Mr. Carter was, as befitted his name, the farm Carter where I lived. He had constructed a Pannier, that hung on the back of the Lumber seat of the wagon. In this he kept his flask of tea; his lunch, his tobacco and pipe. He was a man of many talents, inasmuch as he was also a capable Wainwright with a skill in Metallurgy. This was back in the days when Titled men wore a Frock coat when cold Fall winds blew in from the North. As this was a time long before Unions entered the working man’s life, any man could work at whatever came his way, with no fear of his workmates going out on strike.
As a young lad I attended Sunday morning Services where my Grandfather was the Church Warden, Sexton, and Bell ringer. Being a man of sincere faith he seldom missed a Service. His Sunday Church duties entailed the handing out of Prayer and Hymn books and Hassock to whomsoever needed one. Many parishioners could neither read nor write but knew from their many attendances, most of Service routine, and attending a church service was their way of paying Penance for any imagined sins they had committed. My Grandfather was a man of the highest integrity, and was well known by all villagers, and sought after, should they Stumble and need someone to help or guide them in moral ways.. Even those who were of High Estate, who were were easily recognised, by their wearing of the fashionable Frock coat - which I as a lad, can well recall seeing. Rhymer.