248 AN ANGLER AT LARGE 



the banks of rivers, and my thoughts alone are 

 no light weight. 1 restored the fledgling to the 

 nest, added the worms, and went for further food. 



I procured a saucer, brown bread, milk. I steeped 

 the crumb of the bread in the milk. I brought 

 sugar, one lump, and therewith sweetened the mess. 

 Sugar is sustaining. The German army performs 

 prodigies of route-marching on sugar alone. I 

 placed the saucerful of bread, milk, and sugar in 

 the nest, after replacing the fledgling in that snug 

 nook. The worms, too, had wandered away. 

 These I placed in the sugar and milk and bread. 

 Then I put the fledgling on the whole and, closing 

 the creel, stole away confident that the bird would 

 do well enough. 



Half an hour later I returned. 



The fledgling was dead. 



This is really a tragedy one of the innumerable 

 tragedies of good intentions ; for 1 have been told, 

 since, that had I not meddled, the chick would 

 have been cared for by its parents and nursed, out 

 of nest, to a size, strength, and wing-power which 

 should enable it to look after itself. If this be 

 so which I should like to deny I am responsible 

 for the death of this young bird. Yet my inten- 

 tions towards it were of the most kindly. If I 

 sinned it was through ignorance, which is no 

 excuse, hardly a palliation. 1 assumed a respon- 



