Henry Slade clearly inherited the farm from his father, John.  Something must have happened to alter the normal line of inheritance, because Henry was actually the second son of John and Deborah.  The Parish Records show the baptism of John Slade one year before that of Henry Slade (1785).  The records have no further notice of this person.  He never appears in the letters.  The letters do, however, refer on several occasions to Cousin John.  Two generations of Slade (Charlotte, Kezia) use this name for him, so the exact relationship remains obscure.  Cousin John seems to have been rather a character.  He mixes with people younger than himself (joining Edward Humfrey’s Book Society), perhaps putting off the time when he should settle down and marry.  Eventually he begins courting a lady who seems even more of a character than him: an older lady, but dashing all the same, riding out with her manservant behind her.  He gets caught as one of the creditors when Mr Webb of Shillingford goes bankrupt.  Later on he goes out on a little jaunt, disappearing for three weeks without notice, leaving only his bailiff in charge.  He may also be the John Slade who comes to stay in John Parson’s house at Christmas 1841.  The Census of 1851 records a John Slade, aged 53, listed as a Landed Proprietor, married to Jane.  He seems to have died at the beginning of 1861, because Jane now lists herself as widow.  The Census gives his birthplace as Hagbourne and hers in the early years as Aston Upthorpe, although in 1871 it changes to Dorchester.  (The dashing older lady was called Miss Pearman of Gatehampton).  He cannot be the John Slade born in 1785 and if his son, it would mean his father was aged around 16 years old at birth.  Clearly, this John Slade, if still alive, did not come into the reckoning when his father died in 1832, because Henry, the second son, appears to have inherited the farm.

We have no letters from Henry Senior.  He passes a message to his son through his daughter Charlotte that his son should assume half the letters signed by his mother come from him.  Perhaps, in common with his second son, Fred, he found writing rather a chore.  Nevertheless, we learn a fair degree about him through the letters. 

He demonstrates a firm mind, knowing what he wants.  We find him refusing to let Old Cy the shepherd hustle him into a wage increase, happy to hire a replacement when Cy votes with his feet.  The same had happened with Will Strange.  Apparently influenced by stories of higher wages in Australia he had demanded 12 shillings a week as under carter.  Henry declined this opportunity and Will departed (perhaps not to Australia since he died in the village in 1891).  He holds his prices when going to the stock sales at Ilsley, Woodcote and other fairs: sometimes he sells, sometimes he does not.  Henry did speculate from time to time.  Once, this went adrift and he found himself one of the creditors to Webb’s bankruptcy.  Another time, after a trial, he found himself sufficiently impressed with a new threshing machine to stump up funds for the purchase.  Still careful, however, he shared the machine with the Fullers.  Mr MacDonald found him no pushover for repairs to All Saints Church.  Their row reduces the family’s attendance to once a month.  We first encounter him printing handbills to advertise a reward of two sovereigns when people steal three of his geese during the Christmas and New Year’s high spirits.

We see Henry, a good family man, playing draughts with his youngest daughter Anne and helping the boys play the Fullers at their evening’s cricket.  He walks about, smoking his pipe, keeping the score.  His pipe had helped him through the despair when his daughter Deborah dies, only 19.  He and her suitor Fred Forsayth sit together smoking.  We find him joining in one of the ‘gypsy parties’ or picnics arranged by the women.  His son Ben plays him at backgammon in the evening, but only to ensure that Henry does not fall asleep in his chair. He allows Kezia to twist him round her finger and accedes to her request for a horse and cart.  The idea that Dr Workman might emigrate to Australia, taking Charlotte, Henry’s oldest daughter, causes him some distress.  He would have lost three of his children in a short time: Henry and Charlotte to the other ends of the earth, Deborah to another world altogether. For a long time he keeps Henry Junior’s house off the market in case he returns and needs somewhere to live.  Possibly Henry felt the empty house would in a way cause his son to return.

A mixture of compassion and duty sends Henry off to the Wallingford Union Workhouse the week of a catastrophe.  Peggy Harris had married George and together they ran the grocery, producing six children along the way.  George, however, died early in 1834, aged 33.  It seems that Peggy had taken up with somebody else in her widowhood.  This relationship had born fruit, albeit tragic.  Early on Friday afternoon, she had reported for work at reaping but had gone home to give birth to a child.  Within hours she had died, leaving six orphans.  Clearly distressed, she had prayed for forgiveness.  Charlotte Slade suspected one Blackman as the father, but he refused to come forward.  Henry Slade himself stepped forward, but in the direction of the Wallingford Union, of which he was a Guardian, in order to settle the family.  Whatever Henry arranged – and the Minutes Book shows no record of a request for this family - we can tell from the records that the village itself helped.  We find the surviving children lodged with other families, one of which had blood linkage with them.  Perhaps Henry had arranged this.

Although the family clearly knew their place in relation to the Valpy family, their landlords, Henry was himself someone worth courting by politicians.  Mr Blackstone calls to take tea on Saturday afternoon.  With him, come Captain Dixon and Mr Alfred Gore, a groom-in-waiting to Her Majesty.  Henry counted himself a great supporter of Mr Blackstone, who, it seems would get returned for the county next time, there being no clear opposition to attract the Radicals in Aston Upthorpe.

Henry exhibited a mixed reaction to the railway’s arrival at Moulsford and onwards west to Didcot.  When someone decides to take the train and shop for scissors in Reading, he takes great pleasure in noting that she could have paid 2 shillings locally for what cost her 7 shillings after a train journey of 4 shillings.  Despite laughing at these adventurers, he liked to sit down and watch the train puff past his property.  So keen an interest did he have in trainspotting that he considered cutting down the trees standing in the way of his view.

At one point, Henry had suffered from bad health, but by the end of 1843 Charlotte thought he had improved substantially.  Indeed, an element of toughness was needed to survive this lifestyle, for he suffered a nasty fall from his horse the following summer.  Fortunately he incurred no injury, nor did the bottle of beer he had with him at the time.  Henry died in 1849, in his early sixties.

Dramatis Personae; TOP