Get a yellow brindled dog,
First-born of his dam’s first litter,
With a muzzle black as jet,
Reared on whey and milk of goats;
No stag in forest can escape him.
Those who rear deer-hounds, et juvenes qui gaudent canibus, might do worse than experiment a little according to the fairy’s receipt; we shouldn’t wonder at all if a splendid dog was the result, for these old rhymes are rarely devoid of reason. There is no reason at all events why such a dog might not turn out well.
CHAPTER XXXI.
The Leafing of the Oak and Ash—Splendid Stags’ Heads—Edmund Waller—Old Silver-Plate buried for preservation in the ’45—Mimicry in Birds—An accomplished Goldfinch.
While mild and May-like enough in the valleys and along the coast line, the weather [May 1872] is reported as having more of March than May about it on the uplands, owing to the prevalence of north-easterly winds, that are at once exceedingly piercing and unseasonably snell. It is pleasant at the same time to have to report that, so far, crops of all kinds look extremely well, and have seldom been seen so forward in mid-May. Potatoes have been distinguishable from field’s end to field’s end in regular drills for ten days past, and in some instances are already undergoing their first weeding and hoeing. Oats show a strong, healthy braird, and nothing but a deficiency of moisture in its present stage can prevent ryegrass from being the best crop that has been known in the West Highlands for many years. Much, however, will depend on the nature of the weather for the next fortnight: those who should know best say that the country would be all the better of more or less rain on every day for the remainder of the month, and we daresay they are right. The lambing season has hitherto been a highly favourable one, though the drought and the keen-edged easterly winds are beginning to be complained of by shepherds in charge of upland hirsels. As we write, however, there is appearance of rain, which cannot fail to be attended by a change of wind to a more genial airt, and it is hoped it may fall abundantly. The summer, by the way, is likely to be a hot and dry one, if there be any truth in the popular belief that when the oak takes precedence of the ash in presenting its rich green foliage to the light, a cloudless, rainless summer is sure to follow. We observe that everywhere the oak is now in leaf, while the ash is yet budless and bare to its topmost bough, manifesting an unwonted dulness and drowsiness for mid-May, as if it was loth, even at the call of summer, to be roused from its hybernal repose.