86 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [11.

 

‘Oh yes,’ responded Bristow without a moment’s
hesitation, ‘better than any pigeon pie. Not a doubt
of it?

And so the conversation terminated. Though I
could not help being amused at the obsequious servility
of the cringing Bristow, this conversation explained
to me the cause of the murderous onslaught made
upon my hapless people, and revealed the fate which
was to befall their carcasses. Stripped of their black
and glossy feathers, they would doubtless be thrust
into a pie or pudding, to gratify the palates of their
greedy slaughterers, whom I devoutly hoped might
be choked in the operation of devouring them. This,
however, would after all be but a poor revenge for: us
survivors, and would not bring our lost ones back to
life again. I could here indulge in many moral reflec-
tions upon the cruelty of man, and the sufferings of
rooks and other birds and animals which he chooses
to regard as his lawful prey. But I prefer, and perhaps
my readers may agree with me, to quit a theme
which, as far as I am concerned, is fraught with
melancholy recollections, and pass on to other remi-
niscences of my eventful life.

Perhaps some of my readers will be surprised to
hear me use the word ‘eventful’ in connection with
the life of a rook. We are, I believe, for the most
part, regarded as dull, commonplace birds, whose
chief avocation is to rear and feed our young, to eat
grubs and insects by way of food, and to promote
the domestic felicity of mankind by cawing in a
homely manner around their mansions. This, how-
ever, is a grand mistake, though only one of the many