Matthew Weld Hartstonge, The Eve of All-Hallows; Or, Adelaide of Tyrconnel…
“ Adelaide then with quickened step approached a lime-kiln. This fabric had been for a lapse of time deserted and disused; its apex was crested with saxifrage, snap-dragon, and foxglove, which told its desolation; and the ivy too, in curling festoons suspended, overhung the passenger, and undulated in the breeze. The autumnal gale in mournful gusts swept, sighing in its course, over hill, and vale, and stream; while the owl hooted her solitary scream as Adelaide reached this deserted pile, now the lonely asylum of the nocturnal bat and wary field-mouse. ”
