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PRACTICAL NATURAL HISTORY.

By the Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A.

s. d.

Homes without Hands 14 0

Strange Dwellings, crown 8vo 7 6

Strange Dwellings, 4to 0 6

Bible Animals 14 0

Insects at Home 14 0

Insects Abroad 14 0

Out of Doors 7 6

London, LONGMANS & CO.

OUT OF DOORS:

A SELECTION OF ORIGINAL

ARTICLES ON PRACTICAL

NATURAL HISTORY.

BY THE

EEV. J. GK WOOD, M.A., F.L.S.

AUTHOR OF 'HOMES WITHOUT HANDS' 'BIBLE ANIMALS' 'INSECTS AT HOME' 'INSECTS ABROAD' ETC.

NEW EDITION.

LONDON: LONG-MANS, GEE EN, AND CO.

1882.

All rights reserved.

LONDON : PRINTED BY

SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE AND PAKLIAMENT STKEET

Stack

Annex

6

5W? PREFACE.

THE PRESENT VOLUME is composed of a selection of original articles on practical Natural History, which have been contributed from time to time to various periodicals, and are republished by the kind permis- sion of the proprietors.

From London Society are taken ' A January Day at Kegent's Park,' c The Children of the New Forest,' ' Turkey and Oysters,' and ' Our Eiver Harvests.' ' The Home of a Naturalist ' is from the Cornhill Magazine, and ' A Summer Walk through an English Lane ' and ' The Repose of Nature ' are from the St. James's Magazine. Five essays were written in the Dark Blue, namely, ' A Sand Quarry in Winter,' ' Under the Bark,' 'Mrs. Coates's Bath,' 'A Blackberry Bush in Autumn,' and ' De Monstris.' The articles on the

1117129

•vi PREFACE.

•' Wood Ant,' the ' Green Crab,' 'Medusa and her Locks,' and e My Toads ' were contributed to Once a Week ; and the two concluding essays, ' Life in the Ocean Wave ' and ' Our Last Hippopotamus,' appeared in the Daily Telegraph.

The reader will probably see that the first twelve essays are arranged according to the seasons of the year, beginning with a winter of activity, and ending with a winter of repose.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

A JANUARY DAT AT REGENT'S PARK .... i

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER 29

UNDER THE BARK 46

MBS. COATES'S BATH gi

A SUMMER WALK THROUGH AS ENGLISH LANE . . gi

THE WOOD ANT 115

THE GREEN CRAB . 126

MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS -136

MY TOADS 146

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST . . . . -156

A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN . . -. . .181

THE REPOSE OF NATURE 199

TURKEY AND OYSTERS . . . . . . . 223

DE MONSTRIS 244

OUR RIVER HARVESTS ....... 260

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST . . . . . . 290

LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE . ..... . 319

OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS 881

LIST OF ELLUSTEATIONS.

FULL PAGE.

STEALING A HIPPOPOTAMUS .

THE SAND QUARRY .

MRS. COATES'S BATH

CRABS Al HOME

NIGHT IN THE NEW FOREST .

MT BLACKBERRY BUSH

IN THE TEXT.

HATCHING-TROUGHS IN GREENHOUSES

HATCHING-PLATE ....

EGG, FRY, AND PARR .

OPEN-AIR TROUGHS ....

TRANSPORTING-BOX

frontispiece to face p. 32 „ 80

n 123

,) 176

„ 192

p. 261 274

. 274

876

. 287

OUT OF DOORS.

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENT'S PARK.

HAVING always felt a strong interest in the economy of animated nature, I was recently led by a casual conver- sation to recall a visit paid to the Zoological Gardens in the coldest part of a winter now long passed away, and to reflect with some regret that the only remi- niscences of that visit were a dim recollection of a polar bear paddling in some half-frozen water, and a general idea of ubiquitous straw. I therefore determined to •watch for the first defined frost, and to renew my ac- quaintance with the gardens as soon as the temperature should be sufficiently severe for the purpose.

To the lover of all animated beings the sight could not fail to be most interesting, considering the different elements involved. "Within a comparatively narrow space are assembled a variety of living creatures from all parts of the world, forming a collection at present unrivalled, and bidding fair to increase year by year. From the frozen circle of the pole to the burning belt

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2 OUT OF DOORS.

of the equator come representatives of the fauna of every land, gathered together in the grounds of the Zoo- logical Society like the beasts of old in the ark, though happily with more space to move, and enjoying better ventilation. Beasts, birds, reptiles, fishes, and even the lowest forms of animal life, inhabit these wonderful gardens, which contain very nearly eighteen hundred specimens to be fed and tended daily, and to be placed as nearly as possible in the same conditions which they would have occupied in their native land.

Some of these creatures inhabit the lofty mountains, while others pass an almost subterranean life in the plains and valleys ; some require a warm and moist at- mosphere, while others would die unless they could breathe a cold and dry air ; one must live almost wholly in water, while another would be injured even by a, momentary immersion therein. Some animals, again, are fierce, savage, and powerful, requiring heavy iron bars and resolute keepers, while others are so soft and gentle in their nature that they require to be tended as carefully and watchfully as infants. Some are sullen and morose, others are affectionate and cheerful ; some are shy, others are familiar; and, in short, there i& hardly a mental phase that does not find a representa- tive in the creatures forming this collection.

In the matter of food, again, there is as great a diversity as in climate or disposition.

The carnivora, whether furred, feathered, or scaled, of course require animal food, which, again, is varied ta

A JANUARY DAT AT REGENTS PARK. 8

suit the particular species that need it : the lions and their kin eating flesh meat ; the seals and others need- ing fish ; and the snakes requiring living prey, such as frogs, birds, rabbits, and similar creatures. As to the variety of vegetable food which is needed to meet the wants of the beasts and birds that live on herbs, leaves, and seeds, it is too complicated for any detailed ac- count. Add to all these elements the individual idio- syncrasies of many valuable specimens, and some idea may be formed of the labour involved in keeping such an establishment in proper order.

Few persons have the least notion of the intellect, perseverance, and watchfulness that are daily exercised in this place, of the ready invention required to meet sudden and unexpected difficulties, and the resolute courage by which alone they can be overcome. Few of the visitors who stroll leisurely from cage to cage think of the exceeding benefit conferred on science by this collection, and the valuable additions to zoological knowledge that have been made through its means.

Many curious and disputed points in animal physi- ology have been cleared up, which otherwise must have been left to conjecture and theory, and the pains taken about the needful experiments are as sur- prising as they are generally unknown. In order to ascertain but a single mooted point, a staff of observers has been organised, relieving each other at regular in- tervals, never quitting their posts for a single instant, either day or night, and keeping their ceaseless watch

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lest at some unguarded moment the golden opportunity might be lost, perhaps never to recur. Any one who wishes to form an idea of the accuracy, perseverance, and "watchfulness that are exercised on such occasions, need but refer to the celebrated experiments conducted by Professor Owen, in order to settle certain difficulties in the development of the kangaroo.

In spite of all the care lavished upon this institu- tion, winter is always an anxious period. Bearing, therefore, all these and many other considerations in my mind, it was with no small interest that I entered the Zoological Gardens on Old Twelfth Day, Saturday January 18th, 1862, the thermometer then indicating a temperature of 24° Fahr., and a tolerably sharp breeze blowing.

On casting a comprehensive glance at the various enclosures, the first object that caught my eye was a creature something like a grenadier's cap, or a lady's muff set on end, reared against the bars of the enclosure, and gently swaying its body backwards and forwards. Presently it began to sidle along the bars, still standing or sitting upright, and being rendered so indefinite in shape, by intervening twigs, wires, and posts, that I could not make it out at all. However, it soon turned its odd, wise-visaged head, and all the Beaver sat con- fessed. As the beaver is a North-American animal, accustomed to brave the terrible winters of that climate, and quite familiar with ice, I should not have troubled myself about it, but for its movements and general de-

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENT'S PARK. 5

meanour partaking so largely of the absurd, and its perfect contentment amid conditions that would seem the very acme of discomfort to a human being. After watching the inquisitive creature for some time, it was easy to appreciate the veneration in which its intellec- tual powers are, or were once, held by the noble savage of North America, who would naturally reverence an animal that could build a house far superior to his wig- wam, and was clever enough to dam up a too shallow stream, and to lay by a store of food for the winter — two branches of social economy which the savage mind would not have conceived, far less have executed.

Dripping with water which froze almost immediately on touching the ground, and had already covered the enclosure with spots and paths of ice, the beaver looked as luxuriantly comfortable as a cat on a hearthrug, and was enjoying himself amazingly. Sometimes he would patter round his pond, his flat tail dragging behind him ; then he would make for the water, flounce into the half- frozen liquid with a splash that caused the nerves to shudder in misplaced sympathy, make a great turmoil with paws and tail, and then emerge, walk to the bars with the water dropping from every hair, seat himself on end, holding with his feet to the iron fence, and, with a calmly inquisitive air, inspect the carriages passing on the road, or the visitors who happened to approach his home.

Good store of tree trunks and branches have been considerately furnished to him, and the grooves on the

6 OUT OF DOORS.

wood, and the chips which strew the enclosure, are convincing proofs that the kindness of his attendants is not wasted, and that his teeth have been rightly ex- ercised.

Near this animal is another of the same species, not so large, and inhabiting quite a little enclosure with a mere trough of water, transformed by the united exertions of the animal and the frost into an unpleasing compound of water, mud, ice, and chips. The animal was mightily hard at work when I came to its cage, carrying a bundle of straw in its mouth for some time, washing it well, and then rearing the bundle carefully against the angle of its den, and tucking it down neatly with its paws. I thought it was playing at building a dam.

It was evident that as far as the beaver was con- cerned there was no cause for anxiety, and I therefore passed on to see how the inhabitants of Southern Africa were comporting themselves under the present circum- stances.

As usual, the hippopotamus was enjoying himself in his bath, rolling about and wallowing in the familiar element in a lazily contented fashion, ever and anon slowly submerging the whole of his unwieldy person below the surface, with that remarkable power of adaptability which permits such animals as the hip- popotamus and elephant to rise and sink at will, thus making themselves heavier or lighter than an equal bulk of water without needing to expel or inspire air.

A JANUARY DAT AT REGENTS PARK. 7

This is a most interesting performance, especially to a practical swimmer, and is probably achieved by com- pressing the muscles of the chest so as to reduce the bulk when the creature desires to sink, and allowing itself to expand to its former dimensions when it wants to rise.

The native habits of this huge animal are well ex- hibited in the magnificent male specimen now in the gardens, and it is curious to see how wonderfully the creature is fitted for an aquatic existence. Heavy, corpulent, and unwieldy as it appears on land, its legs set so widely apart that when it walks in high grass the limbs of each side make a separate path, leaving a ridge of untrodden grass between them, it assumes quite another aspect as soon as it enters the water, and, in the easy playfulness and almost grace of its movements, affords as great a contrast to its former clumsiness as does the swan proudly sailing on the lake to the same bird uncouthly waddling on the shore.

As the tank in the enclosure was so thickly covered with ice that the animal might have practised sliding, but would have found swimming next to impossible, the hippopotamus was forced to content himself with the small tank within his house, where the water is kept at a moderate temperature by artificial means, and the atmosphere is such as this delicate though monstrous animal can breathe with safety. The atten- dants are peculiarly careful of so valuable a creature, and have made arrangements for cleansing its house

8 OUT OF DOOES.

without sending their charge into the outer air during the operation.

The giraffes are nearly, if not quite, as delicate as the hippopotamus, and are obliged to content them- selves with gratifying their very inquisitive natures by inspecting the visitors who occasionally pass through their warm house, and would like to feed the graceful and gentle creatures, were not all such attempts sternly prohibited by the watchful guardians. It is rather remarkable that within a yard or two of each other are located specimens of animals which inhabit the same land, and yet are as strongly contrasted in shape and habit as if they came from opposite portions of the globe.

The elands are well and comfortable, and appear to- be tamer than was the case a few months ago. They are able to withstand the weather better than the hippopotamus and the giraffe, being, indeed, mighty mountain climbers in their native land, and therefore accustomed to a low temperature. I may here mention that the healthy condition of these magnificent ante- lopes, and the comparative ease with which they are bred in this country, afford most gratifying encourage- ment to the efforts now being made in many quarters to acclimatize in our own land the useful and orna- mental inhabitants of other parts of the world, and show in a striking manner the national value of a collection upon which so much time is spent, and to which such stores of knowledge are cheerfully dedicated.

A JANUARY DAT AT REGENTS PARK. 9

The acquisition of a single new article of food, whether animal or vegetable, is no slight boon to a country, and it is almost impossible to exaggerate the benefits that will accrue to this land if we can fairly establish this splendid antelope as a denizen of our parks or paddocks. When adult and well fed it is as large as a prize ox ; its meat is of a peculiarly deli- cate and piquant flavour ; its fat, a handbreadth thick, is thought to surpass that of venison, while the marrow is of such transcendent merit that a South African hunter can hardly trust himself to think about it. There are, of course, many difficulties in the way, inasmuch as the animal has not yet become civilised, and is apt to display an amount of irascibility that is rather terrifying in an animal that wears horns as sharp and powerful as those of an Andalusian bull, that can leap a fence or chasm from which the boldest hunter would recoil, and can charge down a precipitous hill with the speed and sure foot of the chamois. Still it is possible that in successive generations this evil temper may be eliminated by careful management ; and it is to be hoped that before the lapse of many years the eland may be as common in our parks as the fallow deer.

Nor is this the only creature which is being bred at the Zoological Gardens with the intention of acclima- tizing it. Among quadrupeds the bison of North America and the kangaroo of Australia are among the number of the intended denizens of this country, while-

10 OUT OF DOORS.

among the birds may be noticed a great number of species belonging to the poultry and the pigeons, such as the splendid curassows of tropical America, and the large wonga-wonga pigeon of Australia. France and England are uniting in the same great object by means of their respective Societies of Acclimatization, and should Europe be hereafter enriched with the valuable beasts and birds that are now being gradually accus- tomed to the conditions of a strange land, it is to be hoped that posterity will not forget how deep a debt of gratitude they owe to the Zoological Gardens of London, the property of a private Society.

Desirous of seeing how the cold weather was borne by the ostriches, I went to look at my old friends, whom I found shut up in their houses, but very glad to see me, and as desirous as ever of eating any object they could snap up. The shining top of my pencil-case was a wonderful object to these inquisitive and voracious birds, and it was most absurd to see all the heads bobbing up and down, the large brown eyes gleaming with excitement, and the wide mouths opened and shut with impatience, just because I was writing with a pencil that had a glittering top.

The temperature was 45° Fahr. in this department, and the ostriches and cassowaries were quite at their ease, as probably was the apteryx ; but as the latter bird was hidden, as usual, behind her bundle of straw, and was in all likelihood fast asleep, her exact condition could not be ascertained. There are plenty of odd

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK 11

birds in these gardens, but the apteryx without doubt is the oddest of all existing feathered bipeds. Wing- less, tailless, thick-legged, long-beaked, and brown- coated, she is about as queer a specimen of a bird as can well be imagined ; and, as a climax to her eccen- tricities of behaviour, persists, though a spinster apteryx living in more than conventual celibacy, in laying enor- mous eggs, each of which weighs one-fourth as much as the parent bird. Several emus, however, were trotting about in the open air, and were pecking here and there at the grass, or poking their long necks over the rails of the enclosure, as gaily as in the summer months, though the ground was frozen to a strong hardness, firm ice was at their feet, and the sounds of boys sliding were heard just outside the fence.

There are, of course, far too many beasts and birds in this collection to be separately examined, so I turned my steps towards the tunnel, walking casually through the parrot house, and dropping a word or two of recognition to my garrulous acquaintances, and then passing out to pay a visit to the piping crows of Aus- tralia, who were chattering away in the open air, brisk and saucy as ever, and always ready for a conversation. One of them, the white-backed species, was singularly lavish of his conversational powers, and engaged in a contest of strength on the spot. First the bird whistled a few wild notes, and then paused, while I did the same. Twisting his head on one side, and looking up knowingly with one eye, he waited for my lead, and

12 OUT OF DOORS.

imitated my whistle with wonderful fidelity. He got quite excited at last, flew to his perch, thence to the wires on a level with my face, clung firmly with his strong claws, poked his beak through the interstices of the intersections, and fairly screamed with exultation. Meanwhile his companion was making the best of his time by pecking my boots.

Pleasant as this amusement was, the hours were passing, and the wind was chilly, so I bade farewell to the piping crow, and cruelly left him, in spite of his repeated attempts to recall me by screams and whistles.

Mag, in the next compartment, was cheerful enough ; so were the ravens, with whom I exchanged a friendly croak in passing, and allowed them their usual bite at my pencil.

The elephant and the rhinoceros have been too long residents to care much for the vicissitudes of an English climate. The former was swinging itself from side to side in his den with that peculiar movement which seems instinctive to the creature, and may possibly answer as a succedaneum for walking exercise. The latter was serenely munching a truss or so of straw, his nose in the air, slapping his lips together with every sidelong movement of his mouth, while from his big lungs issued an occasional grunt of satisfaction, though certainly the substance which he was eating seemed absurdly incapable of affording any nourishment to the system, or gratification of the palate. None

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK 18

of these animals are allowed to expose themselves to the virulence of so frosty and inclement a day.

The reptile house is always kept at so uniform a temperature that winter's cold or summer's heat makes hardly any perceptible difference. The fine specimen of the North African monitor was in a state of great excitement, endeavouring apparently to climb up the plate-glass front of his cage, and ever and anon falling back ignominiously, only to resume the attempt with renewed vigour. It was astonishing what a noise the •creature made by scratching his claws and rubbing his chin against the glass, and to what unexpected attitudes his lithesome body and slender neck could be writhed. The reptile was shedding its epidermis, which hung in shreds and patches from different parts of the body, showing the bright scales beneath as they were freed from their effete covering. The creature was very per- severing in his exercise, continually darting out his long and deeply-cleft tongue, looking, indeed, as if it had been furnished by nature with two slender pointed tongues, and affording an admirable opportunity for studying the arrangement of the beautiful spotted scales on the lower surface of its body.

Its near neighbour, the rock snake, or pythoness, as it is just now the fashion to call her, was not visible, being, in fact, as well as could be expected under the circumstances, and lying under her blanket, coiled like a shallow cone around her new-born family of eighty or ninety eggs. The chameleons were perched immoveably

14 OUT OF DOORS.

as usual on the branches with which the cage is plenti- fully furnished, and gave no signs of life, except occa- sionally turning one great green-pea of an eye upwards or downwards, as the case might be. The African cobra lay flat upon the floor of its cage, but on seeing a human face, surmounted by a hat, coming close to the glass, it became rapidly excited, spread its hood, puffed out its body, and raised itself as if threatening an attack. Not wishing to be the cause of a possible in- jury to a valuable reptile by letting it strike its nose against the glass, as it was evidently preparing to do, I passed on to the bull frogs, and so out of the room.

