26 WITHIN AN HOUR OF LONDON TOWN. 



CHAPTER III. 



BIRDS OF NIGHT. 



" WHAT you can find to look at in that lot of var- 

 mints beats me. You may look at 'em for a week 

 if it's any good to you. I wish there wasn't so many 

 of 'em, I do. All that lot's bin killed this year. 

 That one you seem most struck with was knocked 

 over last autumn." 



Half to myself, I mutter, " Poor things ! not 

 much harm have you done." 



" What ! you mean to say a good word for them 

 owls ? Surely, man alive ! you must be going daft." 



"I do; and what's more, if this estate belonged 

 to me, not one of these birds should be spread-eagled 

 out here." 



"Well, all I can say, Mr Whoever-you-are, is, 



