70 Bell-ri7igers. 



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 shiill screech of the swifts, and a ' jack- 

 jaek-daw-jack-daw '-ing outside. The sweet scent 

 of clover and of mown grass comes upon the light 

 breeze — mayhap the laughter of haymakers passing 

 through the churchyard underneath to their work, 

 and idhng 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 cen- 

 tralized and local life began to lose its individuahty. 

 There are sparrows' nests on the wooden case over it, 

 and it is stopped now and then b}' 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 heelball 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 hundred weight 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 man^^ a vicar has found to his 

 cost, having a silent belfry for his pains, and not 

 a man to be got, either, from adjacent villages. It 

 is about as easy to knock this sohd tower over with 

 a walking-stick as to change village customs. But 

 if towards Christmas you should chance to say to 

 the ringers that such and such a chime seemed rung 



