Dec. 9.—Walking along a grassy glade last week in one of Shanghai's few remaining beauty spots, I was greeted with an unusual sight: a stretch of frosted grass sparkling with the diamonds of an early morning frost....but with a column of "steam" rising up in the middle! In a nearby tree the voices of many familiar birds were screaming for my attention, but I had to walk over to that unusual white column to make certain of its origin: it was, of course, just the head of a surface drain and the vapour of Mother Earth's hidden store of liquid was coming out in a little white cloud—just as my own breath showed white as I stood gaping at the beauty of my surroundings. But at this point the screams from the tree rose to such a pitch that I hurried off to investigate. As I approached small birds flew out in every direction, and I just arrived in time to see two birds come tumbling down, one locked in the other's claws: my arrival broke them apart and they flew off in opposite directions: the larger bird was swiftly out of sight, but the smaller one was easily identified as a very scared and ruffed Blackbird which my approach had rescued from mayhem or even murder. It then became apparent that all the noises which I had heard while admiring the little scene of frost combined with "steam" were the result of the mobbing of an Owl caught out in the early hours: on such occasions the Owl usually takes it quietly until he feels ready to fly off home, but this time a too daring Blackbird had gone ioo far and the Owl, losing its temper, had grabbed.it in its claws....the Blackbird had, in fact, caught a Tartar while I, its rescuer, had merely caught a cold. All of which goes to show that it does not pay to interfere in any kind of quarrel,
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.