is yet a well-known bird, and, when swimming in company with the water-hen, is easily distinguished from it by the white patch on its head. In its habits it is like the water-hen, but is shyer and more retiring. It is also stronger on the wing, and takes long migrations from one part of the kingdom to another. Its nest is also much more substantially built, and often floats upon the surface of the water, held in its place only by the reeds growing around it. A strong wind once drove the nest of a coot from its moorings, and it floated hither and thither on the surface of the lake, according to the direction of the wind. Notwithstanding this the old bird continued to sit, and eventually brought off her brood.

The scenery of our larger lakes would not be complete without the presence of the grebes. The larger one, the great-crested grebe, is the rarer, but we think it quite possible that it is the more generally known to the majority of fishermen. Its size and remarkable appearance ensure its being observed; and then it keeps so carefully out in the open water, away from other birds, that it cannot be overlooked when it is present on the Mere. If you row near it, it turns its head suspiciously from side to side, and sinks low in the water, until only its head and long neck are visible above the surface, then if you approach nearer, it dives with the quickness of lightning. It is quite impossible

K

to say where it will rise after its dive, for it will swim under water a long way, and twist and turn about if followed. Its nest is simply a mass of black and soaking weeds, almost level with the surface of the water; and the eggs, which are white when laid, soon become stained and darkened by the decaying vegetable matter. When the old bird leaves the nest she carefully covers the eggs with weeds, so that a casual observer would be far from suspecting that that illshaped mass of wet weed was a nest containing

eggs.

The smaller grebe or dabchick is common everywhere, where there are lakes, ponds, or quiet rivers. In its breeding habits it is like its larger brother; but it is not quite so shy, and, if you will only keep quite still, you may watch it at only a few yards' distance, but if you move but a finger it dives instanter, with a very little splash, and a kick of its legs. If it apprehend danger it will keep under water for an incredible length of time, but if it be not much frightened it will pop up again like a cork, and shake the water off itself in silvery drops. It is a very pretty sight to see a pair of old birds feeding their young, in some clear spot between the floating vegetation. The young ones are such little black dots, and the movements of all of them are so quick and comical, that one cannot help being interested and amused.

The pretty, little snipe-like bird that skims with graceful flight from the advancing angler, or runs along the sandy bays of the stream, or runs lightly over the lily leaves on the placid pool, is the common sandpiper, a bird not uncommon by most of our rivers. It makes its nest in some sly hole in the bank, or even dispenses with a nest altogether, and lays its eggs in a hollow on the ground.

Such, then, are the chief among an angler's acquaintances, but there are many others he would not willingly pass. The sandmartins sweeping and whirling over the stream, dashing this way and that, and altering their course with wonderful celerity, in the pursuit of their insect prey, and drilling the gravel escarpment with the numerous holes of their nesting-places; the water-wagtail merrily wagging its tail, and snapping up the insects at the margin of the water; the gaudy dragon-flies hovering and darting in the blazing sunlight; the shining water-beetles gyrating, multitudinous, in the quiet pools-these and many others come within the term of the angler's acquaintances. And may they not be the angler's friends too? Even those which are avowedly destructive to fish, is it too great a stretch of clemency to spare them from slaughter, and show them at least negative friendship? Live and let live is a good motto. There is enough and to spare for all who are not greedy, and where the fish are decreasing it is

not from the depredations of those whose cause we plead, but from the folly and wastefulness of man himself. Drains and the refuse of manufactories, these are the causes which lead to the blank days of the angler.

He prayeth best, who loveth best

All things both great and small;
For the dear God that loveth us,

He made and loveth all.

WATERSIDE PLANTS.

IT is a true saying, that half the beauty of a thing. is lost to those who do not know how to look for its beauty. The man who "knows when a thing pleases him and when it doesn't," is not the man to appreciate a good picture. In like manner, the man who has no more than a surface knowledge of the natural things about him, loses more than half the pleasure to be derived from a country ramble. He sees a general dash of colour: a blue, or red, or yellow flower, but nothing more :

A primrose by the river's brim
A yellow primrose is to him,
And it is nothing more.

It is something, however, to know the names of the primroses, daisies, and other common flowers. The mere recognition of a score or so of flowers and shrubs increases the charm of a stroll over the meadows, and through the green lanes, and drives away the monotony