In the next apartment the creatures were all doing well. A single specimen of the flying fox survives, though the keeper expressed himself as rather anxious concerning its chance of getting through the winter. That singular creature, the gigantic salamander, lay impassive as usual along the bottom of its tank, and though so remarkable an animal, attracts but little notice from visitors. Hundreds pass through the room daily without seeing it at all ; and of those who con- descend to cast a glance at it, the greater number ex- press themselves as sadly disappointed. The general public has heard great tales of salamanders, and through the medium of a weighty culinary instrument bearing the same title has learned to connect the name with fire and glowing metal. Reading the name of gigantic salamander, they enter the room in a rather nervous and uneasy state of mind, expecting to see

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 15

nothing less than fourteen or fifteen feet long, and hoping that the bars are strong enough to prevent it breaking from prison. Great, therefore, is their dis- appointment on being shown a glass tank of water such as they see in any naturalist's window, and are referred to a creature like a big black tadpole which lies grovelling quietly in one corner. Some decline to believe that the animal is the dreadful creature which they have been led to expect, and others openly aver that the whole affair is a delusion, and akin to Barnum's mermaid. Yet the beast is a wonderful beast after all, and in the eyes of naturalists is a very gigantic sala- mander. For, in sooth, the eft or newt is a salamander, and an eft of thirty inches in length is gigantic beyond doubt. Besides, it is very rare even in Japan, whence it comes, and its habits and general economy are very remarkable.

Nearly opposite to this salamander is a creature of unpretending form and dimensions, but still more curious in its structure and habits than even its black, flat-headed neighbour : this is the lepidosiren or mud- fish of Africa, remarkable for having long been an object of contention among naturalists. Is it a fish or is it one of the frog tribe ? No one exactly knows, and, to judge from the opposite opinions expressed by the most accomplished naturalists and dissectors, no one is likely to know. Perhaps it is neither, but represents an intermediate class between the fish and the reptiles, with the heart of one and the gills of the other. This

16 OUT OF DOORS.

specimen has lived for about three years in the tank which it now occupies, and has grown, though slightly, in that time ; thus affording a singular contrast to the specimen at the Crystal Palace, which attained a length of nearly a yard in the same time, though not nearly so large when first brought to England. But then the Crystal Palace animal got into the large hot-water basin and there lived a despotic life, feeding ad libitum on gold fish until he was captured and his depredations stopped, and on frogs afterwards. Should the reader pay a visit to the Zoological Gardens, as I trust soon will be the case, let him look well at the mud-fish, the Gordian knot of systematic zoology.

On my way to the lions I looked in at the wombat's ca^e, and there saw to my surprise that the animal, though a native of Australia, was lying curled up in one corner of the enclosure fast asleep, with the ther- mometer marking eight degrees below freezing point, and the wind blowing in keen and cutting blasts. The bars of the enclosure being open and of iron afforded no protection whatever, but would rather have the effect of chilling a creature that was pressed against them. The seals were naturally indifferent to the cold, and darted about in the water, or flounced their way over the rim of their bath, as if enjoying the icy coldness of their home. They ran some very good races after fish, driving up the water before them like the bows of two fast steam-boats, and had quite a struggle for the last fish. The otter, too, cared nothing about the tempera-

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 17

ture of the water, but sat on a heap of wet straw, eating his dinner, with the end of his tail in the water, and the freezing drops glittering around him. To the shivering observer, whose chilled fingers could scarcely hold the pencil, and whose heart yearned for a seat in a warm room and a large cup of hot tea, the choice of locality seemed singularly unfortunate. There, how- ever, sat the animal, thoroughly contented with his position, holding his flounder tightly between his paws, and crunching and tugging with hearty goodwill.

The lions, tigers, and other large carnivora, are carefully defended from the outer cold by means of thick screens rigged from the eaves of the projecting roofs to the bars beyond which visitors are requested not to pass. As, however, the greater number of visitors would be sadly disappointed if they had to go away without seeing these beautiful animals, they are admitted for the nonce into the space between the bars and the cages ; and in order to prevent the fierce beasts from thrusting out a paw and inflicting a wound, either in sport or anger, a strong wire grating is affixed to the front of the cage, which effectually prevents any such mishap. Notwithstanding all these precautions, and an assured conviction of the absolute security at- tained, I could not help instinctively starting back when the lion took it into his illogical head that I was going to steal his meat, and flew at me with flaming eyes and a roar that shook the place. I had much respect afterwards for the steady nerve of those who

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18 OUT OF DOORS.

can endure such a charge with a firm hand and un- winking eye, and very much less contempt for the native attendants who in such cases always throw away their guns and run for their lives. The whole of these dens are kept at a comfortable temperature by hot pipes, and the animals seem as contented as in the hot summer time.

Two lions, however, in neighbouring cages became angry with each other, or perhaps jealous ; and putting their mouths to the floor just by the wooden partition, began to roar against each other to the utmost of their power. It was a grand exhibition, and would alone have been worth the trouble of the visit. The threatening sounds seemed to reverberate through every nerve, the whole building trembled as if shaken by rolling thunder, and the rest of the beasts sank into respectful silence while the kings of the forest lifted their mighty voices. No wonder that at the sound of the lion's roar the beasts of burden break their halters and flee in terror over the plain ; but it is a wonder that the ostrich, the meekest looking of birds, should roar so exactly like the lion that even the native hunter cannot always distinguish the one from the other.

As if intended to produce a striking contrast to the lions, tigers, and leopards existing in a temporary hot- house, and sheltered from the chilling blasts by a screen erected expressly for the purpose, the polar bears live within ten yards of these heated localities, rejoicing in the cold, and probably thinking of the ice-fields and

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 19

freezing waters of their proper borne. This is one of the few northern animals whose fur retains its white hue throughout its life, experiencing no change in winter or summer. The coat of the ermine and the arctic fox alters from its dark summer tints to its snowy winter hue ; not, I imagine, to aid in conceal- ment by assimilating the colour of the animal with that of the ground, but because the pure white hue is endowed with some wondrous power of resisting the effects of cold.

I wonder whether polar bears when wild are in the habit of taking exercise in the fashion in which these specimens indulge ? Do they always walk forward for six paces, and retire backwards over precisely the same ground, with as much accuracy as if they had been volunteer riflemen practising the back-step? It can hardly be too troublesome for them to turn round, and they have ample room for the purpose, being able if they choose to indulge in quite a promenade, unre- stricted by the narrow limits in which those unfor- tunate lions and tigers are confined.

I pity those active and restless creatures with all my heart. I wish they had more appropriate residences, and am sure that if they were only permitted to ex- ercise their limbs as intended by their Maker, they would be healthier, live longer, and display their won- derful powers in a more perfect manner. There are, of course, some difficulties attendant upon the construc- tion of an enclosure sufficiently large to give ample

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20 OUT OF DOORS.

room to the agile limbs of the feline race, sufficiently strong to withstand the fiercest assault of the lion, and properly roofed so as to counteract the danger of a leopard or jaguar climbing over its walls. I cannot but think, however, that it would be quite practicable to construct an enclosure that would comply with all these requisitions, and at no very great outlay of space or money. The enclosure might be common to all the feline race, and each species might be allowed to exer- cise in it in regular rotation. There would be no diffi- culty in decoying them back to their dens, as a piece of meat would effectually accomplish that design, and allow of the door of communication being closed while the animals were engaged upon their food.

The interior of the enclosure should be furnished with artificial trees, and I have often pictured to my- self the magnificent sight of a pair of lions or tigers careering round their pleasure ground, exulting in their strength, or a company of leopards disporting among the branches, and displaying their lithe forms in all their spotted beauty. Look, for example, at the monkeys, and think how much we should have lost by cooping them up in little boxes, where they could hardly move, instead of giving them spacious apart- ments, fitted with ropes, bars, and boughs, so as to enable them to display their marvellous agility to our wondering eyes. Sure am I that a lion, tiger, or leopard, when permitted to range freely over an ample space, would present as great a contrast to the same

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 21

creature uneasily deambulating its narrow den, with its head close to the bars, and its paws slipping over the smooth wet boards, as does a monkey in a box to the same animal in a spacious apartment, or a caged squirrel to a scuggy in his native woods.

Both species of camel — the dromedary and the double -humped camel of Bactria — were quite at their ease about the weather. The former animal was stand- ing partially in its shed, with its long neck and meek- looking head peering out at the landscape, while the latter was quietly walking about its enclosure, though the ground must have been very uncomfortable to its feet, and the water in its trough had been frozen so hard that the attendant had been obliged to break the ice, in order to allow the animal to drink.

The coypu rat seemed rather unwilling to face the cold, though attracted by a large carrot that the keeper had placed within its den. This odd, blunt-nosed, orange-toothed quadruped only emerged at intervals, ate a piece of carrot, and then returned to its warm home. I remarked that the mice are very fond of the coypu's house, and run in and out of the straw with amusing impudence. The creature evidently dislikes the ice, trying in vain to get its usual bath, and feeling sadly disappointed at finding itself arrested by the icy covering of its little pool. The reader is hereby ad- vised to pull up a little tuft of grass by the roots, and place it in the coypu's cage, for he cannot fail to be amused by the clever and systematic manner in which

22 OUT OF DOORS.

the ingenious and cleanly animal picks up the grass, takes it to the water, and washes it carefully before it will condescend to nibble a single blade.

The honey-ratel, with his dark waistcoat and grey coat, was in great force, running about his cage ii, quite an excited fashion, and even climbing up the wires as if to survey the prospect. In the summer time of the year this animal has a habit of running continually about its den in an oval-shaped course, which is marked by the continual tread of the feet like the sawdust in a circus. The oddest part of the per- formance is that whenever it reaches either extremity of its course it puts its head to the ground, turns a somersault, and recommences its race. The fine speci- men of that very fierce animal, called from its evil temper the Tasmanian devil, was occasionally to be seen in the open air, but it preferred the warm retreat of its straw-sheltered shed.

The winter aviary, which is ingeniously constructed so as to admit of glazed casements in addition to the wires, is employed as the home of several valuable and delicately constituted animals. In the central com- partment is a remarkably fine specimen of that curious animal popularly called the Tasmanian wolf, but which really is not a wolf at all, but one of the marsupial tribe, related to the opossum and their kin. The beautiful pariamas thrive well ; and as they sat on their perch with bent knees, and head sunk so deeply upon the breast that the curious feathery crest that decorates the

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 23

head was scarcely perceptible, they could hardly be re- cognised as the same birds who stalk about their cages with long and haughty strides, erect gait, and bold, intelligent gaze. Perhaps, however, the most curious inhabitants of this aviary are the crested eagles, fine, handsome birds, notable for an erect tuft or plume of black feathers upon their heads, not unlike the ostrich plumes of a lady's court dress.

The last animals visited were our volatile friends the monkeys, who seemed none the worse for the com- paratively close quarters to which they are confined in severe weather. The house is rather dark just now, because the windows are thickly banked up with straw, a precaution necessary lest the monkeys should be chilled by coming in contact with the cold glass. The temperature of the room is very comfortable, but not unpleasantly warm, and is maintained by a partly open stove or fireplace in the centre. I was sorry to miss my dear old friend Sally, the spider-monkey, whose gentle manners and wonderful length of limb I have often admired. Agile as are all the monkey tribe, Sally was certainly the most active I have yet seen in this country, and her performances on the rope would have put the combined efforts of a dozen Leotards or Blondins to shame. I shall never forget her happiness when dancing and swinging about on a clothes line in a garden near Reading, the curious air with which she contemplated the surrounding objects, and the look of piteous entreaty with which she deprecated the order

24 OUT OF DOORS.

to leave her rope and return to her seat on the back of a chair near the kitchen fire.

The funny little Capuciu monkey was as amusing as ever with his nuts and pebble, using the latter in the light of a hammer and smashing the nutshells with wonderful certainty. The odd little creature has a perfect passion for hammering, and had battered the woodwork of his cage so severely that the keeper was forced to take away the stone, and now lends it only when it is wanted. Even the hard, angular shell of the Brazil nut is broken by this clever little animal, and the keeper told me that he — the monkey, to wit — could hardly have a greater treat than to be given a hammer and a board with a nail partly driven, so that he might take the hammer and finish driving the nail.

The great anubis baboon sat sulky and impassive on his perch, his chin sunk on his breast, his limbs gathered up into marvellously small compass, and his toes holding tightly to the bars. Offerings of nuts and other dainties failed to propitiate his frigid dignity ; and it was not until the keeper spoke to him that he would condescend to notice the gifts that were freely proffered. Even after taking the nuts and pieces of cake, he just put them in his mouth, ascended again to his perch, and resumed his former misanthropical attitude. Large store of straw is placed in his cage, and when evening approaches he retires to the farther corner of the cage, creeps into the heap of straw, and with hands and feet

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 25

disposes it around him in such a manner that not a vestige of his person can be seen.

In a large cage, where a number of the smaller monkeys are congregated, the ruling power of the establishment was evidently the huge white and black cat, who lay calmly dozing among all the restless quadrumana, supremely indifferent to their noisy gambols. Even when a graceless monkey leaped on her back from a perch, and was straightway assaulted by one of his companions, the cat did not even open her eyes, but lay purring, with her paws tucked com- fortably under her chin, in utter unconcern. Pussy has been used to monkeys for so long a time that she is quite uncomfortable out of their presence, and cannot endure being placed in the open air. The keeper fetched her out of the cage to enable us to judge of her weight, which is really wonderful for a cat of the gentler sex, and hardly was she fairly on the ground, and the door of the cage opened, than she leapt through the aperture and resumed her former position.

No sooner did the shades of evening become per- ceptible than the monkeys made arrangements for the night, ceasing from their sports, and even allowing the armadillo to run about the cage according to its pleasure, without jumping on its back for a ride, or trying to pull it over as it trotted past them. They congregate together in compact bodies, presenting a most absurd effect of parti-coloured fur, inter- twined limbs, and long dangling tails, and were con-

26 OUT OF DOORS.

tinually struggling for the snuggest and warmest spot, which was, of course, the centre of the group. One individual was totally excluded, but he took the matter in a philosophical light, going carefully over the cage and picking up all the little bits of biscuit and stray nuts which his companions had relinquished when battling for a place on the perch.

Throughout the whole of the visit it was pleasant to denote the demeanour of the attendants, upon whose sympathetic kindness depends so much of the comfort and happiness of the animals under their charge, and the manner in which they accommodate themselves to the individual idiosyncrasies of their charges. Should the animal happen to be docile and intelligent, no one is more proud than the keeper, and no visitor can be more interested in seeing the clever performances of any creature than is the keeper in exhibiting them. It was pleasant, for example, to see the two splendid chetahs' behaviour towards their attendant, and ludicrous enough to watch him coolly sweep either individual out of his way with the broom if they happened to interfere with his movements while cleaning their cage. If they had been a pair of three months' old kittens there could not have been more confidence on the one side or play- fulness on the other. As the keeper left the cage, the gentle and beautiful creatures pressed after him, but were gently put back with one hand while he took down some meat with the other. Even under such

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 27

exciting circumstances, with their dinners in their sight, they displayed none of the fierce eagerness so common among the feline race when they see or smell their food, and they took the meat with even less haste than my own pet cat exhibits when the food is to his taste, and he happens to feel hungry.

Should, however, the animal be of a vicious and impracticable disposition, the keeper only seems to be amused at the various exhibitions of cross-grained temper, and laughs good-humouredly at every growl, or attempted assault.

Perhaps the reader may have remarked in the course of this slight sketch of a very wide subject, the apparent absence of all rule regarding the capability of any animal to resist the effects of cold weather and a strange climate. It is easy enough to understand that the beaver and the polar bear could be quite happy on a frosty day, and that the lions, tigers, and leopards would need protection against the chilling atmosphere. But it was hardly to be expected that the camel, which is essentially the 'ship of the desert,' made to endure long thirst and to pace for weeks over the burning sand, should walk about quite at its ease upon frozen soil, and drink from a trough in which the ice was thickly gathered. This phenomenon will perhaps give some idea of the difficulties attendant upon acclimatizing the denizen of a strange soil, inas- much as it is quite impossible to treat one animal on a system derived from the management of another

28 OUT OF DOORS.

species from the same country and with similar habits. Each new species must be learned by means of repeated and cautious experiments, and to the minds of thought- ful lovers of nature, and observers of animal life, this very want of uniformity affords a better hope of ulti- mate success than if it were possible to reduce the management of foreign animals to a rigid system, and treat all creatures of kindred forms and similar countries on the same stereotyped principles.

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER.

THE end of November, 1872, 6.30 A.M. Wet, wet, wet ! Thermometer 34 deg. A fierce wind blowing some- where from the northwards, howling and shrieking through the trees, and, as can be seen even at that hour, tearing off the leaves that still keep their hold on the branches, whirling them high in air, and mixing them with the already fallen leaves which have been swept up from the ground, and tower upwards in spiral eddies before they again drop to the earth. No moon : the sun is not due yet, but he is trying hard to drive a few pale, watery beams through the dull, leaden, black-patched canopy which does duty for a sky ; and, as the eye becomes more accustomed to the semi-dark- ness, a few large snow-flakes are seen here and there amid all the flying leaves. The sash is opened for a better glance of the sky, and in rushes the triumphant wind, sending all my papers flying helter-skelter about the room, and causing great confusion among the multitudinous savage weapons, implements, and orna- ments with which the walls are covered.

The house is situated on the top of the hill, so that

80 OUT OP DOORS.

the wind does pretty well as it likes, especially at this time of year when the foliage is off the protecting belt of trees in front, and nothing is left but their bare branches. Clearly, this is a day for home-work, for avoidance of the elements, and for cheerful fires in de- fiance of the colliers.

A letter from the editor, urgently requesting an article at once, because the magazine has to go to press so early in November. I had looked forward to a nice bright December day for this task — one of the many wintry days when the sun shines clearly, though coldly ; when the sky is blue, when scarcely but the slightest breeze is perceptible, and when the exhilarating, bracing atmosphere almost takes away the sense of cold. Moreover, I had intended to write an article entitled, ' Under the Ground,' as a companion to ' Under the Bark,' but the perpetual rains of the last two or three months have rendered such a task all but useless. There are hundreds of insects which pass their winter time some few inches below the surface of the earth, and I had thought of taking a limited area, digging it carefully, and jotting down the results; but there is nothing which does so much damage to most insects as wet. Cold they can bear well enough, provided they are not exposed directly to the elements, but wet is more than they can endure, and fairly drowns them, and it is for that reason that insects are often so rare after a very wet autumn.

Surely no one could be expected to go out in such

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 81

weather and dig for insects ; and if he were rash enough to do so, the chances are that no sooner did he uncover an insect than it would be blown far out of his reach. At last I bethought myself of a small, sheltered sand quarry, about half a mile from my house, and, taking with me the old familiar butcher's knife in its sheath, and some boxes, I started for the quarry.

When I visited the place in July last, it was a most lovely little spot, clothed with abundant verdure, rich in the sweet flowers of glorious summer, and musical with the twitter of joyous birds and the hum of many insects. The sky was serene and calm, with a few white clouds drifting slowly across • its azure expanse, and sending their shadows travelling over the plain below. The Thames ran, a meandering blue streak, glittering here and there as the sunbeams glanced on its ripples, and bearing many a white sail and swift steamer through the valley over which it had once spread itself like a shallow lake until restrained within its limits by the mighty ' river-wall,' on which the seaweed dangles in black and green clusters.

Now, how changed is all the scene ! The quarry itself is tolerably sheltered, but above our heads the wind tears its way through the wood, and speeds over the country as if it meant to twist every tree up by the roots. Every now and then, as some fiercer gust passes along, a loud ruffling sound is heard, accom- panied by a pattering as of hail, among the withered leaves that strew the ground. At first, indeed, I took

32 OUT OF DOORS.

it to be really hail, but presently found that it was caused by the little hard seeds of the broom, which clung somewhat loosely to their opened and twisted pods, and were shaken out by the wind. All the broom trees above had lost their seeds long ago, but these still survived in that partly sheltered spot. The rustling sound was produced by a young sycamore tree. All the leaves had been blown off it except one large leaf at the end of each twig. These clung pertinaciously to their hold, and the noise which they made was really wonderful.

