AUTUMN, 1912 285 



to others some faint sense or suggestion of the wonder 

 and delight which may be found in nature. 



We say — and I am here speaking of my own peculiar 

 people, the naturalists — that birds too, like ourselves, 

 may be pulled two ways, and that two conflicting 

 impulses may be the cause of one of the most pathetic 

 of Nature's innumerable little annual tragedies. 

 This is when a pair of swallows are rearing a late 

 brood, and before the time comes for the young to 

 fly are themselves overtaken and borne away to the 

 south by the irresistible migratory instinct. 



It happened that on the very day of my arrival at 

 Wells, October 17, I noticed a pair of martins still 

 feeding their young in a nest under the eaves above a 

 sweetstuff shop, within two or three doors of the 

 Wells post-office. Now I shall see for myself, I said, 

 resolving to keep an eye on them. There were no 

 other martins or swallows of any kind in Wells at that 

 date: a fortnight earlier I had witnessed the end of 

 the swallow migration, as I thought, on the South 

 Devon sea-coast. I saw them morning after morning 

 in numbers, travelling along the coast towards the 

 Isle of Wight, which is one of their great crossing- 

 places, until they had all gone. 



I kept an eye on the martins, visiting them very 

 early every morning and two or three times later 

 during each day. The young, it could be seen when 

 they thrust their heads and almost half their bodies 

 out to receive the food their parents brought, were 

 fully grown and very clamorous. 



"They will be out in a day or two," I said 



