WHEN THE NIGHT FALLS. 229 



grace of sanctuary to that Friar of Orders Grey, the 

 badger ? 



Hoarse cries over our head cause us to look up. 

 They proceed from a couple of herons, low down, 

 that have suddenly sighted us : they are passing on 

 direct for some large ponds on common lands, three 

 miles away. Often have I seen them going and 

 coming home from fishing over the hills. 



It is night, a clear, dark, still night, — one of those 

 when you can see things; for various degrees of 

 darkness exist. On some nights that are yet by 

 no means dark, you are unable to see much before 

 your face. This may seem a little strange, but 

 many will know what I mean. 



The owls hoot : if they could be seen, no doubt 

 it would be sitting on the top of some larch, and 

 with their throats puffed out like pouter pigeons. 



What a number of creatures begin to move about 

 when the night falls ! The sound of their move- 

 ments over the dead leaves so plentifully scattered 

 under the trees and bushes betray some of them. 

 That trotting rustle like a tiny pig, with frequent 

 pauses, comes from the hedgehog; so does that 

 faint whine. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick! comes 



