ROOKS AND SUNDAY 61 



of it. I have a small walnut tree in my garden. 

 I planted it myself, and it has not borne fruit more 

 than two or three years. It stands between my 

 house and another, and is very near to both. This 

 year I could see from the window about six or 

 eight nice little bunches of nuts, and I watched 

 them with affection. Last Sunday, as I was 

 sitting writing, I heard a cawing and croaking 

 close at hand that drew me to the window ; and, 

 behold, there were four or five huge rooks flopping 

 about upon my poor little tree, trying hard to sit 

 on its weak branches. I was not sure that they 

 meant mischief ; nevertheless, with some difficulty, 

 I frightened them away. They came back again, 

 and again I got rid of them. A third time only 

 two came back, and then I thought I would watch 

 and see what happened. In a few moments I saw 

 one of them fly hastily away, not to the rookery, 

 but towards the river, with a nice large green 

 walnut in his beak. Of course I made a very 

 sensible clatter then, and no more came that day. 

 This morning, Sunday, I was again unable to 

 go to church and sat reading, when I heard an 

 extraordinary noise in the lime-trees opposite the 

 window, which are far from the rookery. I knew 

 the noise was made by rooks, but it was not any 

 of their ordinary cries ; it was something between 

 a scream and a croak. Did it mean ' walnuts,' or 



