chain round one leg, and was very clever at mounting and
descending by the combined use of beak and claws, without complicating
himself with his chain. He got loose one day, and ascended one of the
chestnut trees, and a volunteer went up after him by a ladder. Cocky
resented his interference, flew at him and bit his finger to the bone.
His beak was a very powerful weapon, and, until I made him a new tray
with a zinc-covered ledge, he demolished any unprotected wood or even
furniture within reach.

This spring we had a blackbird's nest in some ivy near the house, and
many times each day the cock bird came to watch over his household,
and discourse sweet music from a neighbouring tree. A pair of jays
however appeared, and seemed too much interested in the nest for the
parents' comfort, approaching so near one morning that first the cock
blackbird, and then the hen attacked them; and though they returned
again during the day, evidently bent on mischief, the courageous
parents eventually drove them from the field, and they were seen no
more. Owing to the cutting of great fir woods in the Forest for timber
supplies for the war, jays have become much more common here than
formerly, and seem to have migrated from their former haunts and taken
to the beeches and oaks in the undisturbed woods.

Birds as a rule are not well represented in books, though the drawing
is more correct than the colouring. Examine Randolph Caldecott's _Sing
a Song for Sixpence_ for a really clever sketch of the four and twenty
blackbirds, every one a characteristic likeness, and a different
attitude; and look at his rookery in _Bracebridge Hall_, where, in
three sketches he shows some equally exact rooks.

I always walked when on my farming rounds, for one of the first
lessons I learned at Alton was that for that purpose "one walk is
better than three rides." My predecessor being a hunting man and fond
of horses, generally rode, but for careful observation, especially in
the matter of plant diseases, one wants to "potter about" with a
magnifying glass sometimes, and of course in entomology and
ornithology there is no room for a horse. One of the remarks made by
my men about me on my arrival was, "His mother larned him to walk,"
with quite a note of admiration to emphasize it. It is really
remarkable how farmers and country people scorn the idea of walking
either for pleasure or business, if "a lift" can be had. I was at
Cheltenham with a brother, and