The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1893-08-12
Select Storp,
THE BREAKING OF THE DROUGHT.
From the cornhin Magazine.

ave want a bit of rain, sure enough, ="
said the old drover, as he sat on gate
overlooking lot of sheep that were past
ured in the fields beyond, resting on their
way to Colnbrook Fair. A thin and wiry
man is the drover, weathered and sunburnt,
with the eye of warrior under his old
pith helmet He carries bed and baggage
in the shape of an old waterproof slung
round his shoulders; and, from short clay
pipe in his mouth, he emits every now and
then, thoughtfully, puff of smoke-smoke
which hangs about him like mist for
want of breath of air to carry it away,
Dry is the narrow drove-way; dry as dust
the fields, where the sheep, as they move
about, raise the dust in little clouds.
"But there's no rain coming just yet"
continued the drover, scanning the gray,
hot sky, "and sheep won't fetch much a;
the fair tomorrow, I'm thinking. But
what's hundred or so of sheep"-con-
temptuously waving his hand to towards
the fiock-"when you come to think of
the thousands I've druv? And what sort
of drought do you call this? Why, I've
broke worst drought than this in my
time.
"You broke a drought, master p said
Sussex locker slowly, opening his eyes very
wide.
''That did |, repeated the drover firmly.
And thestory of his breaking the drought
shall be told as nearly as possible in the
drover's own words, omitting the eiaeula-
tions and comments that were drawn from
his audience.
'In the year of the CURT drought, | was
stockman and drover along with Mr. John
Vine of Cudwortb, as proper young gen.
tleman as ever was seen. But was Sus-
sex bred, being herd-boy to Farmer Grey,
and might have stopped there all my life
and have been no better than locker at
the end of it, only for my young mistress,
Miss Dulcie Grey, being fallen in love with
and welded by Mr.. Vine. She wss a
proper sweet young lady was Miss Dulcie,
and like young chap | worshipped the
very ground she trod on, and there was
nothing l wouldn't have gone through for
her. And proud l was when she made
her John, as she called, take me on, as I've
told you, as stockman, with thirteen shil-
lings week standing money and half-a-
crown night when driving northways of
London, and shilling more for our own
country, such as Sussex and Hamsheer-a
difference as | could see no reason in then,
and never could since to this day. But it
was luck for me as | thought at the time,
and very well pleased my master, so that
after bit it was not only driving | did,
but buying and selling too. And many a
hundred pound l brought him home, and
might have been knocked on the head for
it if anybody had expected me of having
so much about me- And there wasn't a
handsomer couple in the country than my
master and mistress; and happy | should
just think they were, as happy as the day
is long. When it wasn't hunting-and
she'd beautiful figure on horseback had
Miss Dulcie-and dinner parties and card
parties, why, it was steeplechasing, and
racing, and all the diversions you can think
of! And that was how it went on for
year or more, and then little lass come
along, and Miss Dulcie, as shall always
call her, didn't get health quite strong
again, and it was Mr.. John as had to go
out by himself and enjoy himself, as he
didn't forget to do.
"One of Mr.. Johns great friends at the
time was Mr. Sandon of Bulpits, who was
the Dukes agent and the man that was
most considered about there, and quite u
contrast to Mr.. John, for he was small and
wizened, with club foot, so that be always
seemed to me ridiculous sort of figure to
be stumping about and making eyes at all
the pretty girls he met. But he was
terrible bad un, surely aud yet with such
a pleasant tongue in his head that he might
have talked the stone figures off the mon
uments if he had set his heart on them.
But he couldn't talk over Miss Dulcie, that
| knew. Clever as he was, he didn't see
that she was only making sport with him.
And one day, when | expect he made his
plan little bit too plain, the mistress gave
him such dressing that he went of look
ing like the very fiend himself, and cpssing
and disappearing in a way that was awful
to hear. And when the master came home,
which was good many days afterwards,
there was nice to-do between him and
Sandon, and words were said between them
that neither could ever forgive.
"But from that time it was noticed that
things began to go wrong with John Vine.
First there was the lung disease with the
cattle, that lost him some beautiful stock
worth thousands of pounds, you may say
And then there was his betting, that he
had won money by when he didn't want
it; but when things turned against him that
turned too. 1t was just as if Squire San
don had cast spell against Cudworth, and
wnere there had been plenty and happiness
there was now nothing but trouble and
quarrels. And then there come the
drought. I'm not for saying that Squire
Sandon was at the bottom of that; but it
looked as if he knew something about it,
for he had sold all his stock in the autumn
and given up his upland grazing, that Mr.
John had snapped up eagerly enough.
All he had sight Of pasture had Mr..
John, and for Hocks there was none to
match him in these parts; and as long as
the sheep were all right there was nothing
much amiss with John Vine. And then,
as said, there come the drought.
"We hadn't had drop of rain from
before Christmas, and now twas May.
The dust was as thick on the fields as it
was on the roads, and the downs and the
pastures we're just sickly Kind Of yellow,
without blade Of green grass to be seen
anywhere. And the leaves we're dropping
of the trees, and the big trees in the woods
were fnrnina uellnu and diving nff. and the