THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES «. *. BOUND ABOUT k GREAT \>\ UK V ROUND ABOUT A GREAT ESTATE nv RICH \K1> JEFFERIES Al . I ■ Willi I WTT' I ' BO LONDON SMITH, ELDER, & CO.. 15 WATERLOO PLACE 1880 [All rights reserved] us; PRE PAC E There La an old Btory which In respect of a modern application may bear re-telling. Once upon :i time in b lonely ' coombe-bottom oi the Downs, where there was neither church, chapel, Dor public building of any kind, there lived :i cottage-girl who had never seen anything of civilisation. A friend, however, having gone ou1 to service in a market-town Bome few miles distant, Bhe one day walked in her, and was Bhown the wonders of the place, the railway, the post-office, the hotels, and bo forth. In the evening the friend companied her a short way on the return journey, and a> they wenl out of the town, they passed the church. Looking suddenly up vi Preface. at the tower, the visitor exclaimed, ' Lard-a- mussy! you've got another moon here. ^ ourn have irot figures all round un ! ' In her ex- citement, and prepared to see marvels, she had mistaken the large dial of the church clock for a moon of a dhTi'ivnl kind to the one which shone upon her native home. This old tale, familiar to country folk as an illustration of simplicity, lias to-day a wider meaning. Until recent years the population dwelling in \ illag and hamlets, and even in little rural towns, saw indeed the -un l>y day and the n n by night, and Learned the traditions and customs of their forefathers, such as had been handed down for generatioi Bui now anew illu- mination has fallen upon these far-away pla< The cottager is no Longer ignorant, and his child is well grounded in rudimentary educa- tion, reads and write- with facility, and is not without knowledge of the higher sort. Thus there is now another moon with the figur* - education all round it. In this book sonic notes Preface. vii have been made of the former state of tilings before it passes away entirely. Hut I would not have it therefore thought that I wish it to continue or return. My sympathies and hopes are with the light of the future only I should like it t<> come from nature. The clock slmuld be read by the sunshine, do! the sun timed by the clock. The latter is indeed im- possible, for though all the clocks in theworld should declare the hour of .lawn to he mid- night, the miii will presently rise jusl the same. Richard Jh i ebies. a ^ CONTENTS. I MAI 1 i l. PAOI I. Okihmikm i'iimi:. 1 i i.mjjg TBMWB , . . 1 II. On r.i.v. I'hk Bbooi 30 III. A Pa< k 0] Si.n re, r.iiLits 42 I\. ELucub Fou 6] \ . W is:- \n Tin: I i-iic . . . - \I \ I > • .if thb Ouroi Times . . LOS \ 11. Tin - ' ■ 12"> YIH. I [CBLT'8 I'aikv. I1h.m:\ - T\Lk . . . Ill IX. Iu. \\ \ 1 1 i:-Mn.i.. Kim.1' Na.mi> . . . 16.:$ \. ThB COOKBS-BOTTOM . l'"NU.t>l»X . . . 188 ROUND ABOUT A GREAT ESTATE. CHAPTER I. OKEBOURNE CHACE. FELLING TREES. The great house al Okebourne Chaee .--tands in the midst of the park. and. from the southern windows no dwellings are visible. Near at hand the trees appear isolated, hut further away insensibly gather together, and above them rises the distant 1 town crowned with four tumuli. Among several private paths which traverse the park there is one that, passing through a belt of ash wood, enters the meadows. Sometimes following the hedges and sometimes crossing the angles, this path finally ends, after about a mile, in the garden surrounding" B 2 Round about a Great Estate. a large thatched farmhouse. In the maps of the parish it has probably another name, but from being so long inhabited by the Lucketts it is always spoken of as Lucketts' Place. The house itself and ninety acres of grass land have been their freehold for many gene- rations ; in fact, although there is no actual deed of entail, the property is as strictly pre- served in the family and descends from heir to heir as regularly as the great estate and man- sion adjacent. < >ld Hilary Luckett — though familiarly Galled ' old,' he is physically in the prime free of the warren as the owner of the charter himself. If you should be visiting Okebourne Choce, and any question should arise whether Okcbounic Chace. of horses, dog, or gun, you arc sure to be re- ferred to Hilary. Hilary knows all about it : he is tlje authority thereabout on all matters concerning game. I> it j »r« » j »< >-» •» 1 to plant fresh covers ? Hilary's opinion is asked. Is it proposed to thin out some of the older tree- ; what does Hilary Bay ': It is a fact that people really believe no part of a partridge is ever taken away after being sel before him. Neither hones nor sinews remain : bo fond is he of the brown bird. Having eaten the breast, and the juicy and the delicate wing, he next proceeds to snek the bones ; for name bo be thoroughly enjoyed should be eaten like a mince-pie, in the fingers. There is always one hone with a sweeter flavour than the rest, just at the joint or fracture : it varies in every bird according to the chance of the cooking, but. having dis- covered it, put it aside for further and more strict attention. Presently lie begins to grind up the bones in his strong teeth, commencing with the smallest. His teeth are not now so u 2 4 Round about a Great Estate. powerful as when in younger days he used to lift a sack of wheat with them, or the full milking -bucket up to the level of the copper in the dairy. Still they gradually reduce the slender skeleton. The feat is not so difficult if the bird has been well hung. He has the right to shoot, and need take no precautious. But, in fact, a farmer, whether he has liberty or not, can usually amuse him- self occasionally in that way. If his labourer sees him quietly slipping up beside the hedge with his double-barrel towards the copse in the corner where a pheasant has been heard several times lately, the labourer watches him with delight, and says nothing. Should any- one in authority ask where that gun went off, the labourer ' thenks it wur th' birdkippur up in th' Dree Yurlong, you.' Presently the pheasant hangs in the farmer's cellar, his long tail sweeping the top of the XXX cask ; and the ' servant-wench,' who is in and out all day, also says nothing. Nor can anything exceed the care with which she disposes of the Okeboume Chace. feathers when Bhe picks the bird. There is, a thorough sympathy between master and man so far. Hilary himself, with all that greal estate to sport over, cannot at times refrain from stepping across the boundary. His Land- lord onee.it is whispered, wasToul with Hilary Bhooting, and they became so absent-minded while discussing some interesting Bubjecl as to wander several fields beyond the property be- fore they discovered their mistake. At Lucketts' Place the favourite partridge always comes up for supper: a pleasant meal that nowadays can rarely be bad out of a farmhouse. Then the bright light from the burning log outshines the Lamp, and glances rosy on the silver tankard standing under a glass shade on a bracket against the wall. Hilary's father won it near half a century since in some heats that were run on the Downs on the old racecourse, before it was ploughed up. For the wicked turnip is re- sponsible for the destruction of old England ; far more so than the steam-eEirine. 6 Round about a Great Estate. Waste lands all glorious with golden bloe- Boming furze, with purple foxglove, or curious orchis hiding in stray corners ; wild moor-like lands, beautiful with heaths and honey-bottle: grand stretches of sloping downs where the hares hid in the grass, and where all the horses in the kingdom might gallop at their will : these have been overthrown with the plough because <>t' the turnip. A- the root crops came in. the rage began for thinning the hedges and grubbing the double mounds and killini!' the young timber, besides putting in the drains and driving away the wild-ducks. The wicked Turnip put diamonds on the fingers of the farmer'- wife, and presently raised his ri m. But now some of the land is getting ' turnip-sick.' the roots come stringy and small and useless, 80 that many let it "vail down.' After the last emp it is left alone, the couch grows, the docks spread out from the hedges, every species of weed starts up, till by-and-by the ploughed land becomes green and is called pasture. This is a process going Okebourne Chace. on at the present moment, and to which owners of land should sec without delay. Hilary lias been looked oil somewhat coldly by other tenants for openly calling the lord of the manor's attention to it. He sturdily maintains thai arable land if laid down for pasture should belaid down properly — a thing thai requires labour and expenditure just the same as other tanning op< -rations. So the silver tankard, won when "cups' were not SO com- mon as now. Is a memorial of the old times before the plough turned up the SWeel turfof the racecourse. Hilary does n<>t bel beyond tin- modesl 'fiver' which a man would be thought un- sociable it'he did not risk en the horse that carries the country's colour-. But he is very •thick ' with the racing-people on the Downs, and supplies the stable with oat-, which is, I believe, not an unprofitable commission. The historical anecdote of the Roman emperor who fed his horse on irilded oats reads a little strange when we first come across it in youth. 