The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1862-07-25
Tho Hayheld.

What man amongst us all, If hcwill think
the matter over calmly and fairly, can hon
cstly say that there is one spot on the earth .
service in which he has enjoyed SO much real
wholesome, happy life us in a hayfeld9 He
NAV have won rcnown on horseback or on
loot ut the sports and pastimes in which Eng.
lshmen glory he may have shaken oil all
rivals, time after time, across the wales Oi
Aylcsbury, or Of Berks, or any other OF our
famous hunting counties; he may have stalk
cd the oldest and shyest buck in Scotch for
est, and killed the biggest salmon of the
year in the Tweed, and trout in the Thames (;
he may have made topping averages in first
rate matches of cricket; or.. have made long
and perilous marches, dear to memory, over
boggy moor, or mountain or glacier; he may
have successfully attended many breakfast.
parties within drive OF May Fair, on velvet
lawns, surrounded by all tho fairy land OF
pomp and beauty and luxury which London
can pour out he may have shone at private
theatricals and at.homcs. his voice may have
sounded over hushed audiences at st. Steph.
ems or in the law courts; or he may have
had good times in any other scenes OF pleas
ure or triumph open 10 Englishmen; but
much doubt much whether, on putting his
recollcctions fairly and quietly together, he
would not say ut last that the ircsh.mown
bayfield, is the place where he has spent tue
most hours which hc would like to live over
again, the icwest which he would wish to
forget.
As children, we stumble about the now
mown hay, reyeling IN the many colors Of
the prostrate grass and wild flowers. and in
the power of tnmbing where we please with
out hurting ourselves; as small boys, we pelt
one another, and the village schoolgirls, and
our nursemaids, and young lady cousins, with
the hay, till hot and weary, we retire to tea.
or syllabub, beneath the shade OF some great
oak or elm standing up like q monarch OF
the fair pasture; or following the mowers,
we rush with eagerness on the treasures dis
closed by the scythc stroke-the nest OF the
unhappy late laying tit-lark, or careless field.
mouse as big boys, we toll ambitously with
the spare forks and rakes, or climb into the
wagons and receive with open arms the de-
licious load as it is pitched up from below.
and rises higher and higher rs we pass along
the long lines Of haycocks; u year or two
later, we are strolling there with our first
swecthcarts, our souls and tongues loaded
with sweet thoughts and soft speeches; we
take a turn with the scythe n the bronzed
mowers lie in the shade for their short rest,
and willingly pay our footing for the feat.
Again, we come back with book in pocket,
and our children tumbling about as We did
before them now romping with them, and
smothering them with the swect.feld-now
musing and reading and dozing away the de-
licious summer evenings. And 80 shall We
not come back to the end, enjoying as grand.
father and love-making and the roppings OF
younger generations YETI
Were any Of us ever really disappointed or
melancholy in bayfield,? Did we ever lie
fairly back on a haycock and look up into
the blue sky, and listen to the merry sounds,
the whctting Of scythes and the laughing
prattlc Of women and children. and think
evil thoughts Of the world or our brethren
Not we or. il we have DO done. we ought
to be ashamed OF ourselves, and deserve nev-
or TO be out OF town again during hay har-
vest.
There is something in thesighis and sounds
OF q bayfield, which seems to touch the same
chord in one as Lowell's lines in the "Layoi
Sir Launial," which ends