The coat-of-arms of the renowned Hungarian King Matthias Corvinus, bears a raven with a golden ring in its beak. There were more Ravens in those old troublous days, of long, wild trains of warriors and robbers, when slaughtered men and fallen cattle remained unburied by the wayside, and when the gallows stood in the open field, as a sign and a warning to men,--than there are now, in our days of milder methods. The Raven is not altogether common with us. * * * * * Don Quixote says that King Arthur did not die but was changed by witchcraft into a raven, and that some day he will put on his own shape again and claim his old rights. And so no Englishman--he says--has ever been known to kill a raven, for fear he should kill King Arthur. The Raven, it seems, has continued to build every year since 1856 either at Badbury Rings--Mount Badon, where King Arthur defeated the West Saxons, or else, so the late Mr. Bosworth Smith told us, “in the adjoining park of Kingston Lacy, where they are safe under the protection of Mr. Ralph Bankes.” The necromancers of old are said to detect sixty-five intonations of the Raven’s voice; he certainly croaks and barks and chuckles, but it has some pleasanter, more musical notes early in the year in the courting season, and the great solemn looking bird becomes quite playful and even graceful in his movements when his mate and he are about to make their nest. He performs evolutions in the air and turns somersaults most gleefully. The pair play together and tumble down as if shot, and turn over on their backs. Then whilst his mate is sitting he keeps careful watch over her and utters savage croaks if any footstep approaches. He will fight any large bird of prey that dares to approach his nesting place. A faithful creature, he pairs for life and, says one of his lovers “you will hear him utter a low gurgling note of conjugal endearment which will sometimes lure his mate from her charge; and then after a little coze and talk together, you will see him, unlike many husbands, relieve her for the time of her responsibilities, and take his own turn on the nest.” The Raven is in danger of extinction in our country unless better protection can be procured for him. Sheep farmers have a special grudge against him. Its numbers are kept down in the South of England by the prices paid for the young birds. Still they continue to breed all along the south coast and from North Devon to Wales, wherever there is a suitable headland. The so-called Raven-trees are much fewer than they used to be. The Raven is rare in the eastern counties and in the Midlands. In Scotland it is not uncommon wherever it finds suitable cliffs to build in. In Ireland its numbers are fast decreasing. Its fondness for weakly ewes, lambs and game make him an object of hatred in many districts. [Illustration: USEFUL. THE JACKDAW.] THE JACKDAW. (_Corvus monedula._)