The Argosy — page 289: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

* 272 A Dorsetshire Harvest Home. was painfully obedient himself. A word sent him to the wall, a word recalled him. If his worth was appreciated, his beauty was not; for nobody seemed to understand how good-looking he was. Unlike dogs of higher breeding, he did not refuse to eat bread with his cheese, but swallowed both humbly and thankfully. Like the ploughboys, he watched the dancing, but he did not imitate it; he was too grand for that; and one wondered what he thought of it as -he sat, sleeplessly erect in a corner, cogitating. At any rate, he was too well-mannered to interfere with the dancing animals on whom he gazed. At about midnight the men formed a circle, cider-cup in hand. All sang, one after another, a health-song, which, although some thirty times repeated, did not pall on the listeners, who joined as energetically in the chorus the last as the first time. Though the ale and cider were unlimited, the dancing and presence of the ladies prevented drunkenness. It was one o'clock when the fiat went forth of positively only one more country-dance. They made it as long as they could, and only ended when the fiddler was tired out. He was, however, refreshed by a hearty supper. The moon was shining on hill and sea when we left the barn. What a scene it was! The happy assembly trooped off, some to homes nigh at hand, others to more distant ones among the hills. The bailiff and his wife mounted a cart, declaring that they were ready to begin it all Over again, as, indeed, affirmed all the rest. We lingered in the moon- light till the last guest departed. Aroused by the unwonted sounds, forth from their dormitories came a flock of white geese. Following one another in ghostly procession, they waddled down to the stream and began to drink. Having paddled and chattered awhile, they re- turned to the greensward, looking lke a patch of pure snow under- neath the cold moon. Having wiped their feet, they again formed single file and returned, in stately, measured fashion, to their rest. How beautiful it was! The waves rippled in the moonshine ; the giant cliffs gleamed ; the hills sparkled with dew-gems ; the hamlet slumbered in light ; and, one by one, the snow-white birds disappeared. Gomicbooks.com