NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. Tittle do 1 read.” . o_o oe ,. ‘ are’s infinite book of secrecy res 6.€ Lodge 1.. Hutchison hth. West, Newman imp Peregrine Kyrie 903 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. JOHN oe BS) AUTHOR OF ‘©, YEAR IN THE FIELDS,” ‘‘SYLVAN FOLK,” ‘BRITISH SPORTING FISHES,” ‘* THE CONFESSIONS OF A POACHER,” ETC. 1893 LIBRARY LONDON : eee do < T-N- NES AND EOS 31 & 32, BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C. | . 1892. CHAPTER CON TaN LS. Birps oF Prey Tue Nicut Sipe or NATURE British WiLp Picrons TreE Myrus ANOTHER TALE oF ArcADY—I. ... AnoTHER TALE or Arcapy—II. WILp-sHooTING IN WINTER THe GAMEKEEPER AND HIS GOLGOTHA ... Mountain Foxes Tue Haunt oF THE ANCHORITE Mountain SHEEP On THE Moors A Country NATURALIST Nots Se ConcERNING COCK-FIGHTING A Prne-woop Stupy “Ou_p Kirtrwake” ... AvutTuMN BErRIEs ... vi CHAPTER XIX. XX. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XX VI. , XXVIT. XXVIII. CONTENTS. A Great Brirp-FIGHT Winter Birps ... “Gip” CAVE-HUNTING Hares Wuire Witp CatrLe Some British WHALES PIGEON-HOUSES AND F'IsH-sTEws British FikE-FLIES ... HEATHER-BURNING NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. Oe CHAPTER I. BIRDS OF PREY. Cumpria is not the primitive spot it once was. As tourists have invaded it, the Eagles and larger birds of prey have left their haunts. The spots which knew the wild white cattle, bears, wolves, and beavers, know them no more; and, by the working of a great natural law, these have become extinct. But if the invasions of a utilitarian age have rid us of the Eagles, they occasionally pay us passing visits in their majestic flights. Among birds the raptors are as kings and princes among men; they hold sway over a wide area, and suffer no intrusion—the raptors, with their ! ae 2 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. clean-cut figures, their bold dash, and glorious eyes ! The Lake hills long offered an asylum not only to Eagles, but to all the larger birds of prey; and these commonly built among them. Wordsworth and Wilson mention the Golden Eagle as breeding in the Lake District; and in their journals, Gray the poet, and Davy speak — the one of seeing an eyrie robbed, the other of watching the birds themselves. De Quincey has also a note of personal obser- vation. Raven Crag, the high hills above Keswick, Thirlmere, and Borrowdale, are sites of former eyries. It is asserted by a shepherd of the district that these Eagles, during the breeding season, destroyed a lamb daily, to say nothing of the carnage made on hares, par- tridges, pheasants, grouse, and the waterfowl that inhabit the lakes. At the places above mentioned, the farmers and dalesmen were careful to plunder the — eyries, but not without considerable risk of — life or limb to the assailant. In one case, a man was lowered from the summit of pre- cipitous rocks by a rope of fifty fathoms, and was compelled to defend himself from thé BIRDS OF PREY. 3 attacks of the birds during his descent. Gray graphically describes how the nests were annually plundered, upon one of which occa- sions he was present. The two species which bred in the district were the White-tailed or Sea Kagle and the Golden Eagle. Wordsworth tells how they built in one of the precipices over- looking Red Tarn, in a recess of Helvellyn, and that the birds used to wheel and hover over his head as he fished these lonely waters. When we last visited the spot, the silence was only _broken'by the hoarse croaking of a couple of Ravens, the sole remaining relics of the origina ‘Red Tarn Club.” An instance is related of an Kagle which, having pounced on a shepherd’s dog, carried it to a considerable height; but the weight and action of the animal effected a partial liberation, and left part of its flesh in the eagle’s beak. The dog was not killed by the fall. It re- covered from the wound, but was so intimidated that it would never go that way again. The son of the owner of the dog shot, near Legber- thwaite, at one of the eagles, which he wounded. This bird was found by a farmer, about a week afterwards, in a state of great exhaustion, 4 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. the lower mandible having been split, and the tongue wedged between the interstices. The bird was captured and kept in confinement, but became so violent that ultimately it had to be — destroyed. On the Eagles being frequently robbed of their young in Greenup, they removed to the opposite side of the crag. At this place they built for two years, but left it for Raven Crag, within the Coom, where, after staying a year only, they returned to their ancient seat in Hagle Crag. Here they bred annually — during their stay in Borrowdale. On the loss of its mate, the other eagle left the district, — but returned in the following spring with a — fresh one. This pair built during fourteen years, but. finally abandoned Borrowdale for Eskdale. Here again they were disturbed, and the female being afterwards shot, the male flew off and returned no more. _ Eagle Crag is a grand, towering rock, or — collection of perpendicular rocks, connected by © horizontal spaces of variously coloured vege- tation. Its front is fine, and forms a majestic background to many pleasing scenes. On that part of Eagle Crag which is Opposite to — BIRDS OF PREY. 5 Greenup, the eagles occasionally built their nests. But they were so destructive to the lambs, and consequently injurious to the in- terests of the shepherds, that their extermi- nation became absolutely necessary. Their building places being inaccessible by climb- ing, a dangerous experiment was tried. A man was lowered by a rope down the face of the cliff for ninety feet, carrying a piked staff, such as is used by the shepherds, to defend himself against the attack of the birds while he robbed the nest of eggs or eaglets, If birds, their possession was to be his remuneration ; if eggs, every neighbouring farmer gave for each ege five shillings. The nest was formed of branches of trees, and lined with coarse grass and bents from the neighbouring roeks. The EKagles sometimes flew off with lambs a month old, and in winter frequented the head of the Derwent, where they preyed upon waterfowl. The White-tailed Eagles bred upon the rocks of an escarpment overlooking the sea, and fed upon gulls and terns. The