BOOK OF DOVECOTES 



of approach, taking a turn to the left and another 

 to the right, we are soon at Gilmerton House, 

 or rather at the steading, screened from the 

 roadbya small plantation. Inthe middle of this 

 is a fine circular dovecote of brick, which the 

 grieve is far from unwilling to exhibit on re- 

 quest. 



More modern than the one just visited, it is 

 in some ways more pleasing; for, far from being 

 deserted and in semi-ruin, it is well populated 

 and inexcellent repair. Asthedooropenstothe 

 turning of the key, pigeons swarm out through 

 the small cupola that tops the dome-shaped 

 roof; through the three curious little windows 

 immediately above the upper of two string- 

 courses; even through the door itself, so urgent 

 seems their haste. 



The building, fifty feet in circumference, con- 

 tainsaboutelevenhundrednests,withapotence 

 in good working order. The storms and frosts 

 of winter have worked havoc here; the coat of 

 plaster recently applied has parted from the 

 walls in places and hangs loose. But there is 

 here no danger of the dovecote's most-feared 

 foes — indifference and neglect. We notice 

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