For several years past I have been buying books, manuscripts, paintings, and other items for the Blacker Library of Zoology and for the E.S.W. Library of Ornithology, McGill University, Montreal, Canada. This search for literary material in zoology has finally narrowed itself to rare desiderata, the ordinary requirements of these special collections having long been satisfied; consequently, the quest has led me into out‐of‐the‐way localities and into shops and other marts of trade not generally regarded as harbouring works of zoological interest. While following this plan last year I, at a venture, enquired of a small but select London dealer in objets d'art whether he had any old drawings or paintings of birds or other animals. After a search in his cellar among much half‐forgotten stock, he brought out a parcel containing about thirty small (10×14 in.) mounted and coloured drawings of Indian Fishes. Each mat bore an auctioneer's (or dealer's) printed number; a few were signed “E. G.,” and upon still more were written legends (that Sir Henry Drake‐Brockman later translated for me as Urdu) of the native names of the subjects portrayed. With the contents of this package I was shown a portfolio containing paintings in colour of a few Indian flowers, inscribed with both their English and systematic names. Pasted on one of the front pages of this portfolio was a leaf on which was written “Elizabeth Gwillim, Madras, 1800–1806.” While I was examining these drawings and asking for more, a salesman happened along and said to the proprietor, “I think that before I went to France in 1914 I saw a collection of bird paintings down stairs.” Shortly afterwards this clerk appeared bearing an immense, dust‐laden, but extremely well made portfolio about five feet broad and four high. I noticed that it was brass‐bound, provided with a safety lock and had a wide wooden back. It must have weighed thirty pounds. On it were painted barely decipherable initials and a date—“E. G. K. 1800.” The contents amazed and delighted me. I do not claim to be an art expert, but I realized at once that the paintings of Indian birds in the pockets of that giant container were by the hand of no mean draughtsman.