196 THE PASSING OF THE BIRDS. 
knows his own time and his own course. 
On such a day the snipe will be in sucha 
meadow, and the golden plover in such a 
field. Some, no doubt, will lose their way. 
Numbers uncounted will perish by storm 
and flood; numbers more, alas, by human 
agency. As I write, with the sad note of a 
bluebird in my ear, I can see the sea-beaches 
and the marshes lined with guns. But the 
army will push on; they will come to their 
desired haven; for there is a spirit in birds, 
also, “cand the inspiration of the Almighty 
giveth them understanding.”’ 
