in dark and noisome baskets, like slaves in a dhow. Thence they find their way to every lane and alley in the native town, where they spend the short remainder of their days in little iron and tin prisons, with a cold, cutting wire to perch on, and nothing to do. Happily, a great many escape through the carelessness of their keepers, and, though the short, ragged tail, dirty plumage, and uneasy manner, betray them for a time, they soon adapt themselves again to wild life.
This bird scarcely needs description. The female is green all over, while the male has a rosy collar and black necktie. The beak is coral red. The scientific name of this species is Palæornis torquatus. There is a much larger bird, Palæornis eupatria, called by Jerdon the Alexandrine Parrakeet, because it is the kind which Alexander the Great is supposed to have taken back with him from India. It is much the same in colour, except that the male has a patch of red on each wing and all the tints are coarser. It learns to speak better than the common one, and a good many are kept in Bombay as pets. Of course they escape too, but they have never effected a settlement in the island. Then there is the lovely little Rose-headed, or, as Blandford aptly names it, Blossom-headed, Parrakeet (P. rosa). The whole head of the male is rosy, that of the female plum-blue, and the beak in both sexes is light yellow. These are also on sale in the Crawford Market in hundreds, and I do not know why one never sees them wild in Bombay. But the little Blossom-head is nowhere a garden bird. It swarms on the coast, ravaging the corn-fields, in spite of little boys on mutchans slinging
