o Birds and All Nature IN NATURAL COLORS A MONTHLY SERIAL FORTY ILLUSTRATIONS BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY A GUIDE IN THE STUDY OF NATURE Two VOLUMES A YEAR VOLUME VI. JUNE, 1899, TO DECEMBER, 1899 EDITED BY C. C. MARBLE CHICAGO A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER 203 Michigan Ave. 1900 COPYRIGHT 1 NATURE STUDY PUBLISHING Co. CHICAGO INDEX. VOLUME VL— JUNE,' J899, TO DECEMBER, J899, INCLUSIVE. y\ NIMALS, Pet. As Causes of Disease 26 Animals, When, Are Seasick 192 A. JL. •RABIES, Wee 161 Bats in Burmese Caves 32 Bee and the Flower 164 Beetles 92-94 Bird, The Flown 61 Bird Lovers, Two 212 Bird Notes ..... 187 Bird Study, The Psychology of 53 Bird Worth Its Weight in Gold 206 Birds, Accidents to 77 Birds, Mounting of .' 86 Birds. Honey 116 Birds and Ornithologists 80 Birds, Nebraska's Many 84 Birds in Town .' 89 Birds, Twilight 67 Birds Gathered His Almond Crop 228 Birds, Young Wild 71 Birds, Traveling 73 Birdland, Stories from 229 Birdland, The Tramps of 195 Bobolink '' 215 Boy, Little, What the Wood Fire said to a 173 CANARIES 166-167 ^ Canon of the Colorado. The Grand 106-107 ]20 Charley and the Angleworm ' 12 Cheeper, A Sparrow Baby t 103 Chewink 158-160 Child-Study Literature. A Contribution to 85 Chipmunk, The 177-179 Christmas Once Is Christmas Still .'. ; 233 Coca 202-203 Color Photograph, A Study of the 216 Common Minerals and Valuable Ores 191 Cowbird 224-225 Cruelty, The Badge of 128 Cuba and the Sportsman * 149 FJECEMBER 229 V Dog, The Pointer ".'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'. 49.51 T^ARTH, How Formed 110-111 *-^ Eggs, Birds', Wby and Wherefore of the Colors of 152 Emperor's Bird's Nest, The 48 "FASHION'S Clamor 200 Feather, Changes in Color Finns, Bird Lore of the Ancient '. ......"............. 186 Flower, the Bee and the 164 Forests ...I ...I...... . 97-99 Fowls, Farm-yard ° H8-H9 IJAWK, John's 42 A x Hawk, Red-tailed ...,.,;.....".".*.'."! 808-209 Home, Returning 115 Humming Bird, A Rare ............!.. 145 TN Orders Gray 237 * Indirection — 23 Insect Life Underground - 92-94 Iron Ores ..!.!'.'.'.."/.'..".'.'..".'.'..".'.'..' 189-191 J IM and 1 149 June, A Day in g TADY'S Slipper, The 146.148 J-' Lilies, Water . 82-83 Lurlaline , 85 Lyre Bird '..'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'. '.'. '..'.'. '.'. '.'.'.'. '.'. '.. '.'.'.'. '.'. '.'. '. 1218-219 MARBLES 62-63 Mandioca 72 Maryland Yellow Throat 214-215 Mayflowers, The! Minerals 74-75 Mississippi, The 174 My Neighbor in the Apple Tree TSJARCISSUS, The 197-199 •*• ' Nature, Accordance of 80 Nature Study — How a Naturalist Is Trained , ' 41 Nature Study in the Public Schools 79 Nest, A Metal Bird's , Nest, Story of a 188 Niagara Falls 142-143 OAK, The Brave Old / 102 Oil Wells 122-123 Oologists, A Suggestion to 20 Optlmus 109 Ores 70-71 Ovenbird. The ; Golden-crowned Thru*sh 90 PARK, Forest .' 61 Paroquet, The 169 Paroquet, Carolina 170- 171 Peach, The : 182-183 Perch, The Yellow 86-87 Philippine Islands, Plant Products of the 115 Pictures, The Influence of 78 Plant, A Fly-catching 29 Pointer, The 49-51 Prophet, Ted's Weather : 180 TDAVEN and the Dove 36 •*^ Rocks, Terraced, Yellowstone Park Ill Robert and Peepsy 221 Rooster, That '. 132 Rooster and Hen 118 SCIENCE, Out-Door 24 Sea-Children, The 79 Seal, Threatened Extermination of the Fur 181 Seasick, When Animals Are 192 Shells and Shell Fish 58-59 Squirrel, European 234-235 Sportsman, Cuba and the 140 St. Silverus, Legend of 228 Stanton, Elizabeth Cady, Letter from 77 SummerJndian 176 Swan, White 83-84 npAFFY and Tricksey 17 x Thrush, The Hermit , 104 Tea 154-155 Towhee : 158-16U Trees, Awesome 6,- Trees, Curious 4 Trees and Eloquence 3^ Transplanting, A 2lJ- Trout, Brook 135-13" "^ICEROY, Transformatian of the 183 \A/ARBLER. Black-Throated Blue . 46-47 v v Warbler, Blue- Winged Yellow 22-23 Warbler, Chestnut-Sided. 38-39 Warbler, Golden- Winged 26-27 Warbler— Maryland Yellow-Throat 214-215 Warbler, Mourning 34-35 Warbler, Myrtle 14-15 Warbler — Western Yellow-throat 10-11 Whippoorwill, The 66 Wild Cat : 230 231 Winter Time 212 Wish-ton-wish 162 Wood, The Edge of the 68 Woodpecker, How It Knows 144 Woodpecker, Pileated 217 Woods, Our Native 205 Woods, Polished ; ...130-131 BIRDS AND ALL NA ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY. VOL. VI. JUNE, 1899. No. i MY NEIGHBOR IN THE APPLE TREE. NELLY HART WOODWORTH. TROPICAL portions of the Amer ican continent, rich in an end less variety and beauty of bird- life, have shared with New England but a single species of Tro- chilidse, Trochilus colubris, the ruby- throated humming bird. This "glittering fragment of a rain bow" adds a decorative feature to our gardens, its nest so protected through diminutive size and perfect adaptation to the surroundings that it rarely comes under one's observation. It is commonly asserted that the male is an arrant shirk, that he leaves the entire labor of building and fur nishing the house as well as the heavy duties of housekeeping to the faithful mother, being in the fullest sense a silent partner either from choice or otherwise, a mere apology for a hus band and head of a family. Nor does he redeem himself when the prospective "twins" arrive and slen der bills are lifted appealingly for food! No thanks to him that the naked, squirming little atoms replacing the two white eggs become gradually stronger, that some hint of plumage duly covers their nudeness, or that bye- and-bye they become birds in reality. Two years ago this "little lady in green" made her nest upon an apple tree branch, concealing it so deftly that the gardner at work near by was un aware of the distinguished guests until the brooding was nearly over. When the little birds had flown the lichened residence, becoming a family posses- daintiest sion, was considered the souvenir of the summer. Being anxious to know if this rare, interesting episode would be repeated, the following summer I watched care fully for its repetition. Promptly in June I found that a humming bird was again "at home," this time upon a hori zontal maple branch, twelve feet from the ground and directly over the side walk. This nest was soldered upon a long slender bough half an inch in thickness at the intersection of another, a mere twig a quarter of an inch through, the latter inwrought with, and concealed for a full inch in the struc tural fiber. Upon the 22d of the same month, by the aid of a ladder I found that two eggs "the size of yellow beans" were lying inside the downy cup shaped nest. Before this luckless visitation the tail of the brooding bird could be seen from the ground, but during the next two days there was no sign of life thereabout. In the afternoon of the third day my bird was in the maple, darting hither and thither like a swallow, plunging into the insect swarms and securing several before they realized her pres ence. Then she came to the honey suckle beside me, hovering over it in a bewildered, irresolute manner as if de bating whether she could safely probe its scarlet cups. Just at this moment a big miller flew by and off she went in close chase, capturing it upon the wing. Then she rested upon a maple twig, leisurely preened her feathers, drawing each one gently through her beak, and after a second visit to the honeysuckles darted toward the nest. Now, I thought, is the time, if ever, to decide if she is still housekeeping, and following quickly, I saw her standing upon the edge of the silken cradle. Her head moved rapidly from side to side as she regarded its contents, after which she rose lightly in the air, dropped upon the nest with the airy grace of a thistledown, and spread above it the feathered blanket of her soft, warm breast. For several minutes she ignored my presence, drawing her beak across the leaves or springing into the air for a passing insect which was captured and apparently given to her family. Once I detected a "squeak," and her head was instantly thrown to one side in a listening attitude. If it was the note of the mate he did not approach the nest, the thick leaves hiding the tree-top from which the sound proceeded. There was a furious wind that night and the warm days were followed by a sudden fall in temperature. From that time the nest was de serted; I could only conjecture that I had presumed too much upon her de- fenselessness, or, that the y ang, if young there were, were dislc aged by the wind. This abandoned h mestead was as round and perfect as • new coin just issued from nature's mint, a mar vel of elegance in which all the instinc tive gifts of decorative art united. There were no visible signs of re building during the twelve days that followed; casual trips to the honey suckle, hovering over the flowers like some gorgeous insect with colors scin tillating in the full sunshine, alone gave evidence of further interest or inten tion. Upon the thirteenth day there was a marked change. Again she flew ex citedly about the lawn, stopping abruptly to wheel about and dart off in an opposite direction, a vitalized com plement of the spirit of the trees, ming ling with and pervading the garden as freely as did the light and air. She threw herself against a summer warbler almost knocking him off his perch and, not content with this treatment, drew him from the lawn, which, by the way, was his own harvest field where he had gleaned diligently for several days. Then the bird poised before me in mid-air, circled about my head before plunging into an apple tree in whose leafy mazes she disappeared. Just at that moment an accommodating breeze displaced the leaves; there was a flut ter within, a flash of wings, an unusual agitation that told of something quite beyond the ordinary. As the breeze died away the leaves resumed their place thus preventing all further in spection. From the parlor windows, fortunately, there was less obstruction, — she was still twisting about, going and returning, dropping within the foliage and going through the most singular antics. An opera-glass revealed the mean ing; she dropped into a half-finished nest that had all this time been directly in range of vision. The tiny tenement was so deftly concealed, blending in color and apparent texture with the bough that held it, and so sheltered by overhanging leaves that it was still difficult to locate a second time. With unbounded delight I watched her come and go a dozen times in less than that number of minutes, bringing at each arrival a quantity of vegetable fiber soft as a silken cobweb, adjusted invariably while standing inside the nest and turning completely