1 68 My Favourite Summer-Houses. 



hang on the face of the hill, and with the sunshine blink- 

 ing on its whitened side walls seems in a kindly way to 

 beckon you to advance. How many and how pleasant 

 are the excursions we have made from these doors ! 

 How sweet the memories that dwell with us still of 

 those rambles through wood and moorland, over heath 

 and holt ! Looking from the gate we could see over 

 an immense area ; in the middle distance right in front 

 one of the most beautiful villages in England gathered 

 round its green so neatly, with its drinking fountain in 

 the centre, the gift of one who long lived and worked 

 there, and with the big house of the squire on a gentle 

 wooded height looking down on it graciously. And 

 though this village was a mile or two distant, in some 

 states of the atmosphere it looked quite near, as though 

 close below, while looking from that village again to- 

 wards our house it seemed as though a step or two 

 would bring you to the foot of our hill. You had to 

 learn by experience that the idea of distance in these 

 hilly regions was very deceptive indeed. 



Coldharbour — that picturesque little settlement, red- 

 roofed and warm amidst its greeny shelter, one half of 

 it clustering by the church, as though half nestling in 

 a cup's-side — was not very far off, and often we found 

 our way there by Mosse's wood; and sometimes on 

 our way back we would stay thereabout till the twilight 

 fell, and watch and listen to the sound — the eerie sound 

 — made by that strange bird, half hawk, half swallow, 

 the nightjar, which wheels round the tops of the trees, 

 more especially the fir trees, after the moths and beetles 

 and the night flyers, which form its food — thence the 

 name which it has in some parts of the wheel-bird. 

 We had often been surprised at the strange and un- 

 expected sound it makes when anything startles or 



