apt to get a little impatient at any talk about national ruin and
agricultural distress. 'They talk of public distress,' said the
General this day to me at dinner, as he smacked a glass of rich
burgundy and cast his eyes about the ample board: 'They talk of public
distress, but where do we find it, sir? I see none; I see no reason
anyone has to complain. Take my word for it, sir, this talk about
public distress is all humbug!'"

At Evesham, long before the depression grew into a debacle, the
shadows of coming events could easily be detected. There was the
disappearance of the long rows of farmers' conveyances at the inns in
the town on market-days; there was the eclipse of shops--for other
than necessities--such as a little fish shop, opposite the corner at
the cross roads; a corner where much business was formerly transacted
in the open street, and where I myself have sold by sample some
thousands of sacks of wheat. A tempting little shop it used to be,
displaying shining Severn salmon; and it was here that the farmers,
after the market, obtained the supplies commanded by the missus at
home.

And there was the abandonment of the Corn Market proper, for the class
of farmers who survived hated to transact their business indoors. The
attendance of millers and dealers, except of those who had cargoes of
foreign corn at Gloucester or Bristol to dispose of, became irregular.
Sales of farm stock and implements took place in every village on
farms which had passed from father to son for generations, coupled
with the sacrifice of valuable implements and machinery for want of
buyers. There followed the stage when landowners who could find no
tenants, and had heavily mortgaged estates, essayed to make the best
of them by laying away the arable land to pasture, undertaking the