A NIGHT WITH THE FEEN-OWL. 187 



man had taken a holiday from his metropolitan occupa- 

 tions, and, to make the most of it, had determined to 

 spend a summer night sub dio. By sunset he found him- 

 self many miles from London, in a field in which the new- 

 made hay was ready for carrying. No human being was 

 near, and so he threw two of the haycocks into one, at 

 the edge of a wood, and " mole-like, burrowed into the 

 middle of the hay," just leaving his head exposed for a 

 little fresh air, and free for any observations he might 

 make under the light of the unclouded moon. In such a 

 soft, warm, and fragrant bed, sleep soon overcame him, 

 till he awoke with a confused idea of elves, sprites, fairies 

 and pixies, holding their midnight dances around him. 



" I had not been long again settled," he says, " on my 

 grassy conch, reflecting upon my wild, fantastic dream, with 

 all its attendant revelry, when my attention was drawn to 

 the singular, wild, ringing strain of the fern-owL It re- 

 sembled, at times, the whirring, rapid rotation of a wheel, 

 now swelling, now diminishing, the sounds intermixed with 

 curring and croaking notes, some of the sounds having a 

 ventriloquial effect ; there was now and then a sharp, 

 unearthly kind of shriek ; presently there were the same 

 sounds issuing from other quarters of the wood, until the 

 whole place was ringing with the wild nocturnal notes. 

 As daybreak advanced, I could see the fern-owls (there 

 were at least from four to six birds,) hawking for moths, 

 chasing and pursuing each other, and sweeping along with 

 surprisingly sudden turns and tumblings. As I sat motion- 

 less, with my head just above the surface of the haycock. 



