io6 THE SWALLOW 



with its twittering morning song. Next husband and 

 wife begin their flight. Swift as an arrow, off they go, 

 seizing flying insects and caressing each other on the 

 way. The Chimney Swallow, when on the wing, utters 

 a hasty " Beeweest, beeweest," especially if it is 

 alarmed. Its cry is a tender " Weet" or " Weeda 

 iveet." 



Soon comes the brooding time; then, the young ones 

 slip out of the eggs, and the work of feeding and 

 educating begins. The parents take it in turns to 

 perform these duties, which they do with the greatest 

 industry, and even when the young ones are as big as 

 themselves, and fully fledged, they still place them in a 

 row on some bough, and bring them food. It is 

 beautiful to see with what fidelity this is done. It is a 

 sight to move heart and mind with tenderness, and this 

 is the pet bird of our people, who care for it, and gladly 

 give it shelter and protection ; not however, that of the 

 Southerners, who catch and cook Swallows by hundreds 

 of thousands. 



We hear from all parts of the country of the scarcity 

 of Swallows, and various theories have been offered as 

 to the reason of this. In France their numbers have 

 been for years systematically reduced by the snaring 

 and destruction of them, in various ways, for table use. 

 An instance of this I can personally vouch for. A 

 doctor in Nismes, the brother of a friend of my own, 

 who is keen on bird protection, being in the market one 

 day, was pressed by a poulterer to buy Larks. When 

 he refused, the man, thinking the price was too high 

 for him, took him aside and showed him two hampers 

 apparently full of these birds, which are allowed to be 



