plain now. It was once the residence of a
country squire, whose family, probably dwindling down to mere
spinster-hood, got merged in the more territorial name of Donnithorne.
It was once the Hall; it is now the Hall Farm. Like the life in some
coast town that was once a watering-place, and is now a port, where
the genteel streets are silent and grass-grown, and the docks and
warehouses busy and resonant, the life at the Hall has changed its
focus, and no longer radiates from the parlor, but from the kitchen
and the farm-yard.

Plenty of life there, tho this the drowsiest time of the year, just
before hay harvest; and it is the drowsiest time of the day too, for
it is close upon three by the sun, and it is half-past three by Mrs.
Poyser's handsome eight-day clock. But there is always a stronger
sense of life when the sun is brilliant after rain; and now he is
pouring down his beams, and making sparkles among the wet straw, and
lighting up every patch of vivid green moss on the red tiles of the
cow-shed, and turning even the muddy water that is hurrying along the
channel to the drain into a mirror for the yellow-billed ducks, who
are seizing the opportunity of getting a drink with as much body in it
as possible. There is quite a concert of noises: the great bull-dog,
chained against the stables, is thrown into furious exasperation by
the unwary approach of a cock too near the mouth of his kennel, and
sends forth a thundering bark, which is answered by two fox-hounds
shut up in the opposite cow-house; the old top-knotted hens,
scratching with their chicks among the straw, set up a sympathetic
croaking as the discomfited cock joins them; a sow with her brood, all
very muddy as to the legs, and curled as to the tail, throws in some
deep staccato notes; our friends the calves are bleating from the home
croft; and under all, a fine ear discerns the continuous hum of human
voices.

For the great barn doors are thrown wide open, and men are busy there
mending the harness under the superintendence of Mr. Goby the
"whittaw," otherwise saddler, who entertains them with the latest
Treddleston gossip. It is certainly rather an unfortunate day that
Alick the shepherd has chosen for having the whittaws, since the
morning turned out so wet; and Mrs. Poyser has spoken her mind pretty
strongly as to the dirt which the extra number of men's shoes brought
into the house at dinner-time. Indeed, she has not yet recovered her
equanimity on