BIRDS AT THEIR BEST 11 



and resumed their work of carrying sheep to 

 the boat. 



It was one of the adventures met with by 

 the man of the tale in his travels that came into 

 my mind when I was in the Booth Museum, and 

 caused me to smile. In his wanderings in a 

 thinly settled district, he arrived at a village 

 where, passing by the church, his attention was 

 attracted by a curious spectacle. The church 

 was a big building with a rounded roof, and 

 great blank windowless walls, and the only door 

 he could see was no larger than the door of a 

 cottage. From this door as he looked a small 

 old man came out with a large empty sack in 

 his hands. He was very old, bowed and bent 

 with infirmities, and his long hair and beard 

 were white as snow. Toddling out to the middle 

 of the churchyard he stood still, and grasping the 

 empty sack by its top, held it open|Detween his 

 outstretched arms for a space of about five 

 minutes ; then with a sudden movement of his 

 hands he closed the sack's mouth, and stiU 

 grasping it tightly, hurried back to the church 

 as fast as his stiflF joints would let him, and dis- 

 appeared within the door. By and by he came 



