CHICHESTER 273 



keeps a very small sweet-stuff, orange, bun and lemonade 

 shop in the village street. It was picked up, a young 

 injured bird, by Mrs. Bodle's son, a soldier in South 

 Africa, about seventeen years ago, and sent as a gift 

 to his mother far away in the downland village. She 

 has indeed cherished and kept it well, and loves it for 

 itself as well as for her long absent son's sake; very 

 proudly she told me that many who had seen had 

 wished to possess it, and had offered her a big price 

 for her bird. Now the fame of the owl has spread ; 

 and all summer long, when visitors to the ancient 

 village from Eastbourne, Seaford, Brighton, and other 

 coast towns, are perpetually coming, many of them 

 find their way to the little shop ; and Mrs. Bodle does 

 a good business and must be making a nice little 

 fortune, and imagines (good soul !) that her ginger pop 

 is more refreshing, her oranges and chocolates sweeter, 

 and her buns more sustaining than those that others 

 sell. But it is a delusion : most of those who eat her 

 sweets and drink her lemonade go to see the bird, 

 who sits all day (at the receipt of custom) in his big 

 cage in a dim corner; strange and beautiful to look 

 at in his rich, golden, tawny plumage, barred and 

 mottled like a tiger-oat, with round, luminous, orange- 

 coloured eyes, and the weird ornament of two large 

 black ears. Mrs. Bodle informed me that he had a 

 beautiful voice, but that he would only sing to or talk 

 with her ; on all others he looked gravely out of his 

 brilliant orbs, but made no sound. However, after a 



