'J 
NATURE NOTES. 
It must be added that through the influence of Mrs. Myles 
— that good friend of the Selborne Society — Mr. F. W. Read, 
the present tenant of Gilbert White’s house (a picture of which 
will be found in Nature Notes for October last), has most 
kindly extended hospitality to belated Selbornians, and will 
facilitate inspection of what remains of the old house and 
landmarks. 
Further particulars will appear in Nature Notes for March, 
so in conclusion I will only urge the importance of early 
help being given to the Committee in the ways I have above 
indicated. 
Dudley Wilmot Buxton. 
WILD LIFE IN TASMANIA. 
I. 
OR two days past the wind has been blowing strongly 
from the east, laden with moisture from the sea, 
which lies in that direction, only three miles distant 
as the crow flies. The sky has been overcast, and at 
intervals a drizzly rain has fallen upon the already sodden earth. 
This afternoon the clouds begin slowly and unwillingly to 
break, and the sun peeps slowly out, as if half afraid to show 
his face after so unusual an absence. Immediately, animal life 
begins to awaken from the drowsy state which the lately heavy 
atmosphere induced. 
I am seated upon a log at the back of a little clearing; behind 
me is a little grove of gum saplings; in front and to the left is 
grassland, dotted with stumps of the musk and dogwood trees 
which formerly grew there ; to the right, the almost trackless bush. 
By my side is a gun, brought in the hope that some of the 
fevce natuvce in the shape of kangaroo or wallaby may venture out 
to the grass paddock for a feed. But my attention is absorbed 
by the birds which the sun glimpses have called forth. 
Most energetic of these is the little flycatcher, black and grey, 
with small streaks of white about the wings and ta.il. Perched 
upon a dogwood stump, he preens his feathers with his tiny 
bill ; suddenly he darts upward, almost perpendicularly, alight- 
ing again with quite a little flap, then off again horizontally, 
turning and twisting with marvellous rapidity after his insect 
prey, then downwards and up again, sometimes bringing up on 
his old stump, sometimes choosing another. Most impudent 
is he too, as well as energetic, sometimes alighting on the log 
close beside me, and sitting there for half a minute or so (which 
is his utmost limit for keeping still) with as much confidence as 
need be, as if quite assured of the benevolence of my intentions 
