ravely setting out on foot to do
his journey of hundreds of miles over sea and land, when he saw his
brethren depart for another clime.

One of nature's grandest sights is the yearly flight southwards of wild
swans from Norway to the great lakes in Turkey. The birds fly at the
rate of about one hundred miles an hour, in vast flocks, shaped like the
letter V, the sharp end foremost, as an arrow passes through the air. At
the point flies the leader or captain, the strongest and wisest of the
band, and ahead of the main army he sends a skirmishing swan to keep a
sharp look-out. This swan's business it is to see if the coast is clear.
From time to time he comes rushing back with some warning note. Then
there is a great cackling, a pause, and a council. After holding this
noisy parliament, the army resumes its course, or changes it, according
to the news brought. When the swans reach the lake, they do not swoop
down till the captain has made a careful search around, poking among the
reeds, flapping over the surface, and even taking a sip of the water, to
make sure that nothing has happened to make the lake dangerous for swans
since the last time he was there. All being well, he signals to the
band, who descend with a rush, and soon cover the water with their
graceful forms.

Do pigeons carry watches? How do London pigeons, for instance, tell the
hour, and turn up punctually at the feeding-places? At Guildhall Yard
the birds come early in the morning to eat the breakfast provided for
them, but they do not stay all day. At Finsbury Circus, Draper's Hall
Gardens, and other places in London, there are flocks which are
carefully fed at regular hours, and those who have the care of them
agree that at feeding-time the flocks are always joined by large numbers
of guests from without. Perhaps the pigeons ask each other out to dine,
mentioning the hours for the meals!

[Illustration: A Flight of Wild Swans.]

The rough idea of time which all living things possess is keenest in
domestic animals. The dogs, cats, horses, donkeys, and others, who know
certain days in the week and hours in the day without clock or almanac,
may be guided by noticing little events which we do not, but which show
them the time; or they may even feel the position of the sun, though it
cannot be seen. However this may be, they show a sense which we must
admire and may envy. Horses are great observers of time, as many
anecdotes show, perhaps none better than