Next night the rick would be on fire.
Or he would say to his groom, “Tom, it’s my tithe day, and we shall sit on purty late. There’s Farmer Q—— behindhand again: this is the second half-year. You’ll be in the room: if I scratch my nose with my fork you’ll know that he has not paid up. Dear me! what a shocking thing were his linch-pin to be gone, and he going down Knowstone Hill, and in such a dark night—and the wheel were to come off.”
And certainly if Tom saw the vicar put his silver fork to his nose, so certainly would Farmer Q—— be thrown out of his trap by the wheel coming off, to be found by the next passer along the road with dislocated thigh, or broken arm and collarbone.
A gentleman near had offended him. This person had a plantation of larch near his house. Froude said to Tom, “Bad job for Squire——, if his larch lost their leaders!” Next morning every larch in the plantation had been mutilated.
The Rev. W. H. Thornton says in his delightful book, Reminiscences of an Old West-country Clergyman: “He always had around him a tribe of vagabonds, whom he harboured. They beat the covers when he shot, they found hares for his hounds to hunt, they ran on his errands, they were the terror of the countryside, and were reputed to commit crimes at their master’s instigation. He never paid them anything, or spared or sheltered them from punishment. Sometimes they were in gaol, and sometimes out. They could always have as much bacon, potatoes, bread and cheese, and cider at his house as they pleased, as well as a fire to sit by, and a rough bed to lie down upon.
“Plantations were burned, horses mutilated, chimneys choked, and Chowne’s men had the credit of these misdeeds, which were generally committed to the injury of some person with whom Chowne had quarrelled.
“I have known him say to a young farmer: ‘John, I like that colt of yours. I will give you twenty-five pounds for him.’ The owner had replied that it was not money enough, and Chowne had retorted, ‘You had better let me have him, Jack. I have noticed that when a man refuses an offer for a horse from me, something goes wrong with the animal. It is very curious really that it should be so, but so it is.’ And the horse would be sent to him for twenty-five pounds.
“He was frequently engaged in litigation, and one day Mr. Cockburn (afterwards Lord Chief Justice of England, but then a wild young fellow enough) was engaged against him, and Chowne lost his case. Cockburn then, or so it is said, left the court in the Castle of Exeter in order to have some luncheon.
“In the castle yard he saw an old countryman in yellow leggings and a long blue coat, who had an ash sapling in his hand. As the great lawyer passed him, whack! down came the stick across the silk gown upon his shoulders.
“‘Be you the young rascal who spoke up against me in court just now?’ ‘I suppose that you are Parson Chowne,’ said Cockburn. ‘I was against you, and I am very glad that I succeeded; and now I am inclined to have you up for striking me.’