98 By Leafy Ways. 



the sand. The very markings by its edge, lines a 

 child at play might have traced with aimless finger, are 

 to him a picture-writing on the sand, in which he 

 reads the story of tiny creatures whose home is in the 

 waves. 



But dearer than all must ever be the children of the 

 air. Plainest among these fleeting records are the 

 imprints of their feet. Here, run the devious tracks of 

 the sandpipers that troop along the tide. There, in 

 bolder characters are the footprints of the curlew. 

 Scattered over the mud are marks that tell how oyster- 

 catcher and redshank, gull and heron, wandered up 

 and down at sunrise, and left their sign-manual on the 

 yielding surface. 



In the early summer these traces are but far between. 

 In the summer-time we look in vain for the white 

 wings of the gull ; we see no clouds of sandpipers ; we 

 seldom hear the whistle of the plover. As spring 

 advanced they left us. Gradually disappearing from 

 the low shores where they had spent the winter, they 

 gathered round their crowded breeding haunts. They 

 mustered in armies in the sanctuary of seagirt rocks ; 

 they gathered in clouds along the steep sides of 

 northern cliffs. 



Some birds that haunt the wintry beach are content 

 with the limits of our islands. Others find a summer 

 resting-place no nearer than the shores of Siberia. 

 But among them are some who do not move at all ; 

 they spend the summer here ; they watch the vanish- 