around several times as if shaping the interior to her better satisfaction. She reached far over and pulled the fluffy cotton into place, beating it here and jerking it there, sinking her little breast into and shaping it to fit the soft contours of her body; or, covering the outside with trailing wings, beat them rapidly against the felted foundation which at these times was entirely hidden be neath their iridescence. Though still unfinished the delicate structure was lichen-decorated, simply perfect so far as it went, in this case defying the assertion that humming birds' nests are always completed before this ornate decoration is added. In the succeeding weeks — weeks in which I entertained an angel, not un awares, her two ways of approach were unvaried; either passing the nest The changes a Feather undergoes in turning from Green to Yellow. COPYRIGHT 1899, NATURE STUDY PUB. CO.. CHICAGO. entirely to rise from beneath, or, hov ering over and over, drop down as lightly as a snowflake or the petal of an apple blossom. And such a pretty proprietary air — the complacence and importance for which great possessions are often answerable! As if the trees were there for her alone, the garden made simply for her convenience! After working rapidly for two full hours she paused to rest upon a dead twig, opening and closing her wings in the twinkling fashion ot a bluebird, an exercise prefacing a breakfast taken in the nearest tree as she poised beneath the leaves. With appetite appeased she dropped upon the unfinished cradle and sat so still for twenty minutes that I was cer tain an egg was deposited. Doubtless the misfortunes attending previous nesting had interrupted the even tenor of life, the second housekeeping was more urgent than was anticipated. For ten minutes more her form was motionless though her head moved from side to side in a ceaseless surveil- ance — a warbler lunching in the next tree glanced casually in her direction, and was evidently just wild with curi osity. The situation was too much for him; he left his post hurriedly, flew over her and looked down, flew under and looked up, peered at her from an airy poise, still undecided as to who was rocking in that wonderful cradle. Craning his neck he hopped along the branch till he stood beside her, so near that his yellow coat literally brushed her gar ments, his attitude a quick pantomime of his thoughts, half paralyzed with questioning surprise as to what this remnant of a bird might be, not by any means to be bought cheap because it was a remnant. A quick thrust from the hummer's beak brought him to his senses; he took leave for a few seconds, returning cross-lots to stare again from the same near point of view, which unwarranted impertinence was borne without flinch ing or changing her position. Later on these tours of inspection were thor oughly resented, the right of territory contested in many a battle when the defendant advanced and retreated with the rapidity of lightning, making fur ious thrusts at her adversary, and chas ing him about till sheer exhaustion compelled her to desist. Then she would drop upon the nest still regard ing him with undistinguished contempt till he took her to the tree-top, keeping an eye upon her as he dropped a song or swallowed an insect. A young woodpecker came one day to her door; two quarrelsome robins stopped to say good morning; and gold finches lisped their soft love notes, while she only hugged her eggs more closely with the dear, delicious shyness of affection. When my little house-builder left that morning I was sure that the edge of a white egg rose above the low rim of the nest. From the attic window it was plainly visible, the cradled egg rocking in the wind, but, though the warbler was close by, to his credit be it said he did not once trespass upon other people's property. Twice that afternoon my lady buzzed through the trees without halting to look in at home, nor when night came down did the wanderer return. She was busy about the next morning, all work being done in the early hours, and by eight o'clock a second egg lay beside the first. By nine o'clock the following morning the regular brood ing began, the finishing touches being given to the nest long before the break fast hour. It was a noisy location, what with the clatter of lawn mowers, the drumming of pianos, and the singing of canaries, to which she listened with neighborly interest. In that chosen place, directly over the path leading from the side walk to the door, it was impossible to find even a degree of seclusion. The weather was fine, the piazza rarely va cant, and there were few hours in the day but someone passed the nest. Nor did the trouble end with day light; bicycle parties made the yard a starting-point for evening excursions, lanterns flashed while parting guests halted beneath the little house-beau tiful, until I trembled for poor "Queenie" thus barred away from her own door. Though she unvaryingly left the nest, the persons passing were never once conscious of the nearness of bird or nest, swinging breezes often bringing the latter so near that it almost touched their faces. I could see it hourly from my win dow, the overhanging leaf, the opal- ized lustre of the brooding bird, as if a store of sunshine was shivered, and falling over her feathers, then momen tarily hidden as the swinging leaf in tervened. More solid pursuits were forgotten or for the time regarded as of little importance; each delicate outline became familiar; the brooding leaf as sumed a personality; it was a guardian of the home, vitalized, spiritualized, protective. It seemed to change posi tion as the sun made the need apparent, shielding the little one in the long wait ing days, so patient and passive in the sweet expectancy of nearing mother hood. My memory pictures her still, while a more tangible photograph upon my desk gives permanence to my "bird of the musical wing" as she brooded over the apple-tree nest. With this home as a focus, lawn and garden seemed to hold the sunshine in suspension; uplifted grasses gave it recognition in smiling approval; shad ows were invested with humane and beneficent attributes, and the very air was radiant with scent and gracious in fluence. Sometimes the bird came to my win dow, her beak clicking against the glass in a vain effort to probe the flow ers within. There were visits, too, to the piazza, when the family were gathered there, poising above the embroidered flowers upon a lady's slipper and trying per sistently to taste their illusive sweet ness. Thrice upon the fourth day of sit ting she improved the nest with an ex tra beakful of cotton, holding it firmly for five or ten minutes before it was inwrought. This was repeated after two weeks when there was a decided change — the little, warm breast was pressed less closely against the nest treasures. Some amazing instinct, di rectly opposed to that dear experience by which we find a short path to a long wandering, taught her that their in creased fragility would yield to her full weight, and her touch was of ex quisite softness. When three full weeks had passed a homely baby no bigger than a honey bee lay in the nest, a one day's advan tage kept to the end, and noticeable in both size and strength. The next morning this mite was duplicated, their whole bodies trembling with every heart beat. Life became now a problem of sup ply and demand, only a clearer ex pression of the one that has from all time agitated humanity. Then began that marvel of marvels, the feeding of the newly hatched birds. It was hardly worth while to question the wisdom of the process, though I confess that after each feeding I expected only two little mangled corpses would remain! The food, partially digested in the mother's stomach, was given by regur- gitation, her beak being thrust so far down their throats that I surmised it would pierce the bottom of the nest, to say nothing of the frail bodies churned violently up and down meanwhile. The great wonder was that the infants sur vived this seemingly brutal and dan gerous exercise in which they were sometimes lifted above the nest, the food being given alternately at intervals of half an hour to an hour. They thrived, however, under a treatment that gave strength to the muscles, be sides aiding in the digestion of food. From the first, the comparative length of beak was their most notice able feature, the proportion becoming less marked by the fourth day when fine hairy pin-feathers appeared, these increasing in size and reinforced by a decided plumage seen above the rim of the nest before the second week ended. By the ninth day they attempted their first toilet, drawing the incipient feathers, mere hairs, through the beak, and on the tenth day, more surprising still, they had found their voices. Sev eral times daily the branch was pulled down to the level of my eyes, the twins regarding me with the surprise and in nocence of babyhood, sinking low into the nest meanwhile, and emitting a plaintive cry almost human in its pathos and expression. So far as I know no observer has re corded this pleading, pathetic note from the infant hummers so noticeable whenever I came too near. The branch replaced and the disturbing element removed, they reappeared above the nest's rim, the slight form of the mother palpitant as she hovered near. Early "in their lives when a cold rain followed the long drouth, her enforced absences were brief; hasty trips merely to the flower garden in the rear of the house, or to the flowering beans in the next yard, a favorite lunch counter patron ized every hour ordinarily. The leaf that served to so good pur pose in the sunny days became heavy with raindrops, tilted to one side, and little streams trickled down upon her back and ran off her tail, while big drops splashing down from the higher branches threatened to annihilate the whole affair. Undaunted still, my Lilli putian mother hugged her precious charges, with drooping tail hanging over the edge of the nest, "head drawn into her feathers, her whole appear ance as limp and bedraggled as a hen caught out in a shower. When the in fants had seen two weeks of life they refused to be longer brooded. From this time on they matured rapidly, fill ing the nest so full that my lady found no place for the sole of her foot, and often alighted upon their backs to give them food. In four .days more their baby dresses were quite outgrown. These were replaced by green gradu ating gowns of stylish texture and fit, and, as my bird book stated that young hummers left the nest when a week old, I was