118 Wild Life in a Southern County. 
strong, and he is deeply laden, he has to borrow or 
hire a tug from the nearest farm, getting an extra 
horse to pull up the hill, 
When he reaches harbour, and has leave ashore, 
a jollier seaman never cracked a whip. Perhaps the 
happiest time with the ploughboys is when they are 
out with the waggon, having a little change, no harder 
work than walking, sips at the ‘pots’ handed to the 
captain by his mates, and nothing to think about. 
Nor was there ever a more popular song in the 
country than— 
We'll jump into the waggon, 
And we'll all take a ride ! 
Though in winter, when the horses’ shoes have to be 
roughed for the frost, or, worse, when the wheels sink 
deep into the spongy turf, and rain and sleet and 
snow make the decks slippery, it is not quite so jolly. 
Yet even then, so strong is the love of motion, 
a run with the waggon is preferred to stationary 
work, ® 
The captain, when bound on a voyage, generally 
slips his cable or weighs anchor with the rising sun. 
His crew are first-rate helmsmen; and to see them 
sweep into the rickyard through the narrow gateway, 
with a heavy deck cargo piled to the skies, all sail set, 
a stiff breeze, and the timbers creaking, is a glorious 
sight! Not a scrape against the jetty, though ‘touch 
and go’ is the sign of a good pilot. His greatest 
trouble is when his cargo shifts out of sight of land: 