vast peat-mosses which stretched away for miles below abounded in hares and grouse, among which the birds made terrible havoc. Year after year they 6 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. carried off their young from the same cliffs, but now return only at rare intervals, or when storm-driven. The Peregrines have the eagles’ eyries, and are eagles in miniature. Sea-fowl form their food in summer, as do ducks, plover, and game in winter. At this latter season, the Osprey, or Fish-hawk, comes to the bay and.the still moun- tain tarns, adding wildness to the scenes which its congeners have left never to return. We are lying on the outskirts of a dark pine- wood interspersed with firs and hollies. A large bird has just flown into that clump of trees on the hillside opposite. There it sits on a dead bough, with its mottled breast towards us, and restless head quickly turning from side to side. Against the dark-green foliage we see the bright orange of its tarsi, and know it to be a Sparrow-hawk. As it flies from the clump, a pair of missel-thrushes and a flock of smaller birds follow in its wake, but dare not mob it. It swoops as one ap- proaches too near, glides upward, and pursues its way, scarcely deigning to note the screech- ing mob. The hawk glides silently into the wood, threading its sinuous way through BIRDS OF PREY. 7 Oo pe te the trees, and takes up its position in the centre. The cooing of wood-pigeons seems to excite it, and it makes a circuit, skimming over the ground at the height of a few yards. Then, as something in the grass attracts it, it beats the air with its pointed wings, and, depressing its tail, hangs as if suspended. In a second it falls, just as a lark shoots from a tuft to seek the shelter of a thick thorn- hedge. The hawk follows, and beats the bush, first on one side, then the other; but the trem- bling lark cannot be frightened out of its stronghold, and the bird, finding itself baffled, skims along as before. Round and round the wood it flaps, now sweeping low over the trees, anon hanging motionless. A number of chaffinches are pick- ing among the corn unconscious of the presence ofanenemy. Suddenly the hawk darts round the corner of the wood into the midst of the terrified flock, clutches one in its talons, and is off straight and swift across the country, stain- ing with a deeper scarlet the ruffled plumage of its captive. Let us in imagination follow this bold spirit of the air to some such plantation as it has 8 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. just left, and there, on the topmost branches of a pine, somewhere near the centre of the wood, we shall find its nest. It is bulky, having been repaired annually for years, and somewhat neatly constructed of fir branches. It is nearly flat, and on its edge is the chaffinch, torn limb from limb and cleanly plucked. Those four screaming demons clothed in down are young Sparrow-hawks, and never- satisfied things they are. We descend the tree, just keeping in mind a rotten bough, and leave the young ones to enjoy their feast. Yonder on an ash-stump sits the female, quietly watch- ing our movements, to return when we are gone. The spot on which we lie is a haunt of the Kestrel—a perpendicular limestone escarpment which rushes sheer down fifty feet for a mile along its front. Below is a flood of green, patched by the mellower tints of rolling crops. On one hand mosses and silvery sands stretch away far beneath us, and on the other rise the mist-capped peaks of the hills. What a scene of peace and contentment! White farmhouses lie like spots of sunlight on the dark green landscape, each embowered in its clump of ) BIRDS OF PREY. 9 sycamores, which serves to shade and keep the dairy cool. A limestone road winds its sinuous way far out among the brown heather, almost as far as the eye can reach. There the Greenwash, like liquid silver, flows on until it is lost in the sands to the south. It sees as it goes the haunts of gulls, terns, and herons. Now our attention is attracted by two small blue pigeons that are flying along the base of the cliff. After watching for a moment, we know them to be the beautiful Rock-dove from which our domestic stock is descended. We are lying on the turf, when a shadow floats past us. We look up, and there comes the pleasant cry, Kee, kee, keelie. Suspended above us and hovering in the wind is the Kestrel. So quickly do its wings vibrate, that we can scaree detect the motion as the bird hangs against the blue. It hovers a while, then flies to a short distance, and is again attracted by a stirring in the tangled turf of grass and bents. Poising itself for a second, it drops like a stone on closing its wings, which it just slightly expands again as it takes a mouse in its talons and flies off to the cliff. When this morsel has been devoured, the male 10 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. and female fly from the nest, and perform—just for the love of exercise, it would seem—a series of aérial evolutions that it would be impossible to describe. The nest in this instance is upon the projecting ledge of a rock midway down the scaur, and protected from sight and the sea-winds by an old, twisted yew. We are scrambling among the crags in search of Alpine plants, when a large bird of prey advances on the wing. At a distance the under parts appear to be white, but the bird flying directly over at a height of sixty © feet enables us to see distinctly the dark bars across the feathers of the abdomen. Its flight is a sort of flapping motion, not unlike that of the Ring-dove; and we can see its head turned rapidly in various directions, the eye at the same time peering into the crannies of the rocks and ghylls, in search of any skulking prey. The Peregrine is marked by dark streaks proceeding from the corners of its bluish- grey back, and by the transverse bars just mentioned. It will dash through a flock of wild ducks or a covey of partridges, wounding several in its sortie, but eventually carrying off the one selected with unerring aim. BIRDS OF PREY. ll A noble bird is the Peregrine, with its glorious eyes, wild, restless, and changeful! This bird is the falcon of the royal falconers ; its mate, the tiercel. Among all our British birds the Pere- grine ranks first; for strength, and courage, and speed it has no compeer. Rooks