Many specialists, in distinct professions, visited the farm in the course of every twelve months, and each appeared at the season when his particular services were likely to be required. Among these an ancient grafter was one of the most important, and April was the month which brought him to Aldington. In January we had usually beheaded some trees that we considered not worth leaving as they were: these would be trees producing inferior and nondescript cider apples, or perry pears. And we had already cut, and laid in a shady place, half covered with soil, the young shoots of profitable sorts to furnish the grafts for converting the beheaded trees into valuable producers. The old man's function was to prepare the grafts, and unite them in deftly-cut notches with their new parents. His was a rosy-cheeked and many-wrinkled face, reminding one of an apple stored all the winter, and, in his brown velveteen coat, with immense pockets, he made a notable figure. He loved a chat and was always happy and communicative, and his arrival seemed as much a herald of spring as that of the welcome cuckoo. He was paid "by the piece," "three-halfpence a graft and cider," quantity not specified, but an important part of the bargain because of a superstition that grafts "unwetted" would not thrive! Some of these large trees would have ten or more limbs requiring separate grafting, and therefore they earned him a considerable sum, but it is surprising how soon they make a new head, come into bearing, and repay with interest the cost of the work. He was a thoughtful old man and a moralist. I can see him now, standing with his snuff-box open ready in his hand, and saying very solemnly, "I often thinks as an apple-tree is very similar to a child, for you know, sir, we're told to train up a child in the way he shall go, and when he is old he will not depart therefrom." He then refreshed himself with a mighty pinch of snuff, closing his box with a snap that emphasized his air of complete conviction. I think the sheep-dipper was one of the early arrivals. He brings with him an apparatus which provides a bath, and a kind of gangway, rising at an angle from it, upon which the sheep can stand after immersion, to allow the superfluous liquid to find its way back into the bath; each sheep is lifted by two men into the bath containing insecticide, and has an interval for dripping before it rejoins the flock. In the days when Viper was young, he was introduced to the process and given a dip himself, much to his disgust; but that was the only time, for ever afterwards no sooner did the sheep-dipper and his weird-looking apparatus appear at night, in readiness for the performance on the morrow, than Viper remembered his undignified experience, and, before even the overture of the play commenced, vanished for the day. Nobody saw him go, or knew where he went, but it was useless to call or whistle, he was nowhere to be found.