The Journal of a Disappointed Man

Who, then, is "Carrots"? He is a fine brawny boat-man who jumps over the rocks like a Chamois, swims like a Fish, pulls like an Ox, snorts like a Grampus--a sort of compound zoological perfection, built eclectically. September 18. Early Boughies Up the village, Mrs. Beavan keeps a tiny little shop and runs a very large garden. She showed us all about the garden, and introduced us to her husband, whom we discovered in an apple tree--an old man, aged 76, very hard of hearing, and with an impediment in his speech. He at once began to move his mouth, and I caught odd jingles of sound that sounded like nothing at all--at first, but which gradually resolved themselves on close attention to such familiar landmarks as "Early Boughies," "Stubbits," "Ribstone Pippins" into a discourse on Apples. The following curious conversation took place between me and the deaf gaffer, aged 76, standing in the apple tree,-- "These be all appulls from Kent--I got 'em all from Kent." "How long have you lived in C----?" "Bunyard & Son--that's the firm--they live just outside the town of Maidstone." "Do you keep Bees here?" "One of these yer appulls is called Bunyard after the firm--a fine fruit too." "Your good wife must be of great assistance to you in your work." "Little stalks maybe, but a large juishy appull for all that." Just then I heard Mrs. B---- saying to E----,-- "Aw yes, he's very active for 76. A little deaf, but he manages the garden all 'eesulf, I bolsters 'un up wi' meat and drink--little and often as they zay for children.... Now there's a bootifull tree, me dear, that 'as almost beared itself to death, as you may say."