You put he along with the fives and not with the tens.' Hilary once showed me the heel of a boot which had just been mended by the hedge carpenter and cobbler who worked for him; and offered to bet that not all the scientific people in Europe, with microscope, spectrum analysis, all their appliances, could tell what leather the new heel-piece was made of.

Unable to guess, I gave it up; it was of bacon.

A pig that was never a 'good doer' was found in a ditch dead.
There is always a competition among the labourers for a dead pig or sheep; it was the cobbler's turn, and he had it, cut it up, and salted it down.

But when in course of time he came to partake of his side of bacon, behold it was so tough and dried up that even he could not gnaw it.

The side hung in the cottage for months, for he did not like to throw it away, and could not think what to do with it, for the dogs could not eat it.