an when they had lived by
the stream of a snug neighbouring valley.

The night of March 28, 182-, was precisely one of the nights that were
wont to call forth these expressions of commiseration. The level
rainstorm smote walls, slopes, and hedges like the clothyard shafts of
Senlac and Crecy. Such sheep and outdoor animals as had no shelter stood
with their buttocks to the winds; while the tails of little birds trying
to roost on some scraggy thorn were blown inside-out like umbrellas. The
gable-end of the cottage was stained with wet, and the eavesdroppings
flapped against the wall. Yet never was commiseration for the shepherd
more misplaced. For that cheerful rustic was entertaining a large party
in glorification of the christening of his second girl.

The guests had arrived before the rain began to fall, and they were all
now assembled in the chief or living room of the dwelling. A glance into
the apartment at eight o'clock on this eventful evening would have
resulted in the opinion that it was as cosy and comfortable a nook as
could be wished for in boisterous weather. The calling of its inhabitant
was proclaimed by a number of highly-polished sheep-crooks without stems
that were hung ornamentally over the fireplace, the curl of each shining
crook varying from the antiquated type engraved in the patriarchal
pictures of old family Bibles to the most approved fashion of the last
local sheep-fair. The room was lighted by half-a-dozen candles, having
wicks only a trifle smaller than the grease which enveloped them, in
candlesticks that were never used but at high-days, holy-days, and family
feasts. The lights were scattered about the room, two of them standing
on the chimney-piece. This position of candles was in itself
significant. Candles on the chimney-piece always meant a party.

On the hearth, in front of a back-brand to give substance, blazed a fire
of thorns, that crackled 'like the laughter of the fool.'

Nineteen persons were gathered here. Of these, five women, wearing gowns
of various bright hues, sat in chairs along the wall; girls shy and not
shy filled the window-bench; four men, including Charley Jake the hedge-
carpenter, Elijah New the parish-clerk, and John Pitcher, a neighbouring
dairyman, the shepherd's father-in-law, lolled in the settle; a young man
and maid, who were blushing over tentative pourparlers on a
life-companionship, sat beneath the corner-cupboard; and an elderly
engaged