kind of rural sprite, something like Robin-Goodfellow.  They often fancied the echo to be the voice of the dobbie answering them, and were rather shy of disturbing it after dark.  He added, that the squire was very careful of this ruin, on account of the superstition connected with it.  As I considered this local habitation of an “airy nothing,” I called to mind the fine description of an echo in Webster’s Duchess of Malfy: 

    —­“‘Yond side o’ th’ river lies a wall,
    Piece of a cloister, which in my opinion
    Gives the best echo that you have ever heard: 
    So plain in the distinction of our words
    That many have supposed it a spirit
    That answers.”

The parson went on to comment on a pleasing and fanciful appellation which the Jews of old gave to the echo, which they called Bath-kool, that is to say, “the daughter of the voice;” they considered it an oracle, supplying in the second temple the want of the Urim and Thummim, with which the first was honoured.[A] The little man was just entering very largely and learnedly upon the subject, when we were startled by a prodigious bawling, shouting, and yelping.  A flight of crows, alarmed by the approach of our forces, had suddenly risen from a meadow; a cry was put up by the rabble rout on foot—­“Now, Christy! now is your time, Christy!” The squire and Master Simon, who were beating up the river banks in quest of a heron, called out eagerly to Christy to keep quiet; the old man, vexed and bewildered by the confusion of voices, completely lost his head:  in his flurry he slipped off the hood, cast off the falcon, and away flew the crows, and away soared the hawk.

[Footnote A:  Bekker’s Monde Enchante.]

I had paused on a rising ground, close to Lady Lillycraft and her escort, from whence I had a good view of the sport.  I was pleased with the appearance of the party in the meadow, riding along in the direction that the bird flew; their bright beaming faces turned up to the bright skies as they watched the game; the attendants on foot scampering along, looking up, and calling out, and the dogs bounding and yelping with clamorous sympathy.

[Illustration:  The Quarry in Sight]

The hawk had singled out a quarry from among the carrion crew.  It was curious to see the efforts of the two birds to get above each other; one to make the fatal swoop, the other to avoid it.  Now they crossed athwart a bright feathery cloud, and now they were against the clear blue sky.  I confess, being no sportsman, I was more interested for the poor bird that was striving for its life, than for the hawk that was playing the part of a mercenary soldier.  At length the hawk got the upper hand, and made a rushing stoop at her quarry, but the latter made as sudden a surge downwards, and slanting up again evaded the blow, screaming and making the best of his way for a dry tree on the brow of a neighbouring hill; while the hawk, disappointed of her blow, soared up again into the air, and appeared to be “raking” off.  It was in vain old Christy called and whistled, and endeavoured to lure her down; she paid no regard to him; and, indeed, his calls were drowned in the shouts and yelps of the army of militia that had followed him into the field.