_September 20, 1902._--I turn over the page in my note-book, but come to a new date three weeks later. Quiet autumn sunshine, the entry says, had marked the last few days, breaking through with a limpid splash in the mornings, after the mist had gone. Amidst this, under the softened tree-shadows, Bettesworth was cutting grass with his fag-hook. And "Ah," he said, "it's purty near all up with charcoal-burnin' now." This was in allusion to the indifferent crop of hops just being picked and the consequently small demand for charcoal; but it was a digression too. We had begun talking of a wasp sting. From that to gnats, and from gnats to a certain tank where they bred, was an obvious transition. And now the tank suggested charcoal. For, according to Bettesworth, a little knob of charcoal put into a tank is better than an equal quantity of lime, for keeping the water sweet. Further, "If you got a bit o' meat that's goin' anyways wrong, you put a little bit o' charcoal on to that, and you won't taste anything bad. I've heared ever so many charcoal-burners say that. And meat is a thing as won't keep--not butcher's meat; partic'lar in the summer when you sims to want it most--something with a little taste to 't." So, charcoal is useful; but "Ah! it's purty near all up with charcoal-burnin' now." A good deal that followed, about the technicalities of charcoal-burning, has been printed in another place, and is omitted here. One point, however, may now be taken up. It is the curious fact that all the charcoal-burners of the neighbourhood are congregated in one district, and the numerous families of them rejoice in one name--that of Parratt. "I never knowed anybody but Parratts do it about here," Bettesworth said; and the name reminded him of a story, as follows: "My old brother-in-law Snip was down at Devizes one time--him what used to travel with a van--_Snip_ they always called 'n. And there was a feller come into the fair with one of these vans all hung round with bird-cages, ye know--poll-parrots and all kinds o' birds. So old Snip says to 'n, 'Parrots?' he says, 'what's the use o' you talkin' about parrots? Why, where I come from,' he says, 'we got Parratts as 'll burn charcoal, let alone talk. Talk better 'n any o' yourn,' he says. 'You give 'em some beer and _they'll_ talk--or dig hop-ground, or anything.' Lor'! how that feller did go on at 'n, old Snip said!" Bettesworth knew something of charcoal-burning by experience, but he owned himself ignorant of its inner technical niceties. Moreover, he felt it right to respect a trade "mystery," explaining, "'Tis no use to be a trade, if everybody can do it. 'Relse we should have poor livin' then."