NA rURA L HIS TOR V NO TES. 2 1 7 
F. R., that I have heard their charming note just before daybreak. Also, I have 
heard them once or twice in the daytime in Claverlon Woods, near Bath. 
Ste. Alarguerite sur mer, Seine Inf irieure. Emily Spknder. 
Nightjar and Chiffchaff (p. 197). — The variation in the song of the chifl- 
chaff noted by me on the above page should stand thus, “ feet-feet, chiff-chafl, 
chiflf-chafT.” 
Fyjield, Abingdon. W. II. War.n'ER. 
Gratitude in Birds. — A few days ago I was calling upon a lady at this 
seaside watering-place, when she related to me the following anecdote. She 
said she was leaving Paris, in July last, for her home here, where she resides 
during the summer months, when, just as she was about to enter the train, she 
felt something fall softly on her head, and, putting up her hand, she felt there was 
a little bird entangled in her hair. It had either fallen, accidentally, out of its 
nest, from the roof of the station, or it had made an unsuccessful attempt to fly 
when it was not quite fully fledged. The kind lady at once released the little 
intruder (which proved to be a hen sparrow) from her hair ; and, on entering the 
railway carriage, she commenced to feed it with bread crumbs from her mouth. 
So far from resisting this, the little bird fully appreciated this mark of delicate 
attention, and whenever it w'anted feeding afterwards it appealed to its kind 
“mama” — by opening its mouth and flapping its tiny wings — for nourishment, 
which was quickly supplied to it. It was brought safely to England, and is now 
comfortably housed in a pretty little cage in the lady’s boudoir. Whenever 
“ mama ” enters the room, the little bird flies excitedly against the bars of its cage 
with joy at seeing its kind benefactress ; and whenever the cage door is opened, 
which it is occasionally, to let the little fellow enjoy a “ fly out ” (care being first 
taken that there are no windows open, or cats or dogs near at hand), it makes 
straight for its benefactress and alights on her shoulder. The friendship which 
has sprung up between the two is very pretty to behold, and the unmistakable 
gratitude of the little bird to its kind protectress, as expressed by a simple chirp, 
is really very touching. 
St. Leonards. C. H. 
About a Spider. — On June 30 last I noticed a small spider on the dinner 
table. I carried him on my napkin to the open window and shook him off" on 
the sill. He took a short turn round and immediately began to climb up into 
the air. Trying to see if there was any floating line above him, I put my lens 
too close and disturbed him, and he fell to the ledge again from a height of about 
six inches. Then I watched him closely. As before, he ran round a small 
area — i inch or so across — apparently anchoring his line at three or more points. 
Then he started climbing again. He rose at an angle of about 60°, and 
finally reached the edge of the “ reveal ” at a distance of fully two feet from his 
starting point. At about two inches from the end of his journey he wavered 
about considerably, giving one the impression that the line above him was still 
free and floating about. Then (I suppose) the line caught the edge of the brick- 
work and he ran up at once. It is not likely that there was any connection 
between him and the brick-work when he started climbing, for he had been 
carried a distance of eight feet from the table to the window, and knocked 
smartly off a rolled-up napkin. Still it would be satisfactory to learn that some- 
one else has witnessed a similar feat. The place was in shade, and my eyes were 
not good enough to detect any line either above or below him. The spider was 
almost black, glossy, and with a narrow body barely ^ inch long. Ergatis laiens, 
^ , pi. ix. fig. 95b in Blackwall’s Spiders (Ray Soc., 1861), is not unlike it. 
Bromley, Kent. J. J. Scargill. 
Sympathy in a Bird. — “ One touch of nature makes the whole world 
kin ” is a well-known phrase as regards mankind, but it was only a short time 
ago that I learnt that this is also applicable to the feathered tribe. I was 
taught this by hearing a little robin singing for four long hours together before 
its shadow in a looking-glass, mistaking it for another bird, and hoping it 
would respond to its song. Some one first heard it singing about eleven o’clock 
in the morning, in an unused room at the back of the house where I was staying. 
We went down to see it, and there was the little thing perched on the stand of 
the glass singing out its soul in fullest sonr to attract the attention of its own. 
