rters for the night in the new house. But how had they learnt
the way? Young birds generally roost where night finds them, and
if I had found only one, I should not have been surprised, but to
find at least three, probably six or seven, in a nest where I am
certain they were not bred, was something new to me. I went
several times in the evening after this, but never found them; I
suppose the fright I gave them deterred them from lodging there
again.

The editor of "Loudon's Magazine," in a paragraph appended to this
article, says: "We have examined the Wrens' nests sent; their
staple materials are moss, feathers, and hair. Into the moss on
the exterior of the nest are woven a more or less perfect but
feeble frond or two, and separate pinnae as well of Aspidium
Filix-Mas, and leaves of apple, elm, and oak trees. Interiorly
cows' hair is not scarce, and is partly inwoven with the moss and
laces it together, and partly mingled with the feathers; a horse-
hair or two are also observable. The feathers in each nest,
apparently those of domestic fowls, are numerous enough to fill
the hollow of the hand when the fingers are so folded over as not
to much compress the feathers."

* * * * *

ALARM-NOTE OF ONE BIRD UNDERSTOOD BY OTHER SPECIES OF BIRDS.

In Montagu's "Ornithological Dictionary," under the article "Song
of Birds," there is the following remark: "Regarding the note of
alarm which birds utter on the approach of their natural enemies,
whether a Hawk, an Owl, or a Cat, we consider it to be a general
language perfectly understood by all small birds, though each
species has a note peculiar to itself." I was last April very much
pleased at witnessing an illustration of the truth of this
opinion. I found a nest of young Throstles at the root of a hazel,
and although they could scarcely fly, yet as they were near a
footpath, and the next day was Sunday, when many idle and
mischievous lads would be rambling about, I thought they would be
safer out of their nest than in it; and as I knew that when so far
fledged, if they were once disturbed they would not continue in
the nest, I took one from the nest and made it cry out, and then
put it back again; but in one minute, not only it but its three
companions had disappeared in the long dry grass which was round
about. On hearing the cry of their young one, the parent bird set
up such shrieks of alarm as brought all the birds in the wood to
see what was the matter. I noticed