combination? He was fain to quit those large fields, forty acres though they measured, and betake himself to the less guarded upland pastures, although even there he had an uncertain footing. No weak-chested lad had the least chance of getting that musical post of crow-frightener.

"Dang them warmints!" old Farmer Wills was wont to exclaim, "they pulls the turf up. If some on 'em ain't settled, there wun't be no feed fur the sheep. Go an' git the old double, an' kill some on 'em off."

The worthy man had not the faintest notion that the birds were feeding on the larvæ of the cockchafer that was devouring the roots of the herbage. "Give a dog a bad name," &c. Thanks, however, to the writings of recent field naturalists, these creatures that have been so long unjustly treated, now enjoy-many of them, at least-comparative security.

The rook is a specially industrious bird; he is up early, and he does not roost until dusk; and when we consider that from his first flight in the morning until he roosts at night, he is continually clearing the fields and pastures from insects that would

injure the farmer's produce, we must recognise him as one of the greatest unpaid benefactors of man. He steals some fruit, it is true. Nearly all wild creatures take a small tithe from man; it is only their due, for by their unwearied exertions they destroy those enemies, whose name is legion, that he could not combat without their aid. Only those who have lived with the birds all their lives, roaming about in the woods, over the fields and the waste lands, can form any opinion how much man is indebted to his feathered friends for his welfare and comfort.

Next to the rook comes the jackdaw, the shepherd's assistant. Whenever a farmer shoots one of these bright little fellows, he kills a sanitary inspector of, we might say, two or three sheep. The woolly creatures are his particular charge. Where you see rooks you will most likely see or hear jackdaws not far from them; not invariably, but generally. With the jackdaws you will find the beautifully marked starlings. "That is never a starling," exclaimed a friend of ours, on being shown the faithful portrait of one of these birds; "I thought starlings were all black." And so think many who

have not noticed them closely. If they were not such common birds they would be highly prized on account of their beauty and their aptness in acquiring various accomplishments. No British bird, not even the kingfisher, surpasses in its plumage the metallic beauty of a cock starling at his best. He is a glorious fellow, as he puffs out the feathers of his throat, drops his fluttering wings, and sings a love-song to his mate. His yellow bill is almost as bright as a blackbird's. A mimic of the first order, too, he is.

For several consecutive years a pair of starlings built in a corner of a room, in one of my homes. It was wonderful to hear the fine fellow sing to his mate in that corner, unheeding me, as I often sat quite near, busy at my easel. Apart from his own melodious whistling, he would run over parts of the songs of other birds for her delight, giving now some of the flute-like notes of the blackbird, as he sings in the spring evenings after a shower, just before the sun sinks low; and then again two or three notes of the storm-cock or missel-thrush would ring out, just as they come from his throat as he sits on the top twig of some wind-tossed tree, shouting in

glee when the gale is at its highest, and other creatures are hushed in fear.

After that would follow the "spink-pink-pink!" of the chaffinch, and next the winter-song of the robin, his farewell to the dying year. All sung truly without one false note. And then the odd bird would finish up by mewing like a cat. This was, of course, a wild bird; the starling in a state. of nature is a thorough mocking-bird, as all know who have made a study of him in the country. The young ones are dull brown at first, of a peculiar shade. In spite of their vast numbers, and the very easy opportunities of observing them, some ornithologists have described them as solitary thrushes.

They

A large flock of starlings comes as a blessing to farm-lands where the stock are pastured. delight to be on the backs of the animals, on their heads, round their feet, pecking and dibbling round about their muzzles as they feed. Here, there, and everywhere are the starlings; as the insects come in sight they have them, running on the ground or flying! I have often watched these birds hawking for insects in mid-air. The amount they destroy in a single day when they have young ones to provide

for must be enormous: as one watches them come to their nests their mouths and bills appear to be crammed full. A nest of young starlings will keep both parents very busy from morning till night. When the cherries are ripe the starling will certainly have them if he has the chance, as indeed will blackbirds, thrushes, sparrows, chaffinches, and others. Insect and grain eaters, all like cherries more or less. If you look at the bunch of birds a cherry-minder has in his hand when he leaves the orchard at night, you will be surprised to see what different species visit the trees. Those that are not able to swallow a cherry whole peck at it; the starling is not alone in this matter.

Looking at the matter all round, and weighing the harm these fruit-stealers do against the services they render in our fields and orchards, I say confidently the good outweighs the evil ten times.

Thank God! the woods and the fields are open to the poorest working naturalist to study in; so is the highroad. Printed books are good, and helpful too; but the three greatest books given by God to man are free and accessible to the poorest student-the book of nature, the book of