5° 



Vibe IRose ipastor. 



By the Rev. C. D. Farrar. 



' ^^/T)f E all have some small jealousy, I think : at 

 ( ( I least I trust I am not quite abnormal in 

 ^-"^^ this that I do like to see a Swallow, hear a 

 Cuckoo and eat a strawberry, before any- 

 one else each year, though this idiosyucracy of mine 

 has not yet reached the point of writing to the papers. 



For years I have been on the look out for a ' lady 

 Shepherd,' but ever in vain until the present year of 

 Grace. I should be afraid to say how many Rose 

 Pastors I have had sent me, on the chance that I 

 might pick out a hen from amongst them ; on some 

 occasions I have had as many as forty-five to pick 

 from at once, but always with the same result, they 

 were all males. At last my long waiting has been 

 rewarded, for I have served for my Rachel almost as 

 long as Jacob did for his. 



Last July I was up in London for ten days, and 

 one morning I found myself in the historic ' Club 

 Row,' now known by the grander-sounding title of 

 Sclater Street, Shoreditch. If any of my readers 

 have not yet visited that classic spot, let them lose no 

 time in doing so the next time they are up in town : 

 it is one of the sights of London. There, at the 

 establishment of my old trusted friend Morris, I 

 found my heart's desire. On the pavement were four 

 cages, each containing a Rose Pastor. I may say, in 

 passing, that a separate cage is a necessit5% for Rose 

 Pastors are as quarrelsome as the natives of Sumatra 

 in the pepper harvest. I saw at a glance that three of 

 the birds were cocks, but one was altogether different 

 from any I had ever seen, and I hoped it might be a hen, 

 and my friend Morris informed me that ' if it were not, 

 then old Jim had never seen one.' I accordingly 



