In the south-eastern portion of the Weald, taking the parishes of Heathfield, Warbleton, and Waldron as a centre, a large proportion of the labourers and small farmers keep from eight to sixteen brood-hens, and breed chickens for the fatters. They live chiefly in remote places away from the villages and hamlets, their favourite spots being the light, dry soil of the commons, and the higher grounds clothed with heather and short grass. Their special aim is to obtain large broods early in the spring, in preparation for the London market, the price of spring chicken being twice or thrice as much as can be obtained at other seasons.
Some idea of the importance of the business to this part of the Weald may be gathered from the following statistics furnished me by the vicar of Heathfield. In 1864, 163 tons, 5 cwts. 7 lbs. of fatted chicken were sent up to London from Heathfield by one carrier, being 101,547 fowls fed and fatted in the three parishes of Heathfield, Warbleton, and Waldron. In 1867 and 1868 the quantity somewhat diminished; in 1869 and 1870 it rose to 181 and 191 tons, or 105,887 fowls.
Between thirteen and fifteen thousand pounds has been paid annually to the fatters by this one carrier, besides the sums received direct from the London salesmen. The quantity this year (1871) it is estimated will reach 200 tons. To these numbers may be added about half as much again, sent up to London by a different route, besides the poultry sent to Brighton and Hastings. The estimated price of the chicken sent by both routes from Heathfield to London is £25,000 per annum.
In this part of the Weald, and along the Kentish border, hop-picking is the great business immediately the wheat harvest is over. Hop-picking is carried on in Sussex in a somewhat more Arcadian fashion than in the neighbouring county, into which Whitechapel and the East of London pours itself during the season.
One night I slept at a little inn at Rotherfield, and listened to some very curious singing going on in the bar-parlour. The songs were given to solemn tell-tale tunes, sounding in the distance very much like a recitation of the Athanasian Creed. Next day I had a talk with one of the singers, a miller, who was said to know more songs than any one else in the district. He had never seen them
