“Now, neighbour, I’ve been up at the old windmill, and the hermit, as he is called, took me upstairs to his beautiful room. He told me to stand well back from the window and I’d maybe see a sight. It was just feedin’ time like, he told me!
“I did as I was told and watched.
“The balcony is very big and broad, you know, and trailed o’er with lovely flowers, neighbour.
“He went down below now, to the lower deck as it were, but soon he was up again, carrying five plates one on top of the other, and also a basket of broken food, suet, bread, and bits of meat.
“‘Sit as still now,’ he says to me, ‘as a plaster saint—don’t cough, don’t even wink, don’t make a movement loud enough to wake a weasel.’
“So there I sat as quiet’s a little prayin’ Sam’el.
“Then down went the dishes on the balcony, and the hermit of the old windmill took from the corner a pair of wings (white and big).
“They were mounted on top of a stick no bigger than a fiddle-bow.
“He leant over the balcony just for a moment looking east and west, and I could see him cross his breast, as Catholics do, then he uttered a loud and mournful cry. Whether whistle or shout, I couldn’t say, neighbour, but after repeating this several times he waved the wings.
“What I saw next almost frightened me. A vast multitude of sea-birds, and even rooks and cormorants, assembled round the balcony and alighted on it. I never saw gulls so near before, neighbour. Never knew they were so clean, and white, and beautiful, and with such wondering eyes. Neighbour, I ain’t ever going to shoot a sea-gull again.