22 
BIBDS IN A VILLAGE. 
But this, as every ornithologist knows, is only a 
part of the truth. The large number of stuffed 
kingfishers under glass shades that one sees in 
houses of all descriptions in town and country, but 
most frequently in the parlours of country cottages 
and inns, tell a melancholy story. Some time ago 
a young man showed me three stuffed kingfishers 
in a case, and informed me that he shot them at a 
place (which he named) quite close to London. He 
said that these three birds were the last of their 
kind seen there ; that he had gone week after week 
and watched and waited, until one by one, at long 
intervals, he had secured them all ; and that two 
years had passed since the last one was killed, and 
no other kingfisher had been seen at the place. 
He added that the water-side which these birds 
had frequented was resorted to by crowds of 
London working people on Saturday afternoons, 
Sundays, and other holidays ; and the fact that 
hundreds, perhaps thousands, of pairs of tired eyes 
would have been freshened and gladdened by the 
sight of their rare gem-like beauty only made him 
prouder of his achievement. This young man was 
a cockney of the small shop-keeping class — a Philis- 
tine of the Philistines — hence there was no call to 
feel surprise at his self-glorification over such a 
matter. But what shall we say of that writer 
whose masterly works in English rural life are 
