220 MYSTERIES OF THE MARSH 



any other in the vicinity, flew slowly, sol- 

 emnly, and heavily over the house, beating 

 his enormous wings, and sometimes uttering 

 a hoarse cry as he went. He alighted far over 

 in the marsh, and wait and watch as long as 

 we chose, we never saw him return. 



It was always too dark to see who he was 

 or what he did, even with the best glasses, 

 and so it seemed it might always be a mys- 

 tery. Four or five years, my hostess said, this 

 had been his habit, and formerly he had a 

 companion, but for a year or two he had 

 been alone. 



It was really pathetic to See the lonely bird 

 wing his way to the solitary marsh after 

 every other feathered resident had retired 

 for the night. Perhaps he was the last of 

 his race, and had learned by sad experience 

 to keep hidden during the day, and feed only 

 after dark. What tragedy had left him to 

 suffer alone ! Thus I thought, as I watched 

 him going over on his lonely way. 



If I could get nearer to the mysterious 

 bird, I thought I could see him better. 

 So one evening just before time for him 

 to appear, I started down the meadow to- 



