immediate vicinity of the houses, the sponge-like mosses, covering all the surrounding country, have retreated fifty or sixty yards and given place to a belt of luxuriant grasses, which, in turn, makes way in places in favor of dense patches of weeds. From the north-eastern to the southern side the sea approaches to within thirty yards, the grassy slope ending abruptly at a beach formed of dark, angular fragments of basalt; this, with a hardtrodden court-yard, absolutely bare of vegetation, and a small kitchen-garden, completes the immediate surroundings. On distant hillsides a few patches of dark green show where small groups of hardy alders have secured a foothold, beyond which, excepting a few dwarf willows, not a bush raises its head for many miles.
To all appearances, not a very tempting locality for birds, would be one's decision at first sight; but a closer acquaintance will prove the contrary. Some cheerless morning in May, on the border line between winter and spring, as we walk about the buildings, we are greeted by the sharp tsip, tsip, of the Tree Sparrow which has arrived over-night and now holds possession of the weed patches, whence it makes foraging expeditions into the yard, ready to skurry back to its stronghold upon the least alarm. As the weather becomes milder, their number is augmented, and, in company with the plump, rosy-breasted little Redpoll, they are seen every where, from the top of the windvane to the kitchen window, whence they peep in from the sundial. As the snow decreases the Tree Sparrows slowly retire, pre-empting summer houses in the alder bushes, where they hold possession by right of numbers; they are not, however, too conservative to share their haunts with inoffensive strangers. The Redpolls also now seek more congenial haunts, and are soon lost to view. Meanwhile the Savanna Sparrows have arrived and enliven the borders of the numerous muddy spots surrounding the place, running in and out, mouse-like, among the dead grass, as they playfully pursue each other. At the first alarm they dive into the cover of standing weeds and grass only to reappear, a moment later, on the further side. As the season advances, the males mount the woodpile or other conspicuous object to pour forth their weak, unmusical notes, which they at times also utter from the ground.
Gambel's Finch now makes its appearance, and, capturing the