. It is still in cultivation, though its
constitution is impaired, like that of all potatoes of long standing.
Later on I shall have more to say about this unfortunate tendency to
deterioration.

J.E. was one of my most reliable men, working for me, first as
under-carter and afterwards as head carter, for, I think, altogether
twenty-six years; he was well educated and a great reader, quiet and
somewhat reserved, and though his humour did not lie on the surface,
he could appreciate a joke. My recollections of him, after his
steadiness and reliability, are chiefly of his personal mishaps, for
he was an unlucky man in this particular.

I was on my round one morning when I met a breathless carter-boy
making for the village. Asked where he was off to, "Please, sir," he
replied, "I be to fetch Master E. another pair of trowsers!"
"Trousers," said I; "what on earth for?" "Please, sir, the bull ha'
ripped 'em!" I hurried on, and soon saw that it was no laughing
matter, for I found poor E. in a terrible plight of rags and tatters,
sitting in a cart-shed in some outlying buildings, on a roller. The
cowman was standing by holding a Jersey bull. The story was soon told.
The cowman, having to go into the yard, had asked E. to hold the bull
a minute. Unfortunately, the animal had only a halter on him, the
cowman having omitted to bring the stick, with hook and swivel, to
attach to the bull's nose-ring. No sooner was the cowman out of sight
than the bull began to fret, and, turning upon E., knocked him down
between a mangoldbury and the outside wall of the yard. In this
position he was unable to get a direct attack upon the man, but he
managed to gore him badly and tear his clothes to pieces. The cowman,
hearing E. calling, came back and rescued him, the bull becoming quite
docile with his regular attendant. Poor E. was black and blue when he
got home in the pony-cart, and was laid up for many weeks afterwards.
He undoubtedly had a very narrow escape. It is curious that, though
the Jersey cows are the most docile of any kind, the bulls are the
most uncertain and, when annoyed, savage; I had trouble with two or
three, and one became so dangerous that he had to be killed in his
stall.

E.'s bad luck overtook him again when returning from Evesham with,
fortunately, an empty waggon and team; one of the horses was startled,
and E. ran forwards to catch the reins. By some means he fell, and the
waggon-wheels passed over him; had it been