THIRD WEEK IN JUNE 189 
awaiting a signal, I expect, from the leader to 
fly up and away to roost. We crossed the 
Thames as the sun was nearing the horizon. 
A few seagulls were still flying about seeking 
food stuff from the flotsam and jetsam that 
was being carried along with the swift-flowing, 
falling tide. Tugs that had been busy all 
day were now being brought up to their 
moorings for the night. As we sat in the 
station waiting for the train, we were wit- 
nesses of a bird incident. The high roof 
of the station in which were several glass 
windows and ventilators like venetian blinds, 
was supported by many iron rods at various 
angles. All the panes of glass were intact. 
A house-martin had flown through an open 
door following, doubtless, the flight of insects 
through it from the river close by, and fol- 
lowed them up to the gabled glass roof. 
Once in, the bird was caught in a trap, ex- 
pecting to find an exit in an upward direc- 
tion. A porter told us it had got in some 
three or four hours previously and had been 
flying round and round under the gabled 