watching eagerly for their debut. Long before this the nest proper be gan to show signs of hard service. Be fore its occupants left it became a thing of the past, positively dissolving to a mere shelf or platform, and one side falling out entirely, the imperturbable twins sitting or standing upon what re mained, content in the silence that all completed tasks deserve. As I have said before, one of these little grown-ups surpassed the other in size and vigor, insisting gently or for cibly upon the best standing-place, and vibrating its wings for several seconds at a time. Plainly this one would be the first to launch upon the world. Twenty-two days after hatching it spread its wings without apparent effort and alighted upon a neighboring twig. Clearly, life was regarded from a ma ture standard as it preened its plumage and looked about with an undaunted air. Two days later the smaller twin fol lowed the example, reaching the upper branches as easily as if flight were an every-day occurrence, both birds flit ting about the familiar tree, and fed by the parent, until after the third day, they were seen no more. There is something noble, simple, and pure in a taste for trees. It argues, I think, a sweet and generous nature to have this strong relish for beauties of vegetation, and this friendship for the hardy and glorious sons of the forest. There is a grandeur of thought con nected with this part of rural economy. It is worthy of liberal and freeborn and aspiring men. He who plants an oak looks forward to future ages, and plants for posterity. Nothing can be less selfish than this. He cannot ex pect to sit in its shade nor enjoy its shelter, but he exults in the idea that the acorn which he has buried in the earth shall grow up into a lofty pile and shall keep on flourishing and increasing and benefiting mankind long after he shall have ceased to tread his paternal fields. — Washington Irving. A DAY IN JUNE. Bright is this day of smiling June, When nature's voice is all atune In music's swelling flow, to sing Sweet songs of praise to nature's king. From azure heights the lark's loud song Is borne the balmy breeze along; The robin tunes his sweetest strain, And blithely sings his glad refrain Of summer days and summer joys; The tawny thrush his voice employs, In chorus with the warbling throng, To fill his measure of the song. The river, too, with rippling flow, As it winds through its banks below, And leaps and plays in merry glee, O'er rocky bed, 'neath grassy lea, Or silent glides through sylvan shade, To laugh again in sunny glade, Sends back its murm'ring voice to swell The music of each lovely dell, Where Flora decks with brilliant sheen The virgin sward of velvet green. — From a forthcoming poem by Geo. H. Cooke, Chicago. FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES. 6-99 "WESTERN YELLOW-THROAT WARBLER. Life-size. COPYRIGHT 1899, NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO. WESTERN YELLOW-THROAT. (Geothlypis trichas occidentalism .'i. The birds are here, for all the season's late. They take the sun's height, an' don' never wait; Soon's he officially declares it's spring, Their light hearts lift 'em on a north'ard wing, An' th' aint an acre, fur ez you can hear, Can't by the music tell the time o' year. — Lowell. THIS common, but beautiful res ident of the western United States begins to arrive about the middle of April and leaves during the month of September. It is one of the most conspicuous of the warbler family, is very numerous and familiar, and is decked with such a marked plumage that it cannot fail to be noticed. The adult male is olive- green above, becoming browner on the nape. The female is duller in color than the male without black, gray, or white on head, which is mostly dull brownish. The yellow of throat is much duller than in the male. The young are somewhat like the adult fe male. This is said to be the prevailing form in Illinois and Indiana, the larger number of specimens having the more extensively yellow lower parts of the western form, though there is much variation. This little fellow is found among the briars or weed-stalks, in rose bushes and brambles, where it sings through out the day. Its nest, generally built between upright weed-stalks or coarse grass in damp meadow land, is shaped like a cup, the opening at the top. The eggs vary from four to six, and are of a delicate pinkish-white, the larger end marked by a ring of specks and lines of different shades of brown. The western yellow-throat inhabits the Mis sissippi valley to the Pacific coast. It is found as far north as Manitoba; south in winter from the southern United States, through central and western Mexico to Guatemala. With a few exceptions the warblers are mi gratory birds, the majority of them passing rapidly across the United States in the spring on the way to the north ern breeding-grounds. It is for this reason that they are known to few ex cept the close observers of bird life, though in season they are known to literally swarm where their insect food is most plentiful — "always where the green leaves are, whether in lofty tree- top, by an embowered coppice, or bud ding orchard. When the apple trees bloom the warblers revel among the flowers, vying in activity and numbers with the bees; now probing the re cesses of a blossom for an insect which has effected lodgment there, then dart ing to another, where, poised daintily upon a slender twig, or suspended from it, he explores, hastily, but carefully for another morsel. Every movement is the personification of nervous activ ity, as if the time for the journey was short; and, indeed, such appears to be the case, for two or three days, at most, suffice some species in a single local ity; a day spent in gleaning through the woods and orchards of one neigh borhood, with occasional brief sies tas among the leafy bowers, then the following night in continuous flight toward its northern destination, is prob ably the history of every individual of the moving throng." 11 CHARLEY AND THE ANGLEWORM. ALICE DE BERDT. CHARLEY was going fishing and he took great pride in the quan tity of squirming bait he carried in the tin box. He was quite a small boy, only eight years old, but country boys learn to take care of themselves sooner than city children. When he reached the little stream where he meant to fish, he found some one before him. It was a stranger whom Charley had seen once or twice at a neighbor's, where he was boarding during the summer. The old mill was the best place in miles for fish, and Charley wished that the city boarder had chosen some other spot in which to read his book. He gave a shy, not very cordial re ply to the stranger's pleasant "Good morning!" and began to arrange his line. In a few minutes one of the largest earth-worms was wriggling in the water at the end of Charley's hook, and he himself was sprawled out upon the ground at the end of a long beam pro jecting from the mill intently regard ing the water. "No luck, my boy?" asked the stran ger, watching Charley work with the struggling worm that was as hard to get oft the hook as it had been to put on. "No, sir," replied the little boy. "The fishes don't seem to bite." "Not hungry to-day, eh?" said the stranger. "I should think that would be a good thing for the worms." Charley opened his eyes. It had never occurred to him to consider the worms in the matter. They were to him nothing but ugly, stupid things, which, his father said, injured the roots of plants. "Don't you think the worms are as fond of their life as you are of yours?" went on Charley's new friend. "In their little underground earth houses they are very comfortable and happy." Charley smiled. This was a new view of the case to him, and he edged nearer to the stranger to hear what more he would say. "They's on'y worms," said Charley. "And a worm is a very good sort of> creature in its way. They are harm less, cleanly animals. See, I can take that one of yours in the palm of my hand and it will not harm me in the least. Let me put it down on the ground and see how it hurries to get away. It is frightened. Now it is trying to force a way into that damp earth. I wonder if you know just how the worm makes its way through the ground." Charley shook his head, and the stran ger said: "You have often noticed the shape of the worm, I dare say. One end of its body is much thicker than the other, which runs to a point. The thicker end of the body is the head. The body itself, you will see, is made of many small rings, held together by tiny mus cles and skin, making it possible for the worm to bend and curl and wriggle in a way that is impossible for you and me, whose bones are fewer and fitted tightly together, so that they move about less easily. "Now, if you will take this one in your hand," said the stranger, "and run your fingers very gently down its sides from tail to head, you will find that the body of the worm is covered with fine hooks. If you run your fingers along the worm in the other direction, you will think the body perfectly smooth. This is because all the hooks point in the other direction. "When the worm wishes to enter the earth, it pushes its blunt head through the soil, lengthening its body by means of the muscles that hold together the soft, cartilage-like rings. At first only a few rings go into the ground. Master Worm then draws up his body into a thick roll by shortening his muscles. In this way he forces apart the soft earth to make room for his body, the points on the sides holding it there while he again lengthens his head, push- ing more earth apart. It is in this way, by alternately or in turn lengthening or shortening his body that he makes his way through the earth, which is pushed aside to give him passage through its dark depths. "As his home is underground, eyes would not be of much use to him, so Mother Nature, whose children we all are, has given him none. One of her laws is that none of us shall have what we cannot or do not make use of. He has a strong mouth, however. It is placed on the second ring of the body. His food is earth, which he swallows to obtain the organic particles contained in it. This makes him especially inter esting, for nearly all animals obtain their food from the soil quite indirectly. Some get it from plants, the plants themselves having gathered theirs from the earth through their roots. Certain animals depend on other creatures, which in turn get food from the plants. "The life-giving particles which go to build up all bodies come directly or indirectly from the earth