8 Round about a Great Estate. But many a race-horse owner has found reason since to douht if it be so wonderful, as his own stud — to judge by the co>t — must live on golden fodder. New. before I found this out about the stable, it happened one spring day that I met Hilary in the fields, and lis- tened to a long tirade which he delivered against ' writs.' The wheat was then showing a beautiful flag, the despised oats were coming out in jag, and the black knots on the delicate barley straw were beginning to be topped with the hail. The flan; is the lone narrow u'reen leaf of the wheat ; in jag means the spray-like drooping awn of the oat; and the hail is the beard of the barley, which when it is white and brittle in harvest-time gets down the back of the neck, irritating the skin of those who work among it. According to Hilary, oats do not flourish on rich land ; and when he was young (and everything was then done right) a farmer who grew oats was looked upon with contempt, as they were thought Okeboumc Chace. only tit for the poorest soil, and a crop that therefore denoted poverty. But nowadays, thundered Hilary in scorn, all farmers grow oats, and. indeed, anything - in preference to wheat. Afterwards, at the Derby that year, nie- thought 1 saw Hilary as I passed the sign of the * Carrion Crow:' the dead bird dangles from the top of a tall pole stuck in the sward beside a booth. I lost him in the crowd then. But later on in antnnm, while ram- bling round the Chace, there came on a ' skit' of rain, and I made for one of his barns for shelter. There was Hilary in the barn with his men, as busy as they could well be, win- nowing oats. It seemed to me that especial care was being taken, and on asking questions, to which the men silently replied with a grin, Hilary presently blurted out that the dust had to be carefully removed, because the grain was for the racing-stable. The dainty creatures up there must have food free from dust, which makes them too thirsty. The hay IO Round about a Great Estate. supplied, for the same reason, had to be shaken before being used. X<> oats would do under 40 lb. the bushel, and the heavier the better. Luckett was a man whom every one knew to be " square ; ' but, if the talk of the coun- try-side is to be believed, the farmers who have much to do with the stables do not always come off successful. They Bometimes become too sharp, and fancy themselves cle- verer than a class of men wlm. it' their stature be nol great, are probably the keenest of wit. The former who obliges them Lb invariably repaid with lucrative 'tips;' but if he betrays those ' tips ' may possibly find his information in turn untrustworthy, and have to sell by auction, and depart to Texas. Luckett avoids such pitfalls by the simple policy of 'square- ness,' which is, perhaps, the wisest of all. When the " -kit ' blew past he took his gun from the corner and stepped over the hatch, and came down the path with me. grumbling that all the grain, even where the crop Looked well, had threshed out so liirht. Felling Trees. 1 1 Farming had gone utterly to the dogs "I Late seasons'; bethought he should give up the land he rented, ;ml»l that -i\ or seven hundred acres at a rent which has uol been altered these fifty years at Least. Bnt the owner was a wry good fellow, and as Hilary said, 'There it is, yon see.' My private opinion is that, despite the Late bad seasons, Hilary has Long been doing remarkably well ; and as for his land- lord, that he would Btand by him shoulder to shoulder it' defence were Deeded. Much as I admired the timber about the Chare. I could uot h<'l]> soniet i 1 1 1< - wishing to have a chop at it. The pleasure of felling trees is never lost. In youth, in manhood — so Long as the arm can wield the axe — the enjoyment i> equally keen. As the heavy tool passes over the shoulder the impetus of the swinging motion lightens the weight, and 12 Round about a Great Estate. something like a thrill passes through the sinews. Why is it so pleasant to strike ? What secret instinct is it that makes the deli- very of a blow with axe or hammer so exhi- larating? The wilder frenzy of the sword — the fury of striking with the keen blade, which overtakes men even now when they come hand to hand, and which was once the life of battle — seems to arise from the same feeling. Then, as the sharp edge of the axe cuts deep through the hark into the wood, there is a second moment of gratification. The next blow sends a chip spinning aside ; and by-the-bye never Btand at the side of a woodman, for a chip may score your cheek like a slash with a knife. But the shortness of man's days will not allow him to cut down many trees. In imagination I some- times seem to hear the sounds of the ax<> that have been rin^in"; in the forests of America for a hundred years, and envy the joy of the lumbermen as the tall pines toppled to the fall. Of our English trees there is Felling Trees. 13 none so pleasant to chop as the lime ; the steel enters into it so easily. In the enclosed portion of the park at Okebourne the boughs of the trees descended and swept the sward. Nothing but sheep being permitted to graze there, the trees grew in their natural form, the lower limbs droop- ing downwards to the ground. Hedgerow timber is usually * stripped ' up at intervals, and the hushes, too, interfere with the ex- pansion of the branches ; while the houghs of trees standing in the open fields are nibbled off by cattle. Bu1 in that part of the park no cattle had fed in the memory of man ; so that the lower limbs, drooping by their own weight, came arching to the turf. Each tree thus made a perfect bower. The old woodmen who worked in the Chace told me it used to be said that elm ought only to be thrown on two days of the year — i.e. the 31st of December and the 1st of January. The meaning was that it should be cut in the very ' dead of the year,' when 14 Round about a Great Estate. the sap hud retired, so that the timber might last longer. The old folk took the greatest trouble to get their timber well seasoned. which is the reason why the woodwork in old houses has endured so well. Passing under some elms one June evening, I heard a humming overhead, and found it was caused by a number of bees and humble-beea busy in the upper branches at a great height from the ground. They were probably after the honey-dew. Buttercups do not flourish under trees ; in early summer, where elms or oaks stand in the mowing-grass, there is often a circle around almost bare of them and merely srceen, while the rest of the meadow glistens with the burnished gold of that beautiful flower. The oak is properly regarded as a slow- growing tree, but under certain circumstances a sapling will shoot up quickly to a wonder- ful height. When the woodmen cut down a fir plantation in the Chace there was a young oak among it that overtopped the firs, and V Felling Trees. vet its diameter was so small that it looked no Larger than a pole ; and the supporting boughs of the firs being now removed it could not uphold itself, bul bent so much from the perpendicular as to appear incapable of with- standing a gale. The hark of the oak, when stripped and stacked, requires fine weather to dry it. much the same as hay, SO thai a wet season like L879 is very unfavourable. In the open glades of the ( Ihace there were noble clumps of beeches, and if you walked quietly under them in the still October days you might hear a slight but clear and distinct sound above you. This was eau>ed by the teeth of a squirrel nibbling the beech-nuts, and every now and then down came pieces of husk rustling through the coloured leaves. Sometimes a nut would fall which he had dropped ; and yet. with the nibbling sound to guide the eye. it was not always easy to dis- tinguish the little creature. But his tail pre- sently betrayed him among the foliage, far out on a bousidi where the nuts grew. The husks, 1 6 Round about a Great Estate. if undisturbed, remain on all the winter and till the tree is in full "Teen leaf again ; the young nuts are formed about midsummer. The black poplars are so much like the aspen as to be easily mistaken, especially as their leaves rustle in the same way. I Jut the true aspen has a smooth bark, while that of the black poplar i> scored or rough. Wood- men always call the aspen the " asp r ' dropping the termination. In the spring the young foliage of the black poplar has a yellow tint. When they cut down the alder poles by the water and peeled them, the sap under the bark as it dried turned as red as if stained. The paths in spring were strewn with the sheaths of the young leaves and buds pushing forth; showers of such brown sheaths came off the hawthorn with every breeze. These, with the catkins, form the first fall from tree and bush. The second is the flower, as the May, and the horse-chestnut bloom, whose petals cover the ground. The third fall is that of the leaf, and the fourth the fruit. Felling Trees. ly On the Scotch fir the young green cones are formed about the beginning of June, and then the catkin adjacent to the cone is completely covered with quantities of pale yellow farina. If handled, it covers the fingers as though they had been dipped in sulphur-flour ; shake the branch and it flies off, a little cloud of powdery particles. The scaly bark takes a ruddy tinge, when the sunshine falls upon it, and would then, I think, be worthy the attention of an artist as much as the birch bark, whose peculiar mingling of silvery white, orange, and brown, painters so often endeavour to represent on canvas. There is something in the Scotch fir, crowned at the top like a palm with its dark foliage, which, in a way I cannot express or indeed analyse, suggests to my mind the far-away old world of the geologists. In the boughs of the birch a mass of twigs sometimes grows so close and entangled to- gether as to appear like a large nest from a distance when the leaves are off. Even as early as December the tomtits attack the c 1 8 Round about a Great Estate. buds, then in their sheaths, of the birch. dinging to the very extremities of the Blender boughs. I once found a young birch growing on the ledge of a brick bridge, outside the parapet, and sonic forty or titty feet from the ground. It was about four \\>vt high, quite a sapling, and apparently flourishing, though where the roots could find soil it was difficult to discover. The ash tree is slowly disappearing from many places, and owners of hedgerow and copse would do well to plant ash. which affords a most useful wood. Ash poles are plentiful, hut ash timber gets scarcer year by year; for as the present trees are felled there are no young ones rising up to take their place. Consequently ash is becoming dearer, as the fishermen find : for many of the pleasure yachts which they let out in summer are planked with ash. which answers well for boats which are often high and dry on the beach, though it would not do if always in the water. These beach-boats have an oak frame. V Felling Trees. 