clamour and arrange themselves in battle array at its approach ; other hawks fly off to the covert; small birds of every species seek the thickest shelter, and farm-yard poultry their roost, as it sails in mid-air down dale. Even the eagle suffers itself to be mobbed by the com- _ paratively small Peregrine without offering any retaliation. We advance over the heather, and there, skimming towards us, is a large bird —a _ Harrier. The species cannot be doubted, as it flies near the ground, working it as a hound or a setter would do. Now it stoops, glides, ascends, stoops again, and shoots off at right angles. It rounds the shoulder of the hill and drops into a dark patch of ling. of them belonged to the “’Statesman ” class, and both owned and farmed their holdings. Many of these had been held by one family for generations, for the Statesman was essen- tially conservative, and the world went slowly then. The old-fashioned yeoman followed the most primitive methods of agriculture. He lived along the sides of the dales, a mountain stream rushing through his rich meadows immediately below. His house and barns, built primarily with a view to shelter, were composed of rocks and boulders from the fell slopes, and were more like productions of nature than of art. The homesteads were generally planted at the base of the mountains, as there the soil is richest and deepest. The valley bottoms make productive meadows; and although the fell sheep often graze them far into summer, they yield abundant ~ crops of hay in July. In these remote dales, howeyer, the summer months are often wet ones, and the hay harvest is much delayed. Taking our stand by the margin of the valley stream, we have, first, the meadow slip, then the “intacks” or fell-side pasture, the “ grassing heads,” and, finally, the mountains. Many of E 50 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. the enclosed hill eee are Annet Elid shaggy underwood and bosky dells, vestiges of primitive forests. In limestone caverns and recesses of the hills, remains of bears, wild boars, and wolves are found; while on one of the fells there still roams a herd of wild Red Deer. A century. ago, a large proportion of the land in Cumbria was owned by these ’Statesmen, the farms ranging in value from £40 to £50 a year. Many of them were held by one family for generations ; but too often, as they descended from father to son, they became heavily burdened with charges to the younger members. Mort- gages and interest accumulated until the case of the ‘Statesman became hopeless, and he was glad to find a purchaser for his little demesne. A series of bad seasons, loss of stock, or a pro- longed winter, would not unfrequently prove the last straw ; or it sometimes happened that the yeoman’s family became too large to be sustained, by the estate. The natural result was that the small holdings were gradually merged in the larger ones, until now the process of assimilation may be said to be com- plete. The few that have survived have done Se ee ee ANOTHER TALE OF ARCADY. 5l so by consolidating small holdings where family interests were identical. In this way, there are numerous small farms worth £100, £200, £300 annually; while a few more extensive ones command a rental of from £500 to £700. Some of the large sheep-farms now embrace whole villages, and are from one to five thousand acres inextent. A number of small farms at from £60 to £70 remain, but these are comparatively rare. In most cases the ’Statesman’s holding was essentially a sheep-farm. He had right of “heaf” for four or five hundred sheep upon the Common. The times of lambing in spring, of washing in the fell ‘ becks,” and of shearing in late June, were among the events of the year. The sheep were of the hardy Herd- wick breed, climbing to the bleak fell-tops at the coming of the snow; and in this was their safety. They were rarely buried in drifts, and were clever at scratching away snow to get at the hidden herbage. The ’Statesman’s daughters spun the wool of his own sheep, and from this the clothing of the family was made at home. Spinning-wheels are occasionally still used, but are oftener found stowed away in the lumber-loft. 52 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. At the time of which we speak, the internal communication of the northern counties was bad indeed. The roads were so narrow that only pack-horses could travel along them, and in this way the traffic of the dales was con- ducted. Carriage roads there were none, and it was probably owing to this fact that, just as the yeomen spun their own wool, so they grew sufficient grain to last them through the year. Marks of the plough are often to be seen on the Commons and moorlands; and in these marks we may read one reason of the rapid decline of the ‘Statesman class. About the beginning of the present century thousands of acres of the lower-lying Commons were enclosed. The Continental wars then raging had sent up all kinds of grain to a price unknown before. The yeomen reaped a rich harvest; fresh land was broken up, and some of it yielded enormously, Every available bit of land was ploughed, and corn crop after corn crop taken off. These were flush times for the Statesman, and lavish habits were contracted. Peace came, and brought its natural consequences. The spell of agricultural depression from which we are still suffering has dealt the death- 7 ; : | Se ae, Se ee a ae ANOTHER TALE OF ARCADY. oe blow to the ’Statesman. Ten years ago one mountain dale at least was wholly tenanted by farmers of this class. To-day not one remains. In this quiet spot they had long lived unevent- ‘ful lives, fairly prosperous, and content. Their little world was small, but their wants were few. As many of their sons and daughters as could be spared went out to hired service, or if one of the lads happened to be a weakling, he “was bred a scholar.” At the beginning of the present century scores of yeomen’s sons held small “ livings” in their native northern dales. | The life of the fell folk must have been terribly lonely in winter. They rose and went to bed with the sun, their only artificial lights being made from rushes and mutton-fat. Among the shippons in winter these were carried in old-fashioned horn lanterns, all of which articles they manufactured by their own simple methods. There were no markets for milk and