THE SHEPHERD OF THE DOWNS.
IT was remarked a short time ago by a Wessex farmer to the writer that, though plenty of sheep may be reared nowadays, shepherds are dying out, and paradoxical as the statement at first sight appears, it nevertheless contains a measure of truth. There can be little doubt that as a type, distinguished by definite characteristics, this, like many another class of farm-servants, is being educated cat of existence. The external signs of the shepherd's calling have long since disappeared,—the short blue or white linen jacket commonly worn by working men has replaced his smock ; the long frieze coat, in appearance not unlike his charges' woolly fleece, wherewith till recent years he defied the stern breezes of the Downs, has been doffed for—significant sign of the times—a military greatcoat. His crook, at once the symbol of his profession and the instrument by means of which, according to popular belief, he " taught " the laggard and checked the forward members of his flock, has shrunk to a mere ash-plant, an insignificant walking-stick used to support his steps during his frequent journeys from the fireside to the fold, when he is leading his flock across the fields to pastures new, or driving them, unwilling victims, to the neighbouring market. But for his dog trotting meekly, with drooping tail, at his heels, he is indistinguishable from his unskilled fellow-labourers. Happily, however, a remnant of the past generation still survives, whom the present progressive age has been powerless to modernise save in ex- ternals. The greater portion of these men's lives has been passed in solitude ; for weeks at a time they have been absent from their homes and families, sleeping in a tiny cot, which was moved from place to place as the requirements of the land or the supply of fodder on the ground necessitated the presence of sheep. An occasional trip to the nearest village for pro- visions alone broke the monotony of their existence during this enforced seclusion, when "you med goo fur days wi'out seek' arm-one to sp'ake to, 'ceptin"twur yer pooer dog or the ship." As may be imagined, they are for the most part a taciturn class, slow of speech, illiterate, incredibly ignorant of the world outside their own limited circuit. One such hermit of the Downs lately mentioned to his employer the fact that he bad never been in a train, though he had more than once "sin 'e a-runnin' along." The master, with the kindest inten- tions, not only gave him a holiday, but supplied the funds for an excursion to a distant town. "The shuckettin' an' hollerin' " of the locomotive, however, proved too much for the shepherd's nerves : he " wur that frowtened," to quote his words, that on the first available opportunity he descended to terra firma, swearing by all his gods that never again would he commit himself to an undertaking fraught with such peril as a railway journey. That despite their ignorance these old fellows can on occasion display a shrewd mother-wit, the following anecdote will show. "When I w-ar livin' down in the Vale," quoth one, who may be regarded as a typical specimen, "some folks attackted ma an' med game on ma, 'cause I war a shepherd. 'Shepherds be a pooer lot o' igge- rants,"um sez, tryin' to put ma in the dark ; they dwun't knaw nothen 'cept about their few ship." Have you read your Bible?' sez I to 'um, "cause I have, from Genesis to Reve- lation, an' I can't see as shepherds be sa wonnerful little thought on sence the beginnin' o' the worruld. There's Jacob an' Moses an' David as wur shepherds : they aims to be spoke of ree-speckful anuff in the Bible by what I can mek out. An' ther's one thing as I'd like to ax 'ee. Ha' you iver yeard tell o' a carter or a fogger bein' med King like David wur ? ' Bless 'ee, all them carters an' foggers gin up tarrifyin' ma fur bein' a shepherd after that." How the hero of this story acquired his Biblical lore is a mystery, for he has since con- fessed to the writer that he is "no scholerd." He comes of a race of shepherds ; in fact it was a tradition in his native place that for more than a hundred years one of his family had taken part in the annnal shearing on a certain farm. Like his father and grandfather before him, he began to learn his trade at the early age of seven, which did not leave much time for the acquisition of head knowledge. Tiring
of the peaceful monotony of the fold, he exchanged his crook for a sword and took the Queen's shilling. Within a few years, however, he reverted to the occupation of his youth, and came back light in pocket—having bought him. self out at his wife's entreaty—but rich in that valuable com- modity,—experience. Part of his brief period of service with the colours, which has conferred distinction upon him for the remainder of his life, was spent in Ireland, and it was his turn on finding himself once more among his old asso- ciates to gibe at whilom scoffers, for "pooer fullish critturs what thinks England be pretty nigh the whole o' the worruld, an' the Irish be black men." At times he is assailed by poignant regret that he did not follow the example of a friend, learn to read and write, make the Army his home, and attain finally to the dignity of a sergeant, with a pension of 14s. a week. These pangs of blighted ambition are apt to become particularly sharp throughout the lambing season, when he not seldom has to leave his bed two and three times during the night—be there rain, frost, or MOW outside—to attend to the yeening ewes. The present war fired him with renewed martial ardour; he has" heard say as they Bores he a-comin' over year to pull the Queen off her throne an' shut her up in a little island. But afoor things got to that, I reckon I should putt on my red jackut agen an' goo out to strike a blow fur she,—blessed if I 'udn't !"
It must be remembered that to shepherds all days are alike. Every seven years they complete one of working Sundays, and a favourite method of calculating the length of their professional career is by these Sabbatical milestones. Seven such is considered a creditable record, but the writer knows shepherds who have put in eight and even nine years of Sundays. Holidays have been few and far between—a day in a decade perhaps—illnesses even rarer. One splendid veteran, with clear-cut features, a complexion like a polished rosy apple, and eyes that seemed to have absorbed some- thing of the sky's blueness, who laid aside his crook, not from any infirmity of age, but because he had had " anuff o' messin' about wi' ship," could show a clean bill of health throughout his seventy-one years, with the exception of a slight attack of rheumatism, brought on by sleeping in his cot during a lengthened spell of bad weather. If the authority of one of their number is to be trusted, shepherds stand third on the list in respect of longevity, and this not- withstanding the exposure to all weathers they necessarily undergo, and the onerous nature of their duties, for "you've allus got summat on your mind ; measter leaves everythink to 'ee, an' if anythink goos wrong you jest about ketches it," plaintively remarked one of the profession. Occasionally, however, it is the master who "ketches it," as in one case, when the man, irritated by what he considered unjust censure on the quality of his lambs, engaged his employer in fair fight and drove him ignominiously from the fold, the other taking his thrashing with meekness from a servant too valuable to be dismissed.
The two following anecdotes, for the authenticity of which the writer can vouch, give some idea of the ignorance and simplicity of these shepherds of the Downs. One of them while tending his sheep was approached by a candidate for the County Council, and was asked for the promise of his vote. " Vote ? " inquired the man of flocks, removing his hat to stimulate the flow of his ideas, "vote P What be that, h'wever F " "Do you take no interest in politics, that you don't know what a vote is ?" retorted the other. A ray of com- prehension pierced the shepherd's brain: "I Imams the or'nary sort of tick, but I've niver yeard o' these polly-'uns afoor. I s'pwose 'tis a fresh kind." Here is the second. A doctor, well known in the district, was riding across a lonely stretch of down, when he came upon a fold, and stopped to exchange a few remarks with its guardian. Eliciting the information that the latter inhabited a desolate cottage far from any other dwelling, he inquired how he and his family managed to obtain medical assistance in time of illness. "Why, Sir," replied the shepherd in all good faith, "we dwun't ha' no doctor; we just dies a nat'ral death."
Previous page