No longer bright and glittering, the Thames, a dull grey stream, 'reflected the dull grey and leaden sky, through which no ray of sunshine could pass, and over which the black snow clouds sped with ominous rapidity. Not a sail visible, and only an occasional empty screw- collier, very much down at the stern with the weight of her engines, and her ( nose tip-tilted ' as if disgusted with things in general. Far away on either side lie the marshes as they are still called — 'the meshes' ac- cording to aboriginal pronunciation — and on the left is the identical ' mesh ' where Pip encountered his grateful convict, and nearly met his death in the hut by the lime kiln. Not many years ago the bittern haunted these marshes, but its weird, booming cry has ne^er been heard since the marshes were drained and cultivated. For all that may be seen now the bittern might yet be there, and a more forlorn-looking place can hardly be imagined than that dim, misty expanse

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 33

with the river winding through it, and closed in the distance by the black, tree-topped Essex hills.

As to the wind, it seems scarcely to have made up its mind what to do, or by what name it was to be called, whether Boreas, Septembrio, or Thracias. It is only determined on two points — the one that the north should be the leading element, and the other that it had to blow its hardest.

It is quite a relief to turn into the quarry, as into harbour out of a rough sea, and to be free from that bitter, searching wind which takes away the breath when faced, and, when the back is turned, seems to force its way through all apparel as easily as if the thick overcoat were little more than chain armour. Here in the quarry, what a change is there ! A few flowers still linger in this sheltered spot. The yellow ragwort is plentiful, and a few purple mallow flowers are visible among the green leaves. The soil, however, does not seem to be kindly for mallow, as the leaves, though numerous, are scarcely larger than penny- pieces ; the plant crouches closely to the ground, and the flowers, instead of flaunting some three feet in the air, upborne by a stem like a walking-stick, are nestled among the leaves, and almost hidden by them. Richer colouring than the mallow is, however, there. The entrance to the quarry opens into ' Ragged Robin Lane,'' and there, on the spot where the southern sun- beams can warm and the north wind cannot touch, is Ragged Robin himself, with just one or two rosy flowers

D

34 OUT OF DOORS.

yet unfaded. I suppose that the flower has held its own because, owing to its situation, nearly at the foot of a hill, the bottom of the quarry is always moist, and whatever warmth there may be it is sure to get. And in the middle of the quarry stands a solitary oat plant, tall, fair, and strong, its leaves broad and healthy, and its graceful pendulous spikelets waving gently in the slight breeze that can find its way into the quarry.

Thick and dark lie the fallen leaves, coloured with the yet unfaded reds and browns and yellows of autumn. Without moving I can note sycamore, maple, oak, Spanish chestnut, horse chestnut, beech, birch, elm, and ash. It is worthy of notice to remark how capri- cious are the trees in retaining or parting with their leafage, and how, when two trees of the same species stand near each other, one will be entirely bare, while the other will be half clad with fairly green leaves. This difference is evidently to be attributed to the particular soil into which the chief roots of the tree have penetrated.

The soil in this spot is exceedingly varied, all sorts of strata turning up close to each other. For example, the eastern and southern sides of this quarry are soft, friable sand, whereas the western side is rough con- glomerate. Of the latter material, indeed, our hill is mostly composed. It is very healthy, no doubt, and has the advantage of creating scarcely any mud, so that, even after a long and steady rain, a lady can safely walk in the roads, provided that her boots be reasonably stout.

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 35

Still it has its disadvantages. The ground does well enough for trees and even shrubs, but it renders floriculture a heart-breaking business. Only the thin- nest and poorest layer of soil lies on it, and even if abundant mould be added, the first heavy rain washes it all away, and a fine crop of loose stones comes to the surface. As for turf, it will not live on such a soil, but becomes covered with moss, and gradually dies off. After some ten years' experience, I have at last induced a lawn to exist ; but then I had to dig away some eighteen inches of rubbish, put down a layer of good soil, than a thick layer of chalk, and then another of marl. Chalk absorbs water like a sponge, so that it retains the water which otherwise would have run to waste, and gives it out slowly to the roots of the grass in the dry weather.

Another disadvantage of such a soil is the abundance of pebbles, varying in size from a cherry to a plum, and nicely rounded for throwing. Consequently the boys, with whom this place abounds, and who, boy-like, are mostly at war with each other, and always with the rest of mankind, find themselves amply provided with weapons ready to hand. In the autumn, when the chestnuts are ripe, it is scarcely safe to turn a corner, or even to go near one, so perpetual is the fire that is kept up at the trees and between rival parties of boys.

The perpendicular sides of the quarry show this arrangement of strata very plainly. It is curious to see how the roots of the trees have restricted them-

D 2

gg OUT OF DOORS.

selves to the shallow stratum of soil, so that they run almost horizontally. As the rain and wind beat away the upper portion of the quarry, the earth falls away from the roots, which hang down, waving loosely in the air ; so when the strong wind attacks them they lash about like whips, and cut large semicircular grooves in the sand-wall against which they are blown.

Some trees seem to be little affected by this falling away of the soil. The elder, for example, retains its leaves bravely, and in one part has formed quite a rampart against the wind ; so does the blackberry ; while the elms are entirely stripped, the rooks' nests coming out black against the grey sky, whilst even the oaks have parted with their leaves, contrary to their usual custom of keeping them, though withered, until they are pushed off by the young foliage of the follow- ing spring.

In July last, among the many insects which thronged the quarry, I was greatly struck with the number of sand-boring and parasitic insects that buzzed about its eastern face, and so thought that such a day as this would afford a good opportunity for digging into the bank and seeing what the insects had done.

Even the face of the quarry has undergone a great change since July, not by the hand of man, but by natural means. The rains of many consecutive weeks have been dashed against it, run down it, and cut it into multitudinous meandering channels, while at the

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 37

bottom of the quarry is a large heap of mud, composed of the soil and sand -which have been washed down. Indeed, the view of the quarry showed admirably, on a small scale, how vast a work water does in changing the face of the earth. The strangest point about this channelled surface was the formation of numerous stalactites and stalagmites. A stalactite of sand seems rather a strange thing, but there they are and plenty of them. They are, of course, but small, only a few inches in length ; but size goes for very little in Nature, and, when compared with the area of the whole globe, there is not very much difference between six inches and six feet. They fall to pieces at the slightest touch of the finger, and yet remain unhurt while the tempestuous wind is roaring above, and the air is full of heavy rain, whirling leaves, and bits of dry branches.

A portion of the eastern face has escaped rather better than the rest, and to that I directed my atten- tion. It was literally covered with burrows, varying in size from eighteen inches to the eighth of an inch in diameter. The small burrows are evidently owing to the insects which were so plentiful in the summer. Chief among them were the Kentish bee (Andrena pilipes), a very local insect, hardly to be found in any other county of England except that from which it takes its name ; the Sand-wasps (Crabro and Odynerus}, and the lovely Euby-tail flies (Chrysis}, about all of whom we shall presently learn something.

The largest is that of a fox, and a very clever con-

38 OUT OF DOORS.

trivance it is. After much search on the hill from which the quarry is cut, I found the other opening of the burrow. It is situated on the side of the hill, shaded by grass and bracken, and is so carefully con- cealed that, although I knew it must be situated within a limited area, I had some difficulty in finding it. Should the fox be run to earth, he would take refuge in this burrow, crawl by its means through the .hill, slip down the face of the quarry, and be off to some other place of concealment. There are plenty of rabbit burrows ; two of which are so close to each other as to bear a curious resemblance to the Thames Tunnel, especially as the rain has washed away the sand around them, so as to form a sort of arched recess, in which the two openings are seen side by side. Above them, and not far beneath the layer of soil, are a number of the sand-martin's burrows, now of course deserted, their inhabitants being in climates where they are certainly warmer, and, I hope, drier, than they would be here.

There are one or two mouse-holes ; but these are of no consequence, and we proceed to those of the insects. First in size comes that of the Kentish bee. It is really a curious little insect. It bores horizontal tunnels some seven or eight inches in depth, each tunnel being about large enough to admit a common drawing-pencil. The insect itself would scarcely be recognised by those who had only seen specimens in a cabinet. Such specimens appear in their natural colours, i.e., entirely black, while the bee, as it flies to its burrow, is entirely

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER* 39

white. The fact is that in its state of grubdom the young bee feeds on the pollen of the thistle. The mother bee, after finishing her burrow, goes off to the fields, carrying away a quantity of the required pollen, and places it at the end of the burrow, together with the egg from which the future bee will emerge. The pollen being quite white, the bee is covered with it, just as a miller is covered with flour, so that she is quite metamorphosed for the time.

The sand being soft can easily be cut away with the knife, and, a grass-stem having been previously intro- duced into the burrow, there is no great difficulty in tracing it to the end. Sometimes, however, a large piece of sand breaks away and falls, carrying with it the whole of the burrow together with the grass-stem. At the end of the burrow may be found, at the proper time of year, the cocoon containing the bee-grub, and if it be carefully removed and placed in a box, the bee itself will make its appearance in due time. I have hatched out plenty of Kentish bees in this way. Al- though so local, it is a very common insect in this part of the country, where the soil is favourable. I am quite sure that, contrary to the habits of most insects, the Kentish bee has vastly increased in numbers since Kent was brought into the high state of cultivation which distinguishes the ' Garden of England.'

Before man brought his hand to bear upon the soil, the Kentish bee must have been sorely troubled to find a suitable place for its burrows. Sand very seldom

40 OUT OF DOORS.

forms itself into natural banks, and it is very rarely the case that a gulf is cut through the sand by the action of water, so as to leave a perpendicular bank on either side. Now, as the Kentish bee makes horizontal and not vertical burrows, it is evident that in the days when England was in the hands of savages, who made no roads and built no houses, the Kentish bee must have been much fewer in numbers. But, now-a-days, roads are cut through the sand-hills, and the sides of the cutting are filled with the bees' burrows. Sand, too, is urgently wanted both for building and agricultural purposes, and consequently almost every sand-hill has its quarry. It is most interesting in the bright summer time to watch these places, and see the white throng of Kentish bees flying into and out of their burrows, and making the air musical with their busy hum.

In the particular quarry of which I am writing, the Kentish bee has restricted itself to the upper portion of the sand, so that its tunnels cannot be reached with- out much difficulty. The lower part is occupied by the small burrows of the sand-wasp, which are placed so closely together that the face of the quarry looks very much as if it had sustained a series of volleys of No. 7 shot. Not exactly so, as we shall see, for in one place there actually is a group of shot-holes round the entrance of a rabbit-burrow, the gun having evidently been fired at the animal as it was making its escape. Shot-holes differ from those of the sand-wasps in this respect. The latter are quite circular, and their

A SAXD QUARRY IN WINTER. 41

entrance is no larger than the diameter of the burrow itself, while the former are irregularly conical, the blow of the shot having always broken away a quantity of friable sand. Not a single shot remains in any of the many holes, the heavy leaden pellets having all rolled out of their conical beds.

To trace up the burrow of the sand-wasp is a diffi- cult task. I find that the best plan is to select a spot about a foot square, in which the burrows are very numerous, and then to pare away the sand in thin slices* If this be done neatly and carefully, the whole of the burrow can be laid down open from mouth to end* Mostly they run horizontally, like those of the Kentish bee, being driven at right angles to the face of the sand-bank, but some of them make a sudden curve, when they have gone a few inches into the sand, run for a little distance parallel with the quarry face, and then resume their former direction.

Suddenly we come upon a small lump of something black and fluffy, looking much as if a small pinch of black cloth teasings had been rolled into a little cylin- der and pushed to the bottom of the tunnel. We care- fully get it out with the point of a penknife, and slip it into a box, so as to prevent it from being blown away by the wind. Presently another and another of the black lumps is discovered and transferred to the box. Presently we come to another lump, which is pale brown instead of black, and place it with the others. Now, having preserved as many specimens as are

42 OUT OF DOOES.

wanted, we make our way homeward through the lain and wind, and proceed to the microscope, in order to ascertain the precise character of the fluffy lumps taken from the burrows.

The day is much too dull and dismal to afford sufficient illumination, so the lamp is lighted, and one of the black objects placed under the half-inch glass. The first glance detects its nature. It is composed entirely of fragments of little flies. Black, shining bodies, heads, and severed wings are clustered thickly together, the wings shining out in every colour of the rainbow, amid the debris with which they are sur- rounded. The sand-grains look like lumps of sugar- candy, the withered, red-brown eyes still show their thousands of hexagonal lenses, the black, hairy legs and fragments of bodies lie about in utter confusion, while the wings, though broken from the body and mixed with sand and all kinds of miscellaneous rubbish, flash and glitter in ripples of crimson, green, gold, and azure. Gauzy and delicate as they are, they have sur- vived the body to which they were once attached, and have not lost one whit of their former beauty. One fly presents a very curious aspect. It is a little black, round-headed fly, quite shrivelled up and withered. It has lost all its legs, but it retains its wings, and adheres to the general mass by the very tips of those organs, projecting itself forward, and looking like a tiny black imp sustained on bright, glittering, many-coloured wings that would do credit to a fairy. Altogether,

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 48

one of these insect masses reminds me much of the 4 pellets ' which are found so abundantly in owls' nests, and which are composed of the skin, bones, and teeth of mice, and the hard limbs and wing-cases of beetles.

The black lumps are all composed of the same materials, so we pass to one of the brown masses. No opalescent patches of colour betray the presence of wings, but projecting from it on every side are long, crooked legs, covered with sharp, brown, curved spikes, showing in a moment that they are the legs of spiders. All these brown masses are alike ; the spiders are ap- parently of the same species, and all nearly the same size. After examining a considerable number of speci- mens, I can only find two materials for these masses, namely, spiders and flies, and in no instance is there a spider among the flies, or a fly among the spiders. Now why were these creatures buried in the bottom of these tunnels, and why are they so shrivelled and dismem- bered ? They were placed there by the sand-wasp as food for her future young, just as the Kentish bee stores her burrow with pollen. Sand- wasps in all their stages of existence are carnivorous, and so it is neces- sary to supply the young with the appropriate animal food.

There are very many species of sand-wasps, and each chooses some particular insect as food for its young. Many prefer flies, some furnish their young with aphides, and others choose beetles. Even the little hard-bodied turnip-beetles (turnip-fleas, as they are often called, on

44 OUT OF DOORS.

account of their small size and powers of jumping) are used for this purpose. How the little sand-wasp grub manages to eat them is more than I know, but perhaps the hard integuments may be softened by the damp of the burrow. This, however, is merely conjecture.

There is yet one insect to be accounted for. I have already mentioned the ruby-tail flies that in July were flitting so anxiously over the face of the quarry, their burnished crimson and blue mail flashing in the sun- beams like living jewellery. They were on a somewhat similar errand to that of the bees and wasps, but they carry it out in a different manner. They are parasites on the sand-wasps, and just as the sand-wasp grub eats the flies, so the larva of the ruby-tail eats both the sand-wasp grub and all its store of food. From ob- servations that have been made on the habits of these insects, the larva seems at first to suck, rather than to eat, the unfortunate grub on which it feeds; but, having extracted nearly all the juices, proceeds to de- vour the other portions of the body.

The mother ruby-tail is wonderfully persevering in her attempts to insert an egg into some other insect's nest. Sometimes the rightful owner detects the in- truder, and then the latter generally suffers for her deeds. When attacked by her angered foe, she usually tries to shield herself by rolling her body into a ball and lying motionless. Even this ruse, however, does not always save her, and she loses her life, together with her hope of providing for a future generation.

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 45

Considering the size of the ruby-tail, it can contract itself in a really wonderful manner. Some little time ago, on a bright day in early spring, I was looking at some rough palings upon a park fence, and was ex- amining the little holes made by the Scolytus and similar beetles. The palings happened to face due south, and as the meridian sun shone on them, a ray penetrated into one of the holes and I discovered some- thing blue within. I proceeded to cut it out very care- fully, and there found a ruby-tail completely doubled up, like a hedgehog, within a hole scarcely large enough to admit a No. 5 shot. In the same row of palings I found plenty more specimens, all alive, and very much perplexed at being so unceremoniously ejected from the resting-place in which they had passed the winter.

46 OUT OF DOORS.

THE BARK

MAKCH.

THERE is a time for all things, and this is the time for that pursuit so dear to the heart of all entomologists, hunting ' under the bark.' And well may it be dear to him, for, putting aside the fact that ' under the bark,' and there only, are found some of the rarest in- sects that can enrich a cabinet, the pursuit is in itself one of singular fascination. By withdrawing the curtain of the bark we are admitted, as it were, on the stage whereon Nature acts her ever-varying drama, and indeed penetrate behind the scenes of the theatre. We trace insects throughout the various stages of their existence, and see how, by regular degrees, the fat, white, round-bodied, slow-moving grub is transformed into the active, ample-winged, long-legged beetle. Then there is all the fascination of the lottery attendant upon the search under the bark, and every fresh tree or stump contains within it new elements of amuse- ment. That there will be something under the bark is absolutely certain ; but what it may be no one can tell. There may be, perhaps, nothing but a common woodlouse or centipede ; but there may be, and very

UNDER THE BARK. 47

likely will be, some insect which the searcher never expected to find, and for which he has been long look- ing. Without further preface I will give an account of a few hours just spent in looking under the bark.

Close to my house — only across the road, indeed — there is a piece of ground which at one time was thickly planted with oak, birch, and fir trees, but which has been of late years partially cleared ; the stumps of the trees being in most cases left standing, so as to project a foot or so above the ground. These trees are on the upper part of the ground, while on the lower, through which runs a tiny but permanent brooklet, some willow trees are planted, one or two of them being very old. In this ground I lately spent between two and three hours, armed with a mortice chisel, a pair of forceps, and a laurel-bottle, i.e., a bottle in which are some young crushed laurel leaves, the odour of which is fatal to beetles, and prevents them from eat- ing each other. At this time of year, however, no young laurel leaves are sufficiently grown, so I had to make a substitute for them by putting a little Easter's insect powder at the bottom of the bottle, and covering it with a finely perforated card. This plan answered so well that I shall try it through the season, for not only was the odour of the powder fatal to the insects, but it did not stiffen their limbs, which is the result of laurel-leaf vapour.

As I have already mentioned, this is a good time for searching under the bark. The severe frosts of

48 OUT OF DOORS.

winter have passed away, so that the fingers of the searcher are not chilled into uselessness, a circumstance which is very apt to occur when the enthusiastic ento- mologist pursues his task in mid-winter. Moreover, towards the spring a vast number of tree-inhabiting insects become developed, and make their way towards the open air before they undergo their last change, so that at this time of year we may find almost imme- diately under the bark many insects which at other times would be buried deeply in the w\>od.

Taken roughly, all the creatures which are found under the bark may be divided into two classes, namely, those which have resorted there for shelter during the cold months of winter, and those which feed upon the bark or the substance of the tree itself. The former can always be found under the bark of old trees, especially oaks and willows. The latter, how- ever, are the most prolific in insect life. In many old willows the bark is slightly separated from the trunk for many feet, and although no external sign be given of this fact, the hollow sound which is returned when the outside of the tree is tapped is a sufficient proof. On carefully removing one of these sheets of bark from the tree a most extraordinary sight is often presented.

