CHIMNEY SWALLOW. 



lively motions of the Swallow. The banks of 

 rivers and the margins of small lakes are at all 

 times delightful places for quiet contemplation and 

 for agreeable walks, when the sultry day draws near 

 to a close, or on those stilly and transparent days 

 which immediately precede rain. But there is an 

 excess of repose about them which would soon 

 become monotonous and heavy, except for the evo- 

 lutions of the Swallows, now shooting into mid air, 

 now skimming the surface of the water, and sipping 

 or laving its plumage, as it speeds along, alter- 

 nately with darting wing and with dart-like glide. 

 Then, when we think of the myriads of gnats and 

 flies which the teeming waters are constantly giv- 

 ing to the air, to sport (and sting) for their few 

 hours, deposit their eggs and die, making the 

 shores and shallows which are inaccessible even 

 by the minnow rank with their innumerable car- 

 cases, we feel how much the Swallow contributes 

 to keep sweet and clean those waters over which 

 it glides, quaffing or bathing the while. The air 

 too is so still, that we hear the repeated strokes of 

 its bill as it captures those insects which to our 

 sight are viewless.* 



Early in the summer, (says Goldsmith,) when the 

 returning sun begins to rouse the insect tribe from 

 their annual state of torpidity — when the gnat and 

 the beetle put off their earthly robes and venture 

 into air, the Swallow then is seen returning from 

 its long migration beyond the ocean, and making 

 its way feebly to the shore. At first, with the timi- 



* Mudie's British Birds. 



