by trees, in which he gives an instance of a particular pond, high up on the Down, 300 feet above his house, and situated in such a position that it was impossible for it to receive any water from springs or drainage, which “though never above three feet deep in the middle, and not more than thirty feet in diameter, and containing, perhaps, not more than two or three hundred hogsheads of water, yet never is known to fail, though it affords drink for three hundred or four hundred sheep, and for at least twenty head of large cattle besides.”

The natural well-water in the Vale of Evesham is exceedingly hard, and in the town and some villages was formerly much contaminated.  After great opposition from obstructive ratepayers, a splendid supply was obtained from the Cotswolds above Broadway, about six miles away, of much softer and really pure spring water.  It comes in pipes by gravitation, so there is no expense of pumping; but it was difficult to get recalcitrant ratepayers to lay the water on from the mains to their houses, as that part of the cost had to be borne by them individually; and, before compulsion could be resorted to, the Council had to prove contamination of the wells and close them.  To get the evidence samples were submitted to a London analyst, and they were invariably condemned.  One of the Councillors suggested sending, with a number of well samples, a sample of the new supply “for a fad.”  The samples were numbered, but had no other distinguishing mark, and in due course the usual condemnations were received, including that of the new town supply!

During the wet harvest of 1879, when what was called by townspeople the agricultural depression, was becoming acute, it was impossible to get a whole day on which wheat could be carried.  The position was serious, because the grain was sprouting in the sheaves in the field, and time after time a fairly dry Saturday would have allowed carrying the following day, though Monday was always as wet as ever.  At last at Aldington we faced the situation and decided to proceed with the work whenever possible, Sunday or no Sunday.  A fine drying Saturday occurred, and my bailiff told the men what we proposed, adding that we did not wish anyone to help who had scruples as to the day.  They all appeared on Sunday morning, a brilliant day, except one “conscientious objector,” who, as I heard later, spent most of the day at the public-house.  We got up two ricks from about ten acres, which eventually proved to be some of the driest wheat we had that year, and which I was able to sell for seed at a good price, to go into districts where no dry seed wheat could be found.