140 WILD LIFE IN A SOUTHERN COUNTY. 



plough is tearing up the stubble then the farmer can 

 spare a day or so free from the anxieties of harvest. 

 There is plenty of work to be done ; in fact, the 

 yearly rotation of labour may be said to begin in the 

 autumn too, but it does not demand such hourly at- 

 tention. It is the season for picnics while the sun 

 is yet warm and the sward dry on the downs among 

 the great hazel copses, or the old entrenchment, with 

 its view over a vast landscape, dimmed, though, by 

 yellow haze, or by the shallow lake in the vale. 



With the exception of knocking over a young 

 rabbit now and then for household use, the farmer, 

 even if he is independent of a landlord, as in this 

 case, does not shoot till late in the year. Old-fashioned 

 folk, though not in the least constrained to do so, still 

 leave the first pick of the shooting to some neighbour- 

 ing landowner between whose family and their own 

 friendly relations have existed for generations. It is 

 true that the practice becomes rarer yearly as the old 

 style of men die out and the spirit of commerce is 

 imported into rural life the rising race preferring to 

 make money of their shooting, by letting it, instead 

 of cultivating social ties. 



At Wick, however, they keep up the ancient custom, 

 and the neighbouring squire takes the pick of the 

 wing-game. They lose nothing for their larder through 

 this arrangement receiving presents of partridges 

 and pheasants far exceeding in number what could 

 possibly be killed upon the farm itself ; while later in 

 the year the boundaries are relaxed on the other side, 



