our village-第13部分
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elds of arable land; more lively still with troops of stooping bean…setters; women and children; in all varieties of costume and colour; and ploughs and harrows; with their whistling boys and steady carters; going through; with a slow and plodding industry; the main business of this busy season。 What work beansetting is! What a reverse of the position assigned to man to distinguish him from the beasts of the field! Only think of stooping for six; eight; ten hours a day; drilling holes in the earth with a little stick; and then dropping in the beans one by one。 They are paid according to the quantity they plant; and some of the poor women used to be accused of clumping themthat is to say; of dropping more than one bean into a hole。 It seems to me; considering the temptation; that not to clump is to be at the very pinnacle of human virtue。
Another turn in the lane; and we come to the old house standing amongst the high elmsthe old farm…house; which always; I don't know why; carries back my imagination to Shakspeare's days。 It is a long; low; irregular building; with one room; at an angle from the house; covered with ivy; fine white…veined ivy; the first floor of the main building projecting and supported by oaken beams; and one of the windows below; with its old casement and long narrow panes; forming the half of a shallow hexagon。 A porch; with seats in it; surmounted by a pinnacle; pointed roofs; and clustered chimneys; complete the picture! Alas! it is little else but a picture! The very walls are crumbling to decay under a careless landlord and ruined tenant。
Now a few yards farther; and I reach the bank。 Ah! I smell them alreadytheir exquisite perfume steams and lingers in this moist; heavy air。 Through this little gate; and along the green south bank of this green wheat…field; and they burst upon me; the lovely violets; in tenfold loveliness。 The ground is covered with them; white and purple; enamelling the short dewy grass; looking but the more vividly coloured under the dull; leaden sky。 There they lie by hundreds; by thousands。 In former years I have been used to watch them from the tiny green bud; till one or two stole into bloom。 They never came on me before in such a sudden and luxuriant glory of simple beauty;and I do really owe one pure and genuine pleasure to feverish London! How beautifully they are placed too; on this sloping bank; with the palm branches waving over them; full of early bees; and mixing their honeyed scent with the more delicate violet odour! How transparent and smooth and lusty are the branches; full of sap and life! And there; just by the old mossy root; is a superb tuft of primroses; with a yellow butterfly hovering over them; like a flower floating on the air。 What happiness to sit on this tufty knoll; and fill my basket with the blossoms! What a renewal of heart and mind! To inhabit such a scene of peace and sweetness is again to be fearless; gay; and gentle as a child。 Then it is that thought becomes poetry; and feeling religion。 Then it is that we are happy and good。 Oh; that my whole life could pass so; floating on blissful and innocent sensation; enjoying in peace and gratitude the common blessings of Nature; thankful above all for the simple habits; the healthful temperament; which render them so dear! Alas! who may dare expect a life of such happiness? But I can at least snatch and prolong the fleeting pleasure; can fill my basket with pure flowers; and my heart with pure thoughts; can gladden my little home with their sweetness; can divide my treasures with one; a dear one; who cannot seek them; can see them when I shut my eyes and dream of them when I fall asleep。
THE COPSE。
April 18th。Sad wintry weather; a northeast wind; a sun that puts out one's eyes; without affording the slightest warmth; dryness that chaps lips and hands like a frost in December; rain that comes chilly and arrowy like hail in January; nature at a dead pause; no seeds up in the garden; no leaves out in the hedgerows; no cowslips swinging their pretty bells in the fields; no nightingales in the dingles; no swallows skimming round the great pond; no cuckoos (that ever I should miss that rascally sonneteer!) in any part。 Nevertheless there is something of a charm in this wintry spring; this putting…back of the seasons。 If the flower…clock must stand still for a month or two; could it choose a better time than that of the primroses and violets? I never remember (and for such gauds my memory; if not very good for aught of wise or useful; may be trusted) such an affluence of the one or such a duration of the other。 Primrosy is the epithet which this year will retain in my recollection。 Hedge; ditch; meadow; field; even the very paths and highways; are set with them; but their chief habitat is a certain copse; about a mile off; where they are spread like a carpet; and where I go to visit them rather oftener than quite comports with the dignity of a lady of mature age。 I am going thither this very afternoon; and May and her company are going too。
