OCTOBER, 1882. 231 



Wagtails are more or less constant residents with us 

 the year through, but we rarely see more than one pair 

 at a time. Last week, however, as we stood gazing forth 

 of our doorway leading into our sanctum, we observed a 

 pair of grey wagtails alight near our back door and show 

 a disposition to quarrel over the treasure trove still left 

 by the fowls. They were in the midst of a mild alterca- 

 tion when another arrived, and ere long we actually 

 counted seven together at a time. They were not long 

 of quarrelling savagely over the easily gathered store, and 

 we soon lost sight of them as they tumbled pugilistically 

 over the roof. 



OCTOBER, 1882. 



" I don't like the rooks congregating on the shore like 

 that," says the many-wintered observer, whose eyes have 

 scanned the drift of the cloud over the deer in the corrie 

 more than half a century ago. We, too, object to the 

 movements of the sable meteorologists, but seek to know 

 the reasons of our friend for the faith that is in him. 

 "They should take to the hill, but it is too wet, and 

 there is too much moisture in the air." It was clear from 

 their movements throughout the day, never getting higher 

 than the scrubby knoll, where they hung about and loafed 

 ignominiously, that they were in no humour for an 

 important flight Was the atmosphere too heavy for them, 

 were they depressed in spirit despite the high barometer, 

 or were they waiting until the enormous rainfall of these 

 latter days and nights should drain somewhat, and 

 permit the half-drowned worms to throw their earths 

 once more on the terraced slopes of the hills ? 



The day is really strangely mild, close, and oppressive, 



