A PASTORALE.
By DARLEY DALE, Author of “Fair Katherine,” etc.
CHAPTER XI.
THE WHITE RAM.
he secret of Fairy’s parentage died with Dame Hursey, and for the next two or three years she lived quietly on with the Shelleys, nothing more remarkable than the finding of some rare bird, or an occasional tiff with Jack, the Lewes carnival on the fifth of November, and the sheep washing and shearing every June, occurring to vary the monotony of her happy life. She was naturally a bright, happy little creature, not much given to thinking, and if she sometimes wondered who she was and where she came from, she never allowed the matter to distress her; she had the Shelleys, and they all worshipped her, and if she wanted other friends she was always welcome at the Rectory, where she still continued to go every day for her lessons. As to the future, it is doubtful if she ever gave it a thought; she lived as all children do, for the present, at least, as far as this world is concerned, though neither she nor any one else could have been brought up by good John Shelley without learning that life here is but a preparation for the life to come. Ignorant as the shepherd was in many things, he was by no means ignorant in things spiritual, and his knowledge of the Bible, large portions of which he knew by heart, would have put many an educated man and woman to shame. It was a favourite amusement of Fairy’s and the boys on long Sunday winter evenings, when there was no service at church, and after John had read the evening service to them, as he invariably did, to start him off in some chapter and see how long he would go on without stopping, saying it by rote. He always carried a small Bible in his pocket, and during his long days with the sheep, he had plenty of opportunities of studying it; and he studied it to some purpose, for he was a fine character. Faults he may have had, but you might have known him a long time before you discovered them. Mrs. Shelley, who had better opportunities of judging than anyone else, would have said he liked his own way too much; and that, for such a wise man as he was, it was surprising how easily he allowed a little thing like Fairy, whom he always had spoilt, to get over him; but it is doubtful whether in her heart of hearts she considered either of these faults.
If he had any pride in his composition it was entirely professional, and when one May evening, sixteen years after Fairy first was brought to Lewes, he announced to his family that he had been elected captain of the Lewes shearing company, his face certainly glowed with an honest pride, for he had then obtained the highest honour which could be conferred on a shepherd, and realised his fondest dreams of earthly happiness.
In those days it was the custom for shearers to form themselves into companies, called after the district in which they lived, and to go round to the various farms in the district in the shearing season, which begins in the middle of June, shearing the different flocks. The shearers in those days were generally shepherds, and each band had a lieutenant and a captain, the former distinguished by a silver band round his cap and a badge, the latter by a gold band and badge to match. They were chosen according to their proficiency in shearing, and for the good character they bore. John Shelley had been a lieutenant for some years, but he was now elected captain, owing to the death of the captain of the Lewes band, an old man over seventy; and with this honour some new duties devolved upon him, for at the captain’s house was held the shearing feast, called the White Ram. This feast lasted throughout the shearing week, and consisted of a supper after the day’s work was over; first, a good, substantial meal, in which the Sussex dish of beefsteak pudding, the crust made of flour and water, played an important part, and then ending with cakes and ale, during the consumption of which shearing songs were sung and many pipes were smoked till late in the long summer evening, when the men dispersed—sometimes not before midnight—to their various homes.
These bands are now a thing of the past, though the shearing is still done by men who go round for the purpose, but no lambs are shorn nowadays, so the work is very much lessened.
“There is plenty of work for you, Polly; you’ll have to get someone in to help you; we shall have to have the White Ram here for the future,” said John.