udders ready.
From them without a word, we turn to the farm-yard proper, seen on the
right, and dryly strawed from the petty rush of the pitch-paved runnel.
Round it stand the snug out-buildings, barn, corn-chamber, cider-press,
stables, with a blinker'd horse in every doorway munching, while his
driver tightens buckles, whistles and looks down the lane, dallying
to begin his labour till the milkmaids be gone by. Here the cock
comes forth at last;--where has he been lingering?--eggs may tell
to-morrow--he claps his wings and shouts "cock-a-doodle"; and no other
cock dare look at him. Two or three go sidling off, waiting till their
spurs be grown; and then the crowd of partlets comes, chattering how
their lord has dreamed, and crowed at two in the morning, and praying
that the old brown rat would only dare to face him. But while the cock
is crowing still, and the pullet world admiring him, who comes up but
the old turkey-cock, with all his family round him. Then the geese
at the lower end begin to thrust their breasts out, and mum their
down-bits, and look at the gander and scream shrill joy for the
conflict; while the ducks in pond show nothing but tail, in proof of
their strict neutrality.

While yet we dread for the coming event, and the fight which would jar
on the morning, behold the grandmother of sows, gruffly grunting right
and left with muzzle which no ring may tame (not being matrimonial),
hulks across between the two, moving all each side at once, and then all
of the other side as if she were chined down the middle, and afraid
of spilling the salt from her. As this mighty view of lard hides each
combatant from the other, gladly each retires and boasts how he would
have slain his neighbour, but that old sow drove the other away, and no
wonder he was afraid of her, after all the chicks she had eaten.

And so it goes on; and so the sun comes, stronger from his drink of dew;
and the cattle in the byres, and the horses from the stable, and the men
from cottage-door, each has had his rest and food, all smell alike of
hay and straw, and every one must hie to work, be it drag, or draw, or
delve.

So thought I on the Monday morning; while my own work lay before me,
and I was plotting how to quit it, void of harm to every one, and let my
love have work a little--hardest perhaps of all work, and yet as sure as
sunrise. I knew that my first day's task on the farm would be strictly
watched by every one, even by my gent