themselves than shine, twos and threes come occasionally through the
gloom. A pair of doves pass swiftly, flying for the lower wood, where
the ashpoles grow. The grasshoppers sing in the grass, and will continue
till the dew descends. As the little bats flutter swiftly to and fro just
without the hedge, the faint sound of their wings is audible as they
turn: their membranes are not so silent as feathers, and they agitate
them with extreme velocity. Beetles go by with a loud hum, rising from
those isolated bunches of grass that may be seen in every field; for the
cows will not eat the rank green blades that grow over and hide dried
dung.

A large white spot, ill-defined and shapeless in the distance and the
dimness, glides along the edge of the wood, then across in front before
the fir plantation, next down the hedge to the left, and presently
passes within two yards, going towards the wood again along this mound.
It is a white owl: he flies about five feet from the ground and
absolutely without a sound. So when you are walking at night it is quite
startling to have one come overhead, approaching from behind and
suddenly appearing. This owl is almost fearless; unless purposely
alarmed he will scarcely notice you, and not at all if you are still.

As he reaches the wood he leaves the hedge, having gone all round the
field, and crosses to a small detached circular fir plantation in the
centre. There he goes out of sight a minute or two; but presently
appears skirting the low shed and rickyard yonder, and is finally lost
behind the hedges. This round he will go every evening, and almost
exactly at the same time--that is, in reference to the sun, which is the
clock of nature.

Step never so quietly out from the mound, the small birds that unnoticed