THE CONFESSIONS OF A FANCIER. 51 



weather travelled through the perforated panels 

 of the storeroom door, and wandered capri- 

 ciously upstairs and downstairs and in my lady's 

 chamber, brought matters to a hurried crisis. 

 The birds were voted an unmitigated nuisance 

 in the house. I pleaded their cause, but my elo- 

 quence was wasted sweetness on the desert air. 

 I clung loyally and tenaciously to them whilst a 

 shred of hope remained. I was ingloriously 

 and overwhelmingly beaten. Their doom was 

 sealed. I disposed of my stock a second time. 



For several years after this I did not ride my 

 hobby, although I often wished myself up in the 

 stirrups. I frequently walked a considerable 

 distance out of my way to pass a pigeon-shop — 

 an infirmity of which I am not yet thoroughly 

 cured. Much time was spent during these years 

 in foreign travel, which disturbed the continuity 

 of home life, and rendered the keeping of birds an 

 impossibility. It was not till one May morning 

 four years ago, standing in the Square of St. 

 Mark, Venice, surrounded by a contingent of the 

 enormous colony of Pigeons established there, 

 that the desire reasserted itself in a masterful 

 manner. I resolved to recommence in the Fancy. 

 During the remainder of our stay at Venice, when 

 possible, I gladly renounced doing the picture- 



