ender bodies, four black-spotted gauzy wings, two large black eyes and
short antennae.

I had read about their being nocturnal insects, feeding on flies, so
they had that diet provided for them in the glass globe in which they
were kept, but I could never feel sure that they ate the flies, and
fearing they would be starved I tried giving them a little sweet food, a
drop of raspberry syrup at the end of a twig; it seemed to be the right
thing, for they greedily sucked it in, but in spite of all my care they
only lived four weeks; which, however, is probably the term of their
existence.

Whilst I was writing this paper a singular incident occurred. I heard a
strange, wild note, and something brilliant dashed past me to the end of
the room, and there, on a white marble bust sat a lovely kingfisher--a
bird I had hardly ever seen, even at a distance, and here he had come to
pay me a visit in my drawing-room. Would that I could have told him how
welcome he was! but, alas! he darted about the room in wild alarm, flew
against the looking-glasses, and though I tried to guard him from a
plate-glass window, that has often proved fatal to birds, I was too
late; he came with a crash against it and fell down quite dead, his neck
being broken by the force of the blow.

I had heard that a kingfisher had been seen at my lake, and hoped that
the bird might build and become established there; it was, therefore, a
keen regret to me that this bright visitant had met with such an
untimely fate.

[Illustration: THE ROBIN.]

ROBINS I HAVE KNOWN.

If I once begin to speak about these winning, confiding little birds, I
shall hardly know when to stop. There can scarcely be a more delightful
pet than a wild robin which has learnt to love you, and will come
indoors and be your quiet companion for hours together. One can feel
happy in the thought that he has his liberty and his natural food out of
doors, and that he gives you his companionship freely because he likes
to be with you, and shows that he does, by singing his sweet songs
perched on the looking-glass or some vase of flowers.

Autumn is the best time to begin taming such a little friend. When one
of those brown-coated young birds in his first year's plumage (before
the red feathers show) takes to haunting the window-ledge, or looks up
inquiringly from the gravel path outside, then is the time to throw out
a mealworm, four or five times a day, when the bird appears. He will