Another matter which looms larger as time goes on arises out of the gradual—­in some cases the rapid—­filling up of the village churchyards.  It is melancholy to think that so solemn a subject should threaten to become a ground for bitter controversy; but that much animosity of feeling has already appeared is well known.  Already many village graveyards are overcrowded, and it is becoming difficult to arrange for the future.  From a practical point of view there is really but little difficulty, because the landlords in almost every instance are willing to give the necessary ground.  The contention arises in another form, which it would be out of place to enter upon here.  It will be sufficient to recall the fact that such a question is approaching.

Rural sanitation, again, comes to the front day by day.  The prevention of overcrowding in cottages, the disposal of sewage, the supply of water—­these and similar matters press upon the attention of the authorities.  Out of consideration for the pockets of the ratepayers—­many of whom are of the poorest class—­these things are perhaps rather shelved than pushed forward; but it is impossible to avoid them altogether.  Every now and then something has to be done.  Whatever takes place, of course the landlord, as the central person, comes in for the chief share of the burden.  If the rates increase, on the one hand, the labourers complain that their wages are not sufficient to pay them; and, on the other, the tenants state that the pressure on the agriculturist is already as much as he can sustain.  The labourer expects the landlord to relieve him; the tenant grumbles if he also is not relieved.  Outside and beyond the landlord’s power as the owner of the soil, as magistrate and ex-officio guardian, and so on, he cannot divest himself of a personal—­a family—­influence, which at once gives him a leading position, and causes everything to be expected of him.  He must arbitrate here, persuade there, compel yonder, conciliate everybody, and subscribe all round.

This was, perhaps, easy enough years ago, but it is now a very different matter.  No little diplomatic skill is needful to balance parties, and preserve at least an outward peace in the parish.  He has to note the variations of public opinion, and avoid giving offence.  In his official capacity as magistrate the same difficulty arises.  One of the most delicate tasks that the magistracy have had set them of recent years has been arbitrating between tenant and man—­between, in effect, capital and labour.  That is not, of course, the legal, but it is the true, definition.  It is a most invidious position, and it speaks highly for the scrupulous justice with which the law has been administered that a watchful and jealous—­a bitterly inimical party—­ever ready, above all things, to attempt a sensation—­have not been able to detect a magistrate giving a partial decision.