April 6—I have come to the conclusion recently that nobody loves a rook: they are charged with being dirty, of tearing the twigs off trees and, worst sin of all in the ores of some, of making a noise early in the morning when master nts to sleep. An elderly gentleman of my acquaintance has bought himself a catapult and may be seen daily at his window taking pot-shots at Rooks....he says that when the birds see him now, they all fly away—but up to date come back again to work en their nests; perhaps he is not a very good shot. I know one garden in Shanghai where the owners have destroyed the rooks' nests twice already this year, and now the poor birds are all crowding into one small tree about a mile away, with disastrous results to the tempers of the lady rooks: it's all very sad. Every morning now a little party of rooks come into my garden to feed with the other birds....and right away my wife leaps up out of her seat and starts waving a napkin to frighten them away: and when I told her, ever so gently, this was the first time I could accuse my wife of being a score-crow, she gave me a nasty look and went after the rooks again more fiercely than ever. I can't understand all this hatred of rooks: 1 admit they are not well-dressed birds, and often look really shabby—as if their trousers didn't fit them: they are not like our wealthy city fathers who have the Jermyn and Sackville Street habit; their black morning coats come from Yates Road and their hats (if any) are obviously hired from Moss-Bros: but poverty is no crime and I cannot see why these birds should be persecuted just because their plus-fours are too baggy. I must speak to the S.S.P.C.A. about this.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.