The new Bank in this particular little town is not really new.  It is simply a branch set up by a well-established bank whose original centre may perhaps be in another county.  It is every whit as respectable as the other, and as well conducted.  Its branch as yet lacks local antiquity, but that is the only difference.  The competition for the farmer’s business between these branches, scattered all over the length and breadth of the country, must of necessity be close.  When the branch, or new Bank, came here, it was started in grand premises specially erected for it, in the most convenient situation that could be secured.

Till then the business of the old Bank had been carried on in a small and dingy basement.  The room was narrow, badly lit, and still worse ventilated, so that on busy days both the clerks and the customers complained of the stuffy atmosphere.  The ancient fittings had become worn and defaced; the ceiling was grimy; the conveniences in every way defective.  When it was known that a new branch was to be opened the directors of the old Bank resolved that the building, which had so long been found inadequate, should be entirely renovated.  They pulled it down, and the present magnificent structure took its place.

Thus this little country town now possesses two banks, whose facades could hardly be surpassed in a city.  There is perhaps a little rivalry between the managers of the two institutions, in social as well as in business matters.  Being so long established there the old Bank numbers among its customers some of the largest landed proprietors, the leading clergy, and solicitors.  The manager coming into contact with these, and being himself a man of intelligence, naturally occupies a certain position.  If any public movement is set on foot, the banks strive as to which shall be most to the fore, and, aided by its antiquity, the old Bank, perhaps, secures a social precedence.  Both managers belong to the ‘carriage people’ of the town.

Hodge comes into the place, walking slowly behind cattle or sheep, or jolting in on a waggon.  His wife comes, too, on foot, through the roughest weather, to fetch her household goods.  His daughter comes into the hiring fair, and stands waiting for employment on the pavement in the same spot used for the purpose from time immemorial, within sight of the stately facades of the banks.  He himself has stood in the market-place with reaping hook or hoe looking for a master.  Humble as he may be, it is clear that the wealth in those cellars—­the notes and the gold pushed over the counters in shovels—­must somehow come from the labour which he and his immediate employer—­the farmer—­go through in the field.

It is becoming more and more the practice for the carter, or shepherd, who desires a new situation, to advertise.  Instead of waiting for the chance of the hiring fair, he trudges into the market town and calls at the office of the oldest established local paper.  There his wishes are reduced to writing for him, he pays his money, and his advertisement appears.  If there is an farmer advertising for a man, as is often the case, he at the same time takes the address, and goes over to offer his services.  The farmer and the labourer alike look to the advertisement columns as the medium between them.