The space between the bark and wood is a vast camp of insect armies, their white and glittering tents being set so closely together that there is not room for a finger's tip between them. Under the bark also flourish certain colonies of flat white cryptogams,

UNDER THE BARK. 49

which spread themselves in fan-like rays, and almost rival the silken insect tents in whiteness. Now and then comes a circular tent, through which can be seen a quantity of little yellow globular objects. The character, of the silk tells us that the nest is certainly that of a spider, and we just pull off a little of the cover to get a better view of the eggs. Scarcely has the tip of the forceps stretched the silken roof than a simultaneous stir becomes apparent through the eggs, and all at once they suddenly start into life, unpacking in some mysterious way the limbs which had been folded round their globular bodies, and all running about as busily and aimlessly as the inhabitants of a disturbed ants' nest. In fact, the seeming eggs are not «ggs at all, but very young spiders which have only just been hatched and are waiting for warmer weather before they make their appearance in the world.

This same space between the bark and the wood is a favourite resort of many moth-caterpillars. Led by instinct they proceed to the tree and climb up the bark, seeking for some recess in which to pass theii short period of helpless existence. In comparatively young trees they content themselves with the crevices formed by the rugged and knotty bark, but in old trees, such as have been described, they manage to discover some aperture through which they crawl into the large sheltered space and there spin their silken home. Careful investigation shows that, however safe euch a retreat may be for the insect while in its pupa

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50 OUT OF LOOKS.

or chrysalis condition, it is little more than a trap for the perfect insect. For not only are spiders' eggs to be found « under the bark,' but spiders themselves also take up their residence there, and find ample subsis- tence in the many insects that have found their way under the bark and cannot find their way out again.

Only two or three days ago I found, under the bark of an old willow tree, the remains of a beetle (Pris- tonychus terricola) which had fallen a victim to a spider. Unfortunately the edge of the chisel came upon it and damaged the specimen, or I should have cut it out and preserved it for my museum, as I never saw anything more curious. In the first place, that the insect had been caught by a spider was evident from the fact that it was bound to the tree by spider web. In the next, it was laid on its back with the limbs, jaws, wings, and wing-cases separated and dis- played with as much regularity, in spread-eagle fashion,. as if it had been prepared by an entomologist as a specimen of insect anatomy.

Now, that any beetle should have been so treated is remarkable enough, but it is still more wonderful when we remember that the insect in question is one of the predacious beetles and measures three-quarters of an inch in length, so that it appears to be much more likely to eat the spider than to allow itself to be eaten.

Of all the insects which hibernate in the crevices of the bark, by far the greater number seem to be the chrysalides of various moths, which, as a rule, hide

UNDER THE BARK. 61

themselves so well that they need a practised eye to see them, and even though the greatest care be taken are often accidentally destroyed. It is extremely pro- voking, after selecting an apparently safe spot for the chisel, to see a white creamy fluid run along the blade, and then to know that the tool has passed through the body of a chrysalis which has hidden itself so cleverly as to escape observation.

The most successful of these hiders is the Puss Moth (Dicranura vinula}, the chrysalis of which lies hidden in a singularly ingenious cocoon. When the caterpillar is full fed it crawls to the trunk of the tree and looks about for a crevice in the rough bark. Into this crevice it insinuates itself, and begins at once to nibble the bark into tiny chips, which it fastens together with the silk-fluid discharged from its spinnerets, and so makes a cocoon which completely shelters it. Owing to the materials of which the cocoon is made, it exactly resembles the bark and can scarcely be distinguished from it, and as the caterpillar took care to retire into the crevice before spinning, the surface of the cocoon does not project beyond that of the bark in general. Very often when the eye fails in detecting a cocoon the touch succeeds, the material of the cocoon being soft ; but this is not the case with the Puss Moth, whose cocoon is much harder than the bark of which it was made, the silk-fluid forming a wonderfully firm and tough cement.

As for woodlice, millipedes, armadillos, and centi-

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62 OUT OF DOORS.

pedes, they swarm under the bark, especially the wood- lice, whose dried and whitened skeletons can be seen by hundreds, showing at once their crustaceous descent. Earwigs also are sure to appear in great force, and, as is their wont, do not lose their presence of mind when disturbed, but make their way instinctively for the nearest crevice, and wriggle their lithe bodies out of reach almost before they have been seen.

Under the bark are also the relics of other creatures. For example, in one willow tree, the nuthatch and the squirrel have both left their marks in the shape of sundry hazel nuts. There is no difficulty in distin- guishing the work of these two creatures. The nut- hatch wedges the nut firmly into a crevice of the bark, and hammers rapidly and perseveringly at the point until the nut is split in two as neatly as a boy could do it with his knife. The bird then goes off with the kernel and leaves the halves of the shell where they happen to lie, some of them being still fixed in the bark, some lying on the ground, and some having slipped between the bark and the wood. In this place the nuthatch abounds, so that there is every oppor- tunity for watching its habits. The squirrel treats its nuts in a different manner, first gnawing off the tip and then splitting the shell with its chisel-shaped teeth. Sometimes it gets hold of a bad nut, and after nibbling at th- lip throws it away. In the same tree that has just i^en mentioned were several bad nuts,

UNDER THE SAEK. 63

each of which had been tested by a squirrel and then thrown into the hollow between the tree and the bark.

There are plenty of beetles which find a shelter under the bark during the months of winter. While taking off one of the bark strips I saw something black wriggling violently under the chisel, and presently saw that it was a fine i Devil's Coach-horse ' (Goerius olens), which had evidently attacked the chisel after the manner of its fearless kind, and got itself caught be- tween the blade and the wood. This is not a pretty creature, but it is a wonderfully courageous one, and will fight any antagonist without the least regard to size. These beetles are very common at Margate, living in the clefts of the chalk cliffs. I found one of them at the foot of a flight of stone steps, and was ex- ceedingly amused at the manner in which it attacked my stick. It retreated fighting to the very top of the stairs, keeping its front well to the enemy, and acting on the offensive as well as the defensive whenever it found a chance. These are useful beetles to the gardener, as they feed upon many injurious insects, and I rather fancy that the unfortunate individual which was caught by the chisel had found its way under the bark as much for the sake of food as of shelter.

Having thus examined the willow trees, I ascended the hill and turned the chisel upon the stumps of the fir trees. These were, as I thought they would be, very prolific in insect life. In all cases I began by gently removing the outer bark, and in the first stump

64 OUT OF DOOES.

that I opened a gleam of rich metallic purple caught my eye. It was well below the bark, and buried in the soft decayed wood, and had it not been that a bright ray of sunshine happened to light upon it, I should perhaps have missed it altogether. On picking away the wood a fine specimen of the Purple Ground Beetle (Carabus catenulatus) was disclosed — in my opinion one of the handsomest of our British beetles, with its rich purple thorax, and the purple edging of its beauti- fully sculptured and elegantly shaped elytra.

To find one of these beetles is easy enough, because it is one of our commonest species. But I certainly never expected to find it in such a position. It is one of the predacious beetles, and both in its larval and perfect condition is a destroyer of other insects, so that unless it fed while in the larval state upon the wood- eating insects that inhabited the stump, I can scarcely account for its presence. It was not a beetle which had merely hidden itself under the bark by way of finding shelter, for the beautifully perfect condition of the insect showed that it had not as yet undergone any battle with the world. Moreover, it was hidden rather deeply in the wood, and was not merely lying under the bark. I think, therefore, that it must have fed while in the larval state upon the insects which in- habited the stump, and have crawled into the spot where it lay for the purpose of undergoing its trans- formation. Under the bark of the same stump, and in

UNDER THE BARK. 66

many others, were found various little beetles, which are popularly known as Sun-beetles or Sunshiners.

Carefully opening another stump, and removing half an inch or so of the rotten and damp wood, a slight movement caught my eye, and in a short time an antenna, evidently of a beetle, was seen gradually working its way to the light. Presently another antenna appeared, and then the head, which at once proclaimed itself as that of one of the wood-burrow- ing, long-horn beetles, called Mhagium bifasciatum. I do not know that it has any popular name, as is indeed the case with most beetles, however common they may be. This is a pretty, though soberly coloured insect, long bodied, long horned, long legged, and having a bold and sharp spike on each side of the thorax. To the unassisted eye it is only blackish gray, with four diagonal, cream-coloured marks on the elytra. But when a powerful light is concen- trated upon it, and the magnifying lens is employed, the colouring assumes a very curious aspect. The elytra seem to be made of black glass, ribbed, and covered on the surface with a multitude of tiny white specks, while the cream-coloured marks appear to lie quite beneath the surface, as if they were painted under the glass.

I was very glad to find this beetle, having tried in vain to discover one of its curious nests, but, though three insects were in the same little stump, I could not find a perfect nest. At last, however, in another stump

66 OUT OF DOORS.

I succeeded in finding the nest, cut off the stump with a saw, and brought it home.

Just before these beetles are about to change into the perfect state they make for themselves an oval cellr so shaped that the head of the insect is upwards. This cell is lined with strips of wood, which are torn away by the jaws of the larva and arranged regularly, like- the tiles of a house. The nest that is now before me- is a little more than an inch in depth, and on the out- side is an inch and a quarter in length by three-eighths of an inch in width. This diminishes, however, both in length and breadth in proportion to the depth, so- that at the bottom, where the insect reposed, it is only five-eighths of an inch in length and a quarter of an inch in width, just large enough indeed to hold the- beetle with its limbs and antennae packed tightly ta the body. The insect which made this nest differed from all the others in one respect. In the other cases the beetles seemed only too anxious to escape from their dark home and pass into the open air, while this one persisted in adhering to its nest, and, as the light was admitted, seemed to prefer darkness, pressing itself into the farthest recesses of its cell.

Another stump disclosed a really wonderful scene of insect life. On stripping off the bark of a small stump, barely eight inches in diameter and about as much in height from the surface of the ground, a large colony of the Yellow Ant (Formica flava) was sud- denly exposed to the light. The insects had th&

UNDER THE BARK. 57

strongest objection to the inroad upon their premises, and ran about actively in all directions. Their habi- tation was elaborately made of small particles of earth, which had been built together after the fashion of ants, and had been arranged between the bark and the wood so as to form a perfect labyrinth of soil cells and passages. I was really sorry to have broken into so elaborate a piece of insect architecture, but the mis- chief had been done, and was aggravated by a brisk and decidedly cold wind which had just sprung up, and which blew the unfortunate ants about in a way of which they did not at all approve.

This species of ant is very common, especially on heaths and similar places, and has the power of varying the structure of its nest so as to suit all conditions. On open ground it builds little hillocks, which, fragile as they appear, are quite capable of throwing off the rain. If, however, it can find a flat stone, it takes advantage of so good a shelter, and makes its habitation immediately beneath it, while in the present instance it had run up its chambers from the earth and extended them between the wood and bark of the stump. The bark was very close to the wood, and the insects had gained the requisite space by making shallow cavities in the decaying wood. During a severe winter these ants carry their habitations deeply into the ground, and make chambers, sunk well beneath the surface, communicating with each other by passages some four inches in length. It is in these nests, by the way, that

58 OUT OF DOORS.

some of our rarest beetles are discovered. The colour of the insect is bright but pale yellow, the larger workers being brighter in hue than the smaller.

Having already done as much mischief as could be done, I had no scruple in removing the remainder of the bark. To my astonishment, another ants' nest was disclosed, but that of a different species, namely, the Jet Ant (Formica, fuliginosa). Thus we have the curious fact that on opposite sides of the same little stump were two flourishing colonies of two different species of ant, neither interfering with the other, and both so completely concealed that no traces of them were seen until the bark was removed.

When their house was thus broken open, the ants showed at once the difference in disposition as weU as in form. The yellow ants ran about in a state of great perturbation, and although they could do but little ap- peared to do a great deal. They were very angry too, and one of them, when put into the bottle, attacked a sun-beetle, grasped one of its antennae with a hold like that of a bull-dog, and so died under the influence of the poisoned vapour. As a memorial of the occasion, [ intend to place in my cabinet the beetle with the dead ant stiU griping the antenna between its jaws.

The jet ants displayed no such fussiness, but took matters very coolly indeed. At first they seemed to be surprised into something like activity, but they soon appeared to make up their minds that there was no use in troubling themselves more than necessary. So they

UNDER THE BARK. 69

quietly slipped away under cover, some dropping at once to the ground and so escaping into the recesses of the nest, and others crawling very leisurely down the ruins of their home and disappearing into the deep- lying cells. Still, quiet, and almost sluggish as were their movements, they answered their purpose wonder- fully well, for the retreat was made so quickly that almost before I had recovered from my surprise at find- ing this second nest so close to the first scarcely an ant was to be seen.

The jet ants carry this easy-going style into ordinary life, and may be seen in the summer time doing what few ants do, namely, idling. They have a way of assembling together in considerable numbers just out- side the nest and remaining quite still in the sunshine, instead of running about and working as do most other ants, whether the sun shine upon them or not. I need scarcely say that both these ants are well worthy of ex- amination under the microscope. All insects are worthy of such an examination, but some seem to be more worthy than others, and of such are these two species of ants, so different from each other in form, colour, and disposition.

The same fir-wood is also much frequented by the magnificent insect called Sirex gigas — the insect that is so common in the neighbourhood of fir woods, and is BO often mistaken for a hornet. When the bark is re- moved from the tree, the holes made by the sirex in its larval state are very evident ; but as the insect is an

60 OUT OF DOORS.

inhabitant of the wood itself, and is seldom to be found under the bark, I pass but lightly over it in the present instance. Under the bark is a favourite resort of many of the weevil tribe, and those which do worst harm to fruit-trees are mostly in the habit of hiding themselves during the winter in the crevices of the bark. So all growers of fruit-trees will do well during the winter to search carefully under the bark of the older trees, and to fill up the crevices with some greasy composition, which will smother the beetles as they lie in their hiding-places. Stripping off the bark is much recom- mended, but I doubt its efficacy, inasmuch as these beetles always let themselves fall to the ground when they are alarmed, so that the greater number would escape when they were disturbed. The greasy composi- tion, which can be laid on with a brush, does no harm to the tree, and very effectually smothers the insects that are lying hidden l under the bark.'

61

MRS. COATES'S BATH.

MRS. COATES'S BATH is, I am happy to say, a bath no longer, but subserves a better purpose. What it was in the old days, and what it is now, I proceed to explain. One of the most delightful privileges of a practical naturalist is to possess extensive grounds of varied cha- racter. The next best thing is to live close to such grounds possessed by a friend who allows free range over them. In the same grounds that were mentioned in the paper entitled * Under the Bark ' is a small pond situated at the bottom of a rather steep dell close to the house. Somewhere about the beginning of the present century a certain Mrs. Coates inhabited the house, and very judiciously converted a piece of swampy ground into a convenient bathing-place, by having a pond dug and paved, and the spring which saturated the ground led into it at one end, and out of it at the other, and so conveyed into a brook which just skirts the grounds. For many years, however, the place has been disused as a bath, and merely serves as a pretty object to the eye. A week or two ago the idea struck me that the pond was likely to be rich in animal life, inasmuch as it is completely sheltered from the north-east wind, which

62 OUT OF DOORS.

is so hated by insects, and only open towards the south, allowing the meridian rays of the sun to fall daily upon it. So I fished in it for an hour or two, with a little net, and found that my impression was true. It is absolutely impossible, in so limited a space, to describe, or even to mention, all the creatures which I found in that tiny pond, but the following are some of the most character- istic inhabitants of ' Mrs. Coates's Bath.'

There were plenty of newts. Now, these are really very pretty creatures, especially in the breeding season, when the males put on their nuptial splendours. Like many birds, they only assume their best dress for a short period, and when that brief period is over, they can scarcely be distinguished from their more sombre mates. The chief and most conspicuous portion of the nuptial dress of the male newt is a sort of fin which runs along the back, and looks something like a cock's comb. It is deeply notched and toothed at the upper edge, and, as it is extremely delicate, it waves about in the water in graceful accordance with the movements of the animal. My little boy took some of these newts home, and, in the innocence of his heart, showed them to the gardener. The man was horribly frightened. He jumped back and absolutely yelled with terror. He, keeping at a safe distance from the dread beasts, told the boy that * the efiet was the most pizenous thing as is,' and that he had known lots of people lie down in the grass at haymaking time, when they were bitten by effets, and then they swelled up and went on swelling

MRS. COATE&S BATH. 6a

till they died. Fortunately, the boy was too well taught to believe the man, and Ms terrors and warnings only afforded the keenest amusement.

The newt is an interesting animal to keep. In the first place, it is very graceful as it swims, and its pretty colours and brilliant eyes show out much better in the water than on land. Then it has a very curious manner of depositing its eggs, doubling them up in the leaf of some plant, sometimes, though not always, a plant which is growing in the water. There is now before me a blade of grass which I found in the pond. It is neatly doubled in two, and in the fold is one of the little translucent eggs of the newt. When these eggs are hatched, little tadpoles issue from them, almost exactly resembling those of the frog, having similarly large heads, and long tapering bodies.

They do not show their individuality until their legs begin to appear, when the distinction is at once evident. In the frog-tadpole the hind legs are the first to appear, but the reverse is the case with the newt. As they increase in size the distinction becomes more ap- parent, for the tail of the frog-tadpole is gradually absorbed into the body, while that of the newt increases in length. The newt, in fact, differs but little in struc- ture from the frog, except that it retains its tail throughout its life. I find that in captivity the newt changes its skin oftener than it would do if left at liberty, and that if the water in the vessel in which it is left be changed, the newt generally casts its skin

«4 OUT OF DOORS.

•within a short time. This envelope is drawn from the body in an almost perfect state. It is exceedingly fine, like goldbeater's skin, and, if a card be slipped beneath it as it floats in the water, the skin can be spread out on it, and so removed, dried, and preserved as a specimen. Two such skins are now before me, and very pretty objects they are, every toe of each foot being quite perfect, and looking like fairy gloves.

As to aquatic insects, the water swarms with them, and the number of water-beetles alone that I found there is prodigious. This not being an entomological work I do not intend to give a list of the insects found in this little pond, but will only mention some of the principal species.

There was the great water-beetle (Dyticus margin- alis) in plenty. This, in common with all of its kind, is not an eligible inhabitant of an aquarium. If two or three be placed in a vessel with other inhabitants of the water, they immediately begin eating their fellow prisoners, and, having finished all the smaller creatures, attack each other, the strongest killing and eating the weakest. I have before me a very fine male Dyticus in a pickle-bottle, where I was compelled to banish him in consequence of his voracity. I feed him mostly on blue-bottles, which he seizes between his powerful fore- legs, and devours in a very short time. At first he was rather puzzled with the flies, they not being his usual prey, but he now knows how to manage them, and a fly scarcely touches the surface of the water when it is

MRS. COATE&S BATH. 65

seized and borne below, held firmly in the jaws of its captor.

It is an insect full of wonders, and contains in itself the elements of more than one mechanical invention. In the first place it is a living diving-bell. Like all insects it breathes atmospheric air by means of tubes, which permeate the whole of the body. The apertures by which these tubes communicate with the air lie on the upper part of each side, under the wing-cases. Now these wing-cases, or elytra, are convex, while the upper part of the body is flat, so that there is a space between the wing-cases and the body. Every now and then the beetle comes to the surface of the water, pro- trudes the end of the body, draws in a supply of air into the space between the elytra and the body, and dives again, the elytra fitting so closely to each other and to the sides that the air cannot escape. Some- times, if the beetle be not alarmed, it will remain at the surface, with its head downwards, and its body balanced by its extended swimming-legs, and on a calm day quite a number of water-beetles may be seen thus suspended.

