Rock Thrushes 63 



who said he could guide us to another haunt of the 

 rock thrush. It was a sultry day, hung about with 

 ominous thunder-clouds, which threatened, before our 

 picnic lunch, to overwhelm us, for the thunder was 

 rolling and grumbling in the distance, and the light- 

 ning flashing every now and then. Seated amongst 

 masses of sweet bog myrtle, we eat our sandwiches, 

 which we washed down with water from a little rill at 

 our feet ; and continuing our ride, reached the edge of 

 the plateau, where a steep and stony path gave us a 

 descent to some peasants' cottages, built amongst the 

 rocks on the sloping mountainous ground below. A 

 few pipits and some wheatears seemed to make up the 

 bird life ; but as yet, no rock thrushes. At last, all 

 that strongly attracted our attention was the rain, 

 which burst upon us in torrents, causing us to seek for 

 shelter, almost drenched to the skin, in a long wooden 

 cottage, where the kindly peasants welcomed us in, 

 whilst our chasseur took our horses to a dark and dirty 

 cow-shed. 



Up some slippery steps we clambered, to find our- 

 selves in the one room of this dwelling, which was 

 evidently kitchen, parlour, and bedroom. 



The beds were in the form of wooden berths, con- 

 structed along one wall in a row of two tiers, with 

 little curtains to draw across the front of each. 



Within the cribs small and cheap crucifixes hung, 

 and tawdry pictures of our Lady, bedecked with arti- 

 ficial flowers, except in one instance, where a little 

 girl's devotion — so her mother told us — had moved 

 her to buy a small carved bracket, on which a blue 



