226 THE RECTORY AND ITS BIRDS 



indissolubly, with Stafford Rectory, is about half an 

 hour before and after sunset, on a bright summer's 

 evening, when the clouds are radiant, as with a glory 

 not of earth. Then, chasing or chased by each 

 other, all the male birds in the little colony sweep 

 round, at what seems to be double their usual speed 

 and with double their usual screams, in circles now 

 much narrower, now much wider, but always having 

 as their centre for the centre, indeed, it is to them 

 of all their anxieties, their affections, and their hopes 

 the thatched roof in which they themselves and 

 their mates, their ancestors and their still unfledged 

 young ones, have been born and bred. Their speed 

 is at the very fastest, and their scream at the very 

 loudest, as they skim along the eaves, and dash 

 perilously near to the angles of the house in which 

 their mates are sitting, as though to inquire how 

 they are getting on, and to assure them that out of 

 sight is not out of mind. Sometimes, the wife will 

 answer by a reassuring muffled scream from within ; 

 and sometimes " nature will out," and she too will 

 dash forth after her husband, and easing her wings 

 and legs, cramped, as they must be, by her long 

 confinement, join, for a few minutes, the headlong 

 and jubilant rout. Then, as darkness comes on, 

 each bird will sweep with a sudden and sullen thud 



