migration. One flew on board on the 24th of April, and another on the 25th; they each rested for a short time on the rigging, and then pursued their flight northwards. On the 26th four came from the south, two of them singly, the others in company; one only alighted on the ship; it was caught in the evening when asleep. Throughout the 27th many were observed coming from the south, and generally singly, never more than two together; very few alighted. On the 24th the vessel was at sunset ninety miles east of Sicily, Syracuse being the nearest land; on the 27th, forty-five miles from Zante, and sixty west of the Morea. On the 29th of April one was seen near Navarino; and another on the 6th of May in the island of Syra. At the end of the month numbers were observed amongst the light foliage in the gardens of the old seraglio at Constantinople.

Colonel Irby informs me that when on his way from Southampton to Gibraltar on the 9th October, he saw a Turtle-Dove on its southward migration in the middle of the Bay of Biscay.

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September follow their "birds" into seed clover, rape, or mustard-seldom fail in such places to pick up a Landrail or two, and add in this way a pleasing variety to their bag. The appearance of a Rail usually gives rise to some comment, and not unfrequently to an expression of surprise that a bird of such skulking habits and apparently of such weak flight should be able to leave the country periodically, and return to it. That it does so, however, is certain.

It arrives here towards the end of April, and remains with us till the end of September. During May and part of June its incessant craking note is constantly reminding us of its presence; and if in July and August its silence has caused us for a time to forget it, we renew acquaintance once more in September, when in quest of nobler and more important game. After that month we may look for it almost in vain, for, although a Landrail now and then turns up during the winter months, its appearance at such times is exceptional, the great majority of these birds having left our shores before the first day of pheasant shooting has come round. We can only account for the appearance of Landrails in winter by supposing them to be individuals of a late brood, unprepared to leave at the proper time, or wounded birds unable to take part in the autumnal migration. In Ireland, however, their occurrence in winter and early spring has been noticed so much more frequently than in England, that a good naturalist there, Mr. Blake Knox, has

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suggested that the bird hybernates. Writing in the "Zoologist" for 1867, at page 679 he says: "I cannot divest myself of the belief that the Corncrake hybernates, notwithstanding my having found it repeatedly dead in the sea, both during autumn and spring, which many would say should prove migration to the most sceptical. I do not for one moment doubt that it leaves Ireland in numbers in the autumn, but where does it go? Does it hybernate where it goes to? Is it to be met with anywhere in numbers, flying or running, during our winter? Does it only crake in its spring or summer haunts? In support of hybernation, we have the great amount of fat, coming on in winter (Corncrakes often burst from fat when they fall on being shot), which all hybernating animals attain; the number of uninjured and healthy birds found in Ireland during winter, their peculiar skulking habits at this season, the old hollow ditches they frequent, their peculiar apathy and disinclination to fly, and their early appearance without 'craking' (I have seen

them in the middle of March) along the sedges of rivers, which would be the first places they would make for after their winter rest. I do not see why hybernation of birds is so much scouted, for scores of animals and millions of insects do so. Many fishes, too, become so torpid that you may fish for weeks and not get one, yet some fine day dozens of the kind you look for will reward your patience; still you have been told or read somewhere that that species migrates from our shores in autumn 'to seek more genial skies,' and that is why they are not caught in winter. The subject is very far from being absurd, though many have considered it equally so with 'Corncrake turning to Water-rail.' I knocked down a ditch bank some years ago in January, and turned out three living Corncrakes, and ate them too. In the year 1861, during November and December, I used frequently to turn out of a particular hole one of these birds; I caught it at last one night in the hole or nest I might say, for it was thickly bedded with leaves from a neighbouring