274 WITHIN AN HOUR OF LONDON TOWN. 



is, running on the margin, now for a moment he 

 perches on one of the willow-boughs that hang over 

 the water, the next he is minutely inspecting the 

 moss - covered top of one of the stones that rise 

 just above the surface of the rippling stream. But 

 no matter where the bird may be, he is never quiet, 

 always flirting, dibbing, bobbing, as restless after 

 a fashion as the green sandpiper. There is, how- 

 ever, this great difference, the fiddler has not re- 

 ceived that imperative migrating order to move on 

 that his larger, and, as far as plumage goes, more 

 handsome relative seems to obey. This sandpiper 

 breeds with us. The young, covered with down, 

 grey on the back, with a dark -brown stripe and 

 white underneath, are the prettiest and most inno- 

 cent little fellows that can be imagined, nimble also 

 to a degree. The birds swim and dive well too, 

 when there is any necessity for it ; they are sprightly 

 creatures, that by their incessant activity give life 

 at times to places which, without them, would be 

 lonesome. 



With that brown and grey impersonation of bird- 

 craft, that swimmer, diver, runner, and climber, 

 the water -rail, my chapter on the waders, a brief 



