1 6 By Leafy Ways. 



The swallows who have reached our shores have 

 not brought summer on their purple wings, and their 

 happy snatches of song seem out of keeping with the 

 chill air of our unfriendly spring. 



It seems strange that birds which have known the 

 sun of Syria, or the clear skies of Algiers, should ever 

 come back to the fickle climate of these chillier re- 

 gions. One of them indeed does ' draw the line some- 

 where.' No nightingale ever yet set foot in the sister 

 island. A true Irish grievance, for which, alas ! Home 

 Rule will be found no remedy. 



The phenomena of migration have always been an 

 object of wonder for a long time one of almost abso- 

 lute mystery. The older writers on natural history 

 describe how swallows pass the winter in holes, and 

 beneath the surface of ponds and rivers. One of them 

 even gravely propounded the theory that swallows in 

 the winter retire to the moon. It is but fair to add 

 that he abandoned it ' on the ground that the moon is 

 too far off to be reached by our migratory birds, and 

 because it is doubtful how they would find sustenance 

 by the way for so long a journey.' 



This state of things is altered now. We know 

 where the migrants pass the winter ; and we know, 

 too, just when to expect the return of the wanderers to 

 their favourite haunts. They come at various intervals, 

 according to the species, but with a regularity that 

 hardly varies from year to year. 



Swallows begin to come back in the first week of April. 