butter, and so the former was converted into cheese, mostly of a very low quality. Oatmeal, salt-beef, bacon, and dried mutton, constituted the staple food of the better class yeoman, whilst in summer eggs, veal, and 54 ‘NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. other articles of diet were added. In the neigh- bourhood of the provincial towns salmon was sold at twopence a pound,.and other fish food was equally cheap. With almost every article of diet, however, oatmeal was largely eaten. But this state of things has long since come to an end. The great revolution in the manners and customs of the ‘Statesmen began at the close of the last century. Much that was singular and characteristic among them vanished at the opening of the turnpike-roads. This and the extension of commerce afforded facilities for the purchase of objects of elegance and ease, and produced results which soon spread even to the more secluded mountain dales. The tracks of the pack-horses. were difficult at all times, and, as a rule, were ill-kept. Personal inter- course with the southern portions of the country was extremely difficult. We speak lightly now of the will-making of our forefathers before starting on a long journey. To them it was a matter of no light consideration, and those whose business took them from home settled their worldly affairs before starting. Many of them were manufacturers of woollen goods, and ANOTHER TALE OF ARCADY. 55 these they themselves sometimes travelled to sell. With macadamized roads the strings of pack- horses began to decline, and post-chaises were introduced. This was in 1754, and three years later carrier’s carts and waggons had come in. In 1763, the first stage-coach was seen in the North, and was drawn by six horses. It ran from Edinburgh to London, and took four- teen days for the journey. ‘This was express speed, so to speak, and the Edinburgh professors of that day warned persons from travelling by the wild and whirling vehicle, as the rate at which it went would bring upon them all manner of strange disorders, chief among which was apoplexy. This, as already stated, was the beginning of many and rapid changes. Before that time spinning-wheels were in every country-house. In most cases the wool was taken from the backs of the manufacturer's own sheep, and each process, from first to last, was performed ‘by some member of the household. Every woman was a first-rate knitter, and there was a vast “output” of old-fashioned, blue-grey stockings. Outside the domestic circle a few 56 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. hand-loom Weavers wove cloth of duffel grey for the men, and russet for the women. Finer wool for finer work was carefully combed within the settle-nook; but almost all for do- mestic use. The Wool-comber was a great man in those days, and the itinerant who tramped the country and turned wooden dishes and such like articles was always welcome. It was from ob- servation of such men as these that Wordsworth drew the character of his immortal “* Wanderer.” The produce of a field of flax now yielded material for holiday attire, and was in great request among women. The travelling tailor went from house to house in search of employ- ment, and in the larger of them was some- times detained for weeks. He worked for daily wages, and amply paid for his meat and drink by the news he brought. In those days news was news—it could not be had for a half- penny. Although home produce was large, money was scarce, and the earnings of servants were paid “in kind.” The girls received shifts and gowns and aprons; the men, shirts and coats, with sometimes a little wool and corn. In money, the annual wages of a man-servant ANOTHER TALE OF ARCADY. 57 was about £5; of a woman £2 5s. In our old hill church is a fair mural monument to Dame Gylpine, of The Hall. I have before me an account of “The holle yeare waigs of alle her servants at Sellsatt,” and these amount to 290s. for eight men and nine “ maydes.” In the days of Dame Gylpine, a thorough knowledge of domestic art was considered necessary to fit a lady for the duties of wife and mother. Where one girl can knit a pair of stockings now, there were a hundred then, though in the matter of music and philosophy the proportion is reversed. In bygone days the gentry of the country- side deemed it no degradation to manage their affairs, even down to the minutest detail. Iron-shod shoes (clogs) were generally worn ; the parson’s and yeoman’s children appearing in them at church on Sundays. But these clogs proved injurious to the wearer’s stockings, and it is said that careful housewives used to smear the heels of the latter with melted pitch, and dip them immediately in the ashes of the turf fire. Fixed in the woollen texture, the mixture became both hard and flexible, and was well adapted to resist friction. 58 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. Flax has long since ceased to be grown in the field; there is now no hempen cloth, and the old methods of spinning have gone out. Into some of the northern valleys, Mr. Ruskin— striving after an unattainable idea of pastoral peace and happiness—has re-introduced spin- ning-wheels; but the whirr of them speaks most of his eccentricities. Among the manu- factures of the North were yarn, hose, horn lanterns, and coarse druggets; but they have long ago been supplanted. Even the poorest have turned their backs on honest homespun, and now trick themselves out in webs of draggled embroidery. The old “stuffs” are gone, and materials with greater gloss and less substance have taken their place. Up to the beginning of the present century, which constituted an era in the history of the dales, the domestic economy of the ’Statesman class was in a backward condition. Their houses were ill-contrived, and hardly in keeping with modern notions of decency. The water supply was, of course, indispensable; but, instead of digging a well or conducting water to their homesteads, these were invariably built by the. sides of the fell “becks.” Con- ANOTHER TALE OF ARCADY. 