LONG-TAILED TITS NEST. 77 



the Bure, down which they had just sailed. The breeze had 

 risen to a gale, and as it met the incoming tide it raised a sharp 

 popply sea. The sun was setting red and splendid o\,er the 

 far end behind a mass of black fiery-edged cloud, through rents 

 in which the brilliant light fell upon the tossing waste of waters, 

 and tipped each wave-crest with crimson. Above the cloud 

 the sky was of a delicate pale green, in which floated cloudlets 

 or bars of gold, which were scarcely more ethereal-looking 

 than the birds which breasted the gale with wavering flight. 

 Out of the sunset light there came a gallant array of vessels 

 making for the shelter of Yarmouth. Dark-sailed wherries 

 with their peaks lowered and their sails half mast high, and 

 yachts with every possible reef taken in, all dashing along at a 

 great pace, notwithstanding the opposing tide, and each with a 

 white lump of foam at its bows. The parallel rows of posts 

 which marked the sailing course stood out gaunt and grim, like 

 warders of the sunset gates, and the whole scene was wild and 

 impressive. It so moved Dick, that when they got back to 

 their hotel he sat down, and tried his hand at making some 

 verses descriptive of it. They are not good enough to quote, 

 but Frank and Jimmy both thought them very good, only they 

 were not impartial critics. 



As they were sitting in the coffee-room that evening, Jimmy 

 said that he should like to see ho\v many feathers the long- 

 tailed tit's nest contained. It looked a regular hatful, and he 

 wondered how the tiny bird could have had the patience to 

 collect so many. So he drew a small table aside, and sat 

 himself down at it with the nest before him, and then set to 

 work to count the feathers, putting them in a pile at his right 

 side as he did so. Dick joined him, and the two worked away 

 for a long time at the monotonous task of counting. The 

 feathers as they were piled up loosely on the table formed a 

 big feather-heap. 



Frank grew tired of watching them, and a wicked idea 

 entered his head. The window near which they sat encoun- 

 tered the whole force of th.e wind. Frank lounged up to it, 

 and, under cover of a question, undid the latch. 



" How many are there ? " he asked. 



"We have counted 2,000, and there are about 300 more. 

 We shall soon finish." 



" Shall you, indeed," said Frank, as he opened the window. 



