The marsh is left to the coots and
moorhens that from thence stock the brooks.
CHAPTER X
FARMER WILLUM'S PLACE: SNIPE SHOOTING
One October morning towards the end of the month, Orion and I started to
beat over Redcote Farm upon the standing invitation of the occupier.
There was a certainty of sport of some kind, because the place had
remained almost unchanged for the last century. It is 'improvement' that
drives away game and necessitates the pheasant preserve.
The low whitewashed walls of the house were of a dull yellowish hue from
the beating of the weather. They supported a vast breadth of thatched
roof drilled by sparrows and starlings. Under the eaves the swallows'
nests adhered, and projecting shelves were fixed to prevent any
inconvenience from them. Some of the narrow windows were still darkened
with the black boarding put up in the days of the window tax.
In the courtyard a number of stout forked stakes were used for putting
the dairy buckets on, after being cleaned, to dry. No attempt was made
to separate the business from the inner life of the house. Here in front
these oaken buckets, scoured till nearly white, their iron handles
polished like silver, were close under the eyes of any one looking out.
By the front door a besom leaned against the wall that every comer might
clean the mud from his boots; and you stepped at once from the threshold
into the sitting-room.
Pages:
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164