90 THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 



thirteenth day we take a dinner-pill, and start afresh. 

 That's what our Yankee friends term " licking natur'." 

 The butter-nailk must be made by churning milk and 

 cream together. When the cream only is churned, it 

 is too oily and rich. On a wild Welsh mountain-side 

 how often have we made thereof a repast a king might 

 covet, followed by a slice of barley-bread, all thickly 

 coated with the sweet golden butter the glen-grass 

 juelds, when one has spent the morning fishing all too 

 fruitlessly upon the sunny tarn. 



Halloa, there ! there are half-a-dozen wild pigeons 

 busy picking up the peas I had strewn for the pheasant- 

 hens which are building underneath the laurels beside 

 the drive. Their turn will come, however, ere long. 

 Every spring we secure a large wire-house full of the 

 young ones, which grow very fat in confinement, and are 

 ready at any time to furnish a rechei^che dish when a 

 friend drops in. The way we manage is thus : Having 

 found a number of nests, we tie one leg each of the* 

 young pair, passing the string through and under the 

 nest. Thus fettered the old birds will continue to feed 

 their offspring until they are full- feathered, when the 

 tree is scaled and we transport them to their new 

 quarters. 



I see a prediction in Land and Water, respecting 

 some river, that the coarse fish-supplies may be short- 

 ened this year owing to the floods ; the spawning fish 

 having miscalculated and laid their spawn upon the 

 meadows, where it will perish when the waters recede. 

 We have been interested in the overflow of our noble 

 Wye, having indulged a fond hope that a stray salmon 

 or two returning home during latch-key hours might 

 have got stuck in an unexpected fence. As yet our 



