ller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed
to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on
the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together
with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow
stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an
excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd,
in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting,
half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church,
like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who
had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten
summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone
of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure
Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a
speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going
to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had
a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies,
like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had
leisure.

"There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I
reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he
has, and him turned seventy-five."

"Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies,"
said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're
looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore
they go to sleep."

Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching,
and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit
of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he
liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of
onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows
would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon
to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very
regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of
rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead.

"They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the
churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck
if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin';
there's no likelihoods of a drop now;