42 THE PIGEON-FANCIER. 



twenty years ago. A halo of romance perti- 

 naciously clings to the first visit paid to Pigeon- 

 dom in our happy halcyon days. I often look 

 back with amusement upon the pleasant scene. 

 A pale, eager youth — brimful of joy, tremulous 

 with hope, enthusiastic in a new hobby, scan- 

 ning the contents of shop windows, peeping 

 surreptitiously through half open shop-doors — 

 wandering up and down like a lost dog in a fair 

 — too timid to walk boldly in and roundly 

 state my wants; Eventually all of a tremble I 

 descended into old Crawley's den, and bought a 

 pair of Baldheads, for which I gave 3s. 6d. 



I started out that morning without any prior 

 attachment influencing my choice. I wanted 

 Pigeons. All breeds were equally pretty to me, 

 because I was profoundly ignorant of them all. 

 I threw the handkerchief at the bird I most 

 admired on the spot. The Baldhead was my 

 first love, and it has never since been deposed 

 from the place of preference it then won in my 

 heart. Club Row a quarter of a century since 

 was in the full flower of its glory as the centre 

 of the pigeon trafSc. Modern street improve- 

 ments have demolished half the thoroughfare, 

 whilst the rise of multitudinous Pigeon-clubs has 

 completed the work of ruin, for most of the 



