Davie says that the geographical distribution of this beautiful teal is western America, from the Columbia river south to Chili, Patagonia, and Falkland Islands; east in North America to the Rocky Mountains; casual in the Mississippi Valley, and accidental in Ohio. It is abundant in the United States west of the Rocky Mountains, breeding in Colorado, Utah, Nevada, California, Idaho, and Oregon. Its habits are similar to those of the blue-wing. Its favorite breeding-places are in fields of tall grass or clover, not far from water. The eggs range from nine to thirteen, and the nest is so completely woven of grass, feathers, and down that it is said the entire structure may be picked up without its coming apart. Oliver Davie, the well known ornithologist, says that it gave him pleasure to be able to add this beautiful duck to the avifauna of Ohio as an accidental visitor. On the 4th of April, 1895, a fine male of this species was taken at the Licking County reservoir by William Harlow. On the 6th Mr. Davie skinned and mounted it and it is now one of the rare Ohio birds in his collection. It proved to be good eating. This, he says, is the first record of the cinnamon teal ever having been taken in the state. The eggs of this species are creamy-white or pale buff, the average size being 1.88×1.38. A SCRAP OF PAPER. ELANORA KINSLEY MARBLE. "A bluebird sings on the leafless spray, Hey-ho, winter will go!" He arrived that year very early in the season. It was about the twelfth of February that I first heard his plaintive note far up in the maple tree. Could it be Mr. Bluebird, I questioned as I hastened to the window opera-glass in hand? Yes, there he stood, not too comfortably dressed I am afraid, in his blue cap, sky-blue overcoat and russet-brown vest edged with a trimming of feathers soft and white. There had been a slight fall of snow during the night, and I fancied, from his pensive note, that he was chiding himself for leaving the Mississippi Valley, to which he had journeyed at the first touch of wintry weather in Illinois. "If it wasn't for the snowdrops, the crocus, the violets, and daffodils," he was saying in a faint sweet warble, "I'd linger longer in the South than I do. They, dear little things, never know, down in their frozen beds, that winter will soon give place to spring till they hear my voice, and so, no matter how bleak the winds or how gray the sky, I sing to let them know I have arrived, my presence heralding the birth of spring and death of winter. It well repays me, I am sure, when, in March under the warm kisses of the sun their pretty heads appear above the ground, and, smiling back at him, out they spring dressed in their new mantles of purple and yellow." At this moment from the topmost branch of an adjoining maple came a low, sweet, tremulous note very much indeed like a sigh.