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Red-backed Shrike, Lesser Butcher-Bird (Lanius collurio).—Mudie, in his description of the above-named bird, observes that "the larger beetles appear to be the principal food of these birds, though they are also said to eat mice and to kill little birds, much after the fashion of the great shrike. There is, however, a want of precision in the description of their habits, as they seem to have been mixed up with those of the other; and they are given by British ornithologists more at second hand than from observation." Now, certainly, in Montagu's Ornithological Dictionary, edited by J. Rennie, there is a mixing up of the two species; for the great shrike (Lanius excubitor) is an extremely rare bird in England; and I much question if it has ever been known to breed here; and yet, he makes the following quotation from Knapp, the Gloucestershire naturalist, under the head of the larger butcher-bird:—"I could never observe that this bird destroyed others smaller than itself, or even fed upon flesh. I have hung up dead young birds, and even parts of them, near their nests, but never found that they were touched by the shrike." It was evidently the red-backed shrike which Mr. Knapp was here speaking of, which is not uncommon in the part of Gloucestershire where he resided; it could not be the species to which Montagu applies this passage from the naturalist. After alluding to these opinions by well-known writers on ornithology, it has occurred to me that a little incident, which fell under my own observation when on a visit to Lyme Regis, two summers ago, may be worth insertion in your entertaining periodical. While walking along a field pathway near the town, I noticed a red-backed shrike making a great fluttering and bustle near the top of a high hedge, at a short distance off; and after watching his movements for a few minutes, I crossed the grass to the spot, in order to ascertain what could be the cause of the disturbance, when I discovered a small branch with peculiarly long thorns, on one of which a young robin still warm had just been fixed; and on adjoining thorns were the wings of some other young bird, also the skeleton of a small mouse and portions of beetles. I had evidently lighted upon the larder of a pair of butcher-birds. Again, last summer, when crossing a field in the same neighbourhood, a bird flew across me with great difficulty apparently from being entangled with a piece of wood; it alighted in a pollard elm close by; and thither I followed it; on clapping my hands, out came a butcher-bird, carrying in its claws, as I think, a young thrush; at all events the bird it was carrying looked much larger than itself. It struggled on to another tree near; and the ground being very steep and much timbered, I was unable to follow it up with sufficient promptitude to compel it to drop its prey. However, these two incidents prove beyond a doubt that this little bird, scarcely larger than a house-sparrow, does destroy other birds, and does likewise transfix them upon thorns, in order, we may suppose, more conveniently to feed upon them.—H. S. S.

Water-pipit (Anthus spinoletta).—At the meeting of the Zoological Society, January 24th, Mr. Sclater exhibited a specimen of this continental bird from the Collection of the Bishop of Oxford, stated to have been obtained near Brighton in the winter of 1859-1860.—The Reader. We hope to give further information of the occurrence of this bird in the British isles in our next.—Ed. S. G.

Weather Foretold by the Robin.—Few observers of nature can have passed unheeded the sweetness and peculiarity of the song of the robin, and its various indications of atmospheric changes; the mellow liquid notes of spring and summer, the melancholy sweet pipings of autumn, and the jerking chirps of winter. In spring, when about to change his winter song for the vernal, he, for a short time, warbles in so unusual a strain, as, at first, to startle and puzzle even those ears most experienced in the notes of birds. He may be considered as part of the naturalist's barometer. On a summer evening, though the weather be in an unsettled and rainy state, he sometimes takes his stand—

or on the housetop, singing cheerfully and sweetly. When this is observed, it is an unerring promise of succeeding fine days. Sometimes, though the atmosphere be dry and warm, he may be seen melancholy, chirping and brooding in a bush, or low in a hedge; this promises the reverse of his merry lay and exalted station.—G. T. Goodwin.

Another Swift in Difficulties.—One evening, shortly before dusk, my attention was drawn to a swift (Cypselus apus) endeavouring to cling on the plaistered side of a house, this it attempted several times, but from the evenness of the surface it could not manage to stay for any time, and invariably slipped down. After each futile effort, it would take a short circle in the air, and then return, to be again foiled. At last it seemed to give it up as useless, and flew off some distance, mingling with others who were sporting near; but they immediately pursued it, and drove it from them, then it returned to the house, and renewed its efforts; at last, when darkness had set in, and all the other swifts had gone to their nests, this bird managed to cling to some slight projection; and as it evidently intended to remain there during the night, I was anxious to find out the cause of this occurrence, so about ten o'clock p.m. I mounted my insect-net upon a stout fishing-rod, and, with the further assistance of a ladder, managed to place the net over the bird (having previously ascertained its whereabouts with the aid of a lantern). Upon examining it, I found the legs had become entangled in a quantity of fine cotton, and this I imagine was the cause of the exclusion from the society of other birds; but how it became thus entangled I know not, unless some sparrow had taken the cotton, for domestic purposes, into the same hole in which the swift also had its nest, or while purloining materials from the nest of a sparrow (I have seen it mentioned that it does do such things), it had met with the misfortune alluded to.—A. B. F.

The Brambling.—During the recent severe weather large flocks of the brambling, or mountain finch (Fringilla montifringilla), have been observed in this neighbourhood. The bird is a native of the northern parts of Europe, and is only known to us as a winter visitant. It is of handsome appearance, and rather larger than the chaffinch, which, in habits, it closely resembles. Although few winters pass without our being visited by a few of these birds, the large number that have been observed this season is unusual, and is, in all probability, occasioned by the state of weather, as regulating the direction and extent of their migration southwards.—Alnwick Mercury, R. T.

Cape Salmon.—Under this name the "Geelbeck" (Otolithus æquidens), one of the edible fishes of the Cape, has been eulogized. Dr. Pappe says, "the flesh is dry, but fit for salting. It forms food for the poor and lazy." Why call it Cape Salmon?