Outside my windows in Florence, during the 

 autumn, I heard a note so hke our Robin's scolding I 

 knew it must be the Yellow-bill, and there he was and 

 there he stayed week after week with his friends and 

 relations. There too was the Great Titmouse, and 

 one day a flash of blue showed the little Titmouse. 



I had hoped to see the European Goldfinches often, 

 and I looked for them everywhere, listening in all 

 possible places for their music, but the only Gold- 

 finches I saw were some in a cage on the Ponte Vec- 

 chio in Florence, for sale! although their sale is for- 

 bidden by Italian law. Italy is very careless in re- 

 gard to her feathered inhabitants and at present 

 blocks the bird-protection of the world. 



The last bird that I saw in Italy was in the Forum 

 in Rome — on a day in mid-jSTovember and the bird 

 was the tiny five-and-a-half-inch long "English" 

 Robin, the "Pettirosso" (Redbreast) of Italy. In 

 among the majestic ruins of that marvellous place the 

 little creatures seemed even smaller than ever, but 

 quite at his ease was he finding the same protection 

 amid the historic stones which he had known, perhaps, 

 beside some English cottage. 



THE DESTRUCTION OF BIRD 

 LIFE IN BERNARDSVILLE 



By Meredith H. Pyne 



There are more moments of danger than of peace 

 in the life of a bird. From the time the egg is laid to 

 the time of his death he is going through a series of 



13 



