The Springdale news., 1888-12-28
CHAPTER ",
HE SASOR FARM

Ten eYentful years in English political and social life have elapsed since we met the StagShlfe farmers, in the previous chap ter, ant once again we find the self same company assembled at the "Saracen's Head. few yo:ng men have taken the places of their gray.headed sires who have retired from active life, some having retired so far as to be under the turf of sundly parish church-vards Most of the faces are the same as they were ten years ago, cX- cept that times gradual but steady touch has melloWed all of them more or less. There Is our old friend the landlord, as merry and lively as ever. There Is the pro- phetc Smith, and there at the head of the table sits Matthew Wilson, of Mill Hull. handsome as ever, though a trifie more portlv.
 The market and dinner are over for the day and the horses. gigs and chaises are brought around oue after another to the hotel entrance on High street Mr. Wilson is one of the first 10 leave Weirdale this afternoon, and as lie stands in the doorway waiting for his gig, we may take q look at him.
 He is a man in the prime of life, and evi- dently somewhat of q gentleman, for he speaks the Queens English and carries himself with q better department than the average farmer. The fact is, he is younger son of a wealthy midland county squire. but being born farmer with few ambitions, desires or plans, on the death of hIs father and while vet only twenty-five years of age he married the pretty daughter of one of his fathers tenants. With his portion of the inheritance he purchased d homestead of about six hundred acres i'll the county of Stagshire, where at the time our story opens, he had lived, for quarter of q cent ufy. the simple life of q wef-to-do English yeonan. He was respected by all the neghboring farmers, with whom he asso- ciated ln preference to the gentle folk and, indeed. although he was on the best of terms with high and low, he would hardly have been admitted to the upper crust of society, had he wished for such admittanee, on account of his marriage However, lie loved his wife and farm better than SO ciety. and, with wheat at war prices, he managed 0n the whole 10 live life com paratiycly free from care Now, although q voluntary exile from the "casten to which by birth and education he belonged and on some questions what we should in these days call Radical, Matthew Wilson was in the main Tory. inheriting ideas of the old s' country" school from his ances- tors. He was a firm believer in Sir Robert Peel and his coadjutors and as heart fly diShSed Lord John Russell and his reform notions Nevertheless. he was. as We shall hereafter find, open to eonvie- ton, and when once convinced of | truth de elared ope nly and strongly hls new opinions.
 When he left the town Farmer Wilson turned north, by the Peterborough road. and after ride of about one hours duration en- tered. near Mill Hill, a farm road which led LID to his house. A substantial. roomv. red brick structure was the house which Mat thew Wilson called home. He built 1t when he purchased the farm. and, ill designing his house, had resolved that the complaint ef want of room should never be made with re- gard thereto. As he drove up the Well-graV- eled yard at the rear of the house the farm hands were just quitting work for the week.
 Well, John have you got that clover in all right"
 Yes. sir and got the last stack thatchedn
 That's well. Give Tommy few extra oats tonight, John Hello, Fuss, where do you hail from!a exclaimed the farmer. as bonny lass tripped up the pathway from the road.
 "0h, father. Rachel and 1 went down to the rectory this morning to talk over the arrangements for the harvest thanksgiving decorations at the church. and Mr. Love joy drove Us over in his Waggonette to Lady Caroline Ogilvies to ask for some flowers from her couseryatories; and. oh, father. Lady Caroline made us stay to luncheon and promised us all the flowers We might need, and said she would come over to Mill Hill and help us; and, father, she asked after you and said you used to play together when you were little and were neishbors in Midshre; and father dear --'
 We'll Maggie my girl, suppose you take little time for breath until eat my supper" remarked the farmer, who knew his lively little daughter well,
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