animal, it wheels round so as to announce the discovery to its nearest companions, who, followed by others from a greater distance, hasten to share the feast; all, even the most remote, steering in a straight line for the desired spot--to which it was formerly erroneously supposed they were directed by the extreme acuteness of their sense of smell. When the skin of the deceased animal is too tough to be rent asunder, the Vultures linger around it, or on the neighbouring trees, where they are joined by others of their kind, all eager to share in the banquet; from time to time they examine the carcase, testing its state with feet and claws, and as soon as it has attained the requisite degree of putridity, fall eagerly to work, the strongest driving off the weaker, who retaliate with all the rage of disappointed hunger, hissing and combating for portions already partially swallowed, and burying their nostrils in the flesh, although every minute compelled to desist in order to clear them from the moist filth which chokes them and stops their breathing. At length by continuing these vigorous attacks, the carcase is soon demolished, and nothing remains but the bare skeleton. When satiated with the disgusting repast, they usually retire to some quiet spot, there to repose until the process of digestion is accomplished. Many hours are usually required for this purpose, after which they go down to the water to drink and take a bath, the latter being eminently necessary to creatures that generally rise from their repast covered with blood and filth of every description. After bathing they again seek repose for some hours, either lying down upon the sand, or standing with wings outstretched in such a manner as to allow the sun to warm them; but if disturbed during these _siestas_, it is not uncommon for the Vulture to disgorge its food, previous to seeking safety in flight. Trees or rocks are usually selected as resting-places for the night. Recent experiments have fully proved that the many tales told respecting the distance at which the Vulture can detect carrion are mere fables; they certainly possess the sense of smell, but by no means to the extraordinary degree formerly imagined. These birds breed in the spring time of their native lands, and build their eyries either upon rocks or on the bare ground. The eggs, one or two in number, are round, coarse-grained, and of a yellowish or grey tint, marked with spots or streaks of various patterns. In some species, if not in all, both parents assist in the work of incubation. When hatched the young are usually covered with a thick down, and are so extremely helpless that they are fed with carrion that has been more than half-digested in the crops of the parents. At a later period they exhibit a voracity almost exceeding that which distinguishes them when full grown. Many months elapse before the nestlings are capable of providing for themselves, and during all