he north
of England. Instead of feudalism, I would substitute the commercial
principle. I would have long leases without covenants; no useless
timber, and no game."

"Why, you would destroy the country," said Mr. Ferrars.

"We owe everything to the large towns," said Job.

"The people in the large towns are miserable," said Mr. Ferrars.

"They cannot be more miserable than the people in the country," said
Job.

"Their wretchedness is notorious," said Mr. Ferrars. "Look at their
riots."

"Well, we had Swing in the country only two or three years ago."

Mr. Ferrars looked sad. The reminiscence was too near and too fatal.
After a pause he said with an air of decision, and as if imparting a
state secret, "If it were not for the agricultural districts, the King's
army could not be recruited."

"Well, that would not break my heart," said Job.

"Why, my good fellow, you are a Radical!"

"They may call me what they like," said Job; "but it will not alter
matters. However, I am going among the Radicals soon, and then I shall
know what they are."

"And can you leave your truly respectable parent?" said Mr. Ferrars
rather solemnly, for he remembered his promise to Farmer Thornberry to
speak seriously to his son.

"Oh! my respectable parent will do very well without me, sir. Only let
him be able to drive into Bamford on market day, and get two or three
linendrapers to take their hats off to him, and he will be happy enough,
and always ready to die for our glorious Constitution."

CHAPTER XIV

Eighteen hundred and thirty-two, the darkest and most distressing year
in the life of Mr. Ferrars, closed in comparative calm and apparent
content. He was himself greatly altered, both in manner and appearance.
He was kind and gentle, but he was silent and rarely smiled. His hair
was grizzled, and he began to stoop. But he was always employed, and was
interested in his labours.

His sanguine wife bore up against their misfortunes with far more
animation. She was at first amused with her new life, and when she was
accustomed to it, she found a never-failing resource in her conviction
of a coming reaction. Mrs. Ferrars possessed most feminine qualities,
and many of them in excess. She could not reason, but her intuition was
remarkable. She was of opinion that "these people never could go on,"
and that they must necessarily be succeeded by William and his friends.
In vain her husband, when she pressed her views and convict