6o THE PIGEON-FANCIER. 



should abandon his pillow. The poet Thomson 

 arose at noon. S. T. Coleridge vanquished both 

 at this game of gentility, and occasionally could 

 be found in bed at two o'clock in the afternoon. 

 Oh that these drowsy dwellers in the Castle of 

 Indolence had been Pigeon-Fanciers, then would 

 they have mended their manners, for where 

 " tumblers, croppers, carriers seize the gentle 

 mind, they rule." 



My first morning exercise is to replenish the 

 founta,in with clean water, and place in a familiar 

 spot a saucer full of sopped bread with a little 

 salt sprinkled over it. The birds enjoy this 

 dainty dish. I give it only in the breeding season. 

 Immediately I open the door of the loft a number 

 of them fly to it and commence breakfast without 

 saying grace. As they each fly out they pass 

 under my eye, and the accustomed observer can 

 speedily detect the sign of " going queer." After 

 cleaning up inside I do a tour of inspection round 

 the nests; see that the breeding mothers and 

 their rising offspring are all right ; if an old 

 bird is moping at home, instead of joining in 

 the morning frolic outside, I say, "That bird 

 is not well," and watch it accordingly. There 

 are twenty nests in the loft, each one being 

 two feet square. The fronts of them are half- 



