Birds of 
Passage. 
(192) THE BIRD WORLD. 
The North Holds Sway. 
At the present time I should say more 
exhibition Norwich are produced in the 
land of the Red Rose than in any other 
district in England. Northampton and 
Coventry have fallen from their hi^h 
estate, and, although many good Nor¬ 
wich are still bred within their boun¬ 
daries, breeders of other districts do not 
now make yearly pilgrimages to the 
towns of leather and cycles as they used 
to do, in search of first-class birds for 
the show bench. The days of Thomp¬ 
son, Howe and Robinson, Adams and 
Athersuch, Curzons, Gayton, Cox, 
Mason, Martin, Anderton, Webb, Mus- 
cutt, etc. Nottingham and its suburbs, 
and Plymouth have maintained their 
positions, and now, as then, some of 
the best in the land annually hail there¬ 
from. 
Birds of Passage. 
When autumn paints the woodland trees 
In russet, red, and yellow, 
And chilly blows the evening breeze, 
O’er orchards ripe and mellow; 
Then is the time to bid farewell, 
With many a sigh of sorrow, 
To little friends that with us dwell, 
But leave us on the morrow. 
The Turtle Dove and Swift are gone; 
The Warblers soon must follow; 
And then will linger, all alone, 
The last remaining Swallow. 
No longer will fhe Whitethroat scold, 
Along the hedges flitting; 
No more we see the Shrike so bold 
Upon the fence-top sitting. 
With every gust of wind that blows, 
The red leaves whirl and patter; 
And every late autumnal rose 
Her petals soon must scatter. 
At eventide, the dews lie deep, 
On field and pasture gleaming ; 
At dawn, the mists are still asleep. 
Upon the hilltops dreaming. 
Ye seek a warmer clime than ours, 
Ye birds of sunny weather; 
Ye go where winter has its flowers. 
And green trees blown together. 
But we shall miss you sorely here, 
In woodland, copse, and dingle, 
Where in the springtime of the year 
Your voices used to mingle. 
Farewell! ye birds of summer days, 
And may good luck attend you! 
Here lies the parting of the ways— 
May fortune fair befriend you! 
And when grim Winter’s reign is o’er, 
And Spring goes forth to meet you 
You’ll come back to our island shore, 
Where welcome warm will greet you. 
Ida Norman. 
