return that they are not expected to give extended credit when sales take place, and for corn payment is made fourteen days after the sale is effected. I had one rather narrow escape. I had sold 150 sacks of wheat to a miller, and it had been delivered to the mill, but one evening I had a note from him to say that his credit was in question on the local markets. "A nod," I thought, "was as good as a wink to a blind horse"; so next morning I sent all my teams and waggons, and by night had carted all the wheat away, except twenty sacks, which had already been ground. The miller paid eventually 10s. in the £, so my loss was only a matter of about £10.
A similar "chap money," or return of a trifle in cash from seller to buyer, as that in vogue in horse-dealing, still exists in selling corn; it goes by the indefinite name of "custom," and in Worcestershire it was a fixed sum of 1s. in every sixty bushels of wheat, and 1s. in every eighty bushels of barley; each of these quantities formed the ancient load. I think the payment of "custom" arose when tarpaulin sheets were first used instead of straw to cover the waggon loads. The straw never returned; it was the miller's perquisite, and its value paid for the beer to which the carters were treated at the mill; but the tarpaulin comes back each time, so the miller gets his quid pro quo in the "custom."
Barley was not an important crop at Aldington, the land was too stiff, but I had some fields which contained limestone, where good crops could be grown. Even there it was inclined to coarseness, but in dry seasons sometimes proved a very nice bright and thin-skinned sample. Before the repeal of the malt tax, which was accompanied by legislation that permitted the brewers to use sugar, raw grain and almost anything, including, as people said, "old boots and shoes" instead of barley malt, good prices, up to 42s. a quarter and over, could be made; but under the new conditions, the maltsters complained that my barley was too good for them, and they could buy foreign stuff at about 22s. or 24s., which, with the help of sugar, produced a class of beer quite good enough for the Black Country and Pottery consumers.
I heard an amusing story about barley in Lincolnshire, some years before the repeal of the malt tax, which, I think, is worth recording. A farmer, after a very hot summer and dry harvest, had a good piece of barley which he offered by sample in Lincoln market. He could not make his price, the buyers complaining that it was too hard and flinty. He went home in disgust, but, after much pondering, thought he could see his way to meet the difficulty. He had the sacks of barley "shut" on his barn floor, in a heap, and several buckets of water poured over it. The heap was turned daily for a time, until the grain had absorbed all the water, and there was no sign of external moisture. The appearance of the barley was completely changed: the hard flinty look had vanished, and the grain presented a new plumpness and mellowness. He took a fresh sample to Lincoln next market day, and made 2s. or 3s. a quarter more than he had asked for it in its original condition.
The following lines, which have never been published except in a local newspaper, though written many years ago, apply quite well in these days of the hoped-for revival of agriculture. I am not at liberty to disclose the writer's identity beyond his initials, E.W.
FARMER NEWSTYLE AND FARMER OLDSTYLE
"Good day," said Farmer Oldstyle, taking Newstyle by the arm;
"I be cum to look aboit me, wilt 'ee show me o'er thy farm?"
Young Newstyle took his wideawake, and lighted a cigar,
And said, "Won't I astonish you, old-fashioned as you are!
"No doubt you have an aneroid? ere starting you shall see
How truly mine prognosticates what weather there will be."
"I ain't got no such gimcracks; but I knows there'll be a flush
When I sees th'oud ram tak shelter wi' his tail agen a bush."
"Allow me first to show you the analysis I keep,
And the compounds to explain of this experimental heap,
Where hydrogen and nitrogen and oxygen abound,
To hasten germination and to fertilize the ground."