itself. It seems odd that a man who is starving, no matter where he may be, starves with the very food which he needs di rectly beneath his feet, only he does not know, nor has the wisest man yet learned, how to convert it into food which will directly sustain and give health to the body. Yet the little earth worm, which you despise as stupid, has this wonderful secret, which day by day it puts into operation for its own benefit. Worms also eat leaves, which sometimes they drag into their homes. "The worm has no feet as we under stand them, but moves along the ground by sticking its sharp claws into the ground and by in turn lengthening and shortening its flexible body. "The young worms grow from eggs, which are deposited in the earth in the autumn. They have to look out for themselves. During the winter they burrow deep into the ground, coming to the surface with the warm rains of spring. Worms also come to the earth's surface at night. If you look carefully in the garden with a lantern some even ing, you may see them." Charley was looking at his bait box with a good deal of respect. "I guess I'll let the worms have an other chance," he said, and he dumped them in a heap upon the ground, when, I regret to say, two hungry robins promptly pounced upon them and flew jubilantly home with two of the fattest in their beaks for a meal. The stranger smiled kindly upon Charley. "Never mind, my boy. Old Dame Nature meant the worms for food for the robins and perhaps bait for your hook when you really need fish for food, but she never meant any of us to need lessly harm any living creature, for when you are older and have learned to read well in her great story book you will find that after all, from earthworms to kings, we are only brothers and sis ters in wise old Mother Nature's great family. •'I once knew a little boy like you who used to salute every living creature he met with 'Good morning' or 'Good afternoon' or 'Good evening.' He said it made him feel more friendly toward them. In his spare moments he loved to watch the woodland creatures and learn the secrets of their busy, useful lives." "Where does he live?" asked Charley. "Well, when he is not rambling over the earth hunting for curious insects he lives in a big city, where he sometimes writes books about butterflies and moths and other insects, and people, who as a rule know very little about the humbler children of nature's family, give him credit for being a rather wise man; but he really knows very little — there is so much to learn. Some day, when you are a man, if you keep your eyes open to what goes on around you, you your self may know how little. That boy is a man now and takes great pleasure in having introduced you to Master Chae- topoda, one of the humblest but most intercstingmembers of Mother Nature's household." ^ And then Charley smiled, for he knew the stranger was talking about h i m s e 1 f . — Success. 13 THE MYRTLE WARBLER. (Dendroica coronata.) C. C. M. ONE of the .most interesting facts concerning this beautiful warb- -ler is that, Chough not com mon, it ";is .a -winter sojourner, and therefore of perpetual interest to the studen-t of birds. About the last of March, however, multitudes of them may be seen as they begin to move northward. By the middle of April all but a few stragglers have left us, and it is not till the last of September that they begin to return, the majority of them arriving about the middle of October. The habitat of the myrtle warbler includes the whole of North America, though it is chiefly found east of the Rocky Mountains, breeding from the northern United States north ward into the Arctic regions; and, what is regarded as strange for so hardy a bird, has been found nesting in Jamaica. Its winter home is from about latitude 40° south into southern Centra] America. The adult female myrtle warbler is similar to the male, but much duller in color. In winter the plumage of the sexes is said to be essentially alike. The upper parts are strongly washed with umber brown, and lower parts more or less suffused with paler wash of the same. The young have no yel low anywhere, except sometimes on the rump. The whole plumage is thickly streaked above and below with dusky and grayish white. The places to study these attractive warblers are the open woods and bord ers of streams. In their northern winter homes, during the winter months, spiders, eggs and larvae of in sects constitute their principal food, though they also feed upon the berries of the poison ivy, and in the early spring, as they move northward, upon " insects that gather about the unfold- irfg leaves, buds, and blossoms." Col. Goss says that in the spring of 1880 he found the birds in large numbers on Brier Island and other places in Nova Scotia, feeding along the beach, in company with the horned lark, upon the small flies and other insects that swarm about the kelp and » debris washed upon the shore. " They utter almost continually, as they flit about, a tweet note, the males often flying to the tops of the small hemlocks to give vent to their happiness in song, which is quite loud for warblers — rather short, but soft and pleasing." These birds usually build their nests in low trees and bushes, but Mr. Mac- Farlane, who found them nesting at Anderson River, says they occasion ally nest on the ground. Mr. Bremer says that in the summer of 1855, early in July, he obtained a nest of the myrtle warbler in Parsborough, Nova Scotia. It was built in a low bush, in the midst of a small village, and con tained six eggs. The parents were very shy, and it was with great diffi culty that one of them was secured for identification. The nest was built on a horizontal branch, the smaller twigs of which were so interlaced as to admit of being built upon them, though their extremities were interwoven into its rim. The nest was small for the bird, being only two inches in depth and four and a half in diameter. The cav ity was one and one- half inches deep and two and a half wide. Its base and external portions consisted of fine, light dry stalks of wild grasses, and slender twigs and roots. Of the last the firm, strong rim of the nest was exclusively woven. Within the nest were soft, fine grasses, downy feathers, and the fine hair of small animals. The eggs are three to six, white to greenish white, spotted and blotched, with varying shades of umber brown to blackish and pale lilac: in form they are rounded oval. In autumn, when the myrtle warblers return from Canada, they mostly haunt the regions where the juniper and bay- berries are abundant. The latter (Myrica ceifera], or myrtle waxberries, as they are frequently called, and which are the favorite food of this species, have given it their name. These warblers are so restless that great difficulty is experienced in identifying them. 14 FROM COL. F. M. WOODRUFF. MYRTLE WARBLER. Life-size. COPYRIGHT 1899, NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO. TAFFY AND TRICKSEY. CAROLINE CROWNINSHIELD BASCOM, A FEW of my readers may know who Taffy and Tricksey are, but as more will not I think it best to introduce them. Taffy is the handsomest tiger cat I have ever seen, and as he has the crook in his tail, he belongs to the Tabby breed. Taffy is very large, usually weighing fourteen pounds, but he has a very small head, and very small, finely shaped paws. The under parts of them look like black velvet. In color he is jet black and the other fur very much like a raccoon's, light tan at the ends shading into yellow, then in to drab. As the sun strikes him every hair seems full of light and he is one mass of iridescent colors. His mark ing is most beautiful. The top of his head is black branching out into five narrow black stripes down his neck. A black stripe three inches wide (with out one light hair) going all the way down the back and to the end of the tail and under two inches; of course, on the tail the stripe is much narrower. Then, narrow black stripes go down each side of his back and tail. His tail is not long, but very bushy like a nice boa. I never saw more exquisite coloring and marking than Taffy has underneath, from his throat to his tail. His coat is beautifully soft and thick, and shines like satin, and his eyes are very green. He is particular about his toilet, but insists upon my helping him to keep it glossy. His own comb is kept on my dressing-table, and he asks me to comb him twice a day, and some times oftener. I can tell you nothing of Taffy's an tecedents, as I found him one morning in our back yard starved almost to death, and about as thick through the body as a shingle. At first I thought he had dropped down from Heaven, but I soon learned from his sayings and doings that he must have been quite intimate with the inmates of the lower region. I tempted Him with chicken but it was some little time be fore I could put my hand on him; and to tame any animal you must be able to touch it with your hand. After two or three pats he seemed to realize that I was a good friend. Soon I had him in the house and for three years we have been devoted to each other. I have had a great many cats, but never one who had so much of the wild animal in him. All of my friends said I never could tame Taffy and it was many weeks before I had much in fluence over him, and I never feel quite sure now whether I am to be loved or scratched, as he still has the temper and the actions of a tiger when anything goes the wrong way. He usually lies down like a tiger with legs straight out in front, tail straight out behind, and when I speak to him he will always blink his eyes and speak to me. If you touch him in passing he will grab at your feet and spit and growl. He never mews when he wants anything to eat, but will chase me or my maid, and grab at our feet. If he does not like what is given him to eat, he will walk all about his plate, and scratch as if he were cover ing it up. I am the only one Taffy ever shows much affection for, but to me he is very loving. He will lie as long as I will let him with his paws about my neck, and head on my shoulder. If he is sound asleep anywhere, and I begin to read aloud, sing, or whistle, he will get directly up, jump on my lap, put his paws about my neck, his face close to mine, and begin to purr. As he al ways looks very pleasant I flatter my self he likes the tone of my voice. When I had my bird, Little Billie, it would make Taffy simply furious if I put him out of my room and closed the door. One morning he was so ugly my maid did not dare open the door to come in. After that when I wanted him to