James, like all the rest of us, had a profound respect for the Doctor's learning, and old John and he were as father and son; so a better matched trio could hardly be found in the parish, as they sat there before the cheerful blaze, smoking their pipes.
"A good rain, Jim; a good, warm, kindly rain after the frost," began the Vicar.
"A very good rain, sir," replied Jim.
"Some idiots," said the Doctor, "take the wing bones out first.

Now, my method of beginning at the legs and working forward, is infinitely superior.

Yet that ass at Crediton, after I had condescended to show him, persisted his own way was the best." All this time he was busy skinning his bird.
"How are your Southdowns looking, Jim ?" says the Vicar.

"Foot-rot, eh ?" "Well, yes, sir," says James, "they always will, you know, in these wet clays.

But I prefer 'em to the Leicesters, for all that." "How is scapegrace Hamlyn ?" asked the Vicar.
"He is very well, sir.