CONCLUSION 335 



they rushed down like lightning into the dark reeds, 

 shower following shower of swallows at intervals of 

 two or three seconds, until the last had vanished 

 and the night was silent again. 



It was time for them to go, for though the days 

 were warm and food abundant, the nights were 

 growing cold. 



The early hours are silent, except for the brown 

 owls that hoot round the cottage from about four 

 o'clock until dawn. Then they grow silent, and the 

 morning is come, cold and misty, and all the land 

 is hidden by a creeping white river mist. The sun 

 rises, and is not seen for half-an-hour, then appears 

 pale and dim, but grows brighter and warmer by 

 degrees; and in a little while, lo! the mist has 

 vanished, except for a white rag, clinging like torn 

 lace here and there to the valley reeds and rushes. 

 Again, the green earth, wetted with mist and dews, 

 and the sky of that soft pure azure of yesterday and 

 of many previous days. Again the birds are vocal; 

 the rooks rise from the woods, an innumerable cawing 

 multitude, their voices filling the heavens with noise, 

 as they travel slowly away to their feeding-grounds 

 on the green open downs; the starlings flock to the 

 bushes, and the feasting and chatter and song begin 

 that will last until evening. The sun sets crimson, 

 and the robins sing in the night and silence. But it 

 is not silent long; before dark the brown owls begin 

 hooting, first in the woods, then fly across to the trees 



