If ever a man deserved a good glass of beer it is the agricultural labourer upon the conclusion of his day’s work, exposed as he is to the wear and tear of the elements.  After following the slow plough along the furrows through the mist; after tending the sheep on the hills where the rain beats with furious energy; after grubbing up the tough roots of trees, and splitting them with axe and wedge and mallet, a man may naturally ask for refreshment.  And it is equally natural that he should desire to take it in the society of his fellows, with whom he can associate freely and speak his mind unchecked.  The glass of ale would not hurt him; it is the insidious temptation proffered in certain quarters to do evil for an extra quart.  Nothing forms so strong a temptation as the knowledge that a safe receiver is near at hand.

He must not be harshly judged because of the mere quantity he can take, for a quart of ale to him is really no more than a glass of wine to the ‘City’ gentleman who lives delicately.  He is to be pitied rather than condemned, and aided out of the blunder rather than chastised.  Punishment, indeed, waits upon him only too doggedly, and overtakes him too quickly in the shape of sorrows and privations at home.  The evil lies not in the ale, but in the character of the man that sold him the ale, and who is, at the same time, the worst enemy of the legitimately-trading innkeeper.  No one, indeed, has better cause than the labourer to exclaim, ’Save me from my friends!’ To do the bulk of the labourers bare justice it must be stated that there is a certain bluff honesty and frankness among them, a rude candour, which entitles them to considerable respect as a body.  There are also men here and there whose strength of character would certainty have obtained favourable acknowledgment had their lot been cast in a higher rank of life.  But, at the same time, the labourer is not always so innocent and free from guile—­so lamblike as it suits the purpose of some to proclaim, in order that his rural simplicity may secure sympathy.  There are very queer black sheep in the flock, and it rather unfortunately happens that these, in more ways than one, force themselves, sometimes most unpleasantly, upon the notice of the tenant-farmer and the landlord.

A specimen or two may easily be selected from that circle of choice manhood whose head-quarters are at the low ‘public.’  A tall, well-built man stands forward, and at the first glance a stranger might take him for a favourable example.  He holds himself more upright than most of his class, he is not ill-looking, and a marked air of deference towards those who address him conveys rather a pleasing impression.  He can read fairly well and sign his name.  This man, who is still young, began life as carter’s lad, in which occupation he had not been long engaged before the horse-hair carefully accumulated as a perquisite disappeared.  Whipcord and similar small articles next vanished, and finally a handsome new whip.