So much for the magpie. The well was beneath the walnut-tree, and so close to it that from time to time large pieces of chalk had been pushed in by the roots that forced their way through the sides as if in search of moisture. It was an old, old well, sunk no one knew how many centuries before; but probably dug down out of the chalk, when the monks held the old priory which we tenanted in its modernised form. The old well was always an object of dread to me in childhood; and often have I stealthily crept up to the old green wood cover, dropped a pebble through the rope hole, and listened shudderingly to the hollow, echoing, vibrating sound that came quivering up after the plash. Even in maturer years the old well was one that would obtrude itself into dreams and offer suggestions of the horrors to be found within its depths, and the consequences of a fall to the bottom. We only used the water for the garden, and hard work it used to be to turn the moss-covered windlass, and drag up the heavy bucket at the end of a hundred feet of rope, when up it came full of greeny-looking water, with some times a frog for passenger. To look down and listen to the hollow drip of the water was enough to make any one shudder, so profound seemed the depth to where a ring of light could be seen, and in spite of its depth, carved as it was right out of the solid chalk, there was never more than some seven or eight feet of water at the bottom, and that none of the cleanest. Uncle Tom said it would be better filled up; a remark which found a most enthusiastic backer in the old gardener; but water even if green and discoloured was costly in those parts, and therefore the well was not filled up. While as to my uncle's suggestion, to have it cleaned out, although most excellent, I was too deeply imbued with the Toryish ideas of letting things be as heretofore; and, therefore, the old gardener ground and ground at the old windlass, and the water still came up green; while, contrary to direct orders, the lid of the dangerous place was often left off. Now, as before said, I don't believe that old well of ours would ever have been cleaned out if it had not been for the magpie. One day in summer I had been sitting dreamily trying to follow out some of the rather knotty thoughts in "Festus," when on raising my eyes I caught sight of Goblin perched upon the little table in the bay window, and before I could move I had the pleasure of seeing him nimbly hook up my wife's diminutive watch off the little stand, and then hop on to the window-sill, where I made a rush at him and nearly secured his spoil, for the thin chain caught in the Westeria twining round the window. In an instant, however, it had given way, and I had the satisfaction of seeing the little black and white miscreant alight on the gravel walk; and then after fixing the fragile timekeeper with his foot, begin to peck vigorously at the glass, which was shivered directly.