The fields came up
to the gardens and orchards at the back of half the houses, and
flowed irregularly, like an inundation, into the angles of the
streets. As you walked past the great gate of the "Angel" yard you
could see the meadow at the bottom belonging to Hundred Acres.
Consequently all Cowfold took an interest in agriculture, and knew a
good deal about it. Every shopkeeper was half a farmer, and
understood the points of a pig or a horse. Cowfold was not a town
properly speaking, but the country a little thickened and congested.
The conversation turned upon the crops, and more particularly upon
turnips and drainage, both of them a new importation. Hitherto all
the parishes round had no drainage whatever, excepting along the
bottoms of the ridges, and the now familiar red pipes had just made
their appearance on a farm belonging to a stranger to those parts--a
young fellow from Norfolk. Everybody was sceptical, and called him a
fool. Everybody wanted to know how water was going to get through
fifteen inches of heavy land when it would lie for two days where a
horse trod. However, the pipes went in, and it so happened that the
first wet day after they were laid was a Sunday.
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