19 oak stem and stern-post, beech keel, and are planked with ash. When they require re- pairing, Jbhe owners hnd ash planking scarce and dear. Trees may be said to change their garments thrice in the season. In the Bpring the woods at Okebonrnc were of the tenderest green, which, as the summerdrew on, Losl its delicacy of hue. Then came the second or * midsummer shoot. 1 brightening them with fresh leaves and fresh green. The second shoot of the oak is reddish : there was one oak in the Chace which after midsummer thus became ruddy from the highest to the lowest branch ; others did not show the change nearly so much. Lastly came the brown and yellow autumn tints. c 2 20 Round about a Great Estate. CHAPTER II. CICELY. THE BROOK. In the kitchen at Lucketts' Place there was a stool made by sawing off about six inches of the butt of a small ash tree. The bark remained on, and it was not smoothed or trimmed in any way. This mere log was Cicely Luckett's favourite seat as a girl ; she was Hilary's only daughter. The kitchen had perhaps originally been the house, the rest hav- ing been added to it in the course of years as the mode of life changed and increasing civilisa- tion demanded more convenience and comfort. The walls were quite four feet thick, and the one small lattice- window in its deep recess scarcely let in sufficient light, even on a summer's day, to dispel the gloom, except at one particular time. Cicely. 2 1 The little panes, yellow and green, were but just above the ground, looking out upon the road -into the rickyard. so that the birds which came search inn 1 alum- - anions the grasses and pieces of wood thrown carelessly aside against the wall could see into the room. Robins, of course, came every morning, perch- ing on the sill and peering in with the head held on one side. Blackbird and thrush came, but always passed the window itself quickly, though they stayed without fear within a few inches of it on either hand. There was an old oak table in the centre of the room — a table so solid that young Aaron, the strong labourer, could only move it with dif- ficulty. There was no ceiling properly speak- ing, the boards of the floor above and a thick beam which upheld it being only whitewashed ; and much of that had scaled off. An oaken door led down a few steps into the cellar, and over both cellar and kitchen there sloped a long roof, thatched, whose eaves were but just above the ground. 22 Round about a Great Estate. Now, when there was no one in the kitchen, as in the afternoon, when even the indoor servants had gone out to help in the hayfield, little Cicely used to come in here and >it dreaming on the ash log by the hearth. The rude >t] was always placed inside the fireplace, which was very broad for burning wood, faggots and split pieces of timber. Bending over tin- -ivy ashes, -In could see right up the great broad tunnel of the chimney to the blue sky above, wliieh seemed the more deeply azure, as it does from the bottom of a well. In the evenings when she looked up she sometimes saw a star shining above. In the early mornings of the spring, a- -he came rushing down to breakfast, the tiny yellow panes of the window which faced the easl were all lit tip and rosy with the rays of the rising sun. The beautiful light came through the elms of the rickyard, away from the ridge of the distant Down, and then for the first hour of the day the room was aglow. For quite two Cicely. 23 hundred years every visible sunrise had shone in at that window more or less, as the season changed.and the sun rose to the north of east. Perhaps it was thai sense of ancient homeli- ness thatcaused Cicely, without knowing why. to steal in there alone to dream, for nowhere else indoors could she have been so far away from the world of to-dav. Left much to herself, she roamed along the hedgerow as now and then a mild day came, SOOn after the birds had paired, and saw the arrow-shaped, pointed Leaves with black spot- rising and unrolling; at the sides of the ditches. Many of these seemed to die away presently without producing anything, hut from some there pushed up a sharply conical sheath, from which emerged the spadix of the arum with its frill. Thrusting a stick into the loose earth of the bank, she found the root, covered with a thick wrinkled skin which peeled easily and left a white substance like a small potato. Some of the old women who came into the kitchen used to talk about ' yarbs,' and she 24 Round about a Great Estate. was told that this was poisonous and ought not to bo touched — the very reason why she slipped into the dry ditch and dug it up. But she started with a sense of <^uilt as she heard the slow rustle of a snake gliding along the mound over the dead, dry leaves of Last year. In August, when the reapers began to call and ask for work, she found the arum stalks, left alone without leaves, surrounded with berries, some green, some ripening red. As the berries ripen, the stalk grow- weak and frequently falls prone of it> own weight among the grasses. This noisome fruit of clustering berries, like an ear of maize stained red, they told her was ' snake's victuals,' and to be avoided ; for, bright as was its colour, it was only fit for a reptile's food. She knew, too, where to find the first ' crazy Betties,' whose large yellow flowers do not wait for the sun, but shine when the March wind scatters king's ransoms over the fields. These are the marsh marigolds: there V Cicely. 25 were two places where she gathered them, one beside the streamlet flowing through the ' Mash,' a meadow which was almost a water- meadow ; and the other inside a withy-bed. She pulled the ' cat's- tails,' as she learned to call the horse-tails, to see the stem part at the joints ; and when the mowing-grass began to grow long, picked the cuckoo-flowers and nibbled the stalk and leaflets to essay the cress-like taste. In the garden, which was full of old-fashioned shrubs and herbs, she watched the bees busy at the sweet- scented 'honey-plant,' and sometimes peered under the sage-bush to look at the * effets ' that hid there. By the footpath through the meadows there were now small places where the mowers had tried their new scythes as they came home, a little warm with ale perhaps, froin the market town. They cut a yard or two of grass as they went through the fields, just to get the swing of the scythe and as a hint to the farmer that it was time to begin. With 26 Round about a Great Estate. the first June rose in the hedge the haymak- ing commenced — the two usually coincide — and then Cicely fluctuated between the hay- makers and the mowers, now watching one and now the other. One of the haymaking girls was very proud because she had not lost a single wooden tooth out of her rake, for it is easy to break or pull them out. In the next field the mowers, one behind the other in echelon, left each his swathe as he went. The t;ill bennets witli their purplish anthers, the sorrel, and the great white ' moon - daisies ' fell before them. Cieely would watch till perhaps the sharp scythe cut a frog, and the poor creature squealed with the pain. Then away along the hedge to the pond in the corner, all green with ' creed,' or duck- weed, when one of the boys about the place would come timidly up to offer a nest of eggs just taken, and if she would speak to him would tell her about his exploits "a-nisting,' about the bombarrel tit — a corruption ap- V Cicely. 27 parently of nonpareil — and how he had put the yellow juice of the celandine on his ' wurrut ' to cure -it. Then they pulled the plantain leaves, those that grew by the path, to see which could draw out the longest 'cat-gut ;' the sinews, as it were, of the plant stretching out like the strings of a fiddle. In the next meadow the cows had just been turned into fresh grass, and were lazily riot- ing in it. They led in the sunshine with the golden buttercups up above their knees, literally wading in gold, their horns as they held their heads low just visible among the flowers. Some that were standing in the furrow- were hidden up to their middles by the buttercups. Their sleek roan and white hides contrasted with the green grass and the sheen of the flowers : one stood still, chewing the cud, her square face expressive of intense content, her beautiful eye — there is no animal with a more beautiful eye than the cow — following Cicely' > motions. At this time of the year, as they grazed far from the pens, the herd were milked 28 Round about a Great Estate. in the corner of the field, instead of driving them to the yard. One afternoon Cicely came quietly through a gap in the hedge by this particular corner, thinking to laugh at Aaron's voice, for he milked there and sang to the cows, when she saw him sitting on the three-legged milking- stool, stooping in the attitude of milking, with the bucket between his knees, but firm asleep, and quite alone in his glory, lie had had too much ale. and dropped asleep while milking the last cow, and the herd had left him and marched away in stately single file down to the pond, as they always drink after the milk- ing. Cicely stole away and said nothing ; but presently Aaron A\as missed and a search made, and lie was discovered by the other men still sleeping. Poor ' young A an >n ' got into nearly as much disgrace through the brown jug as a poaching uncle of his through his ferret.- and wires. "When the moon rose full and lit up the Overboro'-road as bright as day, and the Cicely. 