The swimming-legs which have just been men- tioned are themselves very wonderful examples of structure. They are so made that the only movements which they can perform are those of swimming, and they are fringed with stiff hairs so set that when the leg is struck against the water the hairs stand out and act like the blade of an oar ; while, when the limb is

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66 OUT OF DOORS.

bent back for the next stroke, they are drawn through the water from their roots to their points, and so offer the least possible resistance.

The first pair of legs of a' male Dyticus are worthy the closest possible examination. On the feet of each of them is a round disc, which, when magnified, is seen to be made of three joints, flattened and dilated. Their under surface is covered with a vast array of suckers, one of which is very large, two of moderate size, and all the rest very small, and set on foot-stalks. With these suckers they can hold so tightly that they can crawl up a pane of glass by their aid, and bold so firmly that a rather sharp pull is required before they can be detached. A few days ago I noticed that one of these water-beetles had remained at the bottom of the vessel for a long time, and, on closer examination, found that it was dead. I took hold of it to remove it, when, to my astonishment, the body came away in my hand, the two fore-legs still clinging to the glass. The beetle had evidently been dead for some time, and was semi-putrid, but yet the suckers held on as firmly as during life.

Owing to the great length and peculiar jointing of the swimming-legs, the beetle is a bad walker, though it is a good flyer and a better swimmer. If placed upon the ground it crawls awkwardly about, and seems to have little power of directing its course. Should it fall on its back on a smooth surface it gives a series of wild kicks with its long hind legs, the action being

MRS. COATES'S SAT II. 67

precisely the same as in swimming, and both legs being used simultaneously. If the surface be perfectly smooth, such as a plate or a piece of glass, the insect only spins round and round, and after a short time seems to be seized with despair, and lies perfectly motionless.

Though the beetle can do no harm, and may be taken in the hand without fear, I do not recommend indiscriminate handling, and this for two reasons. In the first place it is wonderfully strong, and has a way of forcing itself backwards through the hands, so that a double-headed spike at the base of the swimming- legs is apt to prick the fingers rather smartly. In the next place when held it ejects a whitish fluid, which issues from the junctions of the head, the thorax, and the abdomen, and which has a strong and very un- pleasant odour.

The larva or grub of this beetle is quite as formid- able and ferocious as the perfect insect — which it does not in the least resemble. It is long-bodied, the body swelling out in the middle, and tapering gradually to the tail, at the end of which are a couple of diverging fringed leaflets, which are attached to the respiratory organs. The head is large and broad, and armed with a pair of exceedingly long and sharp jaws, curved like a reaper's sickle, and having a very sickle-like aspect. The legs are long and slender, and the colour is a pale brown. It moves by two modes of progression. It can use its legs for walking, and does so when it is

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trying to crawl leisurely, but when it desires to move with any swiftness it causes its body to undulate like the movement of an eel or a serpent, and so gets along at a good pace, its legs being used merely as balancers to its body.

Its character is best seen when it is at rest. It bends its body nearly at right angles, and ascends to the surface of the water, upon which the fringed leaf- lets of the tail are spread so as to enable the creature to breathe at ease. It thus hangs, as it were, sus- pended by these leaflets, with its head downwards, its monstrous jaws wide open, and its long legs spread, so that it forms a perfect living trap, ready to close on any unfortunate creature that may come in its way. Being rather a wary creature it escapes the net unless proper precautions be taken. I have always found that the best plan is to stir up the mud of the pond, and then to sweep the net rapidly through the turbid water, thus catching the Dyticus larva before it sees its danger. In « Mrs. Coates's Bath ' are many of this beetle's kinsfolk, but the manners and customs of all are so similar that one will suffice as an example of them all.

Perhaps the reader may think that there is not much to be seen in the common whirlwig, or whirligig beetle (Gyrinus}, which may be seen in vast numbers on the surface of the water, performing its mazy dance in any sheltered spot. Summer or winter seem to be the same to the whirlwig, and even in the cold days of

MRS. COATES'S BATH. 69

winter a gleam of sunshine will bring out the whirlwig beetles in any spot wherever the ice is not formed, and they will dart about as merrily as if the July sun were pouring its hot beams on them. I need not say that there are plenty of these beetles, because there is scarcely a piece of water larger than a puddle in which they may not be found. A depression in the ground which has been dry for months, and suddenly filled with water by a rain-storm, will have whirlwigs in it before many hours have passed. The fact is that these beetles, like those which I have just described, have large and powerful wings, and can use them with great ease. They can take a flight from the surface of the water — a fact which I believe has not hitherto been noticed, or at all events not published. I found it out only a few weeks ago.

While stooping over the water, and admiring the rapid movements of the whirlwig beetles, one of them suddenly darted up, struck me on the nose, and fell back again into the water. If the beetle were half as much astonished as I was^ it must have been very much sur- prised indeed. Wishing to see how this feat was achieved, I took a number of the beetles, and put them into an aquarium, thinking — and, the result proved, rightly — that they would soon be tired of their limited space and would take to wing. After whirling about for a little time, some of them crawled up the glass sides of the aquarium, while others darted into the air and took to flight. They did it by striking the water

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violently with both swimming-feet at the same moment, and thus jerking themselves several inches into the air. Almost simultaneously with the spring, they spread their wide wings, and flew off with incredible speed.

There is an old fairy tale about three sisters, who had respectively one, two, and three eyes, the elder and the youngest treating their sister very contemptuously because she had two eyes like people in general. Now, a whirlwig beetle goes one step beyond them for it has four eyes, two above and two below — two to see below the water and two to see above it. Of course the beetle has in reality a vast number of eyes, like most insects, but those eyes are divided into four masses instead of two. The reason is this. The insect is continually scurrying about on the surface of the water, watching for prey, and if its eyes were constructed in the ordinary fashion it would only be able to see either above or below the surface, according as its eyes happened to be placed. In order to be able to see distinctly any object below the surface of the water, its eyes must be submerged ; and in the eyes of this little beetle we find the principle of that well-known instrument, the water telescope. This is used for the purpose of looking into the water, and is simply a tube with a plain glass fixed water- tight into one end. When the glass is pushed under the surface of the water, and the eye applied to the upper part of the instrument, objects can be seen with great plainness, the vision not being obstructed by any ripples on the surface of the water.

MRS. COATES'S BATH. 71

In the larval state this is a very peculiar creature. It is long-bodied, with a blackish head, and along the sides of the body are delicate white filaments, which are the ' branchiae,' or gills, by which the creature breathes. Eespiration is effected by a continual passage of water over the gills, and in still water this object is achieved by a very constant undulation of the body, so that the gills necessarily are brought in contact with fresh par- ticles of water. By means of the same undulations, the larva urges itself through the water, just as has been mentioned of the Dyticus larva, and so, by the mere act of progression, increased power of respiration is obtained. In perfectly still water, the creature is never quiet for a moment, but keeps up a perpetual undulation of the body, during which the little gills have a most graceful appearance, as they float like silver threads on either side of the body. Sometimes the larva obtains its supply of oxygen by ascending a few inches by forcible undulations, and then allowing itself to sink slowly to the bottom, the delicate branchiae being spread out on either side, and acting as floats to prevent it from sinking too fast.

In ' Mrs. Coates's Bath ' are numberless water- boatmen (Notonecta) of various species and in all stages of existence. We will, however, content ourselves with the commonest and largest species. The insect derives the popular name of water-boatman from the fact that it lies on its back, the sharp edge of which makes a very good imitation of a boat-keel, and rows itself by its long swimming-legs, which are nearly straight, and, with their

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bristle-fringed ends, look exceedingly like oars. In fact, we have no oars that can in any respect approach in efficiency the swimming-legs of the water-boatman, with their invariably correct action, and their self-feathering blades. The name of Notonecta or back-swimmer is given to the insect in consequence of the habit of turn- ing on its back when it swims.

These insects are not beetles, though they are often thought to be so. They belong to another order of in- sects altogether, and will give very tangible proofs of this fact if carelessly handled. Anyone who has caught one of the predacious beetles may expect a sharp nip with the jaws if he does not take care of himself. But the water-boatman, in common with the rest of its kin, is furnished with a sharp and strong proboscis, which it will drive deeply into the fingers of its captor if it gets a chance. Like the whirlwig, the water-boatman is able to take flight directly from the surface of the water, and does so in a very similar manner, leaping out of the water by a violent stroke of its swimming-legs, and then spreading its wings before it falls back again. When on the wing, it flies with a deep humming sound, very like that which is produced by the humble-bee.

Its respiration is carried on much in the same way as that of the water-beetle already described. On a calm day, if ' Mrs. Coates's Bath ' be approached cautiously, so that a heavy step does not communicate itself through the land to the water, and that no shadow be thrown upon the insects, whole fleets of water-

MRS. COATES'S BATH. 73

boatmen of all sizes may be seen floating with their heads downwards, the swimming-legs spread wide by way of balancers, and the tips of their bodies just pro- truding from the surface. A hasty step, however, a sudden movement, or a shadow, even of a passing bird, thrown on the water, will alarm the insects, and they will scurry off in all directions.

By watching these insects very carefully in a bottle, and keeping that bottle constantly before my eyes on my desk, I have been enabled to observe the course which the air takes in respiration, the partly trans- lucent wing-cases enabling the bubbles to be traced as they pass like globules of quicksilver under the wing- cases and finally into the water. The air is taken in at the end of the tail, and introduced into the space between the wing-covers and the body. It is then gradually drawn forward until it reaches the base of the wing-covers, and is lastly forced out just where the wing-covers fit against the breast. When the insect is perfectly quiet the process may be seen going on with perfect regularity, the air being taken in near the tail, working its way under the wing-covers, and at last squeezed out near the breast, when it ascends in bubbles to the surface. In this position the water-boatmen are accustomed to wash themselves. They are as cleanly as cats, and perform the operation of washing in a very similar manner, leaving not a limb nor a part of the body untouched. Sometimes they will rest on the surface of the water, but this time with their backs up-

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wards, til air wing-cases half opened, and their winga partly unfurled. I never saw them assume this attitude except when the sun was shining directly on them, but I have in that case seen thirty or forty at a time sunning themselves in this curious attitude, which has all the effect of a disguise, and makes them look quite different insects.

I am sorry to say that water-boatmen are very pre- datory characters, and that they have a great fancy for preying upon the water-gnats, as they are called, those slight, dark-coloured, long-legged insects that run about on the surface of the water as if they were on land. They seize on the unfortunate insect, clasp it tightly to them with their fore-legs, drive their beaks deeply into its body, and suck out all its juices, after- wards rejecting the body, which to the eye seems to have undergone no change at all, and only to have been killed by the wound. The water-boatman takes from five minutes to a quarter of an hour to suck a single water-gnat, and carries it about almost pertinaciously, not even loosening its hold if alarmed and forced to dive. >

Few facts have struck me more forcibly than the peculiar life which is led by this and other aquatic creatures. As a rule they are essentially predacious. Taking merely those which have been mentioned, we have the newt, which eats all kinds of water inhabitants, provided they are not too large, and is in its turn often subject to a fierce attack by the Great Dyticus, and has

MRS. COATES'S BATH. 75

a bite or two taken out of its stomach, where it cannot brush away its adversary. Then the water-beetles are quite ready to eat each other should no better prey offer itself, while they ordinarily feed upon water-boat- men, water-gnats, and various larvse. Yet, with all this mutual destruction, the creatures are not in the least afraid of each other, and a whirlwig larva will, for example, swim deliberately in front of a newt or a water-beetle, though its destruction is almost certain. I cannot but think that they do not look upon such a death as we do, and that the larger predacious creatures are to the smaller somewhat as disease and accidents are to ourselves — something which cannot be foreseen or avoided, and which has no terror until it actually comes to pass.

One more predacious insect, and we will conclude with two which are vegetarians, and which, though they find no food in their comrades o'f the pond, some- times furnish it. I felt sure that in ' Mrs. Coates's Bath ' the larva of at least one species of dragon-fly was likely to be found, and a part of a cast skin of a dragon- fly larva which I found in my net confirmed the theory. There were some rather large patches of duck-weed floating in the pond, which I thought were likely haunts for the creatures. Accordingly I put the net quietly under the duck-weed, drew it smartly with its edge against the floating plant, and at the very first dip secured three dragon-fly larvae, all belonging to the genus JEshna, and being, indeed, the larvas of

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grcmdis, one of our largest dragon-flies. I afterwards took more specimens, not only of that but of other species, including the Demoiselle, but the present creature is enough to act as a sample of the rest.

To my mind this is one of the most extraordinary beings that the world produces. There is no need of travelling to tropical countries for Nature's marvels. They are lavishly poured out at our feet, and we only have to recognise them. Its mode of progression is one that has lately been taken up as a new method of pro- pelling steam-vessels, and its mode of seizing its prey displays a power of modification which very few struc- tures attain. I took a number of these larvae home, and watched their proceedings very attentively. They were well worth watching.

In the first place we will see how the creature propels itself. The body of the larva is long and tapering, rather larger in the middle, and ending in five horny spikes, which can be made to diverge from each other or can be pressed closely together, when they look like a single point. At the junction of these spikes is a circular aperture, large enough to receive an ordinary pin, and this aperture leads to a hollow space within the body. In this hollow are the gills, and respiration is carried on by means of the water which is drawn in and ejected through the orifice at the root of the horny spikes. When the creature is at rest the water is drawn in and out very quietly, and producing a gentle current that

MUS. COATES'S BATH. 77

extends for several inches behind the larva. But when it desires to propel itself quickly the larva expels the water violently, and so, on the principle of the ' direct- action ' machine, drives itself forcibly in the opposite direction. Thus the progress of the dragon-fly larva is necessarily a series of jerks, as some appreciable space of time is required in which the hollow can be filled with water. The nautilus, the common cuttle-fish and their kin, propel themselves in the same manner, which is exactly identical in principle with the flight of the rocket, and, in the creature called the Flying Squid, produces much the same effect.

If the larva be placed in a shallow and flat vessel, in which some very fine dark sand has been scattered, the whole process is rendered plainly visible. When the larva remains quietly in one place, the sand is gradually washed away in a direct line with the insect, leaving a track about a quarter of an inch wide, and some three inches in length. This track is very clear and well-defined near the insect, but becomes vague and broad in proportion to the distance from the larva. Now, if the larva be touched, a very different appear- ance is shown. The larva darts suddenly through the water, and, instead of the simple narrow track, a broad fan-shaped track is left, the water having been expelled with such force as to drive away the sand on both sides.

Its mode of eating is as strange as its progression. The lower lip, instead of being, as it mostly is, a mere

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appendage to the mouth, is developed into a powerful instrument of apprehension. It is greatly elongated, being fully one-fourth as long as the entire insect. It increases gradually in width from its junction with the head to the end, which is armed with two short but sharp jaws, curved and toothed in their interior edges. It is furnished with two hinges, one at the junction of the ' mask,' as it is called, and the other about half of its length, so that it can lie flat against the breast, th-e hinge descending as far as the base of the first pair of legs, and the jaws lying exactly over the lower jaws of the mouth. It is called the mask because its broad end lies over the mouth and face of the insect so as to conceal them. When the larva sees some creature which it wishes to eat, it propels itself quietly beneath its unsuspecting prey, turns over on its back, and, with a sharp darting movement, seizes the unfortunate insect, and holds it against the true jaws, by which it is soon devoured.

The voracity of this larva is extraordinary, and it seems capable of continually eating. As for my own specimens, they were so voracious that at last I took them out of the aquarium and put them into a vessel of their own, supplying them with flies and other insects. I found that, although they would eat blue- bottles in lack of other food, they never seemed to like them, although they would readily eat as many house- flies as could be supplied to them. One day, thinking that the formidable larva of the water-beetle was quite

MRS. COATJES'S BATH. 79

able to hold its own, I put one of them in the same vessel. Next morning it was gone, and nothing was left of it but the two sickle-shaped jaws, which were lying at the bottom of the vessel. At last they took to eating each other, and I have now but one survivor, which, as may be expected, is a very large and fine specimen. It changed to the pupal state while in my possession, but is just as ravenous as it was when a larva, and as it will be when it becomes a dragon-fly.

Within this little pond are many species of caddis and several of May-flies — at least, of these insects in their preparatory condition. A really good collection of caddis-tubes can be procured from this spot, and I was rather surprised to find in it the curved and conical tubes of the Sericostoma, which are made of sand and tiny fragments of stone. May-fly Iarva3 also I found in tolerable plenty, and obtained them by the simple pro- cess of breaking up the mud of the bank, and catching them as they issued from their dwelling tunnels. These burrows are made in the soft muddy bank, and are shaped like the letter ^} laid horizontally, so that the inhabitants can pass in at one entrance and out at the other. As for larvae of gnats and other flies, they simply swarm, and are present in such numbers that to give even a cursory description would take ten times the space that can be spared. The aquatic Crustacea are in great numbers, and within the compass of that tiny pond may be procured enough specimens to give a laborious naturalist work for a year or two. Leeches,

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too, abound, and I was specially pleased to find several specimens of the Planaria, that curious flat-bodied annelid which is worthy of much examination.

In this and the preceding paper I have endeavoured to show the wonderful amount of interest which lies hidden in every object around us. Those who take up any branch of natural history pass straightway into a new world, and the more thoroughly do they enter into it the less do they complain of the narrowness of their field. I have intentionally taken two very narrow fields, namely, the living beings that are found ' Under the Bark,' and the creatures that live beneath the waters of a tiny pond measuring only three yards by four, And, so far from exhausting either the bark or the pond, I have given but the slightest and most sketchy account of both, choosing a few of the most conspicuous objects as examples of the rest, and leaving un described and even unmentioned hundreds of others every whit as interesting, but for which our limited space is in- sufficient.

81

A SUMMER WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE.

THEEE are myriad spots in fair England most dear to the lover of nature, each having its peculiar attraction to the spirit of the spectator, and gladdening the soul of the poet or the artist with beauty as tender or majestic as can be found in most parts of this globe. But, of all beloved haunts, commend me to that which can be furnished by no other country on earth, — the real, dear, genuine, old-fashioned English Lane, with its banks of flowers, its little rippling streamlets, its shady hedge- rows ; its feathered trees, with their gnarled roots thrusting themselves out of the bank in strange knotty contortions, and occasionally making their appearance in the centre of the footpath, as if for the express pur- pose of flinging the heedless passenger on his nose ; its charming freedom from any kind of regularity, its pleasant hum of busy insect wings, and its cheerful twitter of little birds. The woodbine flings its graceful masses of twining foliage and fragrant flowers over the hedgerows, and the odorous white blossoms of the wild clematis add their bright petals to vivify the scene. In some parts of the country this plant is called the

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traveller's joy, because it is supposed only to grow on the grounds of an honest man, and to wither straight- way if he should fall into evil courses. Travellers, therefore, who come upon this flower may rejoice in their security, and place reliance upon the owner of the soil they tread.

Not in every part of England will you find the true unsophisticated lane — but there is no other country where you will find even its semblance. Some years since, a well-known American authoress paid her first visit to England, and was greatly charmed by the elucidation of a mystery which had long puzzled her while reading descriptions of English country life. Not until she had with her own eyes seen a genuine country lane could she understand how children could push themselves through the hedge after flowers, and so tumble into the ditch. Our painters have long dis- covered the value of lane scenery, and our truest poets have not been behindhand in painting with glowing words these uniquely lovely scenes of their native land.