go down stairs, I had my maid come to the bottom of the stairs and call " Taffy!" then there was never any trouble. When he is in a tearing rage I can always quiet him, by taking 17 tight hold of his paws, and kissing his eyes. I have told all of these things about Taffy so my readers will appre ciate what I have been able to do with him. It is needless to say that when Little Billie went away, Taffy was the happiest cat in town. His devotion in creased daily to me and he lived in my room, only going down to get some thing to eat. I think by this time you are very well acquainted with Mr. Taffy, and I will present Tricksey to you. Of all the canary birds I have ever seen Tricksey is the prettiest, daintiest little bird you can possibly imagine. His color is light yellow with a much deeper shade between his wings, shad ing into almost an orange. His wings and tail are white with just a line of yellow on some of the feathers. His eyes are unusually large and bright, and his little legs and claws are very pink, and so slender they do not look strong enough to support his finely shaped body. Tricksey came from George H. Holden's, New York, so you will all know he is a very superior bird and sings like an angel. Tricksey had never been out of his cage when he came to me, but before I had had him a week, he came out, perched on my finger, took things from my finger or mouth, would kiss me, and go all about my room on my finger, and very soon went all about the house with me. He was very fond of sweet apple, but I never let him have it inside his cage, but made him come to me for it. I kept a piece in a little dish on my table and he soon found out where it was and would help himself on the sly. I also kept on my table in a little china cup, some hemp seed which I gave to Tricksey as a great treat. Every time I would tap on the cup and make it ring, Tricksey would come out of his cage, down from a picture frame, or wherever he was, for a seed. One day he had had his one hemp seed, and teased for more, but I said " no " and he went flying about the room having a fine time. Soon he flew back on the table, hopped over to the cup, gave it two or three taps to make it ring, then hopped on to the top, reached down and helped himself to two seeds. Tricksey is a very vain little bird and likes nothing better than to go over on my dressing table, walk back and forth in front of the mirror or sit on my pin cushion and admire himself. Tricksey came to me one afternoon and Taffy knew nothing about his ar rival until the next morning. When he came upstairs and saw a little yellow bird in a house of gold, he was like the little girl's Bunnie, who " was not a bit afraid, but awfully much sur prised," when she heard firecrackers for the first time. His eyes were like balls of fire, while his mouth opened and shut making a hissing sound, and his tail going at the rate of a mile a minute. He walked into my room like a wild tiger, with an air as much as to say, " If this is Little Billie come back dressed in yellow, die he must," and sprang at the cage. I took him firmly by the paws, looked straight into his big angry eyes and said in a soft, firm voice, "Taffy, this is Tricksey, and he is not to be eaten or hurt any more than my Little Billie who went away." I let go of his paws, he walked out of my room and downstairs without look ing back. In about an hour I looked out into the hall, and there sat my dear old Taffy on the top step looking very meek and wishful. I spoke kindly to him and asked him to come in and see his new brother Tricksey. After a few moments he came in very slowly and went behind my bed. Soon he came from under the valance, (the cage sat on a chair and I in front of it) never looked at the cage, jumped into my lap, put his paws about my neck and began loving me. I took him to bed with me and he never moved until Tricksey began to sing in a most de lightful way, then he looked at him and listened very intently. I talked to him,and "smoothed his feathers," and soon he snuggled down in my arms and went to sleep. When he got out of bed he never glanced at the cage, but went directly downstairs, and I felt I had made a good beginning. Everyone said I could never teach Taffy not to catch Tricksey, and the reason his catship did not kill Little 18 Billie was because he was afraid of him, and so carefully watched. I knew there was not a place in the house I could hang the cage where Taffy could not get at it if he made up his mind to do so. Of course for days and weeks I felt anxious, and did not mean to leave them alone together. I never turned Taffy out of my room. If he went up to the cage and put up his paw I would say " Taffy, you must not put your paw on the cage," and as he always minds he would take it right down, sit by the cage, and I would talk to him kindly. Fortunately Tricksey was not at all afraid of Taffy. Taffy always wears a yellow satin collar with bells all around. Often I would hear him coming upstairs when I was lying down and I would keep very quiet to see what he would do. Some times he would come over to the cage, look at Tricksey pleasantly, then lie down by the fire and go to sleep; more often he would lie down without even looking at him. But the moment he heard me talking to Tricksey he would get up and come to me to be petted, and I always gave him a great deal. One day when Taffy was in another room I let Tricksey out, and tried to be very quiet. I was sitting on the floor with Tricksey hopping about me. Before I hardly knew it Taffy was in my lap, and soon I had Tricksey on my knee eating seeds. If I took the cage on my lap with Tricksey inside Taffy would immediately jump up and crowd in between the cage and me. Taffy was very much afraid the first time he saw Tricksey take his bath, and ran under the bed and peeped out from under the valance. One morning the cage sat on the floor, and Tricksey was ready for his bath, when Taffy came in and sat close to the cage. Tricksey took a big drop of water into his bill and threw it into Taffy's face, Taffy moved back a little and looked all about to see where it came from. While he was looking Tricksey went into his bath, and splashed the water all over Taffy's face in a very roguish way. To say Taffy was surprised is speaking mildly. He turned to me with an angry cry and went out of the room. The next morn ing the same thing happened; but in stead of going out of the room, he went on the other side, out of reach of the water, but where he could see all that went on. After that he became so interested he did not mind if the water was splashed all over his face and would sit as close to the cage as he could get. While Tricksey was eating his break fast he would lie down close to the cage and go to sleep. As I previously said I never meant to leave Taffy in the room with Tricksey, but he was often there hours before 1 knew it. When I found him he was always asleep in front of the cage or by the fire. One morning after the bath I put the cage up in the window. Taffy did not seem to like it at all. He looked at me most wishfully, and began talking cat language, and I knew he was say ing, "Please put Tricksey back on the floor." I did so, and Taffy began to sing, lay down with his back close to the cage, stretched out and went to sleep. He had been lying that way for an hour when some visitors came. It seemed too bad to disturb Taffy so I left him, and thought I would risk it. Two hours passed before I went back, and you may imagine my delight when I found my two boys (so different in color, size and disposition) as happy as two kittens. Tricksey was singing merrily. Taffy had wakened, changed his position, and looked as if he felt very proud, being left to take care of his small brother. His eyes were as soft as velvet, and he spoke to me in a soft, cooing tone. Since then I have never felt there was any danger in leaving them together. I regret to say Tricksey has a strong will of his own and almost as bad a temper as Taffy. At different times I had three wee baby birds brought in to me, but they all died. Tricksey was very jealous of them, and when he saw me feeding them he would become very angry, beat his wings against his cage, and beg for me to let him out. One day I put one of the little strangers on the floor and let Tricksey out. He flew at the waif and tore feathers out of the top of his head. I took the poor little fright ened thing in my hand. Tricksey flew 19 on my finger and pecked at him. I put him in my other hand and Tricksey flew at him more angry than ever. Then I put him on the floor, and Trick sey was so happy he flew on my head, hopped about my shoulders and kissed me in the mouth. In the middle of the performance in walked dignified Mr. Taffy with a look which plainly said, "What more are you going to bring into this room?" He sat by my side looking at the newcomer and, be fore I knew what he was going to do, reached out his paw, and gave him a good slap which sent him off my lap onto the floor. Early in the fall before I had any fire in my room I would bring Trick sey down in the morning and keep him until evening, and for two weeks Taffy never went near my room during the day, but stayed down there with Tricksey. The first day I had a fire in my room I did not bring Tricksey down as usual. After I gave Taffy his luncheon I missed him, but did not go to my room until five o'clock, and there was faithful Taffy sound asleep close to Tricksey's cage, and now he stays in my room all day. He has plainly shown that if Tricksey stays there he stays too. I find that animals want to be treated very much like children. The more in telligent they are the easier it is to in fluence them, and the quicker they are to read you. First give them a great deal of love and kindness, always be firm, very patient, and above all never deceive them in the most trivial thing. I hope this little sketch of Taf fy's and Tricksey's life may be of some help to those who love cats and dogs, but have felt they could not teach them to live in harmony together. A SUGGESTION TO OOLOGISTS. FRANK L. BURNS, In Oberlin Bulletin, BEFORE we enter upon another active campaign of bird-nesting, it is fitting that we should pause a moment to reflect upon the true aim of our toil, risks, and trouble, as well as delight and recreation. How many of us can define the phrase "collect ing for scientific purposes," which, like liberty, is the excuse for many crimes? If it is true, as has been asserted, that oology as a scientific study has been a disappointment, I am convinced that it is not