84 WILD LIFE IN A SOUTHERN COUNTY. 



Entering the tower by the narrow nail-studded door, 

 it is not so easy to ascend the winding geometrical stone 

 staircase, in the confined space and the darkness, for 

 the arrow slits are choked with cobwebs and the dust 

 of years. A faint, fluttering sound comes from above, 

 as of wings beating the air in a confined space it is 

 the jackdaws in the belfry ; just as the starlings and 

 swallows in the huge old-fashioned chimneys make a 

 similar murmuring noise before they settle. Passing 

 a slit or two the only means of marking the height 

 which has been reached and the dull tick of the old 

 clock becomes audible, slow and accompanied with a 

 peculiar, grating vibration, as if the frame of the 

 antique works had grown tremulous with age. The 

 dial-plate outside is square, placed at an angle to the 

 perpendicular lines of the tower : the gilding of the 

 hour-marks has long since tarnished and worn away 

 before the storms, and they are now barely distinguish- 

 able ; and it is difficult to tell the precise time by the 

 solitary pointer, there being no minute-hand. 



Past another slit, and the narrow stone steps you 

 must take care to keep close to the outer wall where 

 they are widest, for they narrow to the central pillar 

 are scooped out by the passage of feet during the cen- 

 turies ; some, too, are broken, and others are slippery 

 with something that rolls and gives under the foot. 

 It is a number of little sticks and twigs which have fallen 

 down from the jackdaws' nests above : higher up the 

 steps are literally covered with them, so that you have 

 to kick them aside before you can conveniently ascend. 