At this time of the year, the exquisitely delicate tintings of the early leaves have passed away, and given place to a dark luxuriance of foliage, sobered here and there by the dried stalks of last year's vegetation, which underlie the light summer verdure, and are wonderfully effective in toning down the dappled greenage of the living leaves. To all who are capable of appreciating the many beauties of unrestrained nature the English lane is very dear ; but to the field naturalist it derives

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 83

an additional charm from the varied forms of life which swarm within its precincts. Every leaf is covered with a very world of minute beings ; each bud and flower attracts thousands of happy and sportive existences within the sphere of its potent, though invisible perfume ; and every plant is to creatures innumerable a cradle, a nursery, a banquet, and a home. The air is filled with the merry buzzing of insect wings that glitter in the sunbeams ; the water teems with strange and weird-like forms ; and even the apparently dull earth below the feet contains within its bosom beings as wonderfully mysterious in their structure and func- tions, though seldom, to our eyes, so lovely as the in- habitants of air. While we walk slowly through our country lane, let us pay a little attention to a few of the living hosts that are sure to cross our path.

There goes a great humble-bee, blundering along the flower-clad bank, with its steady, continuous drone, occasionally broken by a sharp, congratulatory buzz, as it alights on some untouched flower, and proceeds to rifle it of its sweet treasures. That is a maternal bee, hard at work as usual, gathering stores for her home, but taking very good care to give no intimation respect- ing her address.

The wiles of these insects are really astonishing. To find a humble-bee's nest is a common event enough ; but to track the insect to her home is no such easy matter. She soon finds out that she is being watched,

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and tries to mislead her pursuer by artifices that would do credit to the curmingest fox that ever baffled a pack of hounds. She first tries to elude observation alto- gether, flies sharply to a little distance, settles on a plant, drops to the ground through the leaves, and either endeavours to lie hidden until the enemy has left the spot, or to crawl quietly away under the shelter of the foliage. It needs a practised eye to find the crafty insect as she crouches to the ground ; and the best way is to rustle the herbage with a stick, and frighten her out of her hiding-place.

Off she goes in a great fume, humming and buzzing like a dozen bees, but never in the direction of her nest. Follow her up, and, finding that she cannot escape, she will change her tactics. She then tries to delude her pursuer into the notion that her nest is close at hand, and exhibits a vast amount of spurious anxiety about some little hole in the ground, about which she makes a great turmoil — crawling in, backing out, fluttering all round it, and making as great a fuss as if all her parental affections and household cares were centred in that little empty hollow.

Then, perhaps, she will pretend that she has not yet made her nest, and traverses the bank backward and forward as if she were seeking for a suitable locality, peering into every little crevice, scratching out a little soil here and there, and sometimes sitting quietly down for some moments as if quite fatigued. Turn your back for a minute, and Madam Drumbledore

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 85

has vanished from the scene — slipped off quietly to her home in her own roundabout fashion.

Perhaps at another part of the lane, but certainly not within some distance from the spot where she was seen, the nest may be found, a mere insignificant hole in the bank, guarded in all probability by the roots of the neighbouring trees or bushes. Originally it was the home of a country mouse, deserted by the exca- vator, and squatted upon by the humble-bee. The inhabitants may be seen passing in and out at rather long intervals ; and if the ear be applied to the aper- ture, a subdued kind of humming and buzzing is heard in the interior. There is no danger in this process, perilous though it may sound, for the big, heavy Drumbledore is among bees what the Newfoundland is among dogs, and seldom makes use of the formidable weapon with which Providence has armed her for 1 defence, not defiance.' Many nests have I watched, and many have I opened, and never yet was stung by the humble-bee for my intrusion.

Dismissing therefore the fear of stings — for even if irritated, a humble-bee is so slow of wing that it cannot make the tiger-like charge of the wasp or the hornet, and can easily be captured or avoided — get out the long and strong bladed knife (which every observer ought to have in his pocket, together with string, a well-stocked pincushion, a supply of boxes, and a bottle half full of proof spirits of wine), and lay open the interior economy of the nest.

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The spot in which the combs, if they can be so called, are placed, is always enlarged into a rudely globular apartment, in which are found a number of egg-shaped cells — not waxen and brittle like those of the hive bee, but brown in colour, and tough, soft, and of a leathery consistence. Neither are they arranged in a regular series, like the cells of the honey bee, wasp, or hornet, but are jumbled together without any apparent order, compacted into masses, and adhering to each other with tolerable firmness. Some of them contain honey of the sweetest and most fragrant cha- racter. Header, beware that honey, or prepare for a headache and a giddiness for the next six or seven hours. Why the honey should have this effect, or whether it acts in the same manner upon all persons, I cannot say. I know, however, that in my own case, and in that of many others who have also had practical experience of this wild honey, the results have been almost identical. The remaining cells contain young humble-bees in every stage of their existence.

Interesting though the subject may be, I cannot within this limited space pursue it much further, although I should greatly like to say something of the economy of the sylvan home, and the wondrously modi- fied structure of its inmates as they pass through their several phases of existence. Let me, however, very earnestly commend the humble-bee as an admirable subject for those who desire to study this portion of natural history for themselves. The creatures are of

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 87

large size, easily obtained ; and in a single nest examples may be found of the various states of this bee, from the little white grub to the perfect insect of either sex.

One curious story must yet be told of this subter- ranean home. Within the nest there are sometimes found a few white grubs, clearly not those of the humble-bee, as they are larger, straighter, and have a row of spikes set around the larger end. If you manage to remove the nest and put it into a box, so as to keep its inmates prisoners, the mystery will be solved, in time, by the appearance of some flies exceedingly re- sembling the humble-bee, but belonging to a different order of insects — having only two wings instead of four. This is one of the beautiful hovering flies, scien- tifically termed a volucella, the young of which finds its food within the nests of these bees. The humble-

*

bees are quite aware of the injury to their community which results from the intrusion of the volucella, and are extremely vigilant in their watch to prevent its intrusion. But the intruder is so like the insect into whose house it hopes to make its way, that the two can hardly be discerned from each other at a little dis- tance ; and so the volucella contrives to take advantage of an unguarded moment, slips by the sentries, and deposits her eggs. Having once succeeded in perform- ing this feat, she cares no longer for her own safety, but walks boldly out of the nest as if she had a perfect

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right of passage. I have sometimes taken four or five of these grubs out of a single nest.

A near relation of this dipterous Paul Pry may often be found about the blackberries while they are in blossom. It is remarkable for the curious fact that the basal half of its abdomen is so transparent as to permit the colour of the leaves or petals to be seen through it. One of these flies, now before me, is so extremely trans- parent that when I place it on the paper on which I am writing the ink-marks can be seen through its substance, though not so clearly as to be readable, owing probably to the convexity of the abdomen. There are several British flies whose bodies are only semi-opaque, but there is none that can compare with the present example in the almost crystalline pellucidity of its structure. In consequence of this peculiarity it is called Volucella translucens.

A few paragraphs are now due to those much-dreaded insects, the wasp and the hornet, both of which may be found within the compass of our English Lane.

There are several kinds of British wasps, all very much alike in general appearance, but recognizable to the entomological eye by sundry slight, but legible marks. Some of these insects suspend their nests from trees, but the commonest species follow the example of the humble- bee, and choose a subterranean abode. Suppose now that we lay siege to a wasp's nest, as we have lately done to that of the humble-bee. 'Ware stings here, for there is no creature more irritable than your wasp, and it is

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 89

by no means safe to go within hailing distance of a large nest. Even the exterior of their habitation presents a very different aspect to that of the humble-bee.

It is a busy scene. Around the entrance are crowd- ing hundreds of yellow and black striped armed warriors, like the Pontifical guard on a small scale — some leaving the nest, and others hovering around for a few moments before entering, as if to inquire if all is well. You need not listen at the door of the establishment, for the hum- ming buzz is quite audible, and the waspish temper is proverbial. I saw one nest whose inhabitants used to worry passengers to a great degree, and even attacked horses, and stung one poor animal so severely that it died from the effects of its many wounds. Sometimes a poor field-mouse, overtaken by a storm, runs into the apparently empty hole for shelter, but soon comes running out again, so covered with wasps that it looks like a yellow ball as it rolls down the bank beset with its angry foes. One of my friends, who saw a mouse thus assailed, calculated that from twenty to thirty wasps were at one time on the unfortunate mouse.

The nest of the wasp ought to be very carefully re- moved, so that its structure may be studied. If the nests of the hive-bee, the humble-bee, and the wasp be compared, they will be found to be made after three different fashions.

The combs of the hive-bee, are, as is well known, made of wax, secreted in certain little pockets situate in the abdomen. The edges of the cells are strengthened

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with a kind of cement obtained from various trees, and their shape is that of hexagonal or six-sided tubes, set closely against each other, and practically carrying out the interesting problem of giving the largest amount of space with the smallest expenditure of material and labour. On the other hand, the cells of the humble-bee are oval, and without any attempt at regular arrange- ment. The walls of the cell are tough and leathery ; and, when subjected to the microscope, their structure is resolvable into a number of regular silken fibres, cross- ing each other in a kind of meshless network, and agglutinated together by some other substance. But the cell of the wasp is of a very different character from both, and is composed of different substances.

The wasp makes his nest of veritable paper — not quite so white or so fine as that employed in the print- ing of this book, but paper nevertheless, and made of vegetable fibre, torn to shreds, pulped in water, and then spread into sheets and dried. Any one may see the insect hard at work at its natural paper-mill. Gro to any old post or decaying tree, and there may be seen the wasps in full energy employed most zealously upon their work. Look at them closely— for they will allow them- selves to be watched while thus occupied— and you will soon see the process in its earlier stages. With its strong jaws the wasp bites away fibre after fibre of the decaying wood, and continues to select a sufficient num- ber to make up into a little bundle. It is very fastidious about the quality of the fibres, and rejects

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almost as many as it retains. When it has obtained a sufficient load, it begins to champ and gnaw the fibres very diligently, moistening them at the same time with a drop of fluid, and being evidently absorbed in its work. Off it flies to its nest : but as we cannot see it there, we must take up a bit of wasp comb and discover how it builds up the cells.

On examination, we find that the walls of each cell are composed of this woody pulp, laid in regular strata, which are easily perceptible by the aid of a pocket magnifier. The walls are very flimsy, and cannot hold liquid ; but as the English wasps make no honey, and store no food, this is of no consequence. The combs are arranged in regular layers, one above the other, each layer having all the open ends of the cells downward, and the closed ends forming a floor on which the insects can walk while traversing the space between the combs for the purpose of feeding the young grubs. Each layer ia supported by a number of little pillars, about a third of an inch in length, made of the same papier mache sub- stance as the cells, very much more solid and compact ; and here and there a pillar is made very thick where the comb requires to be strengthened. On examination most of the cells will be found to be inhabited by white grubs, in every stage of growth. Many of the cells will be covered with white silken convex roofs, through which the black eyes of the future wasps often appear. The cells are not quite parallel with each other, but radiate slightly from the centre of each comb towards

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the circumference. The whole nest, containing some six or seven layers of comb, is enveloped in a kind of outer case, composed of the same paper-like substance as the cells, but of a much coarser consistence, and laid

*

on in large loose flakes, in which the semicircular sweep of the wasp's head leaves its marks.

I have seen a very curious little wasp's nest taken from the neighbourhood of Balaclava during the Crimean war. All the stray wood was picked up and used for fuel, so that the wasps were deprived of their ordinary material. They soon, however, found a simple substitute, and made their nests of the blue and white cartridge-paper that is strewn in such quantities on a battle-field.

The wasp, although it makes no honey, is very fond of eating it, and is always allured towards any sweet substances with the same instinctive force which attracts the school-boy to the toffee-shop, or the infant to the sugar-basin. Eipe fruits are a great banquet to this marauder, who prefers the peaches, plums, and apricots to any other diet, and always chooses the juiciest and best flavoured upon the trees. But it is carnivorous also, and is a sad enemy to flies, to whom it is as deadly a foe as a winged spider would be. But here a poetical justice often overtakes the spoiler, for the hornet, shaped like himself, but just as much bigger, stronger, and fiercer as a tiger excels a leopard in these qualities, is particularly fond of wasps, and may be seen prowling about their haunts, sweeping upon them with a rush

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like that of the falcon, and carrying them off with ease, despite their wings and stings. It is rather curious that the hornet will not eat the head or the abdomen of the wasp, but shears them off with its strong jaws, bites off the wings and legs, and then crunches up the re- mainder just as we eat a radish. Sometimes the hornet flies to the branch of a neighbouring tree with the poor wasp in his jaws, and there slinging himself by one foot, he employs the remaining limbs in holding and arrang- ing his victim to his satisfaction.

Here comes whirring along, rich in flashing green and glittering wings, the great dragon-fly, acknow- ledged tyrant of the air. He is arrowy-swift of wing, and there are few insects that can escape him. He cares little for birds, the general enemies of the insect tribe, for even the swift or the swallow cannot catch him, unless they come upon him unawares. See how he darts here and there, sometimes backing, by suddenly reversing the action of his wings with a sound like the ruffling of a small silken flag, and ever and anon pounc- ing upon some unfortunate insect as it flies along. Not even the broad-winged butterfly, with its erratic flight, can escape this dragon insect, although it gives him a hard chase. I have seen the poor butterfly dodge about like a startled snipe, or a coursed hare, in hope of escaping its terrible enemy ; but all in vain. After two or three turns the dragon-fly succeeded in closing with its prey, and bore it unresisting through the air. As he flew along, wing after wing of the butterfly dropped

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from his mouth, and fluttered slowly through the air. For the dragon-fly was hungry, and was making the most of his time by devouring one victim while looking out for another.

If you want to observe him nearer, you can do so easily enough. Wait until he flies in your direction, and meet him with a firm sweep of the net. Down with the net on the ground, and seize the fierce creature, for he is biting his way through the gauze at a wonderful rate.

Take him out by his wings, and don't be afraid ; for he cannot sting, though he is popularly called * horse- stinger ' by the rustics. Turn him on his back, and see how quickly and deeply he breathes, and how wonder- fully the body is formed to permit of respiration. Pray do not think he is frightened. Not in the least ; and we will prove it. Under the influence of terror, no creature will eat. But just take that fly out of the spider's web, and hold it to our dragon's mouth ! See ! he crunches it up in a moment ; his mouth opens four ways at once ; two pair of jaws and one pair of horny lips close on the fly and he is gone, with a snap and a bite, like a mutton chop down a Newfoundland dog's throat. Then you may give him the spider, and he will eat that too. He is very fond of spiders ; and from certain observations, not yet published, I have a notion that spiders are almost necessary to these creatures, under certain circumstances. Try him with a beetle. Down it goes, but not so rapidly, the hard wing-cases

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having to be removed — which is done very adroitly and without pause. Will he eat a wasp ? Certainly he will ; and though I never tried him with a hornet, they being unchancy insects to hold while one hand is otherwise engaged, I have little doubt but that the hornet would soon disappear into the same receptacle with the other insects. You may go on catching insects for him as long as you like, and he will go on eating them, having no apparent limit to capacity. I once gave a dragon- fly thirty-seven large flies and four long-legged spiders, and only ceased because I was tired of catching before he was tired of eating.

Having admired him sufliciently, let him go. Off he darts to a branch, sits down for a moment, shakes his wings, as if to assure himself that they are fit for service, and then flashes off, as cruel and as voracious as if he had been fasting for a week. He does not spend all his time after this fashion, though he was always a predacious creature. His first few years were passed in the water, where he lurked under the banks, and chased the aquatic insects as fiercely as, when he got his wings, he pursued the inhabitants of air. In fact, the only change in him is that he was first a crocodile and then a dragon.

What beautiful butterflies, too, flit through our lane, varying with the time of day and the season of the year. There is the magnificent peacock butterfly, with its glorious ' eyes ' upon the wings, like the spots on a peacock's train ; the atalanta, or scarlet admiral,

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with its black wings edged with azure and crossed with a broad scarlet band; and possibly even the white admiral, the elegant Camilla, may come flying along with that easy sweep of wing and that exceeding grace of movement which have earned for this insect the name of her who could skim over the waves without sinking, or over the ears of corn without bending their heads. Let us catch the peacock, just to look at the under-surface of the eyes. What a singular change. Instead of the varied colours which bedeck the upper surface, the whole of the under wing is deep brownish black, mottled and streaked by darker hues. Why is this ? For a very sufficient reason, i.e., to prevent the brilliant insect from being betrayed by its bright plumage. If alarmed, it instantly flies to some dark object, such as a tree trunk, closes its wings over its back, so that merely the dark under-surface is visible, and looks just like a dead leaf, or a strip of loose bark. When it was a caterpillar this was a curious creature, actually living on the stinging-nettle, and being itself covered with an array of handspikes curious to behold. I have bred hundreds of them and other butterflies from their earliest stages, and always found it to be the surest way of obtaining perfect specimens. Only, they must be liberally supplied with fresh food, or when they emerge from the chrysalis they are small and stunted.

Euphrosyne shakes her dappled wings from yonder thistle-top, the light sparkling from her silver jewelled plumes as she gently waves them in the sunbeams ; over

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the grass-tops flits the exquisite Azure Blue, looking like a little bit of sky, bedropped with stars, that has come down on earth to gladden our eyes with its deli- cate beauty ; and the bright Copperwing glides before us in glowing refulgence, as if its wings were veritably made of burnished gold. Moths, too, are not wanting, for the mottled Currant Moth flutters in and out of the hedge, displaying the rich cream and chestnut of its plumage. The Burnet Moth comes uneasily along with errant flight, pausing now and then long enough to show its green velvet coat, faced and trimmed with scarlet ; and the swift Humming-bird Moth, agile as its feathered prototype, darts through the branches, poises itself on whirring wings before a flower, plunges its long proboscis into the nectary, and, taking some sudden alarm, is off like a lightning-flash.

Then there are the common but very beautiful tortoiseshell butterflies ; the Janira, with its rich mottled brown plumage, and a host of others. If I could only be allowed the whole of this book for a description of a single insect, I might hope to do partial justice to the subject; but, under the present circumstances, we can only take a casual glance at each creature. White butterflies, of course, are flitting about every- where. These may be destroyed mercilessly, or rather, mercifully. For pretty and harmless as they look, and as they indeed are, they are the parents of those horrid black, yellow, and green caterpillars that de- vastate our cabbage-gardens, and injure the temper

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of a hurried cook. I say mercifully killed — because the caterpillar must be killed before we can eat the plant ; and it is surely more merciful to kill one butterfly than some sixty or seventy of its future offspring.

The handsome Scarlet Hopper comes skipping and jumping so actively about the leaves that to catch it is no easy matter. This pretty creature, with its scarlet and black clothing, is a near relative of the insect that forms the ' cuckoo spit,' so destructive to our garden plants.

