the farm to the other. I would not disparage anybody, or anything, my good sir; but those were times indeed; the women then knew something about the management of a house; it really was quite a pleasure to hear my poor mother lecture the servants; and the men were men indeed. Pray, did you ever hear the story of father's being at Truro, and throwing the famous Cornish wrestler, squinting Dick the
miner?"
Mr Merton began to be convinced that, whatever other qualities good Mr Sandford might have, he did not excel in brevity, and therefore endeavoured in still stronger terms to overcome the delicacy of the farmer, and prevail upon him to accept his present.
But the good farmer pursued his point thus: "Thank you, thank you, my dear sir, a thousand times for your goodwill; but, as to the money, I must beg your pardon if I persist in refusing it. Formerly, sir, as I was saying, we were all happy and healthy, and our affairs prospered, because we never thought about the conveniences of life; now, I hear of nothing else. One neighbour (for I will not mention names) brings his son up to go a-shooting with gentlemen; another sends his to market upon a blood-horse with a plated bridle; and then the girls—the girls; there is fine work indeed!—they must have their hats and feathers and riding habits; their heads as big as bushels, and even their hind-quarters stuck out with cork or pasteboard; but scarcely one of them can milk a cow, or churn, or bake, or do any one thing that is necessary in a family; so that, unless the government will send them all to this new settlement, which I have heard so much of, and bring us a cargo of plain, honest housewives, who
have never been at boarding-schools, I cannot conceive how we farmers are to get wives."
Mr Merton laughed very heartily at this sally, and told him that he would venture to assert it was not so at his house. "Not quite so bad indeed," said the farmer; "my wife was bred up under a notable mother, and though she must have her tea every afternoon, is, in the main, a very good sort of woman. She has brought her daughters up a little better than usual, but I can assure you she and I have had many a good argument on the subject. Not but she approves their milking, spinning, and making themselves useful, but she would fain have them genteel, Master Merton; all women now are mad after gentility; and, when once gentility begins, there is an end of
industry. Now, were they to hear of such a sum as you have generously offered, there would be no peace in the house. My wenches instead of Deb and Kate, would be Miss Deborah and Miss Catherine; in a little time they must be sent to boarding-school to learn French and music, and wriggling about the room; and when they come back, who must boil the pot, or make the pudding, or sweep the house, or serve the pigs? Did you ever hear of Miss Juliana, or Miss Harriet, or Miss Carolina, doing such vulgar
things?"
Mr Merton was very much struck with the honest farmer's method of expressing himself, and could not help internally allowing the truth of his representations; yet he still pressed him to accept his present, and reminded him of the improvement of his farm.
"Thank you, again and again," replied the farmer; "but the whole generation of the Sandfords have