A WINTER SUNSET. 



DECEMBER IN BROADLAND. 



* Oh winter ! ruler of th' inverted year, 

 Thy scattered hair with sleet-like ashes filler! 



I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st, 

 And dreaded as thou art.' 



Thomson. 



ECEMBER, on the whole, is not a pleasant month. It is generally 

 ushered in with clouds and vapours; and stormy days are not infre- 

 quent. Now and again towards its close ' the hoar frost is scattered 

 like ashes,' or a mantle of snow covers the landscape with whiteness. 

 On Broadland there is an apparent cessation from outdoor labour; 

 the farmer has finished ploughing, but the feeding and housing of his 

 cattle demand attention; whilst Hodge jobs about,' as he expresses it, for there 

 is corn to be thrashed in the open weather, and grain to be carted. He will tell 



B 