59 sequently, many of them stood in moist situa- tions; and occasionally, in autumn, foaming torrents tore up the folds and washed away the outbuildings. These, like the houses, were low, and a man of ordinary height could not pass the door-lintel without stooping. The floors of the houses were below the level of the ground without, and entrance was made by a descent of one or two steps. The basement was divided into three apartments—the “ buttery,” which constituted the general larder ; the common hall or kitchen, which formed the living room; and a slightly raised chamber, in which the master and mistress slept. The whole was either rudely paved with cobbles from the river bed, or had a floor of flattened loam. There was no fire-grate, nor is there yet in many of the smaller dwellings of the dales ; the peat or wood fire being laid on the hearth. The fires were “raked” at night, and some are known never to have been extinguished for a century. “ Raking” was easier than having to re-kindle fuel with the aid of flint and steel, and was the universal practice. The chimney-place was one into which a waggon might have been driven, being twelve feet or 60 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. more in diameter, and open in front. In the funnel there hung joints of beef, mutton, and pork, while sometimes a dozen hams were smoking in the chimney at a time. A long sooty chain ending in a crook went up from the fire to a beam above, and this bore the heavy iron pans of the period. Many of these were supplied with a funnel, by which to let the steam escape ; and, as there was nothing in the shape of ovens, all food was cooked by their aid. At all seasons of the year sooty water trickled down the wide chimneys; and the members of the household sat and went about their domestic duties with their heads covered. The second story of the house, called the loft, was open to the rafters, and constituted the sleeping apartment of the servants and children. In most cases there was but one chamber, undivided by partitions, and here the depen- dents were lodged—the men at one end, the women at the other. Beyond a rope stretched across—upon which coats and gowns, articles of both male and female attire, were hung pro- miscuously—there was no division whatever. In the houses of the tradesmen of the adjoining provincial towns, where the custom was to ANOTHER TALE OF ARCADY. 61 provide lodgings for journeymen as well as apprentices, matters were even worse. The furniture of these northern homes was rude both in design and execution, but it was useful and homely, and eminently in keeping with the houses that contained it. The one quality that was striven after in all domestic utensils was serviceableness. Almost every- thing was of wood, pegs of this substance in- variably supplying the place of nails. Wooden latches were to all the doors and windows, iron being almost unknown in domestic architecture. One great feature of the farmhouses was their arks and chests. These were curiously and quaintly carved, with carvings “all made out of the carver’s brain.” Coleridge lived in a district where the work. of the home-bred carver was everywhere to be seen; and doubt- less the line in “ Christabel ” was so suggested. In the arks were kept oaten cake, mali, meal, preserves, and dried meats. The “chest ”— hoary, heavy, and tall—contained the clothes of the family, often with an immense quantity of linen and cloth of home manufacture— mostly the work of the women. These stores were largely drawn upon for bridal dowries. 62 ‘NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. Old china, dress material in flowered silk or satin, and a few pieces of plate—family heir- looms—found a place in the chest. The huge bedsteads in use were of massive oak, with testers of the same substance. The chairs were generally made of clumsy wainscot, and some were fashioned from the trunks of hollow trees—the carpenter completing what time had begun. For table, there stood in the common hall a board of from four to seven yards in length; the rude stand being furnished with forms or benches along its sides. Upon these the family and guests seated themselves at meals. Maple trenchers supplied the place of plates, and liquids of every description — milk, broth, beer—were served in wooden vessels, made with staves and hoops. The protection from cold and wind—which freely found their way into the common hall by the chimney, as well as the badly jointed doors and windows—was provided against by a screen placed in front of the turf fire. In the centre of the hearth stood a square, upright staff, having a row of holes along one of its sides, its lower end fixed into a stout log of wood. This simple contrivance supported the ANOTHER TALE OF ARCADY. 63 candlestick, which was thrust at convenient height into one of the holes. In the warm, though smoky retreat of the settle-nook, the family spent the long winter evenings in knitting, spinning flax, carding wool, and other home industries. Conver- sation at such times, especially that of the elders, had but one result—perpetuating the credulity of the times. The talk constantly ran on apparitions, omens, workers in witch- craft, and more innocent fairy tale. But at the beginning of the new era these _ things obtained less countenance, and a general change for the better began. Provincial news- papers were started and wonderfully enlarged the narrow world of their country readers. Innovation came steadily from the South, and the rude artisans were ousted. Old handicrafts were subdivided; the cabinet-maker invaded the province of the carpenter; the worker in metals that of the maker of wooden platters ; and the great army of itinerants rapidly declined. The transformation during the period indicated exceeded that of any century that had preceded it in the North. ” 64 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. CHAPTER VI. ANOTHER TALE OF ARCADY—II. As yet we have but casually mentioned the actual farm life of the northern yeoman. At the time which this chapter concerns, their land operations consisted in the very oldest methods. The people rarely migrated from one valley to another; they had few wants; and of them it might be said that there the richest were poor, and the poor lived in abundance. It is a re- markable testimony to the practical shrewdness of northern farmers, that whilst a century ago their farming was of the worst possible descrip- — tion, the depression in agriculture to-day is less felt among them than perhaps in any other portion of the country. Theirs was the “old system” of husbandry. When grass land was broken up, it was sown ANOTHER TALE OF ARCADY. 