The late Mr. A. Anderson wrote the following note:—­“On the fifth day after leaving Naini Tal—­ever mindful of my friend Mr. Brooks’s parting advice to me (in reference to the part of the country which required to be investigated), ’avoid the lower hills as the plague’—­I reached Takula, which is the first march beyond Almora on the road to the Pindari glacier, late on the evening of the 10th of May.  It rained heavily all that night, so that I was obliged to halt the next day, my tents being far too wet to be struck, and the distance to the next halting-place necessitating a start the first thing in the morning.

“Takula is at an elevation between 5000 and 6000 feet; it is beautifully wooded, with a small mountain-stream flowing right under the camping-ground, and the climate is delightful.  All things considered, I was not sorry at having an opportunity of exploring such productive-looking ground; and before it was fairly daylight the next morning operations were commenced in right earnest.  To each of my collectors I apportioned off a well-wooded mountain-slope, reserving for my own hunting-ground (as I had not yet got my hill-legs) the water-courses and ravines in the immediate vicinity of my camp.

“Not more than 20 yards from where my tent stood, there is a deep ravine clothed on both banks with a dense jungle of the larger kind of nettle (Girardinia heterophylla:  such nettles too!), the hilldock (Rumea nepalensis), and wild-rose trees.  Wending my way through this dark, damp, and muggy nullah to the best of my ability, I came upon the nest of this interesting little bird; it was placed in the centre of a rose-bush, at an elevation of some two feet above the bank and about four feet from where I stood, but yet in a most tantalizing situation, inasmuch as it was necessary to remove several thorny branches before an examination of the nest was possible.

“The act of cutting away the branches alarmed my sombre little friend (I knew that the nest was tenanted, as the bill and head were distinctly visible through the lateral entrance), and out she darted with such a ‘whir’ that anything like satisfactory identification for a bird of this sort was utterly hopeless.  The nest contained four beautiful little eggs, so that to bag the parent bird was a matter of the first importance; all my attempts, however, first to capture her on the nest and next to shoot her as she flew off, were equally futile, her movements being as rapid and erratic as forked lightning.  And here let me give a word of advice to my brother ornithologists:  Never attempt to shoot a wary little bird in the act of leaving its nest, as you only run the risk, and mortification I may add, of wounding perhaps an unknown bird, in which case she will never again return to her nest; but lie in ambush for her with, outlying scants, and make certain of her as she is returning to her nest.  She will first alight on a neighbouring