on account of its limited possibilities, but simply because the average oologist devotes so much time to the collection and bartering of specimens that no time is left for the actual study of the accumulating shells. In other words, he frequently under takes a journey without aim or object. The oologist has done much toward clearing up the life-history of many of our birds, but as observations of this nature can often be accomplished with out the breaking up of the home of the parent bird, it alone will not suffice as an excuse for indiscriminate collecting. After preparing the specimen for the cabinet his responsibility does not end but only begins. A failure to add something to the general knowledge is robbing the public as well as the birds. He who talks fluently of the enforce ment of strict laws for the preservation of our wild birds, their nests and eggs, and fails to protect and encourage those about his premises, falls short of his duty; and if his cabinet contains bird skins or egg shells which might just as well have remained where Nature placed them, he is inconsistent, demanding that others abstain that he may indulge. In conclusion I would say that when an oologist constantly keeps in mind and acts under the assumption that the birds are his best friends and not his deadly enemies, he cannot go far wrong, and the means he employs will be justified in the light of subsequent study and research of data and speci mens. If any of us fall short in this we have only ourselves to blame. Let us then collect with moderation and fewer eggs and more notes be the order of the day. BLUE-WINGED YELLOW WARBLER. Life-size, COPYRIGHT 1899, STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO. THE BLUE- WINGED YELLOW WARBLER. (Helminthophila pinus.} NOT a great deal is known about many of the warblers, and com paratively little has been ob served of this member of the very large family, comprising more than one hundred species. This speci men is also recognized by the name of the blue-winged swamp warbler. Its habitat is eastern United States, chiefly south of 40 degrees and west of the Alleghanies, north irregularly to Mas sachusetts and Michigan, and west to border of the great plains. In winter it lives in eastern Mexico and Guatemala. It has been pointed out that the name of this bird is misleading, as the blue of the wing is dull and inconspic uous, and not blue at all in the sense in which this color distinction is applied to some other birds. When applied to the warblers, it simply means either a bluish-gray, or slate, which seems barely different from plain gray at a short distance. In half-cleared fields which have grown up to sprouts, and in rich open woods in the bottom-lands, where the switch-cane forms a considerable pro portion of the undergrowth, the blue- winged yellow warbler is one of the characteristic birds, says Ridgway. The male is a persistent singer during the breeding-season, and thus betrays his presence to the collector, who finds this, of all species^ ofte/.qf the easiest to procure. His song 'is'veryXude. The nest is built on the ground^ anjiong up right stalks, resting on a ,thic,k\ founda tion of .dry leaves. The ,egg;s are four or five,*'-wfiritev wtth-reddish dots. The food of Lh^/;/warbler . cety-sists almost wholly of spid'ie;rff,^lSirVa6r and beetles, such as are found in bark, bud, or flower. The birds are usually seen consorting in pairs. The movements of this warbler are rather slow and leisurely, and, like a chickadee, it may sometimes be seen hanging head down ward while searching for food. INDIRECTION. " We hear, if we attend, a singing1 in the sky." RICHARD REALF. Fair are the flowers and the children, but their subtle suggestion is fairer; Rare is the rose-burst of dawn, but the secret that clasps it is rarer; Sweet the exultance of song, but the strain that precedes it is sweeter; And never a poem was writ, but the meaning outmastered the meter. Never a daisy that grows, but a mystery guideth the growing; Never a river that flows, but a majesty scepters the flowing; Never a Shakespeare that soared, but a stronger than he did enfold him; Never a prophet foretold, but a mightier seer hath foretold him. Back of the canvas that throbs, the painter is hinted and hidden; Into the statue that breathes, the soul of the sculptor is bidden; Under the joy that is felt, lie the infinite issues of feeling; Crowning the glory revealed, is the glory that crowns the revealing. Great are the symbols of being, but that which is symboled is greater; Vast the creation beheld, but vaster the inward Creator; Back of the sound broods the silence; back of the gift stands the giving; Back of the hand that receives, thrills the sensitive nerve of receiving. Space is nothing to spirit; the deed is outdone by the doing; The heart of the wooer is warm, but warmer the heart of the wooing; And up from the pits where these shiver and up from the heights where those shine, Twin voices and shadows swim starward, and the essence of life divine. 23 OUT-DOOR SCIENCE. FREDERICK A. VOGT, Principal Central High School, Buffalo. THE first step to take in teaching science to young people and in popularizing the study among older people is to throw away much of the traditional polysyllabic phraseology and use a little common sense and good old Anglo-Saxon now and then — to teach nature, instead of science. There is not only great danger in being too technical, but in telling too much. We all like to talk on our pet subjects. We rattle along, airing our opinions and pouring out big volumes of knowledge, and expect the poor pupils, like great dry sponges, to ab sorb the gracious gift. But they don't absorb; it isn't their business; they be long to quite another sub-kingdom; and while we are just about to congrat ulate ourselves on our facility of ex pression and .wise beneficence, we are rudely made aware that our eloquence was all lost; and, worse still, we have been guilty of repression, of stifling natural curiosity, and crushing what might become a priceless, inquiring, intellectual habit. Is it any wonder that so few ever go on with this geology, mineralogy, bot any, or zoology, after they leave school ? What is our object as teachers? Is it to cram geology and botany down pas sive throats in one or two school terms, or is it to lead our students so gently and awaken so keen a desire that they shall study these sciences all their lives, to be a never-ending joy, a pure plea sure and a solace amid coming cares and darkening days? Oh, I, too, have been guilty, and may heaven forgive my exceeding foolishness! The re mainder of my days are being spent in penance, in propitiating the office of the recording angel by a more humble and righteous way of life. So much for the language of the teacher, and now for the means of giv ing reality to his teaching efforts This can only be done by the laboratory method or investigation in the field. With the latter, out-door work only does this paper especially treat. ACTUAL CONTACT WITH NATURE. While I do not for a moment decry the use of books, either for collateral reading or for text-books — in fact, I plead for a wider reading and pro- founder study of the best scientific writers — still, I feel just as you must feel, that there is something radically wrong in much of our science teach ing, and that we have come to regard books as more real than the earth, the sky the rocks, the plants, and the animals, which are all about us. Just why this is so, I am unable to understand. Nature is so lavish! On all sides, easy of access, are the phen omena and the realities, while the school-room is artificial, and the teacher, alas, in perfect keeping with the school room. Can it be that pupils are averse to actual contact with nature? Not at all. From the earliest childhood throughout life there is in most persons a remark able turn toward curious investigation, and thorough understanding of the things of nature. That I know from my own experience while teaching in the grammar schools. One day I asked the pupils to bring me in any specimens of stones they might find in the vacant lots and the fields; and then I promised to give them a talk about these stones. I ex pected perhaps twenty or thirty speci mens. What was my amazement and secret horror when, the next day and the next came dozens and dozens of specimens until, in a few days, I had over a ton and a half, containing 3,000 specimens. There were granites, gneisses and schists and quartzes; there were sandstones, slates, shales, lime stones, glacial scratchings, marbles and onyx; there were geodes, crystals, ores, stone hammers, arrow-heads, brickbats, furnace slag, and fossils. I took every thing smilingly, and at night the janitor and I buried many duplicates and the useless stuff in a deep hole where they wouldn't be likely to get hold of it again. We soon possessed an excellent cabi- 24 netful, and had fine times talking about the making of stones — the crust of the earth — former inhabitants, the great ice age, and such simple geology as they could understand; and they did under stand; that did not end it. We studied plants in the same way; physics and chemistry, with home-made apparatus. Of course, it all took time, and a good deal of it; and there wasn't any extra pay for it, either; but there are labors whose recompense is far more precious than dollars and cents. And so I find enthusiasm also for out door science, among secondary pupils and among the great body of intelli gent people of our cities; and if nature is so accessible, and pupils are so eager for its secrets, and we still worship books and ignore the visible objects and forces so freely at our disposal, there is no other conclusion to arrive at, except that the teacher himself is either too ignorant or too indolent to make proper use of them. It takes time; it needs enthusiasm; it needs a genuine love for the subject in hand, and a profound interest in and sym pathy with the student. The subjects in which field work may be made very useful are geography, geology, botany, and zoology, and the objects are, of course, apparent to all. First, it cultivates a familiarity with nature, which is wholesome and desir able. We are living in an artificial age. Children nowadays get too much pocket money; there is too much theater; too much smartness; too much flabbiness for the real business of life; too much blas£ yawning; too many parties; too much attention to dress; the color of the necktie; the crease of the trowsers, or the make of a gown. The only meaning science has for