which would occur if the bird were tempted
to descend at the sight of water. The best
pigeons always had a brood of their own at
Aleppo; and it was anxiety about the
children that hurried the parents back. It
was found that if the pigeons were kept at
Scanderoon more than a fortnight, they
could not be relied upon for returning to
Aleppo; the thoughts of Dulce Domum
faded and weakened. There are lofty hills
between Scanderoon and Aleppo; the birds,
instead of ascending gradually to the summit
of those hills, used to dart up vertically
to an amazing height, where they could
look right over them. It is recorded that on
one occasion an Aleppo merchant got hold
of one of these pigeons, read the letter or
packet, and thereby ascertained the news
that there was a great scarcity of Aleppo
galls in England; he kept the news to
himself, bought up all the galls in the
market before the company to whom the
bird belonged knew anything about the
matter, and made a rare profit by the
immediate rise in price. This kind of thing is
quite compatible with commercial notions,
as usually understood; to get first news, and
to work the market before others obtain
the information, has been the means of
accumulating many colossal fortunes. If
the news be really honestly obtained, there
cannot perhaps be much said against it;
but there is an "if."

There was a great deal of this kind of
pigeon-expressing in old days. Some of
the victors at the Olympian games were
wont to send the good news to distant
friends by pigeon-express. When Modena
was besieged by the Romans, correspondence
was maintained by pigeons between
Decimus Brutus and Hirtius; and Pliny
was so much struck with the plan that
he said, "Of what avail are sentinels,
circumvallations, or nets obstructing rivers,
when intelligence can be conveyed by
aërial messengers?" In later days, in the
time of the Crusades, carrier-pigeons were
extensively employed. Instances are
recorded in which birds sent out by the
besieged were captured by the besiegers, and
let loose again, with a message calculated
to deceive those to whom they were sent;
hawks were trained to the work of bringing
down the pigeons without injuring
them. This is one of the drawbacks to the
use of such messengers when secrecy is
intended. When the Christians were besieging
Acre, Saladin at a distance for some
time maintained communication with the
besieged by means of carrier-pigeons; but
one day a winged messenger was shot down
by an arrow; the message it conveyed was
intercepted; and such use was made of the
information as to secure the surrender of
the place before Saladin could arrive with
succour.

When Tyburn was a place for executions
many criminals, after arriving at the
foot of the gibbet, had a pardon or
reprieve sent to them. The uncertainty in
which, the relatives and friends of the
condemned persons were kept on this point
made it a time of great anxiety; especially
in days when persons of wealth and family
were not unfrequently sentenced to execution,
so portentous was the list of crimes
punishable with death. Carrier-pigeons
were therefore sent to Tyburn before the
time of the expected execution, and were
set flying as soon as one of two events had
taken place—the hanging or the reprieving.
Politics and crime have been alike brought
within the ken (or under the wing) of the
carrier-pigeon. The pashas of the various
Turkish provinces used to be supplied with
pigeons reared in the sultan's palace at
Constantinople. When news of an
insurrection or other emergency had to be
transmitted, a pigeon was sent off with a
letter. However far distant the province,
the bird found its way back; but to prevent
mischance five or six were sent at
once, the safe journey of any one of which
would suffice. At one period slight towers
were built thirty or forty miles apart, a
sentinel sent on by a second pigeon the
news received by a first, and so on from
tower to tower, thereby bringing each
bird's journey within an hour's flight, and
lessening the risk of mishaps.

Narratives are plentiful concerning
particular flights of pigeons. In the last
century, a gentleman in London sent a
pigeon by stage-coach to a friend at Bury
St. Edmund's, with a note directing the
friend to let the pigeon loose at nine in the
morning on the second day afterwards.
This was done, and the pigeon arrived
at Bishopsgate-street at half-past eleven,
having done the distance of seventy-two
miles in two hours and a half. In 1819,
thirty-two pigeons, which had been reared
at Antwerp, and brought to London, were
set loose on a particular day; each pigeon
bore the words "Antwerp" and "London"
marked on the wings for identification.
They started at seven in the morning:
one arrived at Antwerp at noon, another
a quarter of an hour afterwards, twelve
others on the following day; but what