xix LETTERS TO MARCO 125 



The hay harvest was an utter failure, the hay 

 looking more like manure on the fields than 

 hay ; some I was told had lain on the ground 

 for five weeks. It has been, as I daresay 

 you know too well, a wretched year for the 

 arts. Nevertheless, young people seem irre- 

 pressible, weddings and births being numer- 

 ous around this neighbourhood. My brother 

 Robert's youngest boy will marry my neigh- 

 bour Mr. Hayllar's daughter next Tuesday, 

 starting for India with her soon afterwards. 



[Here follows the May fragment^ 



There are few things more sad and em- 

 barrassing to any one fond of birds than when 

 in the spring time or early summer a young 

 thrush or starling, just out of the nest for the 

 first time, is brought to you by your children 

 as a great prize. This happens very fre- 

 quently to me at this season, when five or six 

 of these large-mouthed, short-tailed, weak- 

 legged things are continually being suddenly 



