44 THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 



thought, " that they had been handled early, and so 

 allowed themselves to be clothed." 



I wanted to see the effect of a palisade of willow 

 staves, which I had driven in close as Robinson Crusoe's 

 fence into the bed of the river against the bank where it 

 was being undermined, to fall in masses away when 

 frost came. The work had been done some months ; 

 the stocks I found had taken root, and were surmounted 

 by a growth of light osiers, which sway as bulrushes 

 with the stream, not opposing it so far as to produce a 

 back cun*ent, but inducing a settlement of the mud 

 with which the winter floods are charged. I had been 

 told that nothing would prevent the encroachment of 

 the river but a stone bulwark. I am inclined, from 

 what I see, to persevere with the willow stakes, only 

 taking care that the heads be not allowed to grow too 

 stiff, so that the river can take hold of them, and by 

 swaying them to and fro, and loosening the roots, do 

 more harm than good. 



It may be delightful as it is profitable in many ways to 

 have a range of alluvial meadows with their rich grasses 

 and clovers for the summer enjoyment of your herd 

 and flock ; but it is not all fun in winter, even if you 

 can keep your stock upon them without poaching the 

 ground. The other night we turned out about eleven 

 o'clock, to see a friend off. The moon was bright, and 

 to our consternation we saw a silver sheet of water 

 spreading rapidly as we looked down, swallowing up 

 patch after patch of pasture. There had been no signs 

 of the river's rising before dinner ; but our Wye, as Sir 

 Walter Scott wrote of Lord Lochinvar's love, just 

 " swells like the Sol way, but ebbs like its tide," so I 

 had to rush down to awake the bailiff, a willing fellow, 



