Vol.1 f.004 recto

fantails, tumblers, and pouters, were perhaps not quite consistent
with the grave and sober character of the building, but the ??
monotonous cooing, which never ceased to be raised by some
among them all day long, suited it exactly, and seemed to lull
it to rest. With its overhanging stories,
drowsy little panes of glass, and
front bulging out and projecting over the
pathway, the old house looked as if it were nodding
in its sleep. Indeed, it needed no very great stretch of fancy
to detect in it other resemblances to humanity. The
bricks of which it was built had originally been a deep dark red,
but had grown yellow and discoloured like an old man's skin;
the sturdy timbers had decayed like teeth; and here
and there the ivy, like a warm garment to comfort it in its
age, wrapt its green leaves closely round the time-worn walls.
It was a hale and hearty age though, still: and in the
summer or autumn evenings, when the glow of the setting
sun fell upon the oak and chestnut trees of the adjacent
forest, the old house, partaking of its lustre, seemed their fit
companion, and to have many good years of life in him yet.
The evening with which we have to do, was