182G.] ^ The Seventh Son of a Seventh Son. 577 



of Bome antique abbey. But, besides that daylight Is the gworn enemy 

 of such illusions, my attention was imperiously claimed by a reality of a 

 very different kind. One of the gayest and noisiest operations of rural 

 life — sheep-washing, was going on in the valley below — 



" the turmoil that unites 

 Clamour of boys with innocent despites 

 Of barking dogs and bleatings from strange fear." 



Wordsworth. 



All the inhabitants of the farm seemed assembled in the meadow. I 

 counted a dozen at least of men and boys of all ages, from the stout, 

 sunburnt, vigorous farmer of fifty, who presided over the operation, 

 down to the eight year old urchin, who, screaming, running, and 

 shaking his ineffectual stick after an eloped sheep, served as a sort of aide- 

 de-camp to the sheep-dog. What a glorious scene of confusion it was ! 

 what shouting I what scuffling I what glee I Four or five young men 

 and one amazon of a barefooted girl, with her petticoats tucked up to 

 her knees, stood in the water where it was pent between two hurdles, 

 ducking, sousing and holding down by main force, the poor, frightened, 

 struggling sheep, who kicked, and plunged, and bleated and butted, 

 and in spite of their imputed innocence, would certainly, in the ardour 

 of self-defence, have committed half a dozen homicides, if their power 

 had equalled their inclination. The rest of the party were fully occu- 

 pied ; some in conducting the purified sheep, who showed a strong 

 disposition to go the wrong way, back to their quarters ; others in 

 leading the uncleansed part of the flock to their destined ablution, 

 from which they also testified a very ardent and active desire to 

 escape. Dogs, men, boys, and girls were engaged in marshalling 

 these double processions, the order of which was constantly interrupted 

 by the outbreaking of some runaway sheep, who turned the march into 

 a pursuit, to the momentary increase of the din which seemed already 

 to have reached the highest possible pitch. 



The only quiet persons in the field were a heavy looking lad, with a 

 broad face, red cheeks, round stupid black eyes, and large white teeth, 

 who lay idly under a hedge, and a middle aged woman standing at his 

 side ; who, with exactly the same features and complexion, had an 

 expression as different as possible, frank, quick, and lively. She was 

 evidently the mother not only of the young gentleman under the hedge, 

 but of half the laxls and lasses in the melee — I never met with a stronger 

 instance of family likeness. On considering where I had seen such a 

 good-humoured countenance, I had the pleasure to recognize a certain 

 Mrs. Martin, whose butter and poultry were in great request at my 

 friend's house, and whose simplicity and honesty rendered her conver- 

 sation almost as popular there as her commodities. I had also the 

 comfort of knowing myself to be much nearer home than I had expected, 

 although still ignorant of the exact road, and, resolving to make myself 

 and my difficulties known to Mrs. Martin, I scrambled down no very 

 smooth or convenient path, and keeping a gate between me and the 

 scene of action, contrived, after sundry efforts, to attract her attention. 

 She was as kind as possible, and promised to shew me the way herself, 

 but insisted on my previously resting at her house. Accordingly we sat 

 down in the shady porch, covered with early honeysuckles, and warm 

 from the fond mother's heart came the whole history of her family, espe- 

 cially of her seventh and favourite son, " Seppy," the saunterer of the 



M, M. Neui Series.— Vol. I. No. 6. 4 E 