many of the richer classes is the curved ball of the pitcher, the maneuvers of the quarter back, or the manly art of self-defense. I know of nothing that will counter act the indifference of parents and lead the young mind back to a simpler and more humanizing condition of life than to make it familiar with old mother earth, the stream, the valley, the tree, the flower, and the bird. Another object of field work is to develop habits of correct observation. Pupils ordinarily take too much for granted. They will swallow anything that is printed in a book, or that the teacher may choose to tell, always pro viding the pupil is sufficiently awake to perform the function. It is hadly an exaggeration that they would believe the moon was made of green cheese, providing the statement came with august solemnity from the teacher's chair. There is too hasty generaliz ation and a prevailing unwillingness to careful examination. Careful field work opens the eye and corrects much of this slovenly mode of thinking, creates honest doubt, and questions an unsup ported statement. The pupil wants to see the pollen on the bee before he believes in cross-fertilization; he wants to see rocks actually in layers before he will believe they could have been deposited in water, and he pounds up a fragment of sandstone to get at the original sand; he wants to see the actual castings be fore he will believe all that Darwin says about his wonderful earthworms; and few things escape the eye of the pupils who go out with the understand ing that it is business and their duty to observe and take notes. Another object of field study is to see life in its environment. Stuffed birds and animals in cases are all very good; shells look pretty behind nice glass doors, and herbaria play a very important part; yet, after all, how much better to see a thrush's flight; to hear the pewee's song; how much more sat isfactory to watch a snail creep and feed; how much more delightful to study the blossoming hepatica; to note its various leaves, its soil, its surround ings, and discover why it blooms at the very opening of springtime. More can be learned from a handful of pebbles on the beach than a whole book written upon the same subject. Yet another object is to acquire specific information not contained in books. The feel of a leaf, the odor of the honeysuckle, or the pine, the cry of the kingfisher, the locomotion of a horse, and the locomotion of a cow, the formation of miniature gorges in a rain storm, and the wearing of a shore under the action of the waves, these and countless other manifestations can never be described in mere words. — The School Journal. 25 THE GOLDEN- WINGED WARBLER. (Helminthophila chrysoptera.} THIS member of the large family of warblers is considered rare, or only common in certain lo calities of its range, which is eastern United States in summer and Central America in winter. Its com mon names are blue golden-winged warbler, and golden-winged swamp warbler. It makes its appearance in May, when it may occasionally be seen about orchards. It soon retires into dense underbrush, however, and few persons who are not woodsmen ever get more than a glimpse of it. It breeds all through its range, but only casually north of Massachusetts. It builds its nest on or near the ground, in a plant tuft. It is made of grass, and is deep and bulky. The eggs are .four or five, white, with reddish dots. Ridgway says that June, 1885, he found these birds breeding along the southern edge of Calhoun Prairie. Rich- land county, Illinois, and Mr. H. K. Coale states that on May 11, 1884, in a wood on the Kankakee river, in Starke county, Indiana, he found the golden- winged warbler quite common. Eight were seen — all males, which were sing ing. Somewereflushed from the ground and flew up to the nearest small tree, where they sat motionless next the trunk. The locality was a moist situa tion, overgrown with young trees and bushes. PET ANIMALS AS CAUSES OF DISEASE. PAPERS presented last summer at the French Congress for Tuber culosis at Paris demonstrate, says The Medical News, what has hitherto been very doubtful, that aviary and human tuberculosis are essentially the same pathologic process due to the same germ modified by a cultural envi ronment, but convertible under favorable circumstances one into the other. An Englishman has found that more than ten per cent, of canaries and other song birds that die in captivity succumb to tuberculosis, and parrots have come in for a share of condemnation in this connection. By far the larger number of monkeys who die in captivity are carried off by tuberculosis, and while, fortunately, the keeping of monkeys as house pets is not very general, at the same time there is some danger of con tagion. Nocard, the greatest living authority on tuberculosis in animals, and the man to whom we owe the best culture methods for the tubercle bacil lus, found in a series of autopsies on dogs that out of two hundred successive autopsies on unselected dogs that died at the great veterinary school at Alfort, near Paris, in more than one-half the cases there were tubercular lesions, and in many of them thelesions were of such a character as to make them facile and plenteous disseminators of infective tuberculous materials. Parrots are known to be susceptible to a disease peculiar to themselves, and a number of fatal cases in human be ings of what was at first supposed to be malignant influenza, pneumonia was traced to the bacillus which is thought to be the cause of the parrot disease. Cats are sometimes known to have tuberculosis, and that they have in many cases been carriers of diphtheria and other ordinary infections is more than suspected. There is not at pres ent any great need for a crusade on sanitary grounds against the keeping of pet animals, but they are multiply ing more and more, and it does not seem unreasonable that greater care in the matter of determining the first signs of disease should be demanded of their owners, and then so guarding them as to prevent their being a source of con tagion to human beings. Attention should be paid to this warning as re gards children, as animals play more freely with them and the children are more apt to be infected. 26 Public Library, FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES. 8-99 GOLDEN-WINGED WARBLER. Life-size COPYRIGHT 1899, MATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO. A FLY-CATCHING PLANT. WILLIAM KERR HIGLEY. Secretary of The Chicago Academy of Sciences. Queen of the Marsh, imperial Drosera treads Rush-fringed banks, and moss-embroidered beds. — Erasmus Darwin, in The Botanic Garden, 1789. SOME ofthemostinterestingforms of nature are not the most showy and are not easily observed by the untrained eye. Many of their characteristics can only be known by carefully conducted investigations, both in the field and in the laboratory. The advance of science has shown us that it is as natural for some plants to obtain much of their nourishment from the animal world, by a true process of feeding, as it is for animal forms to ob tain their sustenance, either directly or indirectly, from the vegetable world. There are many species among the lower orders of plants that are well known animal parasites, but there are also, among our more highly organized flowering species, forms that impro vise a stomach and secrete an acid fluid for the digestion of nitrogenous food which is afterwards absorbed and used in tissue building. These are in no sense of the term parasites. Such a plant is our common round- leaved sundew (Drosera rotundifolia, L.). The generic name Drosera is from the Greek, meaning dew. This rather insignificant, but pretty little plant is distributed nearly throughout the world, and is usually found in bogs, or in wet sand near some body of water. The flower stalk is sel dom more than six or eight inches in height and bears very small white or pinkish-white flowers. The interesting feature of this spe cies, however, lies in the rosette of about five or six leaves growing from the base of the stem. These leaves lie upon the ground and are usually about one-fourth to one-half of an inch in length, and are generally nearly orbic ular in form. The upper side is cov ered with gland-bearing tentacles. The glands are covered by a transparent and viscid secretion which glitters in the sunlight, giving rise to the com mon name of the plant. There are usually over two hundred tentacles on each leaf and, when they are not irri tated, they remain spread out. The viscid fluid of the glands serves as an organ of detention when an insect lights upon the leaf. The presence of an in sect, or, in fact, any foreign matter, will cause the tentacles, to which it is ad hering, to bend inward toward the center of the leaf and within a very short time all the tentacles will be closed over the captured insect, which is soon killed by the copious secretion filling its breathing apparatus. Though these sensitive tentacles are not excited by either wind or rain they are by the repeated touchings of a needle, or any hard substance. It is said that a fragment of hair weighing but 1-78,740 of a grain will cause a per ceptible movement. By experiment it has been shown that a bit of hard-boiled egg, or a frag ment of meat as well as an insect will cause not only an inflection of the ten tacles but also of the edges of the leaves, thus forming an improvised stomach, the secretion of the glands then increasing and becoming acid. At this stage the secretion is not only capable of digesting but is also highly anti septic. This power of digesting and absorb ing nitrogenous food is absolutely nec essary to the existence of the sundew, for it usually grows in a poor soil and its few and not greatly elongated roots are of little service except to absorb water, of which it needs a large amount for the production of the copious secre tion. Specimens may be developed by planting in moist cotton and furnishing with plenty of water. The length of time that the tentacles will remain inflected depends on the vigor of the leaf and the solubility of the material causing the excitement. 