Heredity 



in which I sank to my knees, broken up with 

 shimmering puddles of dark-brown liquid 

 manure, the farm-yard also boasted a numer- 

 ous population. Here the lambs skipped, the 

 geese trumpeted, the fowls scratched the 

 ground and the sow grunted with her swarm 

 of little pigs hanging to her dugs. 



The harshness of the climate did not give 

 husbandry the same chances. In a propitious 

 season, they would set fire to a stretch of moor- 

 land bristling with gorse and send the swing- 

 plough across the ground enriched with the 

 cinders of the blaze. This yielded a few acres 

 of rye, oats and potatoes. The best corners 

 were kept for hemp, which furnished the di- 

 staffs and spindles of the house with the ma- 

 terial for linen and was looked upon as grand- 

 mother's private crop. 



Grandfather, therefore, was, before all, a 

 herdsman versed in matters of cows and sheep, 

 but completely ignorant of aught else. How 

 dumbfoundered he would have been to learn 

 that, in the remote future, one of his family 

 would become enamoured of those insignifi- 

 cant animals to which he had never vouchsafed 

 a glance in his life ! Had he guessed that that 

 lunatic was myself, the scapegrace seated at 

 the table by his side, what a smack I should 



