as some time before he began to
feel really bright and well again.

It was also about this time that the Blackbird noticed a most unusual
gathering together of the swallows, and a good deal of commotion and
twittering. They assembled in large flocks, and appeared to be eagerly
discussing some weighty affair of State. After such discussions they
would suddenly disperse, but only to re-assemble and twitter more
eagerly than ever.

What could it all mean? Of course the sage and experienced Rook was
referred to.

"These birds," he said, "are about to what is called _migrate_, it is a
very important event to them, and they hold long consultations
beforehand. As you may remember, I told you in the spring they do not
spend above half the year in England, and now that the leaves are
falling, and the winds are getting cold, they know it is high time to be
off. They are wonderfully quick flyers, a few days will find them on the
distant shores of Africa."

"It must be very sunny, very delightful there," said the Blackbird.

"I daresay it is," replied the Rook, hopping slowly from one fir-branch
to another; "but I had far rather remain at home. Dear old place!" he
said, looking at the venerable gray mansion, and then at the beautiful
lake and wood behind which the sun was setting. "I wouldn't miss the
winter and spring here for anything that Africa or any other place in
the wide world could give me."

The gray stones and gables were bright with the glory of the setting
sun, the ruddy stems of the firs had caught the reflection and stood out
in their depth of red from the dark green foliage. Some autumn flowers
and a few late roses still gave colour to the garden, and the sound of
far-off childish voices echoed from the more distant lime-trees.

Willie came dancing across the lawn, and the perambulator, pushed by
Nurse Barlow, followed more slowly. Willie's eyes were sparkling with
excitement. He had been out with his father, and had hunted the
hedgerows for blackberries to his heart's content. In one hand he held a
small basket wherein lay some fresh-gathered mushrooms. In the other he
bore in triumph a large hazel branch, loaded with nuts. Just then his
mother came out on the lawn, and he ran towards her with eager joy and
affection.

"Look, mother! I picked these in the field my very own self. Ain't they
beauties?" he said, turning the mushrooms slowly over; "they're for your
dinner, and _I_ picked them."

They certai