65 with black oats, all the available manure of the little “estate” being bestowed upon it for the succeeding barley crop. The third year the land was laid down again to fallow with a second crop of oats, but always without grass seeds, so that the future herbage came no one knew exactly how. In such case, however, nature seemed to let Joose her ubiquitous weeds, and soon a green mantle overspread the fallow. One of the first improvements upon this state of things was the application of lime to such lands as were wet and moss-grown. This pro- cess was universally ridiculed until the result was seen, when lime-kilns sprung up every- where. Although spring-wheat was cultivated in the northern counties as early as the sixteenth century, green crops as food for cattle are of recent date. As to pot-herbs and the produce of the vegetable garden generally, a century ago they were nearly unknown. Oaten bread, dressed barley, and onions constituted the more cooling diet of the common people, with very little variety. At the middle of the eighteenth century, however, Common-gardens were laid out in the environs of most northern country F 66 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. towns, and at the same time the culture of fruit- trees became general. This was an important step, for not only did it supply a needed article of diet, but it was the beginning of a new industry. The more hardy fruit-trees were peculiarly suited to the humid valleys of the North, and in time yielded enormous crops. As yet the art of fattening cattle was but little understood ; the first experiments in this direction being tried upon sheep in winter. This was an important matter, and raised great hopes in the minds of breeders; for as yet the winter supply of animal food had proved wholly in- adequate. The stock fed in autumn was killed off by Christmas, and, with the exception of veal, scarcely any fresh meat appeared in the markets before the ensuing Midsummer. This dearth was provided against by the more substantial yeomen and manufacturers by curing a quantity of beef at Martinmas—part of which was pickled in brine, the rest dried in the smoke of the capacious chimneys. On Sunday, the farmers’ wives boiled a huge piece of meat from the brine-tub, which on that day was served hot. From that time as long as the joint lasted it came up cold, relish being given to it ANOTHER TALE OF ARCADY. 67 by the addition of oatmeal puddings. Hogs. were slaughtered in great numbers between Christmas and Candlemas; the flesh being converted into bacon, which, with dried beef and mutton, afforded a change in spring. The only fresh provisions in winter consisted of eggs, poultry, geese, and ill-fed veal, the calves being carried to market when only a few weeks old. What is here set down has reference to the small farmers and better-class yeomen. The class next below them knew but little of their comfort, and nothing of their luxuries. The artisans and the land-labouring classes were badly housed, and were fed on barley boiled in milk ; with the addition of meal-bread, butter, and a small quantity of salted meat. This diet told terribly upon the poorer population in spring, for ague set in with painful regularity. The culture of esculent vegetables became more common, and potatoes began to be generally, though sparingly, used in 1730. The cultiva- tion of this root operated healthily upon the in- habitants, and made them much better off than when they were wholly dependent upon grain, About this time parcels of tea began to be 68 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. received in the North from the Metropolis ; but, in ignorance of its use, it was smoked instead of tobacco, made into herb puddings with barley, and, as might well be supposed, was rather long in becoming quite popular. As the use and virtues of this foreign luxury became better understood, neatly turned cups and saucers of wood made their appearance, these being com- monly used instead of porcelain. The consumption of wheat became greater and more general after tea was introduced, though at the begining of the century flour made from this grain was never seen in the cottage of the labourer, and rarely made its appearance on the tables of the middle-class except on days of festivity. Frugal housewives evinced their attachment to economy on these occasions by making their pastry of barley-meal, which they veneered with a thin cake of flour. A curious custom survived until recently from out these bygone things that shows the estimation in which wheaten bread was held by our ancestors. A small loaf was thought a fitting gift from the dead to the living, and every person who attended a funeral received one at the door of the deceased, and was expected to carry ANOTHER TALE OF ARCADY. 69 it home. The increased demand for wheat encouraged the hill farmers to pursue the more modern methods of cultivating it ; and though the experiment has everywhere succeeded, thin cakes of oatmeal without leaven are even now daily eaten in quantities in almost all the houses of the mountain dales. It is upon this and oat- meal porridge that the famous wrestlers of Cumbria are reared, and at present there seems but little likelihood of its disuse. And now, to come to another side of the subject—to more recent times, It is hardly remarkable to those who know the Statesman class, that its descendants of to-day have suffered less from recent agricultural depression than others. And this, perhaps, is owing to the sterner virtues and natural shrewdness which are among the characteristics of the dalesfolk. At the same time, it must be understood that nearly all the farmers’ sons in the north go out to work as farm servants ; and it may at once be said that the northern farm labourer is nothing ~ akin to his southern brother. It is probably no exaggeration to say that he is superior to him in every way in which comparison is possible. The southerner seems unable to lift himself 70 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. above his surroundings, whilst the northerner almost invariably strives to do this, and not unfrequently succeeds. As a lad he is well schooled, and at four- teen begins “service.” At half-yearly hiring —Whitsuntide or Martinmas—he goes to the nearest country town and stands in the