AROUND EPSOM AND LEATHERHEAD 159 



Cows in the meadows and horses turned out 

 do, as every child knows, keep Sunday. I do 

 not mean horses which are given a run in the 

 fields on the day that comes betwixt the Saturday 

 and Monday — they ought to know — but gees 

 having a spell of long rest, or lucky ones with 

 all their working troubles to come and no record 

 of labour so far. Do the little dicky birds and 

 the big, the undomesticated who live on their 

 own — can they tell when Christmas comes once 

 a year ? The robin of the picture should be able 

 to spot the date and be pleased with it, because 

 he is always (in them) being treated to about 

 enough to make too much for twenty birds ten 

 times his size. My word ! that means a lot too, 

 as you would find out if an old man redbreast 

 selected you for purveyor and insisted upon being 

 fed at all hours during the day, with quick lunches 

 going perpetually between the meals. If the 

 birds of the air are informed in the matter of 

 the seasons other than by Nature's calendar — 

 the coming and going of the fruits of the earth, 

 the cold and warmth — I guess the very one they 

 do most dislike is old-fashioned Christmas winter. 

 And so do I, for their sakes. Seeing the poor 

 little bodies puffed out with cold, being starved 

 and clemmed when human attention is dwelling 

 quite sufficiently on plentiful eating and drinking, 

 makes you feel that there is something wrong. 

 We are not half so bad as we used to be, thanks 

 in great measure to the gun licensing being so 

 well looked after, and one seldom now sees hobble- 

 dehoys blowing to pieces little, little songsters, as 

 easy to hit as a winter cabbage. 



I took particular notice of the birds at Christ- 

 mas as I perambulated round about in a sort of 