29 children came out from the cottages to their play, Cicely, though she did not join, used to watch their romping dances and picked up the old rhymes they chanted. When the full moon shone in at her bedroom .window, Cicely was very careful to turn away or cover her face ; for she had heard one of the mowers declare that after sleeping on the hay in the moonlight one night he woke up in the morning almost blind. Besides the meadows around Lucketts' Place, she sometimes wandered further to the edge of Hilary's great open arable fields. where the green corn, before it came out in ear, seemed to flutter, flutter like innumerable tiny nags, as the wind rushed over it. She learned to rub the ripe ears in her hands to work the grain out of the husk, and then to winnow away the chaff by letting the corn slowlv drop in a stream from one palm to the other, blowing gently with her mouth the while. The grain remained on account of its weight, the chaff Moating away, and the wheat, still soft though fullv formed, could thus be 2,o Round about a Great Estate. pleasantly tasted. The plaintive notes of the yellow-hammer fell from the scanty trees of the wheat-field hedge, and the ploughboy who was put there to frighten away the rooks told her the bird Baid, repeating thesongover and over again, ' A little bit of bread and no cheese.' Ami iii' leed these syllables, with a Lengthening emphasis on the 'no,' come ludicrously near to represent the notes. The ploughboy under- stood them very well, for to have only a hunch of bread and little or no cheese was often his own case. Two meadows distant from the lower woods of the Chace there is what seems from afar a remarkably wide hedge irregularly bordered with furze. lnit on entering a gateway in it you find a bridge over a brook, which for some distance flows with a hedge on either side. The low parapet of the bridge affords a seat — one of Cicely's favourite haunts — whence in spring it is pleasant to look up the brook ; for the banks sloping down from the bushes to the water are i Jie Break. 31 yellow with primroses, and hung over with willow boughs. As the brook is straight, the eye^ can sec under these a long way up ; and presently a kingfisher, bright with azure and ruddy hues, comes down the brook, flying but just above the surface on which his reflection travels too. lie perches for a moment on a branch close to the bridge, hut the next sees that he is not alone, and instantly retreats with a shrill cry. A moorhen ventures forth from under the arches, her favourite hiding-place, and feeds among the weeds by the shore, hut at the leasl movement rushes hack to shelter. A wood-pigeon comes over, flying slowly ; he was «>-oino' t<> alight on the ash tree yonder, but suddenly espying some one under the cover of the boughs increases his pace and rises higher. Two bright bold bullfinches pass ; they have a nest somewhere in the thick haw- thorn. A jay, crossing from the fir planta- tions, stays awhile in the hedge, and utters 32 Round about a Great Estate. his loud harsh scream like the tearing of linen. For a few hours the winds are still and the sunshine broods warm over the mead. It is a delicious snatch of spring. Every now and then a rabbit emerges from the burrows which are scattered thickly along the banks, and. passing among the primroses, goes through the hedge into the border of furze, and thence into the meadow- grass. Some way down the brook they are so numerous as to have destroyed the vegetation on the banks, excepting a few ferns, by their constant movements and scratching of the sand ; so that there is a small warren on either side of the water. It is said that they occasionally swim across the broad brook, which is much too wide to jump ; but I have never seen such a thing but once. A rabbit already stung with shot and with a spaniel at his heels did once leap at the brook here, and. falling short, swam the remainder without apparent trouble, and escaped into a hole on the opposite shore with his wet fur laid close The Brook. 33 to the body. But they usually cross at the bridge, where the ground bears the marks of their incessant nightly travels to and fro. Passing now in the other direction, up the stream from the bridge, the hedges utter a while cease, and the brook winds Through the open fields'. Here there is a pond, to which at night the heron resorts ; for he docs not care to trust himself between the high hedge- rows. In the still shallow, but beyond reach, there floats on the surface a small patch of green vegetation formed of the treble leaves of the water crow-foot. Towards June it will be a brilliant white spot. The slender stems uphold the cup- like flowers two or three inches above the surface, the petals of the purest white with a golden centre. They are the silver buttercups of the brook. Where the current flows slowly the long and some- what spear-shaped leaves of the water-plantain stand up, and in the summer will be sur- mounted by a tall stalk with three small pale pink petals on its branches. The leaf can be D 34 Round about a Great Estate. written on with a pencil, the point tracing letters by removing the green colouring where it passes. Far Larger are the Leaves of the water- docks ; they sometimes attain to immense size. By the bank the ' wild willow.' or water-betony, with its woody stem, willow- shaped Leaves, and pale red flowers, grows thickly. Aero-- where then- is a mud-bank the stoul stems of the willow herb are already tall. They quite cover the -heal, and line the brook Like Bhrubs. Theyare the Btrongesl and the most prominent of all the brook plants. At the end of March or beginning of April the stalks appear a few inches high. and they gradually increase in size, until in July they reach above the waist, and forma thicket by the 6hore. Not till July does the flower open, so that, though they make so much show of foliage, it is months before any colour brightens it. The red flower comes at the end of a pod, and has a tiny white cross within it ; it is welcome, because by August V The Brook. 35 so many of the earlier flowers are fading. The country folk call it the sod-apple, and say the leaves crushed in the fingers have something of the scent of apple-pie. Farther up the stream, where a hawthorn bush shelters it. stands a knotted fig-wort with a square stem and many branches, each with small velvety flowers. [f handled, the leaves emit a strong odour, like the Leaves of the elder-bush ; it is a coarse-growing plant, and occasionally reaches to a height of be- tween four and live feet, with a stem more than half an inch square. Some ditches are full of it. By the rushes the long purple spike of the loose-strife rises, and on the mud- banks among the willows there grows a tall plant with bunches of flower, the petals a bright yellow : this is the yellow loose-strife. Near it is a herb with a much-divided leaf, and curious flowers like small yellow buttons. Rub one of these gently, and it will give forth a most peculiar perfume — aromatic, and not D 2 36 Round about a Great Estate. to be compared with anything else ; the tansy once Bcented will always be recognised. The large rough leaves of the wild com- frcv grow in bunches here and there ; the leaves are attached to the stem for part of their Length, and the stem is curiously flanged. The hells are often greenish, sometime- white, occasionally faintly lilac ; they are partly hidden under the dark-green Leaves. Where undisturbed the comfrey grows to a greal Bize, the Btems becoming very thick. Green flags hide and almosl choke the -hallow mouth of a streamlet that joins the brook coming from the woods. Though green above, the flag where it enters its .-heath is white. Tracing it upwards, the brook becomes narrower and the stream less, though running rnore swiftly : and here there is a marshy spot with willows, and between them some bulrushes and great bunches of bullpolls. This coarse grass forms tufts or cushions, on which snakes often coil in the sunshine. Yet * The Brook. 37 though so rough, in June the bullpoll sends up tall slender stalks with graceful feathery heads, reed-like, surrounded with long ribbons of grass. In the ditches hereabout, and beside the brook itself, the meadow-sweet scents the air; the country-folk call it 'meadow-soot.' And in those ditches are numerous coarse stems and leaves which, if crushed in the fingers, yield a strong parsnip-like smell. The water-parsnip, which is poisonous, is said to be sometimes gathered for watercress ; but the palate must be dull, one would think, to eat it, and the smell is a sure test. The blue flower of the brooklime is not seen here ; you must look for it where the springs break forth, where its foliage sometimes quite con- ceals the tiny rill. These flowers do not, of course, all appear together ; but they may be all found in the Bummer season along the brook, and you should begin to look for them when the brown scum, that sign of coming warmth, rises from the bottom of the waters. Returning to the 2,S Round about a Great Estate. pond, it may be noticed that the cart-hors< - when they walk in of a summer's day paw the stream, as if they enjoyed the cool sound of the splash ; but the cows stand quite still with the wiiirr up to their knees. There Lb a spot l>v a ye1 more quiet bridge, where the little water-shrews piny to and fro where the bank overhangs. As they dive and move under water the reddish-brown back looks of a lighter colour ; when they touch the ground they thrusl their tiny nostrils up just above the surface. There are many holes of water-rats, but do one would imagine how numerous these latter creature- are. One of Hilary'- sons, Hugh, l< (, pt some ferrets, and in the Bummer was put to it to find themenough food. The bird-keepers brought in a bird oc- casionally, and there were cruel rumours of a cat having disappeared. Still there was not sutHcient till lie hit on the idea of trapping the water-rats ; and this is how he did it. He took three small twi^s and ran them into the bank of the brook at the mouth of the The Brook. water-rat's hole and just beneath the surface of ihe stream. These made a platform upon which the gin was placed — the pan, and indeed all the trap, just under the water, which pre- vented any scent. Whether the rat came out of his hole and plunged to dive or started to swim, or whether lie came swimming noise- lessly round the bend and was about to enter the burrow, it made no difference ; he was certain to pass over ami throw the gin. The instant the