At length the moment of departure is come, and at a given signal the whole party rises. Twittering and singing, and bidding a long farewell to the scenes of their summer life, they fly off in a body, perhaps, if coming from Scotland, or the north of England, to rest yet a few weeks in the warmer southern counties; after which, a general departure takes place to the sunny lands of Africa. Though gifted with wings wonderfully constructed for prolonged flight, and though having passed every day of so many successive months almost wholly on the wing, the swallow frequently suffers great fatigue and exhaustion in its long migration. Sometimes, probably driven out of its course by adverse winds, it is known to alight by hundreds on the rigging of vessels, when worn out by hunger and fatigue it is too often shot or cruelly treated. Nevertheless the swallow, protected by Him who cares for the sparrow, generally braves the hardships of migration, and the following spring, guided by the same mysterious instinct, finds his way across continents and seas to his old home, where, identified by some little mark which has been put upon him—a silken thread as a garter, or a light silver ring—he is recognised as the old familiar friend, and appears to be no less happy to be once more with them than are they to welcome him. Sometimes swallows coming back as ordinary strangers, prove their identity, even though the scene of their last year’s home may have been pulled down, together with the human habitation. In this case, he has been known to fly about in a distracted way, lamenting the change that had taken place, and seeming as if nothing would comfort him. Though the fact of swallows coming back to their old haunts does not need proving, yet I will close my chapter with an incident which occurred in our own family. During a summer storm, a martin’s nest, with young, was washed from the eaves of my husband’s paternal home. His mother, a great friend to all birds, placed the nest with the young, which happily were uninjured, in a window, which, being generally open, allowed the parent-birds access to their young. They very soon began to feed them, making no attempt to build any other nest; so that the young were successfully reared, and took their flight full-fledged from the window-sill. [Sidenote: _A Welcomed Return to Old Haunts._] The next spring, when the time for the arrival of the swallows came, great was the surprise and pleasure of their kind hostess, to see, one day, a number of swallows twittering about the window, as if impatient for entrance. On its being opened, in they flew, and, twittering joyfully and circling round the room, as if recognising the old hospitable asylum of the former year, flew out and soon settled themselves under the eaves with the greatest satisfaction. There could be no doubt but that these were the birds that had been reared there. [Illustration] CHAPTER XI. THE CHIFF-CHAFF, OR OVEN-BUILDER.