The flight of this pretty little bird is rather swift, and more protracted than that of some of our Rails, especially when put up by a dog coming inadvertently upon it. At other times, when in places not frequented, it rises and removes to a distance rarely exceeding thirty or forty yards, falling as it were among the grass with wings stretched upwards and dangling legs. The gizzard is large and muscular, as in the Water-hen and our other Rails. One which I opened was filled with minute fresh-water shell-fish and gravel. They feed also on insects of various kinds, and the seeds of grasses. My friend THOMAS NUTTALL has so well described the notes of this bird, that I cannot do better than present you with his account of them. “On the 6th of October (1831), having spent the night in a lodge, on the borders of Fresh Pond, employed for decoying and shooting Ducks, I heard, about sunrise, the Yellow breasted Rails begin to stir among the reeds (_Arundo Phragmites_) that thickly skirt this retired border of the lake, and in which, among a host of various kinds of Blackbirds, they had for sometime roosted every night. As soon as awake, they called out in an abrupt and cackling cry, _’krèk_, _’krèk_, _’krèk_, _’krèk_, _’kuk’ k’kh_, which note, apparently from the young, was answered by the parent (probably the hen), in a lower soothing note. The whole of these uncouth and guttural notes have no bad resemblance to the croaking of the tree frog, as to sound. This call and answer, uttered every morning, is thus kept up for several minutes in various tones, till the whole family, separated for the night, have met and satisfactorily recognised each other.” I once shot a female bird of this species near New Orleans upon which I had nearly trodden as she was on the nest and about to lay an egg, and which she dropped as she flew before me, previously to my touching the trigger. In August and September I have found this species uncommonly fat, and most delicious. The difficulty of procuring them, however, renders them a rarity for the table even in those parts of the country where they are most abundant. I have no doubt that a few stragglers now and then go far north to breed, as I find in the Fauna Boreali-Americana the following note from Mr Hutchins’s manuscripts:—“This elegant bird is an inhabitant of the marshes (on the coast of Hudson’s Bay, near the efflux of Severn River, where Mr Hutchins resided) from the middle of May to the end of September. It never flies above sixty yards at a time, but runs with great rapidity among the long grass near the shores. In the morning and evening it utters a note, which resembles the striking of a flint and steel; at other times it makes a shrieking noise. It builds no nest, but lays from ten to sixteen perfectly white eggs among the grass.”