APRIL, 1883. 299 



remains otherwise uncovered, with the sunlight gleaming 

 upon the rich bluish greys of the young conger's skin. 

 This is the second we have met to-day about a foot in 

 length, so we slip him into our bag, and on arrival at 

 home foolishly toss him into a bucket full of razor-fish, 

 (Solen Siliqua). Scarcely had we turned our backs 

 when the inevitable quack ! quack ! told of enemies nigh 

 at hand, and we rush back only to find that the whole 

 young conger had already passed down the gullet of one 

 of the ducks. How it got on there, and how the host 

 managed to arrange for the stranger, we cannot imagine. 

 Not a nest yet visible, we say. But we hear of a wren 

 building in one corner, a sparrow carrying material in 

 another, while all the woodland rings with melody this 

 fine evening after the storm of these later days. On 

 Wednesday week we drove up the glen on as fine a day 

 as could be anticipated in the merry month of May, with 

 nothing but the backward state of vegetation to speak of 

 spring. The air was mild, the sun warm, the landscape 

 bright and beaming, and we felt, like lotus-eaters, solely 

 bent upon enjoying existence. This was followed next 

 day by a sharp wind, and by the end of the week we 

 had fresh snow down to the foot of the mountains, with 

 a severe thunderstorm and howling hailstorms on the 

 1 4th, and violent gales all this week. The birds were so 

 taken aback that they once more packed as if for winter, 

 and seemed to have made up their minds to give up all 

 " galavanting." To-day what a change ! Have the pairs 

 gone back to the same mates, we wonder, or have they 

 taken advantage of the little interlude to reconsider the 

 subject and exercise anew their right of selection ! On 

 the whole, we are inclined to believe in the steadfast 

 character of a bird's affection so long as the same mate 



