to the barn with heavy tread, hastens Printing his footsteps on the new-fall'n snow. From out the heap'd-up mow' he draws his sheaves, stored grain or hay
so Dislodging the poor red-breast from his shelter Where all the live-long night he slept secure; But now, affrighted, with uncertain flight, Flutters round walls and roof to find some hole Through which he may escape.
35 Then whirling o'er his head, the heavy flail Descends with force upon the jumping sheaves, While every rugged wall and neighboring cot? cottage The noise re-echoes of his sturdy strokes.
The family cares call next upon the wife
40 To quit her mean but comfortable bed. And first she stirs the fire and fans the flame, Then from her heap of sticks for winter stored An armful brings; loud crackling as they burn, Thick fly the red sparks upward to the roof,
45 While slowly mounts the smoke in wreathy clouds. On goes the seething pot with morning cheer, For which some little wistful folk await, Who, peeping from the bed-clothes, spy well pleased The cheery light that blazes on the wall,
50 And bawl for leave to rise. Their busy mother knows not where to turn,
1. Hind does not perfectly express the condition A class of men very common in the west of Scot- of the person here intended, who is somewhat land, ere political economy was thought of [Bailabove a common laborer,?the tenant of a very he's note], 'Political economy' refers to the new small farm, which he cultivates with his own discipline of economics pioneered by Adam Smith hands; a few cows, perhaps a horse, and some six at the University of Glasgow, where Baillie's father or seven sheep being all the wealth he possessed. and uncle also lectured.
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A WINTER' S DAY / 21 5 Her morning's work comes now so thick upon her. One she must help to tie his little coat, Unpin another's cap, or seek his shoe 55 Or hosen? lost, confusion soon o'er-master'd! breeches When all is o'er, out to the door they run With new-comb'd sleeky hair and glistening faces, Each with some little project in his head. His new-soled shoes one on the ice must try; 60 To view his well-set trap another hies, In hopes to find some poor unwary bird (No worthless prize) entangled in his snare; While one, less active, with round rosy cheeks, Spreads out his purple fingers to the fire, 65 And peeps most wistfully into the pot. But let us leave the warm and cheerful house To view the bleak and dreary scene without, And mark the dawning of a Winter day. The morning vapor rests upon the heights, 70 Lurid and red, while growing gradual shades Of pale and sickly light spread o'er the sky. Then slowly from behind the southern hills Enlarged and ruddy comes the rising sun, Shooting athwart the hoary waste his beams 75 That gild the brow of every ridgy bank, And deepen every valley with a shade. The crusted window of each scatter'd cot, The icicles that fringe the thatched roof, The new-swept slide upon the frozen pool, so All keenly glance, new kindled with his rays; And e'en the rugged face of scowling Winter Looks somewhat gay. But only for a time He shows his glory to the brightening earth, Then hides his face behind a sullen cloud. 85 The birds now quit their holes and lurking sheds, Most mute and melancholy, where through night, All nestling close to keep each other warm, In downy sleep they had forgot their hardships; But not to chant and carol in the air, 90 Or lightly swing upon some waving bough, And merrily return each other's notes; No, silently they hop from bush to bush, Can find no seeds to stop their craving want, Then bend their flight to the low smoking cot, 95 Chirp on the roof, or at the window peck, To tell their wants to those who lodge within. The poor lank hare flies homeward to his den, But little burthen'd with his nightly meal Of wither'd coleworts2 from the farmer's garden, ioo A wretched scanty portion, snatch'd in fear; 2. Kale or another cabbagelike vegetable.
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21 6 / JOANNA BAILLIE
And fearful creatures, forced abroad by hunger, Are now to every enemy a prey.
The husbandman lays by his heavy flail, And to the house returns, where for him wait
105 His smoking breakfast and impatient children, Who, spoon in hand, and ready to begin, Toward the door cast many an eager look To see their dad come in. Then round they sit, a cheerful company;
110 All quickly set to work, and with heap'd spoons From ear to ear besmear their rosy cheeks. The faithful dog stands by his master's side Wagging his tail and looking in his face; While humble puss pays court to all around,
115 And purrs and rubs them with her furry sides; Nor goes this little flattery unrewarded. But the laborious sit not long at table; The grateful father lifts his eyes to heaven To bless his God, whose ever bounteous hand
120 Him and his little ones doth daily feed, Then rises satisfied to work again.
The varied rousing sounds of industry Are heard through all the village. The humming wheel, the thrifty housewife's tongue,
125 Who scolds to keep her maidens to their work, The wool-card's grating, most unmusical! Issue from every house. But hark! the sportsman3 from the neighboring hedge His thunder sends! loud bark the village curs;
bo Up from her cards or wheel the maiden starts And hastens to the door; the housewife chides, Yet runs herself to look, in spite of thrift, And all the little town is in a stir.
Strutting before, the cock leads forth his train,
135 And, chuckling near the barn-door 'mid the straw, Reminds the farmer of his morning's service. His grateful master throws a liberal handful; They flock about it, while the hungry sparrows, Perch'd on the roof, look down with envious eye,
140 Then, aiming well, amidst the feeders light, And seize upon the feast with greedy bill, Till angry partlets0 peck them off the field. hens But at a distance, on the leafless tree, All woe-begone, the lonely blackbird sits;
145 The cold north wind ruffles his glossy feathers; Full oft he looks, but dares not make approach, Then turns his yellow beak to peck his side
3. Since in the late 18th century only gentlemen who met certain property qualifications had the right to shoot game, this sportsman likely belongs to a higher social class than the villagers he disturbs.
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A WINTER'S DAY / 21 7