market- place. He is attired in a brand-new suit, with a capacious necktie of green and red. These articles he has donned upon the memorable morning, and, as a gift from his parents, they constitute “his start in life.” The country barber has left his head pretty much as the modern reaper leaves the stubble, and has not stinted him of grease for his money. As an outward and visible sign of his intention, he sticks a straw in his mouth and awaits the issue. For the first hour or so he keeps his eyes bent on the pavement, as though to read the riddle of his life there, but presently gains confidence to look about him. After waiting the greater part of the morning, and seeing many of his fellow-men and maid-servants hired, he is accosted by a stalwart yeoman, who inquires if he wants a “ spot” (a place, asituation). The boy replies that he does, that ANOTHER TALE OF ARCADY. a ei 1S Wllice to doce any iine, med Wille engage for £5 the half-year. A bargain is soon struck, and the stalwart urchin from the “ fell-heads ” wanders off to lose himself in the giddy gaiety of the Fair. If, ultimately he likes his “place,” and is well and kindly treated, we may not see him again at hiring for a couple of years. During this time he has made himself generally useful, has become a good milker, and has shone con- spicuously at hay and harvest. He has proved himself a “fine lad,” too, and has had his wages raised by way of reward. At twenty he is stalwart enough to hire as a man; and now his wages are doubled. He asks and obtains £18 for the year, or even £20, if he be entering upon the summer half. The farm servants of Cumbria “live in,” and have all found. They are well fed, well housed, and take their meals at the master’s table. But, if they are well fed, they are hard worked, and in summer often rise as early as three or four in the morning. In these counties, which constitute a vast grazing district, the labour of the farm servant is much more general and interesting than that of ia NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. the southerner, who works on arable land. Physically, the northern man is much superior, and is generally an athlete. Heis come of that stock which so stubbornly fought the Border Wars, and now excels in wrestling, mountain racing, and following the wiry foxhounds among the hills. Of course, these sports only offer during the seant holidays in which he indulges, or in mid-winter, when there is little to be done beyond tending the stock. It is necessary that the northerner should be a big, sturdy fellow, since the ground which he has to work is rough, and he has not many helps _In the way of machines. A few years ago, and during the flourishing times of agriculture, the northern labourer ob- tained from £35 to £40 per annum, still, of course, “living in;” a few picked men could even command £45. Now, however, that we are come upon times of depression, the best men are glad to work for the first-named sum. In proportion, girls are much better off in the matter of wages. There is probably less com- petition among them, owing to the fact that there is a great temptation for country girls to migrate and enter service in provincial towns. ANOTHER TALE OF ARCADY. 73 Here they are not so hard worked as in the farmhouses, and have the satisfaction of being engaged in what they esteem a more “ genteel” occupation. Many of the men, when about thirty years of age, are able to take small farms of their own. Nearly all the ’Statesman’s sons do this, probably without any outside help. I know a man who saved £120, which sum he divided and deposited in three banks. This was his whole wealth, and he explained to me that he did not want to lose his hard-earned savings if the banks should “break.” His object was to acquire a small farm. He has now succeeded. From the fact of “living in,” as nearly all the farm servants of Cumbria do, it need hardly’ be said that early marriages are rare. All the better men look forward to the time. when they can have a farm of their own; and as soon as they have obtained a “holding,” they look out for a wife. This fact alone speaks well of their thrift; but it has its dark side. How far the two things are connected may be a matter of speculation, but it is notorious that the number of illegitimate children in 74. NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. Cumbria is far above the average, and most of these are undoubtedly born of the agricultural classes. The Registers of the country churches prove this. Still, it is pleasing to be able to record the fact that in the Dales, sooner or later, those who have been wronged “are made honest women of” by marriage. In the remote dales the farm servants are as conservative as their masters. Not only in politics, but in their whole surroundings. At one time of the year the sledding of the peat constitutes a considerable portion of their work, Nothing but sticks and peat are used for fuel; and the peat has to be “ graved,” then stacked, and finally brought. from the moorlands on sledges, This is done in autumn. Spring is occupied in tending the mountain sheep, the time of lambing being a particularly busy one. The sheep-washing is also pleasant, and shear- ing, a month later, brings quite an annual festival. The “clipping,” where the holdings are essentially sheep-farms, is one of the great events of the year. Before the days of dipping, salving sheep came in late autumn, and brought a time of terribly hard work. The process was slow, and sometimes a thousand head had to ANOTHER TALE OF ARCADY. 