26 <I(4fMBLES OF A <DOfMINIS 



willingly rendered. It is very likely true that he would 

 not trouble himself to hunt for snails or dig for chafer- 

 grubs if there were hen-roosts to be harried, chickens to 

 be lifted from the farm-yard, or young rabbits to be 

 poached in the warren. But even if his good works are 

 done against his will, his labours in destroying vast 

 quantities of vermin, snails and grubs, rats and mice, 

 ought to count for something in his favour. But among 

 the ghastly rows that rot upon the keeper's gallows, 

 there will probably be found more magpies than all 

 other birds together. And although, like all his race, 

 he is for the greater part of his time more friend than 

 foe to the unbelieving farmer, it is altogether against 

 the will of his unthankful suzerain. The farmer would 

 none of him. The only dealings that he holds with his 

 unscrupulous retainer are of the nature of those billets 

 which the superstition of the soldier attaches to all 

 bullets. His character is in a manner written over the 

 gateway of his fortress. No bird defends his own with 

 such elaborate precautions. No bandit chief ever drew 

 about his stronghold a stouter barricade. 



Watch an old magpie in the small hours of a late 

 spring morning, flying noiselessly from tree to tree until 

 he has reached the precincts of the homestead. In a 

 great walnut-tree in the orchard he waits, motionless 

 and silent, until a careful scrutiny has satisfied him that 

 no danger lurks among the out-buildings. There is a 

 brood of chickens scattered along the hedgerow, into 

 which two or three of the nufiy brown balls have 

 wandered. One scrambles through the hedge into the 



