188 NATURE IN DOWNLAND 



The nest, or breeding hole, was under the eaves, 

 and after the young were hatched, every evening just 

 when the sun went down behind the great round 

 hills, strange noises would begin to Issue from the 

 hole ; — sounds as of a sleeper with a bad cold in 

 his head, uncomfortably breathing through his nose, 

 prolonged, sibilant, and tremulous, and occasionally 

 deeper as if in imitation of the death-rattle in a 

 human throat. These noises were uttered by the 

 young birds, crying for their tea, or breakfast, or 

 whatever we like to call their first meal. And 

 presently the old owls would shuffle out to fly about 

 the village in their usual flopping, unballasted, aim- 

 less manner, this way and that, seemingly at random 

 as if they had lost their steering intelHgence. But 

 in twenty minutes to half-an-hour one would be back 

 from the neighbouring rickyard with a mouse in his 

 claws. 



Seated on one of the lichen-stained tombstones, 

 or in a chair on a small lawn abutting on the 

 churchyard, each evening while waiting for the owls 

 to come out, I found my sight resting with a rare 

 and untiring pleasure on the church before me ; so 

 perfect a building it was of its kind, so well placed 

 on its mound with the old red-tiled houses harmoni- 

 ously grouped about it, and so noble a background 

 had the picture in the great round darkening hUls 

 and the luminous evening sky. 



There is a strong family resemblance in the 



