he jhil, like the seaside town, is, comparatively speaking, deserted. The season of the jhil extends from October to April-a term long enough to turn the average lodging-house kee

ing up their families. Thus, from May to September, the permanent residents hold undisputed possession of the jhil. The number of these permanent resi

racted from cloud to cloud, so that not infrequently there appear to be two suns behind the clouds, a major one setting in the west and a minor one sinking to the eastern horizon. The earth below is very beautiful. It is clothed in a mantle of green of every hue, from the vivid emerald of the young rice crop

grey plumage of this species, dull and sober though it be, stands out in bold contrast to the surrounding greenery. In another part of the jhil a couple of sarus cranes (Grus antigone) are visible. This is the only species of crane resident in India; the others are to be numbered among those which visit the jhil in the "season." One of the saruses, like the heroine of the "penny dreadful," has drawn himself up to his full height, and his grey form, relieved by patches of red and

ouple of feet from the water and large enough for a man to stand upo

l which were hidden by the sedges and grasses get up and fly to another part of the jhil. The first birds to be disturbed are some cotton-teal (Nettopus coromandelianus). As these consist of a flock of eight or ten

lank. As there are two of these birds together it is probable that they have a nest hidden in one of the sedge-covered islets studded about the tank. The other ducks disturbed by our approach

is is that this particular tank dries up in the hot weather, and coo

the water to secure a frog or small fish, their silvery wings stand out boldly from a dark cloud on the southern horizon. The terns a

luggish. Two of them are sitting about fifty yards apart on a band alongside the jhil, looking like kites with whitish heads. They sit as motionless as statues. They are obviously feeling very lazy. Presently a king-crow (Dicrurus ater) comes up and, uttering that soft note which seems to be peculiar to the rainy season,

nly flies a few yards. There is no creature more sluggish th