the Sparrow alone of all known birds would have selected it for a site; and even the Sparrow only under the condition of a writing or toilet-table being underneath to catch the lime, sticks, straws, rags, feathers, and other innumerable materials that commonly strew the ground below a Sparrow’s nest.  I was told that the Crows had been at their task for two months before I saw them, and I then watched them till nearly the end of October.  The celebrated spider that taught King Bruce a lesson in patience was eager and fitful compared with this pair of Crows.  I kept no account of the number of times their structure was blown down, only to be immediately begun again; but as there was a good deal of rain and wind at that season, in addition to the regular sea-breeze, it was a common thing for the sticks to be cleared off day after day.  But perseverance will often achieve seeming impossibilities, and, moreover, the Crows worked more indefatigably as the season went on, and used to run up their nest with great rapidity (no doubt, also, they improved by their practice); so that several times the structure was completed, or nearly completed, before being swept to the ground, though how it remained in its place for a moment seems a mystery; and twice I saw a broken egg among the scattered debris.  At length, about the middle of September, the Crows determined to try the pillar at the other end of the verandah.  By this time, of course, all the Crows in Madras had long brought up their broods and sent them adrift; and what they thought to see an eccentric pair of their own species forsaking society, and building in September, may be imagined.  The new site selected differed in no respect from the old one, and was no less exposed to the wind; but the birds had grown expert at building ‘castles in the air,’ and now met with fewer mishaps.  In the first week of October the hen bird was sitting regularly, so on the 8th of the month I sent a man up by a ladder, and he held up four eggs for me to look at.  It fairly seemed after this that patience was to have its reward, but on the night of the 20th there came a storm of wind and rain, and when I went to the office in the morning, the nest was lying on the ground, with two young Crows in it, with the feathers just beginning to appear.  The other two, I suppose, had fallen over into the street.  And thus ended one of the most persevering attempts on record to overcome a difficulty insurmountable from the first.  The old birds thought it time now to stop operations, and frequented the office no more.

“I am told by a gentleman in the ‘Mail’ office that the Crows have built in that verandah regularly for five or six years past, but nobody seems to have watched the nests.  I am, therefore, hopeful that the attempt will be repeated this year, in which case I will keep a diary of all that takes place.”

He writes subsequently:—­“I sent you a long story in my last batch of notes about two eccentric Crows that succeeded in building a nest upon the narrow ledge of a pillar in the verandah of my office, several months after all well-conducted Crows had sent out their progeny to battle with the world.  I mentioned to you that they were said to build in that unnatural place every year, and I said that I would watch them this year.