The “musical din” of the hounds still continued to have its charms, and I still continued to follow them; but from that day forward, I have ever wished that this poor, persecuted, innocent creature might escape with its life. The worrying of foxes, the baiting of foumarts, otters, badgers, &c., did not awaken in me similar feelings; for in the fierce conflicts between them and the dogs, there was something like an exchange of retaliation, and not unfrequently the aggressors were beaten; and I have with pleasure seen that wonderfully courageous animal, the badger (with fair play), beat the dogs of a whole neighbourhood, one after another, completely off.
In the vermin-hunting excursions in the depth of winter, while the whole face of nature was bound in frost and covered with deep snow, in traversing through bogs, amidst reeds and rushes, I have often felt charmed with the sight of birds,—flushed, and sometimes caught, by the terrier dogs,—which I had never seen or heard of before; and I am still in doubt whether some of them have not escaped being noticed as British birds.
These were the diversions of the winter months, which I enjoyed in an extreme degree, amidst the storm and the tempest. In that season I was also sometimes better employed in looking after a small flock of sheep on the fell, a part of which was my own.[[3]] The extremity of the weather had taught them to seek a place of shelter under a steep but low “brae,” overhung with whins, under which, in such weather, I was almost certain to find them and their associates all huddled together. To this place, through wreaths of snow, I early bent my way, with a bundle of hay on my back, and my pockets sometimes filled with oats, which I distributed amongst them. Upon these occasions, though at other times extremely wild, they were quite tame, and seemed to know me.
From my sheep thus drawing into shelter, gave rise to an opinion I formed, and which has been confirmed by long reflection, that much may yet be done to protect the larger flocks from being over-blown and lost on the bleak moors, in great snow storms. Were long avenues made by double rows of whin hedges, planted parallel to each other at about six feet asunder, and continued in the form of two sides of a square, with the whins of each side drawn together, and to grow interplatted at the tops, so as to form an arched kind of roof, the sheep would, on instinctively seeing the coming storm, immediately avail themselves of such asylums, and particularly in the lambing season. In the corner of the angle of this square, the shepherd might have his hovel, thatched with heather and ling, and his beds for himself and his dogs, made of the same materials; and the whole of this “bield” might be rendered so snug as greatly to defy the severity of the winter’s drifting blasts and wreaths of snow.
At that time of life, every season had its charms; and I recollect well of listening with delight, from the little window at my bed-head, to the murmuring of the flooded burn which passed my father’s house, and sometimes roused me from my bed, to see what it was like. After this, my first and common employment was to “muck” the byer; and, when the servant girl did not come soon enough, I frequently tried my hand at milking the cows; and I was always particularly keen of being there in snow storms. When this was the case, within the byer door, I snugly watched the appearance of various birds, which passed the little dean below, and which the severity of the weather drove from place to place, in search of shelter. With the sight of my intimate acquaintances, the robins, wrens, blackbirds, sparrows, a solitary crow, and some others, I was not much attracted, but always felt an extreme pleasure and curiosity in seeing the more rare visitants,—such as the woodcock, the snipe, and other waders, with the red wings, fieldfares, &c.,—make their appearance.
The winter evenings were often spent in listening to the traditionary tales and songs, relating to men who had been eminent for their prowess and bravery in the border wars, and of others who had been esteemed for better and milder qualities, such as their having been good landlords, kind neighbours, and otherwise in every respect bold, independent, and honest men. I used to be particularly affected with the warlike music, and with the songs relative to the former description of characters; but with the songs regarding the latter, a different kind of feeling was drawn forth, and I was greatly distressed, and often gave vent to it in tears. These songs and “laments” were commemorative of many worthies; but the most particular ones that I now remember were those respecting the Earl of Derwentwater, who was beheaded in the year 1715, and was looked upon as having been a victim to the cruelty of the reigning family, and who was venerated as a saint upon earth. It was said that the light from Heaven attended his corpse to the vault at Dilston Hall, and that prosperity would shine no more upon Tyneside. Then followed the sorrowful remembrances of those that were dead and gone. To sigh over them was unavailing; they had filled the space allotted to them on this side of Time, and the winds had blown over their silent graves for ages past. The predictions that the mansions of those that remained would soon, for want of heirs, become desolate—these and such like melancholy reflections made a deep impression on my mind; and I have often since, with feelings of extreme regret, beheld these mansions, once the seats of hospitality, dilapidated, and the families which once occupied them extinct and forgotten.
When the winter began somewhat to abate of its rigours, or in the early spring, it was a common job for me, before setting off to school, to rise betimes in the morning,—as indeed I was always accustomed to do,—and equipt with an apron, an old dyking mitten, and a sharpened broken sickle, to set off amongst the whin bushes, which were near at hand, to cut off their last year’s sprouts. These were laid into a corner till the evening, when I stript, and fell to work to “cree” them with a wooden “mell,” in a stone trough, till the tops of the whins were beaten to the consistency of soft, wet grass; and, with this mess, I fed the horses before I went to bed, or in the morning as occasion might require. They were shy about eating this kind of provender at first, and I was obliged to mix oats with it; but they soon became so fond of it, alone, that there was no need of any mixture. I know not whether a scarcity of fodder first gave rise to the suggestion of using this expedient, or it was tried as an experiment; but certain it is that this kind of food agreed so well with the horses that they became soon very sleek, and cast their winter coats of hair long before other horses that were fed in the common way. Cows would not eat the whin tops thus prepared, but, in a winter of scarcity, I have known all hands at work in cutting ivy from the trees, and even small ash twigs, to be given to the cattle as fodder.
CHAPTER II.
From the little window at my bed-head, I noticed all the varying seasons of the year; and, when the spring put in, I felt charmed with the music of birds, which strained their little throats to proclaim it. The chief business imposed upon me as a task, at this season, was my being set to work to “scale” the pastures and meadows; that is, to spread the mole-hills over the surface of the ground. This, with gardening, and such like jobs, was very hungry work, and often made me think dinner was long in coming; and, when at last it was sent to me, be it what it might, I sat down on the “lown” side of a hedge and eat it with a relish that needed no sauce.