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
_débris_. 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