crouching under the bushes, the pigeons taking refuge in their
house; as soon as the ground is quite clear, Cocky changes his wild
note for peals of laughter from a high tree, and finally alighting
on the top of a hen-coop filled with trembling chickens, remarks in
a suffocated voice, "You'll be the death of me."

I must reverse the proverb about the ridiculous and the sublime, and
finish my letter by telling you of Ilam's chief outdoor charm: from
all parts of the garden and grounds I can feast my eyes on the
glorious chain of mountains which I have before told you of, and my
bedroom window has a perfect panoramic view of them. I watch them
under all their changes of tint, and find each new phase the most
beautiful. In the very early morning I have often stood shivering
at my window to see the noble outline gradually assuming shape, and
finally standing out sharp and clear against a dazzling sky; then,
as the sun rises, the softest rose-coloured and golden tints touch
the highest peaks, the shadows deepening by the contrast. Before a
"nor'-wester" the colours over these mountains and in the sky are
quite indescribable; no one but Turner could venture upon such a
mixture of pale sea-green with deep turquoise blue, purple with
crimson and orange. One morning an arch-like appearance in the
clouds over the furthest ranges was pointed out to me as the sure
forerunner of a violent gale from the north-west, and the prognostic
was fulfilled. It was formed of clouds of the deepest and richest
colours; within its curve lay a bare expanse of a wonderful green
tint, crossed by the snowy _silhouette_ of the Southern Alps. A few
hours afterwards the mountains were quite hidden by mist, and a
furious gale of hot wind was shaking the house as if it must carry
it off into the sky; it blew so continuously that the trees and
shrubs never seemed to rise for a moment against it.