75 be gone through. To enable the men to do this, they had candles fixed in their caps, and worked early and late. Salving is now super- seded—a thing of the past. In Cumbria, winter, except unusually severe, is hardly a busy time, for then most of the sheep are brought from the fells and wintered about the farm. It occasionally happens, how- ever, that these are buried deep and have to be dug out, or that trusses of hay have to be carried to the fells. In fact, half the time of the northern farm labourer is taken up in-con- nection with the sheep. Many of the men of whom I speak are going south as Hinds; and men from Cumbria are as a rule preferred for such situations, as the advertising columns of the agricultural journals show. They are practical farmers, | shrewd, and not afraid of right-down hard — work. Whenever they go south, they en- deavour to graze more, and plough less land; and so follow in the lines in which they were reared. And it is generally admitted that they are successful. Just now many of them are obtaining southern farms which have gone out of ¢ultivation, and some have already 76 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. shown what can be done in this way. They pay but little rent, and will doubtless do well with their bargains. In short, the Cumbrian farm labourer, wherever he appears, literally drives his weaker brother out of the field, and he has already left his mark upon southern grass lands. This is the man who is the outcome of the old ‘Statesman, who is now nearly extinct. On his native heath he is man instead of master, and may be happier for the change. His ancestors have been revolutionized out of existence. His customs, his clothes, his food, his mode of living are changed. As a peasant proprietor he has gone to the wall.. Many of his mountain folk are now included in the pale of humanity, which certainly could not have been said of them a couple of centuries ago. For many of the facts in this chapter the author is in- debted to a tract by a local Antiquarian published in 1847, CHAPTER VII. WILD-SHOOTING IN WINTER. ’ Or British field-sports, perhaps “wild-shooting’ is the most fascinating. This can only be pursued over wild though fairly well-stocked ground, with the prospect of a miscellaneous though always uncertain bag. It is this latter element that gives such zest to sport.. On the last day of December a light fall of snow had thinly carpeted the open woods. Never was morning more beautiful! The feathered rain was crisp to the tread, and the noon sun converted the atmosphere to that of summer. The water in the bay was blue; the snow-peaks of the hills rose-tinted ; and snow-crystals shot — up over the landscape and made it gloriously, dazzling bright ! We were three—old Phil, a broken-bred 78 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. spaniel, and myself. The day and its anticipa- tions were just such as we could drink in to the fullest. We knew and mutually understood each other, so that each would work to the gun of each, and the dog to both. Our way lay over the snow, through low scrub of bright chestnut oaks, glowing with colour. Picking the acorns from beneath the trees, a brace of Pheasants went away. Both birds were bagged, though after the towering cock I had to send my second barrel, as a badly broken wing did not at first stop him. The hen fell dead to Phil as it topped the bushes. There is no gainsaying the beauty of the pheasant of our woodlands, and, with the frost, the iridescence of the plumage is perfect. A flock of burnished Wood-pigeons flew wildly from the beeches, though far out of range. Then we have a spell of sharp shooting. Rabbits rush across the rides, and are rolled over as they pass through. Saplings of oak and hazel do not stay our firing, the shot cutting through these and killing beyond. For a time, on the hillside, sharp shooting is com- pulsory, and a dozen more rabbits are added to the bag. Then we emerge from the coppice and esialh WILD-SHOOTING IN WINTER. 79 pass under the pines, walking over layer upon layer of pine-needles. A Long-Eared Owl floats from out the gloom; but the winged mouser is allowed peacefully to skirt the plantation. Almost all life and vegetation are blotted out here, and the aisles are silent. The hoarse croak of a Carrion Crow comes from the rocks by the bay, and then, disturbed, passes high overhead. The pine-wood passed, we emerge to light and sunshine. A Woodcock, with its peculiar owl-like flight, rises from a bracken bed, and contributes its long bill to the bag. A Sparrow-hawk sails silently over the trees, but its sharp eye detects us, it wheels, and is soon out of sight. Another flock. of wood- pigeons is more successfully stalked than the last, and a pair added. Along the edge of the wood, and among the still remaining stubble, some pheasants are feeding; and as these get up another brace is added. Then comes an hour’s stalk. A covey of Partridges is put away time after time, but always far out of range. Marking the birds, we follow on; and just as we persist so the birds become wilder. Soon, however, the ground favours us; the covey drops over a 80 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. brae a hundred yards away, and, following, we come right upon them. Selecting our birds on the outskirts of the flight, we have our reward by bagging three, each of us emptying » both barrels. Having dealt out this swift retribution, we turn to the Snipe. We find these, as we expected, in a marshy meadow at the bottom of the wood. Five are killed with seven shots, many others getting up out of reach, and calling “Scape! scape!” as they fly off. It was remarked that the brace that got clear away were fired at just as they rose. The surest method in snipe- shooting is to exercise patience, and pull just when the bird has finished zigzagging. The finger must rest lightly on the trigger, how- ever, and not a second be lost, as by this time the bird is just passing out of range. It is marvellous how much thought can be exer- cised in a moment whilst shooting! Hven as the eye glances along the barrels, and the finger presses close with every instinct to pull, some slight circumstance intervenes, entailing a train of thought and its deductions, which ends in letting the game go. From the rushy marsh a Woodcock is bagged, WILD-SHOOTING IN WINTER. Mae: » | and here, through the turnips, a Hare comes lopping by the fence. We stand motionless as it makes towards us in a series of lateral leaps. It nibbles the herbage in its track, and then, getting wind of us, stops, stamps, and rears itself on its haunches. In the very act of bounding away it rolls over stone dead. A sentinel-like Heron, which stands gaunt and motionless on one leg in the icy stream, rises and flaps over, but is allowed to pass. This lonely fisher of the tarns and streams has now enough of cruel want without being shot at. Over the next fence is a secluded sheet of water, which usually harbours ducks. This we approach stealthily. A shot from each brings down a brace of Teal as they rise from the reeds, though we restrain our hands at a Kingfisher as she shoots up the beck.