Has it been your fortune or misfortune to find yourself the table companion of a bird enthusiast? One of the kind you know, who begins breathlessly: Good morning, have you heard the thrushes?" and before you can retort "Unfortunately—yes," goes on, "But I have seldom been so lucky. There was a real warbler this morning. One with the note, something like this you know—"' (more or less successful efforts to reproduce the: strain) "and then changing to—" {more tiwitters while the coffee cools.)
Doubtless you are familiar with the type that stumbles noisily out of the house while all other good holiday-makers are trying to obtain at least half as much sleep as they get in working days, that lurks in swamps with field glasses to grow unduly intimate with our feathered friends, and then to report their actions at length at. tiffin or dinner. They spoil the hunting: they render shady dells unsafe for—lovers; they insult the nightingale with their dictaphonic methods.
But after all we could could forgive them much if they did not! make it impossible for us to shine conversationally. T speak for myself. at least, for with the aid of Mr. Freud and the memories of a shrewd grandmother who always said "Put your finger on the sore place and name it,'"' I have decided that I hate bird lovers because I am a talk-lover myself and hate to be kept outside the table chit-chat.
When all is understood, all is forgiven, Ive heard. Be that: as it may. at any rate once all is understood it's your own fault if it be not. circumvented. Therefore I am now preparing a little line of my wu to use when my friends return from vacation, full of innocent enthusiasm and looking forward to undisputed control of the conversation. My line shall be the Shanghai bird and I would fain acknowledge my indebtedness to the correspondents of this paper who have given me much valued information.
On being suddenly transplanted %o the country have you not missed the familiar honks of the motors, the clang of trams to lull you off to slumber? And then after a few fitful hours of repose in which the rural quietness weighed heavily upon your unaccustomed ears, have you not been rudely awakened by most infernal din? Your first instinctive reaction may be fire-fight-
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.