anti 



from my visitors. As it looks rather like the erec- 

 tion of a pit-head, I call it the " Kent Colliery." 

 My theory is that usually, when climbing roses 

 have attained their best growth on a support on 

 the open lawn, the support gives way and what 

 might be an object of great beauty is spoilt at its 

 best stage of development. My tripod will not 

 collapse or topple over in a gale of wind, even with 

 a ton of rose branches hanging down from it. It 

 is no doubt an eyesore now; but I shall triumph 

 over scoffers when it braves the elements smoth- 

 ered in a heavy cataract of roses. 



But I have wandered away from the starlings. 

 They have also laid eggs and are rearing a brood 

 in a compartment of one of the pigeon-houses. 

 As the pigeons are always fighting among them- 

 selves and turn each other out of these compart- 

 ments, I do not understand how they have come 

 to let such intruders in. But they have, and one 

 of the hostesses takes an occasional turn at sitting 

 on the starling's eggs for her. It is evident, there- 

 fore, that my pigeons, in spite of domestic differ- 

 ences and brawls, are hospitable to strangers, like 

 many human beings. 



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