108 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 



was copying tradesmen's circulars, also some 

 copying for two of the local clergy and for an 

 attorney of the town. My work had come as a 

 relief to them. The very first thing I had given 

 them was a paper about the sheldrake. What a 

 strange subject — they could hardly believe their 

 eyes when they saw it. The sheldrake ! — that bird 

 about which they had so many memories, pleasant, 

 and some not quite pleasant. It was all very 

 wonderful. Before they came to Bath they lived 

 with a bachelor brother who had come into a small 

 farm, left him by a distant relation, on the Welsh 

 coast. As he had nothing else in the world he 

 went to live on it and work it himself, and kindly 

 took them to keep house and do the indoor work. 

 The farm was on a very wild, lonely spot, close to 

 the sea, and abounded in birds of many kinds — 

 sea and shore and land — they had never seen 

 before. And though it was a rough place they 

 loved it because of the sea and woods and hills 

 and the birds, and they wished they had never had 

 anything to do with the birds except just to see 

 and admire them. But there was their brother, 

 who was a great sportsman and who had some 

 very strange ideas. One was that most birds were 

 good to eat, and he was always shooting some 

 queer-looking bird and bringing it in to them to 

 dress and cook it for dinner. And the sheldrake 

 was one he often shot. He said it was a sort of 

 duck, and therefore just as good to eat as a mallard, 

 or widgeon, or teal, and that it was nothing but a 