teeth struck him he gave a jump which lifted the trap off the twig platform, and it immediately sank in the deep water and soon drowned him ; for the water-rat. though eon- tinuallv diving, can only stay a short time under water. It proved a fatal contrivance, chiefly, as was supposed, because the gin, being just under the water, could not be smelt. No fewer than eleven rats were tints captured in succession at the mouth of one hole. Al- together 150 were taken in the course of that summer. Hugh kept a record of them by drawing a 4-0 Round about a Great Estate. stroke with chalk for every rat on the red brick wall of the stable, near his ferret-hutch. He only used a few traps — one was set not at a hole, but at a sharp curve of the brook — and the whole of these rats were taken in a part of the brook about 250 or 300 yards in Length, just where it ran through a single field. The great majority were water-rats, but there were lift ecu or twenty house-rats among them : these were very thin though large, and seemed to be caught as they were migrating ; for sometimes several were trapped the same day, and then none (of this kind) for a week or more. Three moorhens were also caught ; a fourth was only held by its claw in the gin ; this one. not being in the least injured, he let go again. It had been observed previously that the water-rats, either in making their burrows or for food, gnawed off the young withy- stoles underneath the ground in the withy-beds, and thus killed a considerable amount of withy ; but after all this slaughter the withy-beds The Brook. 41 recovered and bore the finest crop they ever grew. But who could have imagined in walking by the brook that only in its course through a single meadow it harboured 150 rats ? Probably, though, some of them came up or down the stream. The ferrets fared sump tuously all the summer. 42 Round about a Great Estate. CHAPTER III. A PACK OF STOATS. BIBDS. Tin: sweel scenl from a bcaniieM beside the road caused me to Linger one summer morning in b gateway under the elms. A gentle south wind came over the beans, bearing with it the odour of their black-and-white bloom. The Overboro' road ran through part of the Oke- bourne property (which was far too extensive to be enclosed in a ring fence), and the timber had therefore been allowed to grow so that there was an irregular avenue of trees for some distance. I faced the beanfield, which was on the opposite side, leaning back against the gate which led into some of Hilary's wheat. The silence of the highway, the soft wind, the alternate sunshine and shade as the light clouds A Pack of Stoats. passed over, induced a dreamy feeling ; and I cannot say how long I had been there when something seemed as it were to cross the corners of my half-closed eyes. Looking up I saw three stoats gallop across the road, not more than ten yards away. They issued from under the footpath, which was raised and had a drain through it to relieve the road of Hood-water in storm. The drain was faced with a Hat stone, with a small round hole cut in it. Coming from the wheat at my back, the stoats went down into the diteli ; thence entered the short tunnel under the foot- path, and out at its stone portal, over the road to the broad sward on the opposite side ; then along a furrow in the turf to the other hedge, and so into the beanfield. They galloped like racehorses straining for the victory ; the first leading, the second but a neck behind, and the third not half a length. The smooth road rising slightly in the centre showed them well; and thus, with the neck stretched out in front and the tail extended in the rear, the stoat 44 Round about a Great Estate. appears much longer than on a mound or in the grass. A second or so afterwards two more started from the same spot ; but I was perhaps in the act to move, for before they had gone three yards they saw me and rushed back to the drain. After a few minutes t lie larger of these two, probably the male, ventured forth again and reached the middle of the road, when he di -covered that hi> more timorous companion had not followed but was only just peeping out. He stopped and elevated his neck some five or six inches, planting the fore-feet so as to lift him up high to see round, while his hind- quarters were flush with the road, quite flat in the dust in which his tail was trailing. His reddish body and white neck, the clear-cut head, the sharp ears, and dark eye were per- fectly displayed in that erect attitude. As his companion still hesitated he cried twice, as if impatiently, 'check, check' — a sound like placing the tongue against the teeth and drawing it away. But she feared to follow, A Pack of Stoats. 45 and he returned to her. Thinking they would attempt to cross again presently, I waited quietly. A lark came over from the wheat, and; alighting, dusted herself in the road, liar lly five yards from the mouth of the drain, and was there some minutes. A robin went still closer — almost opposite the hole ; both birds apparently quite unconscious of the blood- thirsty creatures concealed within it. Some time passed, but the two stoats did not come out, and I saw no more of them : they pro- bably retreated to the wheat as I left the gate- way, and would remain there till the noise and jar of my footsteps had ceased in the distance. Examining the road, there was a trail where the first three had crossed in quick succession. In the thick white dust their swift feet had left a line drawn roughly yet lightly, the paws leav- ing not an exact but an elongated, ill-defined impression. But where the fourth stopped, elevated his neck, and cried to his mate, there was a perfect print of the fore-feet side by side. 46 Round about a Great Estate. So slight a track would be obliterated by the first cart that came by. Till that day I had never seen so many as live stoats together hunting in a pack. It would seem as if stoats and weasels had regular routes ; for 1 now recollected that in the pre- vious winter, when the snow was on the ground, I surprised two weasels almost exactly in the same spot. At other times, too, I have seen solitary stoats and weasels (which may have had companions in the hedge) hunting along thai mound, l><>th before and since. I was at first g«»iug to tell Hilary about the pack, lait afterwards refrained, as he would at once proceed to set up gins in the run, -while I thought 1 should like to Bee the airimals again. But I got him to talk about stoats and weasels, and found that he had not him- self seen so many together. There was. how- ever, a man about the place who told a tale of some weasels he had seen. It was ' that rascal old Aaron ; ' but he could not listen to such a fellow. Hilary would tell me nothing fur- A Pack of Stoats. 47 ther, having evidently 11 strong dislike to the man. It seems there were two Aarons — ancle and nephew: old Aaron was the arch-poacher of the parish, young Aaron worked regularly at Lucketts' Place. This young Labourer (the man who (Ml asleep on the milking-stool) was one of the best of his class — a gnat, powerful fellow, but good-natured, willing, and pleasant to speak to. He was a favourite with many, and with reason, for lie had a gentleness of manner beyond his station ; and. rill you knew his weakness, you could not hut take an in- terest in him. His vice was drink. He was always down at Lucketts' Place ; and through him 1 made acquaintance with his disreputable uncle, who was at firsi rather >hy of me, for he had seen me about with Hilary, and between the two there was a mortal feud. Old Aaron could not keep out of < )kebourne Chace, and Hilary was ' down ' upon him. Hilary was, indeed, keener than the keepers. The old poacher saw the weasels in the 48 Rowid about a Great Estate. 'Pitching.' This was a private lane, which ran through the recesses of the Chace where the wood was thickest and most secluded. It had been made for the convenience of commu- nication between the upper and lower farms, and for hauling timber ; the gates at cadi end being kept Locked. In one place the lane descended the steepest pan of the wooded hill, and in frosty weather it was not easy even to walk down it there. Sar-eti stones, gathered out of the way of the plough in the arable fields, had been thrown down in it at various times with the object of making a firm bottom. Rounded and Miiooth and very hard, these stones, irregularly placed, with gaps and in- tervals, when slippery with hoar frosl were most difficult to walk on. Once or twice men out hunting had been known to gallop down this hill : the extreme of headlong bravado ; for if there was any frost it was sure to linger in that shady lane, and a slip of the iron-shod hoof could scarcely fail to result in a broken neck. It was like riding down a long steep flight of steps. A Pack of Stoats. 49 Aaron one day was engaged with his ferret and nets in the Pitching, just at the bottom of the hill, where there grew a quantity of brake- fern as tall as the shoulder. It was shrivelled and yellow, but thick < nough to give him very good cover. Every now and then he looked out into the lane to see if any one was about, and on one of these occasions saw what he ima- gined at first to be a colony of rats migrating ; but when they came near, racing down the lane, he found they were weasels. He counted fourteen, and thought there were one or two more. Aaron also told me a curious incident that happened to him very early one morning to- wards the beginning of spring. The snow was on the ground and the moon was shining; brightly as he got on the railway (a few miles from Okebourne) and walked some distance up it : he did not say what for, but probably as the nearest way to a cover. As he entered a deep cutting where the line came round a sharp curve he noticed strange spots upon the E 50 Round about a Great Estate. Bnow, and upon examination found it was blood. For the moment he thought there had been an accident : but shortly afterwards be picked up a hare's pad Bevered from the leg, and next a hare's head, and presently came on a quantity of similar fragments, all fresh. He collected them, and found they had belonged ix hares which had been cui to pieces by a passing train. The animals were bo muti- Lated as not to be of the Least use. When I told Hilary of this, he at once pronounced it impossible, and aothingbnt one of Aaron's lies. On reflection, however, I am not so Mire that it Is impossible, nor can I any reason why the old poacher should invent a falsehood of the kind. It was just a time of the year when hares are beginning to go 'mad/ and. as they were not feeding but playing together, they might have strayed up the line just as they do along roads. &fost person- must have observed how quietly a train sometimes steals up — so quietly as to be inaudible : a fact that has undoubtedly been Birds. 