tions of man. I have remarked this particularly at one locality near Belfast, situated 500 feet above the sea, and backed by hills rising to 800 feet. Marshy ground, the abode of little else than the snipe, became drained, and that species was consequently expelled. As cultivation advanced, the numerous species of small birds attendant on it, became visitors, and plantations soon made them inhabitants of the place. The land-rail soon haunted the meadows; the quail and the partridge, the fields of grain. A pond, covering less than an acre of ground, tempted annually for the first few years, a pair of the graceful and handsome sandpipers (Totanus hypoleucos), which, with their brood, appeared at the end of July or beginning of August, on their way to the seaside from their breeding haunt. This was in a moor about a mile distant, where a pair annually bred until driven away by drainage rendering it unsuitable. The pond was supplied by streams descending from the mountains through wild and rocky glens, the favourite haunt of the water-ouzel, which visited its margin daily throughout the year. When the willows planted at the water's edge had attained a goodly size, the splendid kingfisher occasionally visited it during autumn. Rarely do the water-ouzel and kingfisher meet "to drink at the same pool," but here they did so. So soon as there was sufficient cover for the waterhen (Gallinula chloropus) it, an unbidden but most welcome guest, appeared and took up its permanent abode; a number of them frequently joining the poultry in the farm-yard at their repast. The heron, as if conscious that his deeds rendered him unwelcome, stealthily raised his "blue bulk" aloft, and fled at our approach. The innocent and attractive wagtails, both pied and grey, were of course always to be seen about the pond. A couple of wild-ducks, and two or three teal, occasionally at different seasons, became visitants; and once, early in October, a tufted
