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                    [Illustration: The Lark’s Nest.]




                               MORE TALES
                              OF THE BIRDS


                                   BY
                            W. WARDE FOWLER
                AUTHOR OF “A YEAR WITH THE BIRDS,” ETC.


                   _ILLUSTRATED BY FRANCES L. FULLER_


                                _London_
                       MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited
                    NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
                                  1902

                         _All rights reserved_

                    Richard Clay and Sons, Limited,
                           LONDON AND BUNGAY.


                                   TO
                              A. A. E. F.
                       IN MEMORY OF PLEASANT DAYS
                          IN THE SUNNY SUMMER
                                OF 1901




                                CONTENTS


                                                                    PAGE
  I. The Lark’s Nest                                                   1
  II. The Sorrows of a House Martin                                   24
  III. The Sandpipers                                                 51
  IV. The Last of the Barons                                          79
  V. Downs and Dungeons                                              104
  VI. Doctor and Mrs. Jackson                                        130
  VII. A Lucky Magpie                                                147
  VIII. Selina’s Starling                                            185
  IX. Too Much of a Good Thing                                       204




                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


  The Lark’s Nest                                        _Frontispiece_.
  The Sorrows of a House Martin                        _To face page_ 24
  The Sandpipers                                                 ”    52
  The Last of the Barons                                         ”    80
  Downs and Dungeons                                            ”    104
  Doctor and Mrs. Jackson                                       ”    131
  A Lucky Magpie                                                ”    148
  Selina’s Starling                                             ”    186




                        MORE TALES OF THE BIRDS




                            THE LARK’S NEST
                          A STORY OF A BATTLE


                                   I

It was close upon Midsummer Day, but it was not midsummer weather. A
mist rose from moist fields, and hung over the whole countryside as if
it were November; the June of 1815 was wet and chill, as June so often
is. And as the mist hung over the land, so a certain sense of doubt and
anxiety hung over the hearts of man and beast and bird. War was in the
air as well as mist; and everything wanted warmth and peace to help it
to carry out its appointed work; to cheer it with a feeling of the
fragrance of life.

The moisture and the chilliness did not prevent the Skylark from taking
a flight now and then into the air, and singing to his wife as she sat
on the nest below; indeed, he rose sometimes so high that she could
hardly hear his voice, and then the anxious feeling got the better of
her. When he came down she would tell him of it, and remind him how dear
to her that music was. “Come with me this once,” he said at last in
reply. “Come, and leave the eggs for a little while. Above the mist the
sun is shining, and the real world is up there to-day. You can dry
yourself up there in the warmth, and you can fancy how bad it is for all
the creatures that have no wings to fly with. And there are such numbers
of them about to-day—such long lines of men and horses! Come and feel
the sun and see the sights.”

He rose again into the air and began to sing; and she, getting wearily
off the nest, followed him upwards. They passed through the mist and out
into the glorious sunshine; and as they hung on the air with fluttering
wings and tails bent downwards, singing and still gently rising, the sun
at last conquered the fog to the right of them, and they saw the great
high road covered with a long column of horsemen, whose arms and
trappings flashed with the sudden light. They were moving southward at a
trot as quick as cavalry can keep up when riding in a body together; and
behind them at a short interval came cannon and waggons rumbling slowly
along, the drivers’ whips cracking constantly as if there were great
need of hurry. Then came a column of infantry marching at a quickstep
without music, all intent on business, none falling out of the ranks;
they wore coats of bright scarlet, which set off young and sturdy
frames. And then, just as an officer, with dripping plume and cloak
hanging loosely about him, turned his horse into the wet fields and
galloped heavily past the infantry in the road, the mist closed over
them again, and the Larks could see nothing more.

But along the line of the road, to north as well as south, they could
hear the rumbling of wheels and the heavy tramp of men marching,
deadened as all these sounds were by the mud of the road and by the
dense air. Nay, far away to the south