the lot of the poor, since the days when the whole labouring class were clothed in woollen, which was worn next the skin, and never changed till it would hold together no longer; and when they were lodged on the cold ground, with rotting thatch over their heads; and when their table was sometimes over-loaded and sometimes bare; but I cannot meet Christmas, any one year, without perceiving and feeling that my cottage neighhours are very far indeed from enjoying their proper share in the improvement of human life in England.
In public speaking, and in literary representation, we are apt to offer the bright sides of life at such seasons; but, after all that genial and benevolent people do, in town and country, to feast and comfort their neighbours of all degrees, there are still too many families in damp and cold, and even with foul thatch dropping upon their heads, with no fire on the hearth, and at most a mouthful each of cold bacon to eat with their dry bread on Christmas Day. Oratory may tell of the cheery Christmas sun shining at once upon the rooftree of the mansion and the thatch of the cottage; but, if it went inside, and told what it saw there, it would exhibit a broader contrast than between the ages of the Plantagenets and our own,
Who can wonder, while even the fewest of such shivering and hungry households remain, that there are people in every game country on the watch for windy nights, that they may have a chance of a hot meal, and a plentiful one? In such a district there are certain weather-wise people, who can give pretty accurate notice of a blustering night. Then certain wives know that their husbands’ guns must be clean and ready, and that hiding-places must be prepared, and fuel got in, for what fate may send in the way of a treat of food. Then the children are sent into the woods, on the side least likely to be observed, to get a faggot; and, besides what they bring, they are to make a pile which will be fetched away at dusk. As the children may be tired after this work, they are put to bed, and covered up soon after dark; and so, they see nothing of the men who come in and go out, or are heard talking low behind the cottage. When the scouts arrive, and report that the keepers have finished their rounds, and are in their lodges, the cottage is emptied presently; all lights are hidden, as if everybody was in bed; and perhaps the wife does snatch her sleep while she can. Meantime, a company of men are treading the snow, in Indian file, along the field-paths which skirt the wood. No one speaks; and when they come to a stile or gap, they halt and listen in the lull of the winds. If nothing suspicious is heard, they step over, and penetrate the cover. Such windy nights generally show a sky of broken and swift clouds. In the lighter spaces which occur overhead, the pheasants are seen in the trees, like dark balls, resting on the branches. When a roar of wind begins at a distance, shots are ventured, and down come the dark balls upon the snow, or the cushion of dead leaves. If there is good success at once, or if the watchers are supposed to be about, the trip is soon over. After a couple of hours the wives at home grow uneasy. They put out their heads at back windows to listen for sounds of scuffle or running. They make ready to admit the husband before he knocks, and huddle him into bed instantly, and his booty into hiding, in case of inquiry. Several times, within the period of my residence here, one husband or another has come home wounded, and of course in desperate ill-humour; or, instead of him, news has come of his having been caught, or even of his having shot a gamekeeper. Much oftener, however, the trespassers get home unsuspected, and with large booty, though each contends that he has not got his share. The middleman, or the poulterer, or the comrade who deals for the party, is always abused for extortion and cheating; but still there is something in the house as good to eat as anything in the Hall larder. The wife thinks they have done enough for to-night, and would fain leave the cooking till the next night; but the husband has no notion of waiting, so the poor woman plucks and broils a bird, after covering the window carefully, from the notice of any chance patrol. If any little wide-open eyes rise in the bed, there is sure to be a cry about being so hungry; and that cry must be stopped; and so the adventure may end in the whole family supping together, and the tired wife, who dare not leave any trace of revel, being scarcely in bed before daylight. Then follow, if not now, next time, or the time after, the wretched consequences. The game is missed; the village is questioned; certain cottages are searched from the top of the chimnies to below the floor; and every year somebody goes to jail. Of those that go in as adventurers (insisting that game ought not to be property), some are sure to come out rogues, destined to be criminals.
A large new wing, added to our county-jail, some years ago, is known as the Poachers’ Wing, not because it is tenanted by poachers, but because the increase of offenders, for whom it was wanted, corresponds in number with the annual average of offenders against the game laws. When it is added that our union workhouse has often been crowded by the influx of the wives, children and parents of those offenders, it is pretty clear that society pays dear, in all ways, for the game-preserving interest. For my part, I can tell how our winters are spoiled by it.
I am not the lord of game,—zealous as I am in helping to put down poaching. But, though I have no game to lose, I have had my losses at this season. The children miss the gypsies, after the leaves have fallen, and ask what becomes of them in cold weather. All I know is that I vehemently suspect them of being not very far off, by the trouble we have to keep our turkies. Sometimes one disappears, or two; but it has twice happened that the yard has been completely cleared of them. It is such a vexatious incident (especially when the birds are for presents), that I have devoted serious care to render them secure. I believe they are beyond the reach of fox and gypsy, and of all but the boldest burglars.
Beyond such preparations as I have detailed, we do nothing till the boys come home for the holidays. When we take our daily walks, we see everything with their eyes; and we leave all we can for their hands. Looking from the upland,