126 By Leafy Ways. 



of day, and when through a golden mist the sun sinks 

 in the west ; when soft grey clouds that bar the quiet 

 sky swiftly take colour and glow like plumes of fire ; 

 when after a brief gleam of glory the dark comes down 

 upon the silent fields ; when roofs, that drip with dew, 

 shine like sheets of silver in the splendour of the 

 moon, there sets in, through the tranquil hours of 

 night, the rush of innumerable wings. 



On moonlight nights, when skies are cloudless and 

 the air is clear, the birds pass high overhead, far 

 beyond the range of sight or sound. But dark or 

 cloudy weather compels them to fly lower down in 

 order to find their bearings. For the path of migration 

 is no vague, mysterious road, followed unconsciously 

 by some blind impulse of unreasoning instinct. It is 

 a path discovered by experience, and followed year by 

 year with the help of familiar waymarks which the 

 birds can see far down beneath them as they fly. 



It is no doubt a prompting of instinct which leads 

 the young birds, who never yet have left their native 

 land, to start before their elders and drift aimlessly 

 over the sea towards hitherto unknown regions in the 

 southward. But those who know the way stay later, 

 and probably follow some recognised and regular 

 route. 



In fair weather the movements of the birds of 

 passage are seldom seen. It is on dark and stormy 

 nights nights of rough weather and of inky gloom 

 that the lighthouse-keepers, hundreds of whom are on 



