the change in their colouring
was a direct result of the unusual conditions in which they existed,
where there was no shade and shelter of trees and bushes, and they were
perpetually exposed for generations to the full light of the wide open
sky.

On revisiting Stonehenge after an interval of some years I looked for
my sparrows and failed to find them. It was at the breeding-season, when
they would have been there had they still existed. No doubt the little
colony had been extirpated by a sparrow-hawk or by the human guardians
of "The Stones," as the temple is called by the natives.

It remains to tell of my latest visit to "The Stones." I had resolved to
go once in my life with the current or crowd to see the sun rise on the
morning of the longest day at that place. This custom or fashion is a
declining one: ten or twelve years ago, as many as one or two thousand
persons would assemble during the night to wait the great event, but the
watchers have now diminished to a few hundreds, and on some years to
a few scores. The fashion, no doubt, had its origin when Sir Norman
Lockyer's theories, about Stonehenge as a Sun Temple placed so that
the first rays of sun on the longest day of the year should fall on the
centre of the so-called altar or sacrificial stone placed in the middle
of the circle, began to be noised about the country, and accepted by
every one as the true reading of an ancient riddle. But I gather from
natives in the district that it is an old custom for people to go and
watch for sunrise on the morning of June 21. A dozen or a score of
natives, mostly old shepherds and labourers who lived near, would go
and sit there for a few hours and after sunrise would trudge home, but
whether or not there is any tradition or belief associated with the
custom I have not ascertained. "How long has the custom existed?" I
asked a field labourer. "From the time of the old people--the Druids,"
he answered, and I gave it up.

To be near the spot I went to stay at Shrewton, a downland village
four miles from "The Stones"; or rather a group of five pretty little
villages, almost touching but distinct, like five flowers or five
berries on a single stem, each with its own old church and individual
or parish life. It is a pretty tree-shaded place, full of the crooning
sound of turtle-doves, hidden among the wide silent open downs and
watered by a clear swift stream, or winter bourne, which dries up during
the heats of late sum