in Freedom 147 



I am convinced that if one could hold a conversation 

 with some of these leery-eyed old puffins, that grunt 

 in their holes, one could hear many an interesting and 

 exciting tale about Trafalgar, or even the Spanish 

 Armada in the days of Queen Bess ! But it is time to 

 steam home again, carrying with us a few specimens of 

 eggs — by no means collected wantonly or in a spirit 

 of thoughtless destruction. 



So we clamber aboard once more ; our giant 

 skipper calls to the man at the engine, " Go ahead, 

 Peter," and we puff away, leaving the sea-birds once 

 more in peace, and feeling that we have had no right 

 to trespass and purloin on land that seems essentially 

 their property. For have they not owned it, by inherit- 

 ance, from generation to generation ? 



As we reach our destination the cry rings out, 

 " Stop her, Peter " — the sun is sinking like a huge 

 golden lamp on the horizon of the western sea, and 

 we, more than ready for our dinner, tramp home over 

 the sand and up the road which leads to the house. 



With difficulty we keep awake when our dinner 

 is over ; but attempting to do so by means of a game 

 of " Piquet," find even that to be unavailing, and 

 whilst waiting for my partner to declare his elder 

 hand, hear that the only announcement he can give 

 vent to is a snore. 



