XX. 



A TWILIGHT IDYLL. 



/ ~PHE sun is sinking behind the western hills. The still- 

 ness of twilight is fast settling over the Himalayas. 

 Before me flows a mountain stream, over the rippling 

 water of which a number of redstarts are disporting them- 

 selves. Beautiful little birds are these. Within a few feet 

 of me, standing upon a projecting rock and jauntily 

 spreading his tail, is one of the plumbeous species, a bird 

 which Jerdon has aptly named the water-robin. Very like 

 a robin he looks. His body is dusky indigo blue, while 

 his tail and abdomen are ferruginous. Seen from a little 

 distance the water-robin does not look particularly interest- 

 ing when at rest. But, hey presto ! he has turned into a 

 flash of red ! He has taken to his wings and flight has 

 transfigured him. 



Water-robins feed upon the flies and midges which occur 

 in such numbers over the surface of running water, and 

 this particular one and his companions are busily engaged 

 in securing their evening meal a task which entails a 

 series of excursions into the air, a succession of short rapid 

 flights like those performed by the king-crow. Sometimes 

 the- bird returns to the boulder from whence it started ; 

 more often it alights upon another stone. The flights are 

 never long ; their sweep rarely exceeds four yards. 



A little beyond^the nearest water-robin, and engaged in 

 a similar occupation, is a far more handsome bird, the 

 white-capped redstart. His plumage is black, relieved by 

 a patch, as white as snow, on his head ; while the tail, 

 abdomen and rump are red a more brilliant red than 



