THE BOOK: AN APOLOGY 3 



her time — and lor the hist century have been produced 

 at axi ever-increasing rate until now, when we have 

 them t-urned out by the dozens every year. All about 

 the same few well-known birds! To many among us 

 it seems that the thing is being over-done. One friend 

 expostulates thus: "What, another book about birds? 

 You have already written several — three or four or five 

 — I can't remember the number. I don't know much 

 about the subject, but I should have thought you had 

 already told us all you know about it. I had hoped you 

 had hnished with that subject now. There are so many 

 others — Man, for instance, who is of more account than 

 many sparrows. Well, all I can say is, I'm sorry." 



If he had known birds, I doubt that he would have 

 expressed regret at my choice of a subject; for many 

 as are the observers of birds and writers on them in the 

 land, there are yet a far greater number who do not 

 properly know them, and the joy they are or may be 

 to us. 



The people who discover birds are now common with 

 us, and tliough the story of their discoveries is some- 

 what boring, it amuses at the same time. A lady of 

 your acquaintance tells you the result of putting some 

 crumbs on a window-sill — the sudden appearance to feed 

 on the crumbs of a quaint fairy-like little bird which 

 was not a sparrow, nor robin, nor any of those common 

 ones, but a sparkling lively little creature with a crest, 

 all blue above and yellow beneath — very beautiful to look 

 at, and fantastic in its actions. A bird she has never 

 seen before though all her life has been passed in the 