This Mayflower of mine is a strange animal。 Instinct and imitation make in her an approach to reason which is sometimes almost startling。 She mimics all that she sees us do; with the dexterity of a monkey; and far more of gravity and apparent purpose; cracks nuts and eats them; gathers currants and severs them from the stalk with the most delicate nicety; filches and munches apples and pears; is as dangerous in an orchard as a schoolboy; smells to flowers; smiles at meeting; answers in a pretty lively voice when spoken to (sad pity that the language should be unknown!) and has greatly the advantage of us in a conversation; inasmuch as our meaning is certainly clear to her;all this and a thousand amusing prettinesses (to say nothing of her canine feat of bringing her game straight to her master's feet; and refusing to resign it to any hand but his); does my beautiful greyhound perform untaught; by the mere effect of imitation and sagacity。 Well; May; at the end of the coursing season; having lost Brush; our old spaniel; her great friend; and the blue greyhound; Mariette; her comrade and rival; both of which four…footed worthies were sent out to keep for the summer; began to find solitude a weary condition; and to look abroad for company。 Now it so happened that the same suspension of sport which had reduced our little establishment from three dogs to one; had also dispersed the splendid kennel of a celebrated courser in our neighbourhood; three of whose finest young dogs came home to 'their walk' (as the sporting phrase goes) at the collarmaker's in our village。 May; accordingly; on the first morning of her solitude (she had never taken the slightest notice of her neighbours before; although they had sojourned in our street upwards of a fortnight); bethought herself of the timely resource offered to her by the vicinity of these canine beaux; and went up boldly and knocked at their stable door; which was already very commodiously on the half…latch。 The three dogs came out with much alertness and gallantry; and May; declining apparently to enter their territories; brought them off to her own。 This manoeuvre has been repeated every day; with one variation; of the three dogs; the first a brindle; the second a yellow; and the third a black; the two first only are now allowed to walk or consort with her; and the last; poor fellow; for no fault that I can discover except May's caprice; is driven away not only by the fair lady; but even by his old companionsis; so to say; sent to Coventry。 Of her two permitted followers; the yellow gentleman; Saladin by name; is decidedly the favourite。 He is; indeed; May's shadow; and will walk with me whether I choose or not。 It is quite impossible to get rid of him unless by discarding Miss May also;and to accomplish a walk in the country without her; would be like an adventure of Don Quixote without his faithful 'squire Sancho。
So forth we set; May and I; and Saladin and the brindle; May and myself walking with the sedateness and decorum befitting our sex and age (she is five years old this grass; rising six)the young things; for the soldan and the brindle are (not meaning any disrespect) little better than puppies; frisking and frolicking as best pleased them。
Our route lay for the first part along the sheltered quiet lanes which lead to our old habitation; a way never trodden by me without peculiar and homelike feelings; full of the recollections; the pains and pleasures; of other days。 But we are not to talk sentiment now;even May would not understand that maudlin language。 We must get on。 What a wintry hedgerow this is for the eighteenth of April! Primrosy to be sure; abundantly spangled with those stars of the earth;but so bare; so leafless; so cold! The wind whistles through the brown boughs as in winter。 Even the early elder shoots; which do make an approach to springiness; look brown; and the small leaves of the woodbine; which have also ventured to peep forth; are of a sad purple; frost…bitten; like a dairymaid's elbows on a snowy morning。 The very birds; in this season of pairing and building; look chilly and uncomfortable; and their nests!'Oh; Saladin! come away from the hedge! Don't you see that what puzzles you and makes you leap up in the air is a redbreast's nest? Don't you see the pretty speckled eggs? Don't you hear the poor hen calling as it were for help? Come here this moment; sir!' And by good luck Saladin (who for a paynim has tolerable qualities) comes; before he has touched the nest; or before his playmate the brindle; the less manageable of the two; has espied it。
Now we go round the corner and cross the bridge; where the common; with its clear stream winding between clumps of elms; assumes so park…like an appearance。 Who is this approaching so slowly and majestically; this square bundle of petticoat and cloak; this road…waggon of a woman? It is; it must be Mrs。 Sally Mearing; the completest specimen within my knowledge of farmeresses (may I be allowed that innovation in language?) as they were。 It can be nobody else。
Mrs。 Sally Mearing; when I first became acquainted with her; occupied; together with her father (a superannuated man of ninety); a large farm ver