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.—At length a real live porpoise has reached the Zoological Gardens, Regent's Park, in safety. At present it is said to be in rather delicate health, but it is hoped soon to be "at home" to visitors.

(Alauda vulgaris).—White, in his "Natural History of Selbourne" (Letter 27), says that the skylark sings in "February, and on to October." This year, on the morning of the 12th of December, I saw a lark rise out of a pasture by the road, and ascend about the usual height, singing as heartily as if his mate sat in the daisied sod beneath. The welcome strain at such an unusual time, and so unexpected, was doubly sweet, and I could not help exclaiming, with honest Izaak, "Lord, what music hast thou provided for the saints in heaven, when thou affordest bad men such music on earth!"—''Jno. Ranson, York''.

.—The popular idea as to the colouring of eggs I think is quite at variance with fact. I don't say that old birds have, but from many experiments, made some years ago, when the question was mooted by a number of young ornithologists, we found the first eggs of the sparrow-hawk daily, the eighth or tenth egg will be quite white. By the same rule, if its nest is taken, and it builds again, the second batch will be light varieties, and one or more of them without any blotch. So with other birds, and the reason is obvious. The colouring matter is contained in what I may be excused calling "colour cells," and the egg is coloured as it leaves the ovary, the colour being exhausted the eggs are light.—C. S. Gregson, in Naturalist's Scrap Book.

.—A correspondent observes in the "Naturalist's Scrap Book" that he found an uncommonly large nest of the green linnet (Fringilla chtoris) containing four eggs, two of which presented nothing worthy of remark, the third was much longer and curiously pointed, whilst the fourth was the size of an average skylark's. Each of the latter contained two birds and, unfortunately, incubation had proceeded so far, there was no chance of preserving the shells which were tender and thin to an extreme. He adds that he had not the slightest doubt, had another week elapsed without disturbance, that three live birds, if not four, would have been hatched from the two eggs.

.—I once saw in a hothouse in Shropshire a large female wasp caught in the irregular web of a quite small spider; and this spider, instead of cutting the web, most perseveringly continued to entangle the body, and especially the wings of its prey. The wasp at first aimed in vain repeated thrusts with its sting at its little antagonist. Pitying the wasp, after allowing it to struggle for more than an hour, I killed it and put it back into the web. The spider soon returned, and an hour afterwards I was much surprised to find it with its jaws buried in the orifice through which the sting is protruded in the living wasp. I drove the spider away two or three times, but for the next twenty-four hours I always found it again sucking at the same place. The spider became much distended by the juices of its prey, which was many times larger than itself.—Darwin's Journal of Researches.

.—A few days ago, while one of the Earl of Bradalbane's gamekeepers was out shooting rabbits, he observed a golden eagle, and, taking aim, succeeded in bringing it to the ground. The bird is a beautiful specimen, and measures six feet nine inches from tip to tip of the wings. Within the last few weeks four eagles have been shot and trapped on the Bradalbane estate, and the noble birds are now getting very scarce.—Daily Telegraph.

.—A friend of mine, who was in Australia some years, informed me he used to destroy all the large spiders he found in his house, until he discovered the nest of one of them surrounded by the remains of dead bugs with which the house was sadly pestered. Since this I have told many people to allow the spider a location in their dwellings, in places where the eye is not offended by the sight of their webs. I follow this plan myself, and my house is free from other insects; only two bugs were found in my house the past twelve months on bedclothes, none in crevices of furniture; these two I suppose to have been brought from the places of amusement which had been previously visited.—''Thos. W. Brown''.

.—Mr. Artroyd, of Chester, relates the following anecdote in the "Naturalist's Scrap Book." In the winter season his garden was frequented by some tomtits (Parus cæruleus), and wishing to amuse himself with the active little creatures he attached a piece of fat mutton to a string and hung it on the bough of a pear tree growing near one of the windows. The birds tried various means to get at the meat and failed for some time; at last a male bird flew at it, fixed his claws, and succeeded in hanging on until he had made a hearty meal. The female, after trying several times, alighted on the branch from which the string was suspended, and by means of her beak and claws hauled up the meat. After eating as much as she required she flew away, letting the meat drop to the length of the string again. The same pair of birds continued to feed in the same way for a considerable time, i. e., the cock flying boldly at the meat and hanging on by its claws, while the female waited on the branch ready to draw up. If the cock bird remained longer than her ladyship thought proper she would begin pulling up the string, and letting it go suddenly, whereby she never failed to shake off her tardy mate. No other birds were permitted to interfere; these alone had discovered the secret, and took care to keep possession of the well-earned prize.

.—In March, 1861, while fishing for water insects on Barnes Common, a female smooth newt made its appearance close to my net. I immediately made a dab at it, and fished it out, accompanied by a male of the same species, and putting them in a glass bottle brought them up to London, and placed them in a fern-case about 3 ft. by 1 ft. 6 in. in area. The male did not thrive so well as the female; he gradually got thinner, and as I have not seen him since the autumn of 1863, I conclude he is dead, though I have not searched particularly for him. The female is still alive, and is now out and about, looking nearly in as good condition as usual. In the fern-case I formed a small pond of water, thinking that as effects are mostly found in ponds during the day, in summer they would enjoy the luxury of a bath. Not so, however. I never saw them voluntarily go into the water, and when thrown in they always scrambled out as soon as possible. The same things occurs in keeping them