takes possession of those holes in trees, in which there are broods of Starlings. On thrusting a stick into one of these holes, I have driven out a considerable number of these large Bats, who returned to it after flying about for some time. Strong light, therefore, does not seem to affect them; and, as a further proof of this, I may mention that a migration of some twenty or thirty of these Bats took place in the middle of the day in Spring.

The garden-labourers at Hampton Court were at work near a lime-tree, in which was a hole about eight feet from the ground; this hole led to the nest of a Starling, in which there were young ones more than half grown. The men heard the noise of the flight of the Bats, and saw them all enter the hole. I was very shortly afterwards made acquainted with the circumstance; and, on repairing to the spot, was soon convinced that the Bats had killed the young Starlings, and probably the old birds, as I never saw them near the spot afterwards. It is, therefore, not improbable that these voracious animals migrate occasionally in search of food in the Spring, until the peculiar, flies or moths on which they feed in summer are sufficiently numerous to sustain them. It is, I believe, the largest of our various Bats, measuring from the tip of one wing to that of the other from fifteen to sixteen inches. I have kept them alive for some time, but they are very offensive.

Some insects utter sounds, such as the Death-watch

SOUNDS OF INSECTS.

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(Ptinus fatidicus), a sort of ticking noise, and the House-cricket. A young Queen Bee utters a very plaintive cry, generally on the evening before she quits the hive with a swarm. I can have little doubt that it is produced from the throat, and not by the action of the wings, as I have frequently taken one of those stingless Bees we find in the autumn on sun-flowers and other plants, and on preventing any action whatever of the wings, I have heard it utter the same mournful and distressing cry as that of the Queen Bee. The Field-Cricket makes a cry which every lover of nature must delight to hear, "filling his mind," as Mr. White observes, "with a train of Summer ideas of every thing that is rural, verdurous, and joyous."

I like the little Faunas, which are now and then compiled by gentlemen residing in the country, of the birds and plants to be found in their immediate neighbourhood. They are always interesting to a Naturalist, and it is to be regretted that more of them are not kept by those who have the time and opportunity for doing so. I have occasionally one of these lists sent me, accompanied by observations of the habits of birds, and I receive it with much pleasure. Indeed I may say with Mr. White, that my fondness for Natural History, "has led me to the acquaintance of many gentlemen, whose intelligent communications have afforded me much pleasing information; and that the pursuit of it has con

tributed to the health of my body, and the cheerfulness and peace of my mind."

The following remarks are extracted from some communications made to me by an "out-door Naturalist." They will not, I am sure, prove unacceptable to some of my readers. My correspondent resides in Somersetshire.

"In the winter, Magpies assemble to roost together in large flocks. In a wood near me, there were hundreds, I might almost say thousands, that came there regularly every evening, flying in from all directions. They formerly frequented an orchard on the opposite side of the valley to which the wood is situated; but, having been shot at, they deserted it for the wood. The next evening not one Magpic came to the orchard, but all went simultaneously to the wood, as if they had previously agreed amongst themselves to do so. In moonlight nights they might be seen clustering together on the trees."

This gregarious propensity of Magpies I have witnessed, especially in open countries. In the enclosed parts of England, they are more commonly seen in pairs or in families, like the Jay and Titmouse. In cold frosty weather, Magpies will cluster together on trees, as if to keep each other warm, and then the masses appear like large black lumps. My correspondent continues :

:

"I have seen a curious instance of birds of very different habits and nature, such as a Sparrow-hawk,

A REDWING'S NEST.

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There is

Jackdaw, Green Woodpecker, Nuthatch, and Wren, all building, and having either eggs or young ones at the same time, either on or in the same tree. an old Oak tree near a place at which I was residing, the heart of which is completely decayed. On the topmost branches a pair of Sparrow-hawks had made them a nest, which, at the time I examined it, contained four eggs. In a hollow of the tree, near the top, was a Jackdaw's nest, with five young ones. A little lower, a Woodpecker had another, with five eggs in it. Still lower was a Nuthatch's nest, with seven young ones. And near the foot of the tree, in one of the crevices of the bark, which was overgrown with ivy, a pair of Wrens had made another nest, in which were several eggs. These birds seemed to live in perfect harmony, as I watched them frequently.

"I have been so fortunate as to find a Redwing's nest, the only instance I have heard of in this country. Only one bird appeared to attend the nest, which contained but one egg. This solitary bird had, probably, from some cause or other, been unable to attend its congeners in their annual flight from this country. It was afterwards shot, and is now, with the egg, in my possession.

I have lately had some curious varieties of birds sent me, viz. a white Thrush, a Greenfinch quite white, except a slight green blush on the breast and wings; a Sparrow of a bright dun colour, and another

with white wings and tail. A man, also, at Bath, caught a white Bullfinch."

Late in the Spring, and before the general migration of Redwings and Fieldfares has taken place, I have heard the former repeat some low and plaintive notes. In the North of Europe it is reckoned a "delicate Songster," as Gilbert White would call it, but I have found no mention of its song being heard in this country. On its first arrival here, the Redwing will settle on the topmost bough of a tree, and look about in apparent alarm or amazement, and then take jerking flights to other trees. It lays six greenish eggs, lining the nest with clay and rotten wood, and it has been surmised that, as the latter shines in the dark, it is possible that this circumstance may have given rise to the idea of the Ancients of an

Avis hercynica noctu lucens."

During the winter of 1849-50, when we had sixteen degrees of cold (in the West of England) and all the Thrush tribe were greatly distressed, I had an oppor tunity of seeing a Redwing several times a day, for many days, very near the window of a sitting room, before which there is a narrow grass plot between the house and the road. To that little spot it came constantly, with several Blackbirds and Thrushes, and we observed them at our leisure. We placed on the grass some pieces of apple, crumbs of bread, and egg. The Blackbirds and Thrushes eat the apple &c. freely,