We had dined at noon as usual: and that was pretty merry too; for all
the servants dined with us, and the men from the farm and their wives.
It was sad to have had no mass at all; and all that we had instead of it
was the sound of the bells from Hormead, from the church that had been
our own a hundred and fifty years ago--which was worse than nothing. At
dinner we observed the usual ceremonial, with the drinking of healths
and the burning of candles; and Dolly and her father and her maid sang a
grace at the beginning and end--with a carol or two afterwards that was
a surprise to me. It was very homely and friendly and Christian; and I
saw my man James with his arm around one of the dairymaids--which is
pretty Christian too, I think. We kept it up till it was near time to
get supper ready, telling of stories all the while about the fire in the
old way. Some of them were poor enough; but some were good. Dick, the
cow-man, whom we had long suspected of poaching, exposed himself very
sadly, when the ale was in him, by relating a number of poaching tricks
I had never heard before. One was of how to catch stares, or shepsters,
when they fly up and down, as they do before lodging in a thicket. Then
you must turn out, said Dick, a quick stare with a limed thread of three
yards long, when she will fly straight to the rest, and, flocking among
them, will infallibly bring down at least one or two, and perhaps five
or six, all entangled in her thread. And another was how to take wild
ducks. Go into the water, said he, up to the neck, with a pumpkin put
over your head, and whilst the ducks come up to eat the seeds, you may
take them by the legs and pull them under quietly, one by one, till they
be drowned. But I would not like to do that in cold weather; and indeed
it seems to me altogether like that other method by which you take larks
by a-putting of salt upon their tails. I asked Dick, very serious,
whether he had tried that plan; and he said he had not, but that a
friend had told him of it; and the company became very merry.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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