BIRDS IN A VILLAGE 87 



manner, urging his two huge horses to a fast trot, 

 then a gallop, up and down hill along those rough 

 gully-like roads, he standing up in his cart and 

 roaring out " Auld Lang Syne " at the top of a 

 voice of tremendous power. He was probably tipsy, 

 but it was not a bad voice, and the old familiar tune 

 and words had an extraordinary effect in that still 

 atmosphere. He passed my cottage, standing up, 

 his legs wide apart, his cap on the back of his head, 

 a big broad-chested young man, lashing his horses, 

 and then for about two minutes or longer the thunder 

 of the cart and the roaring song came back fainter 

 and fainter, until it faded away in the distance* At 

 that still hour of the day the children were all at 

 school on the further side of the village, the men 

 away in the fields, the women shut up in their 

 cottages, perhaps sleeping. It seemed to me that I 

 was the only person in the village who had witnessed 

 and heard the passing of the big-voiced man and 

 cart. But it was not so. At all events next day the 

 whole village, men, women, and children, were 

 singing, humming, and whistling " Auld Lang 

 Syne/' and " Auld Lang Syne " lasted for several 

 days, and from that day " Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay " 

 was heard no more. It had lost its charm. 



