CHAPTEB VI. 
MIGRATION. 
“ And above, in the light 
Of the star-lit night, 
Swift birds of passage wing their flight 
Through the dewy atmosphere. 
I hear the beat 
Of their pinions fleet, 
As from the land of snow and sleet 
They seek a southern lea. 
I hear the cry 
Of their voices high 
Tailing dreamily through the sky, 
But their forms I cannot see.” 
Longfellow. 
Dull days come with autumn on this earth of ours ; 
and want and poverty show their ghastly heads on the 
appearance of winter; yet Nature knows well, at such 
times, how to support her children. When those evil 
days arrive, in which house and home are desolate, 
thousands of living creatures sleep the long sleep of 
death, after they have deposited the seed which is to 
perpetuate their species,—a legacy to the future, an 
offering to mother Nature : some seek shelter in her lap, 
and others, again, wander sad and sorrowful around the 
desert-home. Birds, alone, are fresh and joyous;—yes, 
with the approach of autumn time, they seem endowed 
with a new and special life. 
When the wind sweeps over the stubble, most of our 
