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Mr. Aubyn Trevor-Battye,



sure that Tweetie would soon leave us to take up his quarters

in some neighbour’s dove-cote. The parti-coloured pigeons came

more often with the spring; one in particular, a reddish hen with

white patches, played up to Tweetie a good deal, but to no

purpose—Tweetie was an aristocrat, and he knew it, and would

have nothing to say to a mongrel bird. And then be began to

lly round in ever-widening circles, and then to disappear for

hours at a time. He always flew south ; one could see him flying

round wider and farther and over the trees, until suddenly he was

off like an arrow, winging his way past church and village to be lost

to sight. But he was always home by roosting time. The loft

where he was hatched seemed to hold memories too sad for Tweetie;

from time to time he flew in at the window, but always hurried out

again, and the dove-cote was held by the Barn Owls; he had therefore

made his quarters away up in the cornices of an old barn, whose

timbers, even in the worst weather, gave him plenty of chance for

playing about.


Summer wore to autumn and nesting-time had passed; and

then there fell a day when the bird went off on one of diis long,

straight flights, and that day he did not come back ; the sun went

dowm, the dew fell, and the old barn was empty. The sun was high

on the third day when a shadow passed across the grass, and on

fanned wings down over the tree-tops came gliding a pair of pigeons

and settled on the house ; Tweetie had brought home a wife! But

for the absence of the white spot she was like him to a feather.

Now, Adhurst St. Mary is by the map two miles off as a pigeon

flies, so the pair had made a pretty fair flight. Tweetie went on in

a rather ridiculous way with this new possession ; he puffed out his

chest, trailed his wings and made circles round her, cooing, while

constant bowing must have made his back quite stiff. He took her

to see everything he could think of ; they flashed into the loft and

out again, and settled on the dove-cote, peeping over to see about

the Barn Owls whom they judged to be asleep at that time of day.

But their great haunt was the old barn where much cooing went on

among the beams. The new bird, rather shy at first, soon grew

tame, though never quite so confiding as her mate. In the depth of

last winter they began collecting straws for a nest, till the cold