Let us go a little farther down the Lane, towards that patch of bare sandy ground, and find out something about those bright blue flies that are dashing about it so vigorously. See how they alight on the tawny soil, and how fast they run over its surface ! Now we see that they are not flies at all, but beetles, albeit they take to flight as readily, and are as active on the wing, as the blue-bottle flies, which they so closely resemble while in the air. Catch one of them in the net as it flies along, and examine it. What a pleasant perfume issues from its body ! Surely it must have been feeding on roses and verbenas. No, it is a totally carnivorous insect, and rapacious to boot, and the agreeable scent is part of the mystery of its nature. There is another beetle, very much larger, being at least ten times its size, called the Musk Beetle, which possesses a powerful rosy perfume, and, curious enough, is coloured after the same beautiful fashion. Our little lively friend is called the Tiger Beetle ; and well does it deserve the name, for

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a winged tiger would not be more destructive among beasts than is the tiger-beetle among insects. What enormous projecting eyes it has ('the better to see you with, my dear,') and what long and powerful fangs (' the better to eat you with '). How firmly it is clad in bright and shining mail, deep, steely blue below, and green bedropped with gold and crimson above. Just look at its wing-cases through the pocket-magnifier, and see what a wondrously magnificent creature it is. Solomon was not robed half so gloriously as the lilies, nor were the Nepaulese princes half so gorgeously be- gemmed as this little beetle. Take it home; put it under the inch-power of the microscope, concentrate the light upon it with the condenser, and then say whether the jewelled beauties of Aladdin's palace could compare with the dazzling radiance of our little tiger- beetle ! Fancy a few square yards of golden network set closely with emeralds, sapphires, and rubies as large as hazel nuts, and with diamonds as big and of more fiery splendour than the Koh-i-noor ; illuminate them with the electric light, and you will then have some idea of the raiment with which God clothes even the smallest of his creatures. None can have the least conception of the hidden magnificence of the every-day objects around them except those who have studied them with a true and observant eye, and a sympathising and loving heart ; and none but these can form so exalted an idea of the glories of a future life, which the earthly eye of man cannot see, nor his heart even conceive.

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Now let us turn a glance towards the little streamlet caused by the drainage of the neighbouring fields, which has been quietly wending through its rushy path by our sides. Look steadily at every part of it, and the water becomes as thickly peopled as the land and air. On every side abundant living creatures are seen passing through the waters, some slowly, others rapidly, while many ascend from the bed of the stream, come for a moment to the surface, and dive away out of sight. The Water Boatman is very fond of that pursuit. A queer- looking creature is he, as he lies on his back in the water, his body shaped just like the hull of a ship, and his two long legs extended like oars on each side, and used after the same fashion. Catch him in the net, and look at him nearer — only take care of fingers ; for although the boatman cannot bite, he has a strong and sharp proboscis, and if carelessly held will startle his captor by inflicting a rather painful wound. Under his hard shelly wing-cases he has a beautiful pair of large membranous wings ; and at nightfall he leaves the water and takes to the air, mostly on some matrimonial business. At dawn he returns to the water, letting himself drop, with closed wings, from a great height. Sometimes the poor boatman falls into a sad error, and, mistaking glass for water, drops upon a greenhouse or a skylight, and kills himself with the shock.

In the more rapid and clearer parts of the stream, the Fresh- Water Shrimp may be seen driving itself through the familiar element by a series of jerks ; now

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letting itself be carried down the stream for a foot or two, now recovering its position with a few strokes, and now scuttling aside in a desperate fuss, and hiding under a stone.

Perhaps, if we are very lucky, we may find one of the "Water Spiders, and its wonderful nest, made exactly on the same principle as the diving-bell. The creature makes a silken bag under water, attached to some plant to keep it in its place. She then comes to the surface, gathers up a bubble of air, dives with it into her nest, lets it loose there, and returns to the surface for another supply. Each successive bubble displaces an equal amount of water, and in a short time the strange little architect has got a submerged palace, in which she can live as safely as on land. But, just now, we shall have to use our eyes very carefully to see the spider in her house, for the present rage for aquatic and marine vivaria has set a price on the head of the water-spider, and the country is ransacked by speculators to such an extent that where fifty such spiders might have been found in a single stream scarcely one can now be discovered. It is a cruel thing to take the poor spider away from her natural home and put her in an aquarium. She always dies soon ; for although she may spin her wondrous house she can- not find her proper food, and is sure, before long, to succumb to her altered fortunes.

If we poke away the mud at the side of the stream, we shall probably come on some of the curious larvae

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or grubs of the dragon-fly, which has already been mentioned, and may observe the funny way in which he propels himself forward by squirting water back- ward, having within him a 4 direct action ' propeller. Then his 'mask' is worthy of an examination. See how cleverly it is jointed to fit over his face, and how the formidable jaws at its extremity lie close to the head, so as to excite no alarm. Then see him dart out this mask to its full extent, snap up a passing insect in his jaws, and carry it to his mouth as an elephant picks up an apple and puts it into its mouth. If you like, you may take him home and keep him in a vessel of water, only he wants so much food that he is almost more trouble than he is worth — unless you have some special reason for watching his habits. He will eat little fish largely ; and if you stock your water-vessel with young fry, this voracious creature will soon finish them.

Here comes from the bed of the brooklet the acknowledged tyrant of the waters, the great Water Beetle. He is so big that no insect can overcome him — so securely mailed that no insect, except his own kind, can hurt him — so swift that no aquatic insect can escape him ; and so voracious that no amount of food seems to satisfy him. Even the dragon-fly grub had better keep out of his way ; for he would soon be treated with poetical justice, and surfer the same fate he had so ofbeR inflicted upon others. Catch him, and hold him safely — taking care of your hands, for he

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can cut clean through the top of your finger if he gets a fair bite at it — and see how wonderfully he is made. The two fore-feet are swollen into circular cushion-like pads, which, if examined under the microscope, are seen to be set close with suckers of various sizes. Then his spiracles, or breathing-holes, are arranged under his convex wing-covers, which fit so truly against each other that they enclose a large quantity of air, which the beetle respires while he is below the water. It is to obtain a fresh supply of air that he comes to the surface, cocks up his tail, and dives perpendicularly downwards.

It will be of no use to take him home, for he must be kept by himself, or he would kill all other inhabitants of the aquarium in a few days ; and he is so voracious that he requires nearly as much looking after as a young nestling. He will not even endure the company of his own species ; and if another water-beetle be introduced, they will fight to the death. Even if you give him a companion of the gentler sex, his character loses none of its fierceness ; and the two not only begin matrimony with a little aversion, but end it with the same — the conqueror always killing and eating the vanquished. How often have I not warned recent possessors of aquaria to beware the water-beetle ; and how often have I not witnessed their despair at the death of all their stock, and the escape of the murderer, who has just taken to his wings and flown out of the window ! The grub of the water-beetle is also aquatic, and one of the most

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or grubs of the dragon-fly, which has already been mentioned, and may observe the funny way in which he propels himself forward by squirting water back- ward, having within him a ' direct action ' propeller. Then his 'mask' is worthy of an examination. See how cleverly it is jointed to fit over his face, and how the formidable jaws at its extremity lie close to the head, so as to excite no alarm. Then see him dart out this mask to its full extent, snap up a passing insect in his jaws, and carry it to his mouth as an elephant picks up an apple and puts it into its mouth. If you like, you may take him home and keep him in a vessel of water, only he wants so much food that he is almost more trouble than he is worth — unless you have some special reason for watching his habits. He will eat little fish largely ; and if you stock your water-vessel with young fry, this voracious creature will soon finish them.

Here comes from the bed of the brooklet the acknowledged tyrant of the waters, the great Water Beetle. He is so big that no insect can overcome him — so securely mailed that no insect, except his own kind, can hurt him — so swift that no aquatic insect can escape him ; and so voracious that no amount of food seems to satisfy him. Even the dragon-fly grub had better keep out of his way ; for he would soon be treated with poetical justice, and suffer the same fate he had so often inflicted upon others. Catch him, and hold him safely — taking care of your hands, for he

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can cut clean through the top of your finger if he gets a fair bite at it — and see how wonderfully he is made. The two fore-feet are swollen into circular cushion-like pads, which, if examined under the microscope, are seea to be set close with suckers of various sizes. Then his spiracles, or breathing-holes, are arranged under his convex wing-covers, which fit so truly against each other that they enclose a large quantity of air, which the beetle respires while he is below the water. It is to obtain a fresh supply of air that he comes to the surface, cocks up his tail, and dives perpendicularly downwards.

It will be of no use to take him home, for he must be kept by himself, or he would kill all other inhabitants of the aquarium in a few days ; and he is so voracious that he requires nearly as much looking after as a young nestling. He will not even endure the company of his own species ; and if another water-beetle be introduced, they will fight to the death. Even if you give him a companion of the gentler sex, his character loses none of its fierceness ; and the two not only begin matrimony with a little aversion, but end it with the same — the conqueror always killing and eating the vanquished. How often have I not warned recent possessors of aquaria to beware the water-beetle ; and how often have I not witnessed their despair at the death of all their stock, and the escape of the murderer, who has just taken to his wings and flown out of the window ! The grub of the water-beetle is also aquatic, and one of the most

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repulsive and diabolical-looking creatures in existence. It is a great, fat, brown grub, as long as your finger, with a round, cruel-looking head, and a pair of huge crooked jaws, like two sickle-blades set on the head. Its voracity is wonderful. If you put one of these grubs in a water-tank, and then a piece of meat into the water, the grub seizes on it with its jaws, and keeps its hold for hours at a time. Should two or three of the water-beetle grubs be in the same vessel they will seize upon the meat ; and if pushed with a stick will revolve like a wheel, all their heads being fastened to the meat, and all their tails radiating outwards.

Now let us walk on towards that shady pool through which our streamlet flows, and which has been deepened and embanked, and set round with trees, and guarded with stakes, to make it a fit drinking-place for the cattle. Nothing for a time is perceptible in the water, except those multitudinous little beings which are just large enough to be visible to the naked eye, and which are always playing through the water like motes in a sunbeam. Presently a small ' pop ' is heard, a bubble is seen breaking, and just below the spot where the rippling circles arise, an indistinct gleam of orange and scarlet is seen through the disturbed water. "Watch the spot carefully, and presently the same waving, orange may be seen coming up from below, and assum- ing the form of a lizard-like reptile, some five inches long, with four legs, a well-developed tail, flattened at the sides to aid the creature in swimming — a beautiful

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crimson-stained and undulating crest, extending from the head along the back, and waving with every movement in the most elegant and graceful manner. This is the Triton, or common Water Newt, otherwise known by the name of the Eft, Effet, and Evat. He mostly lives in the water, and can exist for some minutes without needing to take breath. Every now and then, however, he must come to the surface to take a fresh supply of air, and in so doing he makes that odd little popping sound which we just now heard. He does not always wear that beautiful coat, for, like many of the birds, he only puts on his fine clothes during the matrimonial season, and for the rest of the year is clad as soberly as his mate.

Here he comes again ; so slip the net under him quickly, and fish him out. Do not be afraid of him — he is one of the most harmless of beings, albeit he is popularly reported by rustics to spit fire, and to kill cows, and to bite pieces out of people's arms, and to sting like a viper, together with various other ill qualities ; just as if he combined in his innocent five inches of dark tawny black and orange spotted belly all the demerits of the Dragon of Wantley, the rattle- snake, and the snapping turtle. Indeed, they could not display more fear of either member of that redoubtable trio than they exhibit when you pick up a newt and bring it towards them. As for yourself, your impunity will be set down, not to the harmlessness of the newt, but to some unholy compact with the powers of dark-

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ness. However, undeterred by such fears, let us ex- .amine the pretty creature more closely. Being out of the water, his beautiful crest is hardly visible, lying loosely along the back like the folded wings of a bat. See what lovely eyes the creature has, gleaming like fiery topaz, and unrivalled except by the eye of the toad. Put him down on the grass, and see how nimbly he runs to the water, and how he darts off with a powerful wriggle of his tail as soon as he finds himself safe. You will not catch him again very easily, for he has got a fright, and will take very good care of himself. If you look very carefully upon the slender leaves of the aquatic plant, you will probably find here and there a delicate, translucent, oval-shaped object, shorter, but thicker, than a grain of rice, but with the leaf curiously knotted over it. This is the egg of the newt, the tying of the leaf being performed by the forelegs — and a wonderful operation to see. There is much more interesting history respecting this pretty reptile, but other creatures are awaiting us, and we must pass on- wards. I may just mention here that Mr. Knapp, in his ' Journal of a Naturalist,' remarks that he has seen the newts curiously encumbered with little bivalve shells on which they have trodden, and which have closed upon their unfortunate feet.

EVENING is now drawing on ; we retrace our steps through the Lane, and a new set of beings have come forth. The busy hum of insects has ceased, and the

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air is almost silent, except for certain odd squeaking noises that reach our ears. They cannot be made by a mouse, for they are too shrill ; and besides, they come from above, and not from the earth. True, I can exactly imitate the sound by rubbing two keys together, but as keys don't go flying through the air, it will be safer to attribute the sound to the Bats, which are just coming abroad to begin their evening's work of gnat- hunting. Here they come ! One, two, three — ten, twenty of them, fluttering with erratic but rapid wing like black butterflies against the darkening sky, and filling the air with their tiny shrieks, that pierce the ear like audible needles. You may catch a bat easily enough by sweeping the net sharply across its course as it flies down the Lane : only be chary of handling it, for its coat is always full of parasites which are by no means pleasant to look at. Put it on the ground, and see how beautifully its long membranous ears are formed, and into what graceful curves they are thrown, as the creature shuffles over the ground with that ludicrously awkward hobble which always reminds one of jumping in sacks. See, it spreads its wings and tries to fly, but only succeeds in tumbling on its nose. At last it scrambles to the top of the path, flings itself into the ditch — and so obtains sufficient impulse for its wings, and goes gladly off through the air.

Look under the hedge, and see how that leaf is moving along the ground, as if by magic. Stoop very gently, and you will see that a Worm has got hold of

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its point, and is dragging it towards his hole. I dare say that many who read this account will have seen in their gardens certain leaves sticking with their points in the ground, without knowing how they came in such a position. I did not know until last year, when I saw the whole process.

At dusk the worms begin to crawl out of their houses to hold friendly converse with their neighbours, and to survey the country. They never come entirely out of the hole, always leaving a joint or two within the aperture, by means of which they can retreat in a moment if alarmed. If you suddenly jerk a worm out of its hole it is quite at a loss ; and even if you replace it by the former habitation it cannot find its old home, but is perforce obliged to make another. Watching these creatures is by no means an easy task, as they hate light, and seldom appear out of their holes except in the dusk, so that it is necessary to come quite close before they can be seen at all ; and a lantern cannot be employed, as its glare would at once send them back into the darkness of their homes. The head of the worm is gently thrust into the air, the body follows, and then the creature begins to peer about in various directions, extending and contracting its body with great ease and rapidity. Presently it comes across a fallen leaf, pokes it about for a minute or two, seizes it by the point, and draws it to its home, always managing to hold it in such a way that when the leaf is dragged into the ground it is partially curled up. The worms

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will take almost any leaf, though they evince strong partiality when they have a choice. Laurel, and other evergreen leaves, they care little about, though, in de- fault of others, they will use one of these. But if a lilac leaf be laid on the ground, the worm is sure to find it out, will reject the laurel in favour of the lilac, and draw the latter homewards. The great favourite, however, seems to be the primrose leaf, for which the worm will desert any other plant. It is curious to see how long worms can make themselves when they want to reach a leaf at a distance, and how thread-like thej then become.

In order to experiment upon them, I have laid leaves with their stalks towards the hole, and always found that in such cases the worm would feel its waj along the edge of the leaf, get hold of the point, twist it round so swiftly that the eye can hardly follow the movement, and then whisk it off homewards as if it were moved by a spring. No doubt, if we could dis- cover some means of investigating them, we should find the habits of the worms as interesting as those of the insects.

Now the dew is collecting rapidly on the leaves, and out come the Snail and Slug tribes from their hiding-places. Evening is the time for shell collectors, as the lantern beams penetrate the dark recesses of foliage, and bring out in bright relief the polished shells as they move among the herbage. Among the chief favourites of the juvenile mind may be reckoned the

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fringe of the purest white. Even the body is clothed in snowy down ; and as the White Plume Moth flutters from one spot to another — for it never seems to take a long flight — it may easily be mistasen for a snow flake floating on the wind.

The great Hawk Moths now come dashing along, like the birds from whom they derive their name — and whom they resemble in no slight degree while on the wing— darting towards each flower and drinking its sweet contents by inserting their long trunks into its recesses, while they remain hovering in the air. You need not try to catch them, for the simplest plan to procure the most perfect specimens is by digging in autumn under any tree, wall, private hedge or paling, when you will find plenty of them in their chrysalis state ; and may procure the moths in absolute perfection by keeping them until the succeeding summer, when they will burst from their shells and come forth in their full beauty of unsullied plumage.

Now the Summer Chaffers and Dor Beetles come out of their retreats, bump against our face, or cling to our clothes, without seeming in the least discomposed by their sudden arrest. The former insect is a dread- fully destructive one, eating the grass-roots while it is a grub, and the trees when it is a perfect insect, and sometimes stripping tree after tree of its foliage. To the meditative saunterer at the evening hour it is an intolerable nuisance, irritating him with its buzzing hum even at his ear, sticking in his hair, dashing across

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his eyes, scratching his nose, and breaking up his train of thought in a lamentable manner. The Dor, with its beautiful purple-green body and helmeted head, is not nearly so tiresome — although it does occasionally thump us as it < wheels its droning flight,' or startles us with its deep, heavy drone at our ears.

There is another beetle to whom we are more lenient. The Glowworm has just begun to light her blue-green lamp— a very Hero holding forth a torch to her Leander, who is flying above, and anxiously looking out for the welcome signal. See ! down he comes with a wheel and furling of gauzy wings within their dark cases ; and you may see Hero and Leander safely met. But how very odd ! Hero is not one bit like Leander. She does not seem to belong even to the same class of beings, much less to the same species, as her lover. Leander is a long-bodied, wide-headed, brisk-looking beetle, with two ample pellucid wings enclosed in their protecting shields; whereas Hero is a flattish, slow, crawling, ordinary-looking, rather repulsive brown grub, with never a vestige of wing and nothing to recommend her to notice. Pick her up quietly, by gathering the leaf on which she sits ; take her home ; lay her on a bit of moist turf, and she will soon shine out for your gratifi- cation. But if you want her to be particularly resplen- dent, just pour a stream of oxygen gas through the vessel in which she is placed, and you will then see a blaze of natural illumination that can only be equalled by the many fire-flies of tropical regions.

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Calm and quiet is the evening now, the sounds of labour are hushed and the bright songs of happy birds are stilled in sleep. But Nature has her vespers as well as her orisons ; the shrill cry of the bat and the deep humming of the circling beetle are psalms of praise as intelligible to sympathetic hearts as the sweet melody of feathered throats, or the pleasant sounds of busy insect wings. We who enjoy the blessed privilege of holding such sweet communion with Nature, and whose spirits are made capable of perceiving the Creator through the various forms in which He manifests His love, cannot do less than add our own heartfelt praises to those of all created things, with fervent thanks for the past, and loving trust for the future.

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THE WOOD ANT.

WITHIN a reasonable walk of my house there is a small wood which affords opportunities of watching the habits of many creatures. It is planted upon more than one kind of soil, so that a plentiful supply of plants is found within its limits, and, as a necessary consequence, many insects live upon the plants ; predacious insects come to eat their harmless kinsfolk, and birds come to eat both the cannibals and their victims.

This place is a favourite resort of the Wood Ants, which have built their fragile but enduring nests in many sheltered spots, and have driven their wonderful paths through almost every part of the wood. For some years I have passed many pleasant hours every summer among the trees, and found the day only too short for the many observations that came under my notice. The best way to take advantage of a wood is to set out with the intention of watching some particular creature, and to give up one's time exclusively to that single object ; not failing, of course, to mark any point of interest that may present itself respecting other beings that may come within ken, and to jot it down in a note- book.

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This insect, which may be known by its large size and reddish thorax, is one of the stingless ants, though it is quite as formidable an antagonist as those species which possess those sharp and envenomed darts. For though the wood-ant has no sting, it -yet has a store of poison, and can use its venomous powers effectively, though in a more roundabout manner than is adopted by the sting-bearers.

