64 Wild Life in a Southern County 



the key of the church and pointed the nearest way across 

 the meadow, has gone to the spring. The ancient building, 

 standing lonely on the hill, is utterly deserted ; the creak 

 of the boards underfoot or the grate of the rusty hinge 

 sounds hollow and gloomy. But a streak of sunlight 

 enters from the arrow-slit, a bee. comes in through the 

 larger open windows with a low inquiring buzz ; there is 

 a chattering of sparrows, the peculiar shrill screech of the 

 swifts, and a 'jack-jack-daw-jack-daw '-ing outside. The 

 sweet scent of clover and of mown grass conies upon the 

 light breeze mayhap the laughter of haymakers passing 

 through the churchyard underneath to their work, and 

 idling by the way as haymakers can idle. 



The name of the maker on the clock shows that it was 

 constructed in a little market town a few miles distant a 

 century ago, before industries were centralised and local 

 life began to lose its individuality. There are sparrows' 

 nests on the wooden case over it, and it is stopped now 

 and then by feathers getting into the works : it matters 

 nothing here ; Festina lente is the village motto, and time 

 is little regarded. So, if you wish, take a rubbing, with 

 Ueelball borrowed from the cobbler, of the inscriptions 

 round the rims of the great bells ; but be careful even then, 

 for the ringers have left one carelessly tilted, and if the 

 rope should slip, nineteen hundredweight of brazen metal 

 may jam you against the framework. 



The ringers are an independent body, rustics though 

 they be monopolists, not to be lightly ordered about, as 

 many a vicar has found to his cost, having a silent belfry 

 for his pains, and not a man to be got, either, from adja- 

 cent villages. It is about as easy to knock this solid tower 

 over with a walking-stick as to change village customs. 

 But if towards Christmas you should chance to say to the 



