92 THE ORIOLES. 



in our gardens, is the beautiful little lora (lor a 

 zeylonica, or tiphia as it is called now), a black 

 and yellow bird, about the size of a tomtit. The 

 top of its head, with all its back and upper parts, 

 is as black as a newly brushed boot, with a white 

 band across the wing. In sharp contrast with 

 this, the Avhole under parts, from chin to tail, are 

 bright gamboge yellow. This is a dandy costume 

 enough for any bird, but the lora has concealed 

 finery besides. At that season when "the young 

 man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love," you 

 will see the male lora spring up into the air and 

 hover for a moment, and all at once the long, white 

 downy plumes that keep its ribs warm will start out 

 on each side. Then, like a white puff ball, dashed 

 with black and gold, it will slowly descend, quivering 

 and glittering in the rays of the morning sun. This 

 is not flirtation, nor fickle courtship. The bird is 

 making love indeed, but to its own true-hearted 

 spouse ; for I believe that these birds, like all the 

 Bulbuls, when once united, remain true to each other 

 till death do them separate. The spouse is almost 

 as lovely as her lord, but not so striking, for the top 

 of her head and back are green instead of black. 

 So are his for the most part during the cold season : 

 the glossy black back is part of his summer suit. 

 They go through life together, and if you watch him 

 as he hops from twig to twig, hunting every leaf for 

 caterpillars, you may notice that, every time he 

 utters his low whistle, there is a soft echo from 

 another tree. The lora has no song, but scarcely 

 any other bird has such a variety of sweet notes. Its 

 voice is heard in every garden, and if you catch sight 



