I am much interested, and I think he is also, in the development of the little scarlet waistcoat which marks his arrival at maturity. I saw the first red feather appear, just a mere tinge of colour amongst the rest, and now daily I see the hue is deepening. If bathing and pluming will tend to make him a handsome robin, he bids fair to outshine his compeers, for he is always busy about his toilet, first fluttering in a large clam-shell, which contains water, and then becoming absorbed in his preening operations, which nothing will interrupt but the appearance of another robin, who, of course, must be flown at and driven away. Birds, however, are not my only visitors. Some tame voles or field-mice creep stealthily in and out of the rockwork and find their way to the birds’ feeding-ground, where they also enjoy the seeds and coarse oatmeal, and amuse me much with their graceful play and occasional scrimmages. Field-mice are easily tamed and made happy in captivity. Last year I coaxed a pair of these voles into a large glass globe, and kept them long enough to observe sundry family events, such as nest-building, the arrival of some baby-voles, and their development from small pink infants into full-grown mice, and then I set the whole family at liberty under the archway, where they now disport themselves with all the confidence of privileged rodents. By remaining absolutely still for an hour or two, quietly reading or thinking, one has delightful opportunities of seeing rare birds quite at their ease. A green woodpecker, all unconscious of my presence, is clinging to an old tree stem near by, and I can not only hear his tapping noise, but I am able to observe how he is supported by the stiff feathers in his tail, which press against the tree, and how his long tongue darts into crevices in the bark and draws out the insects upon which he feeds. I follow his upward progress around the stem until he flies away with the loud laughing cry which has earned for him the local name of Yaffle. Hawfinches are by no means common in this neighbourhood, but one morning I was much interested to be able to watch three or four of these birds, which had alighted on the top of a spruce fir in this dell. Their golden-red plumage glistened brightly as they busily flitted from branch to branch, snapping off small fir-sprays with their powerful beaks, and chattering to each other all the while like diminutive parrots. Now the early morning sun is sending shafts of brilliant light through the thick foliage, and bringing out special objects in high relief. Just beside me is a large mass of grey stone, moss-grown and fern-shaded. The sun has lighted up one side of this; the rest is in shadow, so that it forms a picture in itself, and my robin has alighted on it as though on purpose to give the touch of colour that was needed.