il a gentleman in the neighbourhood,
who was a great ornithologist, employed his gamekeeper to shoot
this pair. I think the natives of Calcutta were not more indignant
when an unlucky Englishman got one of their sacred bulls into his
compound and baited him, than was our little community at what we
considered so great an outrage. The gamekeeper narrowly escaped
being stoned by myself and some more lads, any one of whom would
have shot fifty Blackbirds or Fieldfares without any misgivings.

This bird very much resembles the Wren in its habits and motions,
its nods and curtsies, and cocks its tail in exactly the same
manner. Its nest is also similar in form to that of the Wren.

Some persons seem to think that it is impossible for the Water
Ouzel to walk at the bottom of the water, owing to its body being
of less specific gravity. I will not argue the point with them,
but disbelieving my own eyes, I will endeavour to submit with a
good grace; otherwise I should have said that I have repeatedly
seen it doing so, from a situation where I had an excellent
opportunity of observing it, the window of a building directly
over the place where it was feeding. It walked into the water and
began to turn over the pebbles with its bill, rooting almost like
a pig, and it seemed to have no difficulty whatever in keeping at
the bottom at all depths where I could see it; and I have
frequently observed it when the water just covered it, and its
head appeared above the water every time it lifted it up, which it
did incessantly, turning over a pebble or two, then lifting its
head, and again dipping it below to seize the creepers (_aquatic
larvae_) it had disturbed from their hiding-places. Besides, its
speed was too slow for diving. Every aquatic bird with which I am
acquainted moves much faster when diving than when it is swimming
or walking, and its course is generally in a straight line, or
nearly so; but the Water Ouzel, when feeding, turns to the right
or left, or back again to where it started, stops and goes on
again, just as it does when out of the water. Yet when it wished,
it seemed to have the power of altering its own gravity, as after
wading about two, or perhaps five minutes, where it could just get
its head out, it would suddenly rise to the surface and begin to
swim, which it does quite as well as the Water-hen. The awkward,
tumbling, shuffling wriggle which it appears to have, is
occasioned by the incessant motion of its