To Mountain Tarn 



nobler stewardship of life. There are other 

 thralls. The modern serfs are the wild creatures. 

 One wonders if there is a lack of humour in his 

 lordship, who gravely writes : " I have ordered 

 the jays and magpies to be killed out." 



On the magpie's plumage is a soft sheen, an 

 effect in black and white, which nature alone may 

 produce, Man could not arrange the feathers 

 for another magpie ; he can only disarrange them 

 with a shot. And then there is the vivacity. Any 

 atrabilious proprietor who has been put all wrong 

 by the loss of a few pheasants' eggs may learn 

 that it is possible to be light-hearted on very 

 much less than he possesses ; no stately dinner, 

 but a chance bite in the covert. 



The bird has a strange nest. Most like a big 

 loose bundle of twigs, approximately circular, and 

 pushed into the bush or tree. One must go 

 round about it before he can make quite sure 

 what it is. Somewhere is a hole in the side, 

 through which the nest proper, and the eggs, if 

 such there be, appear. If the curious would 

 go further, he may find the entrance somewhat 

 tortuous and the guarding twigs beset with thorns, 

 which scratch the hand. This is supposed to be 

 a robber's haunt, the precautions of a notorious 

 egg-stealer to prevent reprisals. And it looks 

 marvellous like. If it be so, then there is no 

 shame nor delicacy. Only, petty thieves among 

 birds are few, and in Scotland mainly confined to 



