A Paradise of Birds. 69 



at the far end, where the patient miners rear in the 

 darkness their little family. 



Their labours are over now. The old birds and 

 their broods are out all day together. Morning and 

 evening are spent on the river, where, skimming over 

 the surface among the eddying clouds of gnats them- 

 selves like gnats at a distance, each doubled by its 

 reflection in the water they dip their brown wings 

 now and then with a light splash that dies away in 

 widening rings of silver. 



Sand martins always breed thus in communities ; 

 and house-martins too are fond of company, building 

 their nests by scores under the broad eaves of a house, 

 or about the arches of a river bridge. 



The shore under the sand-martins' holes is fringed 

 with clumps of tansy, among whose bright golden 

 flowers flame tall spikes of loose-strife, with here and 

 there a patch of yarrow, or a tuft of broom. 



On the edge of the water a couple of sand-pipers 

 are searching the rubbish stranded among the pebbles. 

 They rise on the wing as we approach, the broad 

 touch of white on their brown backs standing out 

 boldly on the dark water. Their plaintive whistle is 

 answered from the opposite shore, and two more put 

 off to meet them as they follow the windings of the 

 river. 



The sand-piper is rather a solitary bird, and, like 

 others of its race, mostly silent, except thus as it flits 

 to a new hunting-ground. 



