22 THE SWALLOW 



make ready for their departure. Upon the 

 house tops, along the eaves, on the walls and 

 the fences, among the cane fields, along the 

 edges of streams, and upon the telegraph 

 wires, they gather in large flocks, all the 

 time chattering and chirping. What are 

 they saying? No doubt they are talking 

 about the coming journey, and the older 

 ones are instructing the younger about it. 

 If we could understand the language of 

 birds we might at this time be able to learn 

 where they go, the dangers which beset 

 them, and the hardships they must endure. 



After much noisy chatter at last they are 

 ready to start. The signal is given — first 

 one, then another, ten, a hundred, an army, 

 rise into the air and circle around as if to 

 take their bearings. Then they set out in a 

 compact mass and are soon lost to sight in a 

 black cloud. 



All summer long these gay little guests 

 have been with us, enlivening the cool shad- 

 ows about our houses, our barns, our public 



