Unfortunately collectors cannot resist adding this beautifully plumaged bird to their lists. I have watched it myself in Southern Germany and Hungary. It is not at all shy, and one of the most beautiful things in bird-life I have ever seen was a number of Orioles flitting from tree to tree in an orchard situated amongst vineyards on the hilly banks of the Danube in Baranya. The black on the wing-coverts and tail-feathers is in striking contrast with the golden-yellow of the greater part of the plumage. The male has a very flute-like call, hence its French name of Loriot. The female is a devoted mother. Where these birds have been protected on private estates in our country they have reared broods successfully; it would surely add to the beauty of our rural landscapes, if they were encouraged and protected. The Oriole is rather larger than the Thrush. The male is a beautiful golden-yellow; wings and tail black except the end of the tail which is yellow. A black stripe passes across the eyes from the base of the beak; the beak is a reddish flesh colour, the eye blood-red. In the female and the young, all the parts which in the male are golden-yellow are greenish, the underparts a greyish-white with darker stripes. The nest is quite a work of art. It is always placed in the base of a fork of a branch, and is fastened to the bough with fine root fibre and bast; it is lined with any fine soft material, even cob-webs are sometimes found in it. The clutch usually consists of five eggs, which are white with a few very prominent dark specks. It also nests in gardens. THE ROBIN. (_Eríthacus rubécula._) The Robin is one of the cleverest courtiers. It alights on the ground, alternately appears and vanishes for a few moments, then suddenly stands still, makes a low bow, droops its wings, raises its tail, then looks up at one with shining eyes, full of confidence, as if to say: “I trust you.” It hunts beetles with great energy, and does not even recoil before the slug, still less before a small earthworm, which the lordly hedge-sparrow would not touch for all the world. Sometimes it flies on to a high branch, keeping quite still, except that now and then it makes a bow and raises its tail; then all at once it flies to the ground, pounces on the awaited booty, returns to its bough and devours its prey. Its song is beautiful, exquisite, rivalling, but not excelling, that of the Lark. The bird sits quietly and sings, and is in no hurry to cease. Its cry is a light piercing “_see_.” It is a bird which may be said to become tame almost immediately when caught. It likes to move at liberty about a room. Poor people with us like to keep it, for it catches the flies in the room, the spiders in the corners or even on the bed; or any other moving thing. This bonny bird deserves every protection. * * * * * The ways of the “cheery little Ruddock,” as Shakespeare calls him, are so well known that it is not necessary