It is a most fierce and determined creature, the sense of fear seeming to have been wholly omitted from its composition. It will attack anything and anybody without the least hesitation, and possesses all the courage without the cunning exhibited by the Lilliputians in their memorable attack on the Man Mountain. For a man is to the wood-ant not only a moving mountain, but a moving world ; and yet there is not a single ant that will not attack a man, if it fancies him to be in too close proximity to its residence.

Urged by some wonderful instinct, it makes at once for the nearest unprotected skin, bites fiercely with its sharp and calliper-shaped jaws, and simultaneously bind- ing its body so as to bring the tip of the abdomen to bear upon the wound, squirts a small drop of its poison into the cavity, producing for the time a sharp and painful smarting sensation. The pain, however, is very transient, although, at the moment it is inflicted, the pang is quite as severe as that inflicted by the sting of a wasp. Nor is this its only mode of attack. The wood- ant is able to eject this poisonous substance to some dis-

THE WOOD ANT. 117

tance, and if a nest be broken open, and a bare hand placed within the aperture, it will be speedily covered with a thousand little dots of pungent fluid ; and if the skin be very sensitive it will smart as though it had been plunged into a bunch of stinging nettles. The scent of this fluid is strongly acid, like highly con- centrated vinegar, and even at a distance of a yard from the nest produces an unpleasant sensation in the throat and nostrils.

One of my friends, desirous of testing personally the peculiar scent, made a breach in the nest of the wood-ant, and put his face to the hole. Scarcely had he approached within three inches than he started back, vowing that the ants had stung him all over his chin, and could not for some time be convinced of his error.

This pungent liquid is acid in its nature, and when analysed is found to contain two kinds of acid, one pe- culiar to these insects and called ' Formic ' acid, and the other the substance called ' Malic ' acid, which gives to the juice of apples its peculiar flavour. Not only has it the scent of vinegar, but a very good substitute for that useful article is often made by steeping successive measures of the wood-ant in boiling water. The sub- stance called chloroform owes its name to the similarity between its constituent elements and those of Formic acid. In chemical language, though not in chemical formula, Formic acid consists of two atoms of carbon, one atom of hydrogen, and two atoms of oxygen,

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while the composition of chloroform is two atoms of carbon, one atom of hydrogen, and three atoms of chlorine. It may be casually remarked that Formic acid can be produced by artificial means.

The nest of this insect is a wonderfully large struc- ture, when the size of the tiny architects is taken into consideration, and the regularity with which their interior is parcelled out into chambers and galleries is not less surprising. It is made of little pieces of stick, dried leaves, broken stems of the dried fern, and always contains the berries of the mountain ash, if any tree of this kind should happen to be within a moderate dis- tance. When I first observed the red berries amid the heap of leaves and sticks, I thought that they had fallen from a neighbouring tree and been accidentally blown upon the nest, but I have since found that every nest in the wood contains these berries, when a mountain ash was within forty or fifty yards. Their use I cannot imagine, as the ants do not carry them into the nest, but merely mix them with the dried substance of the exterior.

The materials of which the nest is composed are heaped quite loosely and apparently at random on each other. But if the nest be carefully examined, a certain order is to be detected, particularly in the entrances and galleries, which are made of long sticks rudely arranged across each other, so as to form a five-sided aperture. If a twig be brought to the nest, its destina- tion is nearly sure to be at one of the many openings. Being desirous of ascertaining whether the ants would

THE WOOD ANT. 110

accept extraneous assistance, I broke off a little dried stick to the shape and size of those that were arranged about the aperture and laid it upon the others, so as to match them as nearly as possible. A posse of ants im- mediately came to look at the new addition, took hold of it with their jaws, and after making a trifling altera- tion, for form's sake, I suppose, lest I should be too conceited about my architectural skill, they allowed it to remain.

It is most interesting to watch the ants bringing materials for their home. If an ant finds a little piece of broken fern stem that is suitable for the outer wall, he picks it up by one end, holds it out straight before him as if he were smoking a very large cigar, and sets off briskly homewards. This mode of carrying his burden is evidently adopted for the convenience of steering it through the grass blades, fallen fern, and other impediments, which, trifling as they appear to human eyes, are by no means insignificant to the ants. I have even seen an ant carrying off a grub three times his own size, holding it in the same manner ; the strength required for such a feat is truly enormous.

But when a heavier or a larger burden, such as a piece of stick, has to be transported, a different plan is adopted. Six or seven ants are detached for the work, and they set about it with a nicety of purpose that is really surprising. Grasping it with their jaws they gradually edge it onward in the right direction, one of their number always seeming to act as foreman, and

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taking hold of the end which seems to be the post of honour. As long as the ground is tolerably even the stick is dragged along without difficulty, and the fore- man or 'ganger' cannot be distinguished from his fellows save by his position at the end of the stick. But when they get among broken ground, or if the stick should perchance fall into a crevice and carry its leaves with it, the ganger seldom touches the stick ex- cept to pull it into the proper direction, but runs ahead to reconnoitre the locality, then returns to the gang, and is all life and animation. I have seen the clever little creatures make a mistake, and get the stick into a labyrinth of broken ferns and twigs, through which they could by no means steer it, and then seen them carefully return by the same path until they were clear of the thicket, and choose another and a smoother road. On one occasion I watched a gang of ants, six in number, that had jammed their burden so tightly under a fern stem that they could proceed no further. They immediately tried to extricate it, but were checked by an angular bend in the stick, which had hitched itself under the fern, and prevented it from being moved in either direction. Being curious to know how the ants would surmount the difficulty, and rather fancying that they would leave the stick and fetch another, I watched them for nearly two hours. They evidently had no in- tention of relinquishing their task ; and after a vast amount of excitement, the ganger getting on the top of the stick and down again fifty times, they hauled the

THE WOOD ANT. 121

projecting extremity down by main force of numbers, dragged it from below the impediment, and, I suppose, got it safely home. The stick was a trifle more than two inches in length, about as thick as a stout crow- quill, and at one end had a knot and a sharp bend up- wards. An idea of the strength exerted in the trans- portation of this burden may be formed by taking the comparative sizes of men and ants, magnifying the piece of stick into a tree trunk of corresponding dimen- sions, and setting six men to carry that trunk through a virgin forest, and over ravines and precipices, up mountains and down valleys, and lastly to the top of a building shaped something like the great pyramid, but much more lofty, the sides of which are formed of loose sticks and logs.

Nothing short of taking away the object of their labours seems to divert these industrious creatures from their work. I have laid large flies, little grubs, and other attractive articles of diet in their way, but they suffered them to remain unheeded, though, if un- employed on serious business, they would carry off such prey as soon as they saw it.

The wood ants seem to be acquainted with the leading principles of civilisation, their nest being the centre of a radiating system of roads, extending for a wonderful distance, and as permanent in their way as Watling Street, or any of the old Eoman roads which now traverse our land. Mr. William Howitt tells rne that he has watched one of these roads for more than

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twenty years, and found that on every fine day it was crowded with ants going off for plunder, or returning laden with spoils for the benefit of the community. Even on wet and cold days, when the ants, who are chilly beings, wisely stay at home, their roads are plainly perceptible, and are marked out by their freedom from bits of stick, leaves, etc., these having been re- moved by the insects as materials for their nest. It is always easy to find the nest by following up the road, and the right direction can be at once learned by fol- lowing the course adopted by the laden insects.

The difference in the demeanour of those that are setting out in search of prey or materials and those that are returning home is most notable ; the former bustling along with a quick eager step, looking this way and that, running first to one side of the path and then to the other, interchanging rapid communications with their comrades, and altogether brisk and busy. But when they have succeeded in their object they march steadily homeward with a preoccupied demeanour, taking no notice of passing events, and being apparently absorbed in the one task of depositing their burden in its proper place.

The observer will do well while watching these insects not to sit or stand upon or very near one of their roads, for the ants have no idea of being pushed out of the old paths, and are summary and fierce in their re- venge upon intruders.

As the ants pass and repass on their paths they hold

THE WOOD ANT. 123

rapid communications with each other, mostly by means of their antennae, which pat and stroke those of their gossip with surprising quickness, the whole transaction irresistibly reminding the observer of the Oriental method of conducting sales or barters by means of the hands. The antennae, whose precise function is still rather obscure, are employed not only for actual com- munication with other ants, but to ascertain whether a companion has passed over a certain spot. This peculiar instinct is mostly exercised among trees. The ant roads seem even to extend themselves to the summit of trees, being generally confined to one side of the trunk, and ramifying to the very tips of the leaves, as may be seen by means of a good field-glass. Ants may be seen passing and repassing upon the trees as briskly as upon the ground, and it is notable that when they get among the small branches an ant will not go where another has preceded it, making itself aware of the cir- cumstance by the tapping of the antennae upon the bark.

The object of this tree-haunting habit is twofold , firstly that the individual may obtain food for itself, and secondly that it may bring in subsistence for the community. Its own nourishment is chiefly obtained from the aphides which swarm on many trees, and which have the power of exuding a saccharine fluid from a pair of minute tubes near the extremity of the body. When the aphides are very plentiful the sweet juice falls on the leaves, and is popularly known as the

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' honey-dew.' Both bees and ants are fond of honey~ dew, which the former insect licks from the leaves with its brush-like tongue, the latter taking a more direct course, and lapping it as it exudes from the tubes. While on the leaves the ants are more than usually combative, and if the hand be placed near them, will tuck their tails under them, sit up like dogs begging, and flourish their antennae in a manner which they doubtless think well adapted to frighten the disturbers of their peace. When, however, the angry insect finds that menace is ineffectual, and that it cannot alarm the foe, it settles the matter by dropping to the ground. If an ant~infested tree be suddenly struck with a stick, the ants tumble down in all directions, falling quite uncon- cernedly from a height of fourteen or fifteen feet, and rattling like hail upon the dried leaves at the foot of the tree. When they reach the ground they lie motion- less for a moment, and then pick themselves up and run away as if nothing were the matter.

Though they instinctively spare the aphides (an instinct which every gardener cannot but wish to be suppressed), they are terrible foes to other insects, seizing them and dragging them into their nests most zealously. I once saw an unfortunate daddy long-legs (Tipula) caught in a gust of wind and blown upon a nest of the wood-ant. No sooner had the ill-fated insect touched the nest than it was surrounded by a host of ants, its legs seized by twenty pairs; of jaws, its wings torn from their joints, and the still struggling

THE WOOD ANT. 125

body pushed and dragged along until it was finally pulled into the recesses of the nest. I have often tried the experiment of putting a large fly in their path, and always found their mode of procedure to be the same. They cluster round the fallen insect like flies round a lump of sugar, they seize upon its legs, they pull off its wings in a moment, and run away with the severed organs, four or five others following each fortunate captor, just like a brood of chickens after the one that has been lucky enough to pick up a piece of bread. They then attack the wingless body with ruthless violence, biting at it like a hungry cat at a slice of meat, or perhaps more like a herd of wolves at their prey. They soon deprive it of life, haul it to the nest, drag it up the side, and literally tumble it into one of the holes.

The interior of the wood-ant's nest, and the mode by which a view of it was obtained by the insertion oi a sheet of plate-glass, are described in my ' Homes Without Hands.'

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TEE GREEN CRAB.

OF all the animated denizens of our sea-shores, there is perhaps none more generally familiar than the common green crab, or shore-crab as it is also popularly termed — the Carcinus Manas of naturalists. Whether at high or low water, at ebb or flow, hiding under overshadow- ing weeds or craftily sunk beneath the sand, this quaint, waddling, green-backed crustacean is to be found, equally active, and equally pugnacious. With the exception of children, who are always delighted with the odd manoeuvres of the creature, people mostly look upon it with contempt, partly because it is too small to hurt them much, and partly because it is not particularly worth eating, having hardly anything inside its olive- green shell, and the little that there is not being well- flavoured. Yet beneath that unprepossessing exterior is concealed a vast fund of interest, and the visitor to the sea-side will find himself well repaid by watching the habits of our olive-coloured friend.

The best time and place for observing the green crab in ths fulness of its energies is just before high tide. Just at the edge of the advancing waters, crabs rise out of the sand in all directions, like the warriors sprung from the dragon's teeth, and, as if to complete

THE GREEN CRAB. 127

the analogy, each is supplied with defensive and offensive armour, and each is at mortal enmity with its com- panions.

As the waters roll towards the shore the crabs advance with the waves, ever hovering on the extreme verge, and hungrily watchful for their prey. The dash- ing waves tumble them over in a most unceremonious fashion, but without in the least disturbing their equanimity, and it is amusing to see how cleverly they guard themselves from being washed back into the sea by sticking their hooked legs into the sand, like animated grapnels.

Before watching the habits of the creature, just let us catch one, and examine the marvellous manner in which its form is adapted for the life which it leads.

The legs are so constructed that they permit their owner to move backwards, forwards, or sideways with equal ease, a capability which is of the greatest import- ance in procuring food, as well as in escaping from foes. The latter contingency is also beautifully provided for by the shape of the body, which is so formed as to enable the creature to burrow beneath the sand with singular rapidity, leaving scarcely a trace of its presence.

To watch the animal thus employed is an interesting sight. The crab half erects itself on its tail, and scoops up the sand with the edge, just as a child digs a hole with its wooden spade. If the sand is wet, three or four vigorous movements are sufficient to sink the crab below the surface, when the next wave washes a quantity of

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loose sand over the spot, and nearly obliterates the traces of the creature that is lurking below. A practised eye will, however, detect the concealed crab by means of the bubbles that issue from the sand in consequence of the air expressed from the system.

Here we may mention that the proper way to catch a crab without being bitten is to press the forefinger smartly on the middle of the back, and then to grasp the two side edges with the thumb and middle finger. The claws are thus forced to fold their joints, and their painful bite need not be feared.

Holding the crab in this manner, turn it over, and examine the wonderful manner in which the limbs are packed, and how admirably they accommodate them- selves to the habits of the animal. The claws, when folded, exactly bring their extremities to the mouth, so that any food can be carried to the right place, and literally ' tucked in.' The mouth itself is an apparatus so complicated that it cannot be described further than as being a series of jaws and teeth, placed behind each other in regular succession, and opening like horizontal shears.

A creature that depends upon its own exertions to capture the active prey on which it feeds must neces- sarily be furnished with powerful eyes, which are capable of extending the faculty of vision over a very large field. These eyes are seen on the front margin of the crab, placed on footstalks, and having a peculiar nacreous lustre on their grey-brown surfaces. On examination

THE GEEEN CRAB. 129

with a good pocket lens, the eyes are seen to be com* pound, i.e. formed of a great number of facets, each possessing the power of vision, and all communicating with their common optic nerve. The delicate raised lines caused by the serried ranks of these compound eyes are the origin of the peculiar lustre just mentioned. It will be seen, too, that the visual portion of these organs passes partially round the footstalks, so that when the creature protrudes its eyes it can see objects on all sides with equal ease.

Now replace the crab in the water, and watch it as it exhibits the instinct which has. been implanted in its being by its divine Creator.

Advancing with the flowing tide, and ever remain- ing within a foot or two of the edge, the crab keeps its eager watch for food, and suffers few living things to pass without capturing them. The whole nature of the animal seems to be changed while it is seeking its prey. The timid, fearful demeanour which it assumes when taken at a disadvantage wholly vanishes, and the. appa- rently ungainly crab becomes full of life and spirit, active and fierce as the hungry leopard, and no less destructive among the smaller beings that frequent the same locality.

Now does it shew the ubiquitous advantages of its singular mode of progression. Let a tiny fish, a smaller crustacean or a soft mollusc, pass it within reasonable distance, and the crab darts at it with a tiger-like energy, and seldom fails to secure its prey. I have seen

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these crabs run after and catch the black flies that are so common upon the sand, and once saw a burrowing wasp (Odynerus) snapped up as it alighted on a bit of seaweed ; and I have often seen bees thus caught as they were drinking the salt water. Everyone who has walked along a sandy shore at evening is familiar with the shrimp-like sand-hoppers or sand-skippers (Talitrus) that leap about with such untiring energy, and knows the difficulty of capturing one of these active creatures. Yet I have seen the green crabs give chase to the sand- hoppers, and pounce on them as cats on mice.

The method employed in their capture of all active animals is unique. As soon as the crab sees the intended prey it sits up for a moment, darts at the doomed being, and literally flings itself upon the victim, imprisoning it beneath the body and hemming it in by means of the legs, which make an impassable cage around it. One of the claws is then inserted under the body, and the prisoner picked daintily out as if by the thumb and ringer. One claw then holds the prey, while the other pulls it to pieces and puts the morsels deftly into the mouth. The crab knows the value of time, and loses not a moment in disposing of its prey, tucking it into its voracious maw with amusing despatch, and looking out the while for a fresh victim. Once I saw a very large sand-hopper make its escape from its pursuer. It gained nothing, however, but a temporary release, for the crab instantly gave chase, secured, and ate it in a few moments.

THE GREEN CRAB. 131

Fierce and destructive as it may be, the green crab is itself a frequent victim to more powerful foes, and is often doomed, with poetical justice, to undergo the sufferings which it has inflicted upon other beings.1 None are more terrible enemies than those of its own species, for the crab is an insatiate cannibal, devouring its own kindred without the slightest compunction. In all these cases, however, it is needful that the dimen- sions of slain and slayer should be very disproportionate, as the crab cares not to earn a meal through a fight.

I was lately witness to a very amusing episode, where a large and powerful crab caught sight of a tender little one, as it scuttled over the wet sand. Away started the giant in full chase, and away ran the pigmy, as if know- ing that life and death hung on the issue of the race. In spite of the great disproportion in size, the superior activity of the smaller crab prevented its pursuer from gaining much ground, but at last its strength evidently began to fail, and I thought it must inevitably succumb to the terrible foe that pressed so fiercely on its foot- steps. Suddenly, however, it darted under a stem of laminaria that was lying on the shore, gathered all its limbs under its shell, and there, lay motionless. The pursuer was instantly baffled. It raised itself in the air, and surveyed the shore in all directions. Then it prowled about like a cat that has lost a mouse. It even

1 Mr. Rymer Jones mentions that he saw one crab, while eating an- other, seized by a larger crab and eaten in his turn. He did not seem to be sensible of the fact, but went on eating until he was entirely crushed.

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then was cunning enough to turn over some bits of sea- weed that were lying on the shore, but never thought of searching under the thick stem of the laminaria. At last it gave up the pursuit, returned disconsolately to the sea, shovelled itself under the sand, and I saw it no more. Its intended victim then cautiously looked from its place of shelter, just protruded a claw, then a leg, then looked again, and at last came boldly forth and went off to catch something on its own account.

As a general rule, the larger the size of the crab the more bellicose is its disposition. The smaller specimens are usually discreet as well as valorous, and if surprised either run away as fast as they can, or burrow into the sand with all speed. But the great broad-shelled bully of the rocks has had his own way so long that his first impulse is always to show fight, and no sooner does he catch sight of a foe than down goes his tail and up go his claws, and there he sits, defiantly ready for instant combat. It is as well to be cautious about handling such a champion, for he can strike with his claws as swiftly as a serpent darts its armed head, and should he miss his aim the clash of the bony weapons is distinctly audible.

Be it well understood that a bite from such a creature is no trifle, for the claws are enormously powerful, their tips are sharply toothed, and they hold like the jaws of a bull-dog.

Even this belligerent animal is ofttimes fain to re-

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treat before a foe of greater powers, stronger weapons, and harder shell — namely, the edible crab, which figures on our tables, and is known