It was the custom formerly at Aldington to sell the fruit on the trees by auction for the buyer to pick and market, growers as a rule being too busy with corn-harvest to attend to the gathering.  A considerable sum was thereby often sacrificed, as the buyer allows an ample margin for risks, and is not willing to give more than about half of what he expects to receive ultimately.  I discontinued the auction sales early in my farming, preferring to take the risks myself, and having plenty of labour available.  It is instructive too to know how individual trees are bearing, and the sorts which produce the best returns.

Except for the choicest fruit, I consider London the worst market, and I could do better, as a rule, by sending my consignments to Manchester, Liverpool, Sheffield, and Glasgow; the latter especially for large coarse stuff.  London is more critical, pays well for the very best, but requires apples to be carefully graded, and the grades separately packed; London is, moreover, naturally well supplied by the southern counties.

At the auctions the competition was generally keen, there being much rivalry between the buyers; and it was good for the sellers when political parties were opposed to each other, for in those days Evesham was inclined to be rather violent in such matters.  I remember a lively contest between Conservatives and Radicals, when my largest orchard—­about six acres—­was sold to the champion of the former for L210, and the Radical exclaimed, as the lot was knocked down, for everybody to hear:  “He offered me L10 before the sale to stand out, now that L10 is in Mr. S.’s pocket!”

A few strong gales in the winter are supposed to benefit apple-trees, acting as a kind of root pruning; but sometimes, when they are getting old, they come down bodily with a crash, partly uprooted, though even then they may be resuscitated for a time.  We had a powerful set of pulley tackle by which, when made fast to a neighbouring tree, they could be restored to the perpendicular, after enlarging the hole left by the roots, making the ground firm again round the tree, and placing a strong sloping prop to take the weight on the weak side; good yields would then often continue for some years.

When the pickers had gathered the crop, by an ancient custom all the village children were allowed to invade the orchards for the purpose of getting for themselves any apples overlooked.  This practice is called “scragging,” but it is a custom that would perhaps be better honoured in the breach than in the observance, for hob nails do not agree with the tender bark of young trees.  Like gleaning, or “leasing,” as it is called, it is nevertheless a pleasant old custom, and seems to give the children huge delight.