The Urchin of Malaval 



few surrounding villages, whither the calves were 

 driven upon fair-days, the rest was only very 

 vaguely known by hearsay. In this wild solitude, 

 the mossy fens, with their quagmires oozing with 

 iridescent pools, supplied the cows, the principal 

 source of wealth, with plentiful pasture. In sum- 

 mer, on the short sward of the slopes, the sheep 

 were penned day and night, protected from beasts 

 of prey by a fence of hurdles propped up with 

 pitchforks. When the grass was cropped close at 

 one spot, the fold was shifted elsewhither. In the 

 centre was the shepherd's rolling hut, a straw cabin. 

 Two watch-dogs, equipped with spiked collars, 

 were answerable for tranquillity if the thieving 

 wolf appeared in the night from out the neigh- 

 bouring woods. 



Padded with a perpetual layer of cow-dung, in 

 which I sank to my knees, broken up shimmering 

 puddles of dark-brown liquid manure, the farm- 

 yard also boasted a numerous 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 hus- 

 bandry the same chances. In a propitious season 

 they would set fire to a stretch of moorland bris- 

 tling with gorse and send the swing-plough across 

 the ground enriched by the cinders from the fire. 

 This yielded a few acres of rye, oats, and potatoes. 

 The best corners were kept for hemp, which fur- 

 nished the distaffs and spindles of the house with 



15 