5 1 the death of many unfortunates. Now, just at this spot there \v:«> a sharp curve, and if the driver shut off steam as lie ran round it the train very likely came up without a Bound. The sides of the cutting being very steep, the hares, when at last they perceived their danger, would naturally rush straight away along the metals. Coming at greal speed, the engine would overtake and d< stroy them : a miserable cud for the poor creatures in the midst of their moonlight frolic. But what Aaron laid stress on was the fact that he could Dot even sell the skins, they were so cut to pieces. The rooks' nests in the Chace were very numerous, and were chiefly built in elm tn 3, but Borne in tall spruce firs. It was easy to know when the birds had paired, as a couple of rooks could then he often seen perched gravely side by side upon an old not in the midst of leafless boughs, deliberating about its repair. There were some poplars near a part of the rookery, and when the nests were fully occupied with young the old birds frequently E 2 52 Round about a Great Estate. alighted on the very top of an adjacent poplar. The slender brush-like tip of the tree bent with their weight, curving over like a whip, to spring up when they left. The rooks were fond of maize, }><>Mlv de- scending among the poultry kept in a riekyard within a short distance of their trees. If any one ha- a clump of trees in which rooks seem inclined ti»huild and it is desired to encourage them, it would appear a good plan to establish a poultry-yard in the same field. They are certain to * Isil t 1 1 < ■ Bpot. One day 1 watched a rook pursuing a swift and making every effort to overtake and strike it. The rook displayed great power of wing, twisting and turning, now descending or turning on one side to glide more rapidly, and uttering short 'caw- ' of eagerness or anger; but, just eluding the heavy rush of its pursuer, the swift doubled and darted away before it. as if Tempting the enemy to charge, and then enjoying his disappointment. Several other swifts wheeled above at a dis- Birds. 53 tance, apparently watching. These evolutions lasted some minutes, rook and swift rising higher and higher into the air until, tired of being chase. 1, the swift went straight away at full speed, easily outstripping the rook, which soon desisted from tlie attempl to follow. When birds are thus combating, the chief aim of eaeli is t«> get al><>ve the other, as any elevation gives an advantage. This may be continually noticed in spring, when fighting is always going on, and is as characteristic of the small birds as the larger. At first 1 thought it was a crow alter the Bwift, hut came to the conclusion that it must 1>«' a rook because the battle began over the rookery and afterwards the aggressor sailed away to where some rooks were feeding. Nor would a crow have ex- hibited Buch agility of wing. Swallows often buffet a crow ; but this was a clear case of a rook attacking. In the country rooks never perch on houses, and but seldom on sheds, unless fresh thatched, when they come to examine the 54 Round about a Great Estate. straw, as also on the ricks. But in Brighton, which is a treeless locality, a rook may some- times be seen on a chimney-pol in the midst of the town, and 1 1 1 * • pinnacles of the Pavilion arc a favourite resort; a whole Hock of rookti and jackdaws often wheel aboul the domes of that building. Ai the Chace a rook oca- Bionally mounted on a molehill recently thrown up and scattered the earth righl and left with his hill — striking now to one side and now to the other. I [ilary admitted thai rooks destroyed yasl quantities of grubs and creeping things, hut was equally positive that they feasted on grain; ami indeed it could 1 1 « • i he denied that a crop of wheat almost rip"' is a very favourite resort of a flock, lie had n rook- carry away cars of wheat detached from tin- stalk to an open Bpot for better con- venience. They would follow the dibbling machine, taking each grain of seed-wheat in succession, guided to the exact spot by the slight depression made by the dibble. Every evening all the rooks of the neigh- Birds. 5 5 bourhood gathered into vast flocks and re- turned to roost in the woods of the Chace. But one winter afternoon there came on the mos1 dense fog thai had been known for a length of time, and a flock of rooks on their way as usual to the Chace Btopped all night in a clump of trees on the form a mile from the roosting-place. This the oldest labourer had never known them do before. In the winter just pasl ( L879-80) there were several very thick fogs during sharp frost. One afternoonl noticed a small flock of starlings which seemed unable to find their way home to the copse where I knew vast Qumbers of them roosted. This flock as it grew dusk settled in an elm by the roadside, then removed to another, Bhaking down the rime from the branches, and a third time wheeled round and perched in an oak. At that hour on ordinary days the starlings would all have been flying last in a straight line for the copse, but these were evidently in doubt and did not know which direction to take. 56 Roimd about a Great Estate. Hilary disliked to see the wood-pigeons in his wheat-fields : the wood-pigeon beats the grains out of a wheat -ear with the bill, striking it while on the ground. The sparrows, again, clear the standing wheat-ears, which at a little distance l<">k thin and dis- arranged, and when handled are empty. There were many missel-thrushes about the Ohace; they are fond of a wooded district. They pack together in Bummer and part in winter — just opposite in that respect t<» so many other birds, which separate in warm weather and coiiirivirate as it irrows cold, so DO O that the lower the temperature the larger the flock. In winter and spring the missel- thrushes fly alone or not more than two together. Alter their young have left the nest they go in small packs. I saw ten or twelve rise from an arable field on the 18th of June last year ; there do not often seem to be more than a dozen together. I have counted ten in a pack on the 16th of September, and seven together as late as the 2nd of October. Birds. 5 7 Soon after that they appear to separate and act on their individual wishes. Starlings in like manner pack after their young can fly, but then they do not separate in autumn. It may be remarked that by autumn the young missel-thrushes would not only fly well, but would have been educated by the old birds, and would have come to maturity. Their natural independence might then come into play. But these are effects rather than causes, besides which 1 think birds and animals often act from custom rather than for advantage. Among men customs survive for centuries after the original meaning has been lost. I had always been told by country people that the missel-thrush was a solitary bird, and when 1 first observed a pack and mentioned it some incredulity was expressed. Very naturally in summer people do not see much but hay and wheat. It was noticed on the farms about the Chace in the springs of 1878 and 1879 that the corncrakes, which had formerly been so numerous and proclaimed 58 Round about a Great Estate. their presence so loudly, were scarcely heard at all. It is a little outside my subject, since it did not occur in the ( 'liaee. but the other day a friend was telling me how he had been limited by bucks while riding a bicycle. He was passing through a forest in the summer, when he suddenly became aware of six or seven bucks coming down a glade alter him. o © The track being rough he could not ride at D © full speed — probably they would have out- Stripped him even if he had been able to do so — and they were overtaking him rapidly. Ad3 they came up he saw that they meant mischief, and fearing a bad fall he alighted by a tree, be- hind which he thought to dodge them. But no sooner did he touch the ground than the bucks so furiously rushing after him stopped dead in their career ; he stepped towards them, and directly they saw him walking they retreated hastily to a distance. The first berries to go as the autumn approaches are those of the mountain-ash. Birds. 