master.

But in the country things are different. The village workman has
honest pride in his reputation, and in his work. Moreover, he can turn
his hand to anything, he does not grudge his time, and he is not
corrupted by the contiguity of the public-house. The man who did my
masonry work for me was a grey-haired, silent, pertinacious fellow, of
great practical intelligence and efficiency. He did not work rapidly,
but all that he did was thoroughly done. The carpenter was a man of
the same type. He took a genuine delight in fitting my oak to its new
uses, and had ideas of his own, which were often ingenious, and always
practical. He even had a true artistic sense; uncultivated for want of
education, but real. I understood the extraordinary skill of mediaeval
craftsmen through my association with this man. The pieces of
exquisite carved oak which find their way into museums to-day were
wrought by men such as he was; quiet, thoughtful men, residing in
villages, who developed their artistic sense in solitude. I am quite
sure that this man thought a great deal more of his work than of the
money he earned by it. At all events he charged me astonishingly
little. He refused a contract, evidently regarding it as implying
suspicions of his honesty. 'I'll charge ye what's fair,' he said, 'and
you and me'll not quarrel as to the price.' If my bill for labour was
so moderate that it seems absurd to a townsman, it was because I had to
deal with honest craftsmen, who brought not only efficiency and
handiness to their work, but a high sense of honour, and a real
intelligence and interest.

It was in the end of August when I took my house; by the beginning of
December I had completed my work upon it. The gardens in front of the
house had been levelled, and covered with the finest mountain turf.