ever-troubled sea grew louder, so that, shut up in our little
rooms in that back street, we had it in our ears, except at
intervals, when the wind howled loud enough to drown its great
voice, and hurled tempests of rain and hail against the roofs
and windows.

To me the most amazing thing was the spectacle of the swifts.
It was late for them, near the end of August; they should now
have been far away on their flight to Africa; yet here they
were, delaying on that desolate east coast in wind and wet,
more than a hundred of them. It was strange to see so many at
one spot, and I could only suppose that they had congregated
previous to migration at that unsuitable place, and were being
kept back by the late breeders, who had not yet been wrought
up to the point of abandoning their broods. They haunted a
vast ruinous old barn-like building near the front, which was
probably old a century before the town was built, and about
fifteen to twenty pairs had their nests under the eaves. Over
this building they hung all day in a crowd, rising high to
come down again at a frantic speed, and at each descent a few
birds could be seen to enter the holes, while others rushed
out to join the throng, and then all rose and came down again
and swept round and round in a furious chase, shrieking as if
mad. At all hours they drew me to that spot, and standing
there, marvelling at their swaying power and the fury that
possessed them, they appeared to me like tormented beings, and
were like those doomed wretches in the halls of Eblis whose
hearts were in a blaze of unquenchable fire, and who, every
one with hands pressed to his breast, went spinning round in
an everlasting agonized dance. They were tormented and crazed