59 Both blackbirds and thrushes began to devour the pale-red bunches hanging on the mountain- ashes as early as the 4th of September last year. Starlings are fond of elder-berries : a flock alighting on a bush black with ripe berries will clear the bunches in a very short time. Haws, or peggles, which often (jiiite cover the hawthorn bushes, arc not so general a food as the fruit of the briar. Hips are preferred ; at least, the fruit of the briar is the first of the two to disappear. The hip is pecked open (by thrushes, redwings, and blackbirds) at the tip, the seeds extracted, and the part where it is attached to the stalk left, just as if the contents had been sucked out. Greenfinches, too, will eat hips. Haws are often left even after severe frosts ; sometimes they seem to shrivel or blacken, and may not perhaps be palatable then. Missel-thrushes and wood-pigeons eat them. Last winter in the stress of the sharp and continued frosts the greenfinches were driven in December to swallow the shrivelled 60 Round about a Great Estate. blackberries still on the brambk-. The fruity- part of the 1 jerries was of course gone, and nothing remained but the seeds or pips, dry and hard as wood ; they were reduced to feeding on this wretched food. Perhaps the last of the seeds available are those of the docks. This is well known to bird-fowlers, and on a dry day in January they take two large bunches of docks — ' red docks ' they call them — tied round the centre like faggots and well smeared at the top with birdlime. These are placed on the ground, by a hedge, and near them a decoy goldfinch in a cage. Goldfinches eat dock-seed, and if any approach the decoy- bird calls. The wild bird descends from the hedge to feed on the dock-seed and is caught. Goldfinches go in pairs all the winter and work along the hedges together. In spring the young green buds upon the hawthorn are called ' cuckoo's bread and cheese ' by the ploughboys. Hamlet Folk. 61 CHAPTER IV. HAMLET FOLK. It happened one Sunday morning in June that a swarm of bees issued from a hive in a cottage garden near Okebourne church. The queen at first took up her position in an elm tree just outside the churchyard, where a large cluster of bees quickly depended from a bough. Beinsr at a enreat height the cottager could not take them, and, anxious not to lose the swarm, he resorted to the ancient expedient ofrattlino; fire-tonffs and shovel together in order to attract them by the clatter. The discordant banging of the fire-irons resounded in the church, the doors being open to admit the summer air ; and the noise became so uproarious that the clerk presently, at a sign 62 Round about a Great Estate. from the rector, went out to stop it, for the congregation were in a grin. He did stop it, the cottager desisting with much reluc- tance ; but, as if to revenge the bee-master's wrongs, in the course of the day the swarm. quitting the elm, entered the church and occupied a post in the roof. After a while it was found that the swarm had finally settled there, and were proceeding to build combs and lav in a store of honey. The bees, indeed, became such a terror to nervous people, buzzing without ceremony over their heads as they stood ap to sing, and caused such a commotion and buffeting with Prayer-books and fans and handkerchiefs, that ultimately the congregation were com- pelled to abandon their pews. All efforts to dislodge the bees proving for the time ineffec- tual, the rector had a temporary reading-desk erected in the porch, and there held the service, the congregation sitting on chairs and forms in the yard, and some on the stone tombs, and even on the sward under the shadeof the yew tree. Hamlet Folk. 63 In the warm dry hay-making weather tliis open-air worship was very pleasant, the flowers in the grass and the roses in the little plots about the tombs giving colour and sweet odours, while the swallows glided gracefully overhead and sometimes a black- bird whistled. The bees, moreover, interfered with the baptisms, and even caused several marriages to be postponed. Inside the porch was a recess where the women left their pattens in winter, instead of clattering iron- shod down the aisle. Okebourne village was built in an irregu- lar way on both sides of a steep coombe, just at the verge of the hills, and about a mile from the Chace ; indeed, the outlying cottages bordered the park wall. The most melancholy object in the place was the ruins of a wind- mill ; the sails and arms had long disappeared, but the wooden walls, black and rotting, remained. The windmill had its genius, its human representative — a mere wreck, like itself, of olden times. There never was a 64 Round about a Great Estate. face so battered by wind and weather as that of old Peter, the owner of the ruin. His eyes were so light a grey as to appear all but colourless. He wore a smock-frock the hue of dirt itself, and his hands were ever in his pockets as he walked through rain and snow beside his cart, hauling flints from the pits upon the Downs. If the history of the cottage-folk is in- quired into it will often be found that they have descended from well-to-do positions in life — not from extravagance or crime, or any remarkable piece of folly, but simply from a long-continued process of muddling away money. When the windmill was new, Peter's forefathers had been, for village people well off. The family had never done anything to bring themselves into disgrace ; they had never speculated ; but their money had been gradually muddled away, leaving the last little better than a labourer. To see him crawling along the road by his load of flints, stooping forward, hands in pocket, and then Hamlet Folk. 65 to glance at the distant windmill, likewise broken down, the roof open, and the rain and winds rushing through it, was a pitiful spec- tacle. For that old building represented the loss of hope and contentment in life as much as any once lordly castle whose battlements are now visited only by the jackdaw. The family had. as it were, foundered and gone down. How they got the stray cattle into the pound it is difficult to imagine ; for the gate was very narrow, and neither bullocks nor horses like being driven into a box. The copings of the wall on one side had been pushed over, and lay in a thick growth of nettles : this, almost the last of old village institutions, was. too, going by degrees to destruction. Every hamlet used to have its represen- tative fighting-man — often more than one — who visited the neighbouring villages on the feast days, when there was a good deal of liquor flowing, to vaunt of their prowess before the local champions. These quickly F 66 Round about a Great Estate. gathered, and after due interchange of speeches not unlike the heroes of Homer, who harangue each other ere they hurl the spear, engaged in conflict dire. There was a regular feud for many years between the Okebourne men and the Clipstone ' chaps ; ' ;m put them upon record, they would have read some- thing like tlic war- (without the bloodshed) hetweeli the little Greek cities, whose popu- lation scarcely exceeded that of a village, and between which and our old villages there exists a certain similarity. A simplicity of sentiment, an unconsciousness as it were of themselves, strong local attachments and hatreds, these they had in common, and the Okebourne and Clipstone men thwacked and banged each other's broad chests in true antique style. Hamlet Folk. 67 Hilary said that when he was a boy almost all the cottages in the place had a man or woman living in them who had attained to extreme old age. He reckoned up cottage after cottage to me in which he had known old folk up to and over eighty years of age. Of late the old people seemed to have somehow died oul : there were do! nearly so many now. Okebourne Wick, a little hamlet of fifteen or twenty scattered houses, was not more than half a mile from Lucketts' Place; on the Overboro' road, which passed it, was a plea- sant roadside inn. where, under the sign of The Sun, very good ale was sold. Most of the farmers dropped in there now and then. not so much for a glass as a gossip, and no one from the neighbouring villages or from Overboro' town ever drove past without stopping. In the ' tap ' of an evening you might see the labourers playing at ' chuck- board,' which consists in casting a small square piece of lead on to certain marked B 2 68 Round about a Great Estate. divisions of a shallow tray-like box placed on the trestle-table. The lead, being heavy, would stay where it fell ; the rides I do not know. hut the scene reminded me of the tric- trac contests depicted by the old Dutch painters. Toiing A.aron was very clever al it. He pottered round the inn of an evening and Saturday afternoons, doing odd jobs in the cellar with the barrels; for your true toping Bpirit loves to knock the hoops and to work aboul tl e cask, and carry the jugB in answer to the cry for some more 'tangle-legs' — for thus thev called the strong beer. Sometimes a labourer would toasl his cheese on a fork in the flame of the candle. In the old day-, before folk got so choice of food and delicate of palate, there really seemed no limit to the strange things thev ate. Before the railways were made, herds of cattle had of course to travel the r<>ads. and often came greal distances. The drovers were at the same time the hardiest and the roughest of men in that rousfh and Hamlet Folk. 69 r hardy time. As night came on, after seeing their herd sale in a field, they naturally ate their supper at the adjacenl inn. Then some- times, as a dainty treat with whieh to finish his meal, a drover would eall for a biscuit, Large and hard, as broad as his hand, and, taking the tallow candle, proceed to drip the grease on it till it was well larded and soaked with the melted fat. At that date, before the Government stamp had been removed from newspapers, the road- side inn was the centre and focus of all intelli- gence. When the first railway was constructed up in the North the Okebourne folk, like the resl of the world, were with good reason ex- tremely curious about this wonderful invention, and questioned every passer-by eagerly for information. But no one could describe it, till at last a man. horn in the village, hut who had been away for some years soldiering, re- turned to his native place. He had been serving in Canada and came through Liver- pool, and thus saw the marvel of the age. At 70 Round about a Great Estate. the Sun the folk in the evening crowded round him, and insisted upon knowingwhat a steam- engine was like, lie did his best to describe itj bul in vain ; they wanted a familiar illus- tration, and could not be satisfied till the soldier, by a happy inspiration, said the only thing to which he could compare a locomotive was ;i greal cannon <»n a timber-carriage. To us who are bo accustomed to railways il seems a singular idea; but, upon reflection, it was not so inapt, considering that the audience had seen or heard something of cannons, and were well acquainted with timber-carriages. The soldier wished to convey the notion of a barrel or boiler mounted on wheels. They kept up the institution of the parish constable, as separate and distinct from the policeman, till very recently al Okeboumej though it seems to have Lapsed long* since in many country place-. One year Hilary, with much shrugginu of shoulders, was forced into the office : and during his term there was a terrible set-to between two tribes of gipsies in Hamlet Folk. the Overbore*' road. They fought like tigers, making* the lovely Bummer day hideous with their cries and shrieks — the women, the fiercer by far/tearing each other's hair. < hie fiendish creature drew her scissors, and. using them like a stiletto, drove the sharp point into a sister • gip's ' head. 