tain their hopes of future progeny. Besides the Sky Lark and Corn Bunting, Pheasants, Partridges, and Red-legged Partridges nest beneath the furze. This likewise is a favourite haunt of the Nightjar, whose "reel" is such an interesting addition to the harmony of a summer's eve, as he sits on the bare branch of a pine tree on the northern shore of Langmere. The Lapwing prefers the open country; associating with the Stone Curlew and Ringed Plover, the shrill whistle of the former and the mellow note of the latter making weird harmony with the mournful plaint of the Lapwing. The marshy spots and "pitsteads" around the meres are tenanted for breeding purposes by the Snipe.
The Black-headed Gull, or "Scoulton Peewit," breeds sporadically by a little pond in an enclosed part of the heathland between Ringmere and Langmere. In 1883 there were about fifty nests, which on the 8th of June contained from one to three eggs each. Then for several years the nests were very few; and they have never reached the numbers of 1883 again. Possibly this may be because of the loss of eggs through the depredations of the local shepherds and gamekeepers. Last year there were but five nests; one of these was built in a very peculiar manner. On a certain Sunday a Coot's nest was noted a few yards from the shore. On the next Sunday a log had been thrown across this nest, and on the log was the nest of a Black-headed Gull containing one egg. It is a matter for regret that these Gulls cannot be induced to stop in larger numbers, as their snowy, graceful forms on the newly-ploughed land is one of the prettiest imaginable sights in the district around the large mere at Scoulton—one of the best-known "Gulleries" of this species.
Langmere should perhaps be more correctly Long Mere, as it is a long, narrow sheet of water, divided by a promontory, on which are some gaunt fir trees. Tradition says that these were not planted by the hand of man. At very long intervals this promontory becomes an island, and Langmere then is a sight to be remembered. Lying in the midst of a wild, scrubby heath, with never a sound but the wail of the Peewit or scream of a Gull, it is by far the most impressive of the meres. A dried-up, starved, stalky growth of thistles forms the sole vegetation in the immediate neighbourhood of the mere. There is an eeriness, a
