38 TUMBLES OF A VOMINIS 



sound which tells of an old rook being fed by her mate 

 as she sits upon her nest. 



How many a bird's-nester has been tempted, in his 

 younger days at any rate, by the sight of those great 

 piles of sticks, to risk his neck among the slender 

 branches, or, what perhaps is worse, to dare the wrath 

 of the farmer, whose eyes and ears keep jealous watch 

 over his rookery. 



The best climber in the company has been having a 

 good time of it among the tree-tops, while the indignant 

 citizens wheeling overhead proclaimed their wrongs to 

 all the country side. 



Suddenly a burly figure is seen, coming at swift pace 

 across the field. His round red face, his brandished 

 cudgel, the ominous threats that travel far before him, 

 scatter in hasty flight those of the party who were 

 watching from below. The climber alone is in the tree, 

 and mindful of the plunder in his pockets he cautiously 

 descends the trunk of the great elm, landing on the turf 

 before the very eyes of the farmer. Under a heavy fire 

 of abuse and promises of chastisement, pockets are 

 emptied and the spoil reluctantly surrendered. The 

 baffled bird's-nester beats an undignified retreat, followed 

 off the field by threats of vengeance summons, county 

 gaol ; threats that will attend him perhaps in sleep, and 

 break his rest by dreams of magistrates and men in 

 blue. 



Time softens even memories such as these. And who 

 shall say that, in the sight of the young collector, the 

 couple of great eggs broadly splashed with green and 