'Where's the constable?' was the cry. Messengers rushed to Lucketts' Place ; the barn, the sheds, the hayfield, all were searched m vain — Hilary had quite disappeared. At the very first sound he had slipped away to look at some cattle in Chequer's Piece, the very last and outlying field of the farms, lull a mile away, and when the messengers got to Chequer's Piece of course he was up on the Down. So much for the parish constable's office — an office the farmers shirked whenever they could, and would not put in force when compelled to accept it. How could a resident willingly go into a neighbour's cottage and arrest him without malice and scandal being engendered ? If he J 2 Roiuid about a Great Estate. did his duty he was abused ; If he did doI do it, it was hinted thai he favoured the offender, Aj for the 'gip'who was stabbed, nothing more was heard of it : Bhe * traipsed ' off wi& the rest Sometimes when the 'tangle-legs' 'jot up into their heads the labourers felt an inclination to resume the ancient practices of their fore- fathers. Then you might Bee a couple facing each other in the doorway, each with his mug in one hand, and tin- other clenched, flourishing their knuckles. 'Thee hit I. 'Thee come out in tir road and I'll let thee knaw.' The one knew very well that the other dared not Btrike him in the house, and the other felt certain that, however entreated, nothing would ■ induce his opponent to accept the invitation and * come out into th 1 road.' The shadows of the elm have bo Ear to tall that they tx enlarged and lose tin- edge upon reaching the ground. I noticed thi-one moonlight night in early June while >itting on a Btile where the footpath opened on the Hamlet Folk. 73 Overbore' road. Presently I heard voices, and immediately afterwards a group came rouml the curve of the highway, There were three cottage women, each with a basket and Beveral packages ; having doubtless beeD into Overbore' town Bhopping,for it was Saturday. They walked together in a row ; and in fronl of them, about five yards ahead, came a hurly Labourer of the same party, carrying in his arms a Large clock. lie had taken too much ale. and staggered as he walked, two Bteps aside to one forward, and indeed could hardly keep upright. His efforts to save himself and the clock from destruction led to some singular flexures of the body, and his feet traced a maze as he advanced, hugging the clock to hi- chest. The task wa- too much tor his over-taxed pa- tience: just opposite the stile lie >tood still. held hi> load high over hia head, and shouting, ' Dang th' clock ! ' hurled it with all his force thirty feet against the mound, at the same time dropping a -sprawl. The women, without 74 und about a G ■ h i xte. the leasl < gcitement or Burprise, quietly en- deavoured to assist 1 iii ii up ; and, as he resisted, one of them remarked in the driest matter fact tone, 'Oura be just like un — as contrary :i- thewind. 1 She alluded to her own husband. W hen I mentioned this incident afterwards i" Mrs. Luckett, she said the troubles the i women underwent on account of tin- 'beer 1 were past belief. One woman who did Borne work at the farmhouse kept her cott entirely by her own exertions ; her husband doing oothingbut drink. He took her moi from her by force, aor could Bhe hide it any- where but what he would hunt it out \' last in despair she dropped the silver in the jug on the wash-hand basin, and had th< faction of Beeing him turn everything to] turvy in a vain attempt to find it. \& be never washed, it never occurred to him to look in the w ater-ji _. The cottage women when they went into l I ■ rboro 1 Bhopping, Bhe Baid, were the despair the drapers. A woman, with two or three Hamlet Folk, 75 more to chorus hep sentiments, would go into :i shop and examine half-a-dozen dress fa rubbing each be! ween her work-har fingers ;m Bee it torn. After trying several ami srettin«£ the counter covered she \\ -iild j)ii-li them aside, contemptuously remarking, ' I don't like tlii- yer shallvjmllee (flimsy) stuff. Hfaven't »1 any jfinirhain tackle? Where- nt the [>oor draper would cast down :i fi*esh roll of stoutest material with the reply : ' Here, ma'am. Here's something thai will wear like pin-wire.' This be ■ gallus dear. 1 Even within recent years, 1 i « » \\ and then a servant-girl upon entering service nt the farm- house would refuse to touch butcher's meat. She had never tasted anything but bacon nt home, and could only 1><- persuaded to eat tVoh meat with difficulty, being afraid -lie should not like it. One Efirl who came from a lonely cottage in a
  • t;ihT ' coombe-bottom ' of the Downs \\:i- observed never to write Round about a Great 1 li«>ni«- or attempt t mmunicate with her parents. She Baid it was of do i qo postman came near, and the letters they wr or the letters written to them uever n 1 their destination. ( oombe-bottom ' is ■ curious duplication — either word being < indicate a narrow valley or hollow. An unfortunate child who lived there had n< n so well roller wenl his head. She had a r, but he w gurt hummock sing n< she was Dot sorry to him. The phrase might be translated, -jointed idii Th( metimes had lettuce-pud dinner, and thought nothin on, Iii the mow the men wound hay- bands round their :ni«l found it ant 1 admirably. ( I poor girl had been subject to ' -in. stupid fellow, during the haymaki jokingly picked up a - and threw it round her neck. Yet even in that far-away mbe-bottom they knew enough to put an Hamlet Folk. -- ell in ili»' kettle to prei enl Incrusta- tion. The rules of pronunciation understoo I aboul Qkebour med to consist in length- ening the syllables that are usually spoken quick, and shortening those that are usually Long. Hilary Baid thai \ i i( really appeare ! as it' there \\ mething deficient in th( organs of the throat among the Labour- for there wen words they positively could not pronounc The word 'reservoir,' for instance, was always ' tezzievoy ;' they could speak the word ctly. I [e could not explain to me n very common expression y ili-' men wlien they wished to describe anything unusual or strange for which they had in- i [uivalent. It was always ' a - !•! of a meejick.' By d s, however, we traced it back to 'menager The travelling shows of wild beasts at first so much astonished the villagers that eveirthing odd and curious became a menagerie, afterwards Tupted to * meejick. 1 7S Round about a Great Estate. 'Caddie no man's cattle' was a favourite proverb with .-i population who were never in ;i hurry. ' Like buoI oul of o Bhow'l, 1 r<> )»!'■ :treme nimbleness, was another. \ comfortless, bare apartmenl waa l gabern : ' anything Btirred with a pointed inatrumenl was ( ucked ' — whether a cow 'ncked' the with her horn or the stable was cleaned out with the t'« -rk . The verb 'touck' * capable inut of the brook 'a moll era tl"M Aaron had :i little Bhop : he and his \\ it'.' -"11 Bmall packets i tobaco ■. w hipcord, and bo forth. § »metin while his wife was weighing oul the Bugar, old A.aron — wretched old deceiver — would come in rustling a crumpled piece of paper as if it were a banknote, ;mM it was bo tough and dried up that even he could not gnaw it. The Bide hung in the cottage for months, for he did not like to throw it away, and could not think what to mera walked about the w« »rld «'ii bacon 1 - i far as I c< 'ul er, tin- • •■ A t . folk did i. many herbs. They made tea Bometimes of tin- tormentil, wh< little yellow flowers appear along the farro The I' ■ Bquai vi liidi tl illed et ' or -il." w ■ illy i»' 1 1< 1 the \ am >w — locally • van-a * — t licM in estimation as a Balve or ointment. It u ould be ] •< — : 1 ■ dwell ng tii in the ini'l- a village, and yet hear anytli i - k i n< 1 and obtain no idea what f the curious mixture of tlit -ne :!iiii'_ r now v<»u I ten,' Baid « ■ They pick the cank< r-r< >ses off the briars and carry them in the pocket as a certain preventive of rheumatism.' ;// n i ii \rin: \ . Wl K8. I HI ! "M». 1 it • v. the • 111 the which with i> iiu] !k there with- •:' Muebella, 1 plai it' \ in t: - full beauty it vraa neceseai I the ■r inches, and h three leai the six whin- |' ctals ■ •:' the cup-shaped flower droop :i little and a golden centre. L T nder tlie petal i- a tinjre of purple, which is iH'tiiin _li it. I hardy, but the ii the banks divi ling ti >m the iiua«l"\\ lid it tin- Mm- dor thn h. rai marshy \\;t~ white for weeks I ith the lady's- The J flowers are sili 5, in others tinted with li! e hui b • : \\ ilerior in flavour i" the crab. These nppl< inly 1 in<>iifli> in the \\ arm 1> \ u ild ' plum/ in • pin the plum the -]».. th :i -kin lik«- the cultivated fruit, • plum ' had nol r in the autumn, the black b rich I c<>1<. in-. .1 them curled up at rh.- i im- !1. I bushes — the wild b — which v. in June with white bloom; not in snowy l>;ill> like the gard< but flat and circular, the i the circle n whii -•■ in tli -h. // 'in ■ . 1 87 In autumn th<- slender boujfhH \\ ■ eisrhed down with heavy bunches of large purplish berries, bo full of red juice as to appear on the point <»t'-lnir-!iiiL r . \ - I net red tip loubt less < uten by birdi I '.. sides the hawthorn and briar tin n w ral specie* of willow— the Bnake-skin \vill..w sailed 1" ii sheds it- bark ; tin- 'snap-willow, 1 which is little that .!<■ breaks off it- feeble t\\ and pollards. < 1 hollow and old, had iijM.ii its top a crowd "t purosifc \ bramble had taken r<'<.t there, :mxi< >u- bitter-svi <»r nightshade, starting from the d( 1. supported th( anu the will«>w »branch< b, ud in autmnn with iv