CHAPTER X 



THE STRANGE AND BEAUTIFUL SHELDRAKE 



At the head of the Cheddar valley, a couple of miles 

 from the cathedral city of Wells, the Somerset Axe 

 is born, gushing out noisily, a mighty volume of 

 clear cold water, from a cavern in a black precipitous 

 rock on the hillside. This cavern is called Wookey 

 Hole, and above it the rough wall is draped with 

 ivy and fern, and many small creeping plants and 

 flowery shrubs rooted in the crevices ; and in the 

 holes in the rock the daws have their nests. They 

 are a numerous and a vociferous colony, but the 

 noise of their loudest cawings, when they rush out 

 like a black cloud and are most excited, is almost 

 drowned by the louder roar of the torrent beneath 

 — the river's great cry of liberty and joy on issuing 

 from the blackness in the hollow of the hills into 

 the sunshine of heaven and the verdure of that beauti- 

 ful valley. The Axe finishes its course fifteen miles 

 away, for 'tis a short river, but they are pleasant 

 miles in one of the fairest vales in the west of 

 England, rich in cattle and in corn. And at the 



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