29 The time varies from one to seven or eight days. Easily dissolved and readily absorbed food in too large an amount seems to cause overexcitementand overtaxation, and frequently results in the death of the leaf. The large number of insects, espe cially flies, captured by these plants would lead one to believe that they are attracted by the odor of the plant, or the purplish color of the tentacles, rather than by the desire to use the leaves as a resting-place. The sundew belongs to the natural order Droseracece. This contains about one hundred and twenty-five species, of which one hundred and ten belong to the genus Drosera, and are chiefly na tives of Australia, though the round- leaved species is common throughout the United States, Europe, and Asia. Closely related to the sundew is the Venus fly-trap (Dioncea muscipula, El lis). This is a native in the eastern part of North Carolina only. The leaf of this plant is provided with two lobes, which close quickly when the sensitive hairs, which are sit uated on the upper surface of the leaf, are irritated by an insect. The acid secretion flows out and the leaves re main closed till digestion and absorp tion are completed. Dr. Asa Gray has referred to this species as "that most expert of fly catchers." TREES AND ELOQUENCE. W. E. WATT. PORTY years in the pulpit of Ply mouth Church in Brooklyn Henry Ward Beecher stood and poured forth a stream of elo quence which shook the world. Dur ing the stress of civil war he stemmed the current of English sentiment with his peculiar powers and brought about a change of feeling which was the sal vation of our Union. This greatest of our pulpit orators was a lover of trees, and some of his finer passages were in spired by them. Without doubt, better trees there might be than even the most noble and beautiful now. I suppose God has, in his thoughts, much better ones than he has ever planted on this globe. They are reserved for the glorious land. Be neath them may we walk ! To most people a grove is a grove, and all groves are alike. But no two groves are alike. There as as marked a difference between different forests as between different communities. A grove of pines without underbrush, carpeted with the fine-fingered russet leaves of the pine, and odorous of res inous gums, has scarcely a trace of likeness to a maple woods, either in the insects, the birds, the shrubs, the light and shade, or the sound of its leaves. If we lived in olden times, among young mythologies, we should say that pines held the imprisoned spirit of naiads and water-nymphs, and that their sounds were of the water for whose lucid depths they always sighed. At any rate, the first pines must have grown on the seashore, and learned their first accents from the surf and the waves; and all their posterity have in herited the sound, and borne it inland to the mountains. I like best a forest of mingled trees, ash, maple, oak, beech, hickory, and evergreens, with birches growing along the edges of the brook that carries itself through the roots and stones, toward the willows that grow in yonder meadow. It should be deep and som bre in some directions, running off into shadowy recesses and coverts beyond all footsteps. In such a wood there is endless variety. It will breathe as many voices to your fancy as might be brought from any organ beneath the pressure of some Handel's hands. By the way, Handel and Beethoven always remind me of forests. So do some poets, whose numbers are as various as the infinity of vegetation, fine as the 30 choicest cut leaves, strong and rugged in places as the unbarked trunk and gnarled roots at the ground's surface. Is there any other place, except the seaside, where hours are so short and moments so swift as in the forest? Where else except in the rare commu nion of those friends much loved, do we awake from pleasure, whose calm flow is without a ripple, into surprise that whole hours are gone which we thought but just begun — blossomed and dropped, which we thought but just budding? Thus do you stand, noble elms! Lifted up so high are your topmost boughs that no indolent birds care to seek you, and only those of nimble wings, and they with unwonted beat, that love exertion and aspire to sing where none sing higher. Aspiration! so heaven gives it pure as flames to the noble bosom. But debased with pas sion and selfishness it comes to be only Ambition! It was in the presence of this pas ture-elm, which we name the Queen, that we first felt to our very marrow that we had indeed become owners of the soil! It was with a feeling of awe that we looked up into its face, and when I whispered to myself, " This is mine," there was a shrinking as if there were sacrilege in the very thought of property in such a creature of God as this cathedral-topped tree! Does a man bare his head in some old church? So did 1, standing in the shadow of this regal tree, and looking up into that completed glory, at which three hundred years have been at work with noiseless fingers! What was I in its presence but a grasshopper? My heart said, " I may not call thee property, and that property mine! Thou belongest to the air. Thou art the child of summer. Thou art the mighty temple where birds praise God. Thou belongest to no man's hand, but to all men's eyes that do love beauty, and that have learned through beauty to behold God! Stand, then, in thine own beauty and grandeur! I shall be a lover and a protector, to keep drought from thy roots, and the axe from thy trunk." For, remorseless men there are crawl ing yet upon the face of the earth, smitten blind and inwardly dead, whose only thought of a tree of ages is, that it is food for the axe and the saw! These are the wretches of whom the scripture speaks: "A man was famous according as he had lifted up axes upon the thick trees." Thus famous, or rather infamous, was the last owner but one, before me, of this farm. Upon the crown of the hill, just where an artist would have planted them, had he wished to have them ex actly in the right place, grew some two hundred stalwart and ancient maples, beeches, ashes and oaks, a narrow belt- like forest, forming a screen from the northern and western winds in winter, and a harp of endless music for the summer. The wretched owner of this farm, tempted of the devil, cut down the whole blessed band and brother hood of trees, that he might fill his pocket with two pitiful dollars a cord for the wood! Well, his pocket was the best part of him. The iron furnaces have devoured my grove, and their huge stumps that stood like gravestones have been cleared away, that a grove may be planted in the same spot, for the next hundred years to nourish into the stature and glory of that which is gone. In many other places I find the memorials of many noble trees slain; here a hemlock that carried up its eter nal green a hundred feet into the winter air; there, a huge double- trunked chest nut, dear old grandfather of hundreds of children that have for generations clubbed its boughs, or shook its nut- laden top, and laughed and shouted as bushels of chestnuts rattled down. Now, the tree exists only in the form of loop-holed posts and weather-browned rails. I do hope the fellow got a sliver" in his fingers every time he touched the hemlock plank, or let down the bars made of those chestnut rails! 31 BATS IN BURMESE CAVES. INTERESTING caves exist at Hpa- gat, twenty-six miles up the Sal- ween, from Moulmein. They are hollowed out in the base of an isolated limestone hill about 250 feet high, rising precipitously from the riven Capt. A. R. S. Anderson, the surgeon- naturalist, gives an interesting account of these caves in an Indian government report which is abstracted by " Natural Science." The entrance is about twelve feet high and is much ornamented by Buddhistic sculptures. As the sun was setting the party took their stand on the sand-spit facing the entrance of the caves and soon saw a pair of fal cons leave their perch on the trees and fly to and fro over the river. They were speedily joined by other birds, including common kites and jungle crows, and the entire flock, to the number of sixty or a hundred, flew to the entrance of the caves, close to which they remained wheeling about in midair. A few minutes later the bats began to issue in ones and twos, and were soon pursued by the birds of prey, but appeared to have no great difficulty in eluding capture by their rapid and jerky flight, and their pur suers made no very determined or long- sustained efforts to capture them, but soon returned to their vigil over the cave. A minute or two passed and a sudden rush of wings was heard, and the bats were seen to emerge from the cave in a dense stream which slowly became more and more packed, and continued of about the same density for some ten minutes and then gradu ally thinned away, until, at the end of twenty minutes, the last had emerged. The stream of bats when at its maxi mum was ten feet square, and so dense as to closely resemble smoke pouring from a chimney in a gale of wind. This resemblance was increased by the slightly sinuous course pursued by the bats as they flew off into the afterglow. They were so densely crowded that they frequently upset each other and fell helplessly into the river below, where they succeeded in reaching the bank only to fall a prey to the expect ant crow. When the great rush oc curred the falcons, kites, and'crows en tered the stream of bats and, flying along with it and in it, seized as many bats as they required for food. Capt. Anderson, by throwing his walking- stick into the stream of bats, obtained six specimens. During the last twenty years the bats appear to have consider ably diminished in numbers, owing to the depredations of their bird enemies and to their constant disturbance by collectors of bat manure. A METAL BIRD'S NEST. IN THE Museum of Natural History at Soleure, in Switzerland, there is said to be a bird's nest made en tirely of steel. There are a num ber of clockmaking shops at Soleure, and in the yards of these shops there are often found lying disused or broken springs of clocks. One day a clock- maker noticed in a tree in his yard a bird's nest of peculiar appearance. Ex amining it he found that a pair of wag tails had built a nest entirely of clock springs. It was more than four inches across and perfectly comfortable for the birds. After the feathered archi tects had reared their brood, the nest was taken to the museum, where it is preserved as a striking illustration of the skill of birds in turning their sur roundings to advantage in building their nests. 32 7ROM COL. CHI. AC4D. SCIENCES. MOURNING WARBLER. Life-size. COPYRIGHT 1899 NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO. THE MOURNING WARBLER. ( Geothlypis Philadelphia.} BASKETT, in his valuable "Story of the Birds," says that the warb ler forms feed variously, but they use little vegetable matter. Some have ground-haunting, and even swamp-haunting habits; others have fringed tongues hinting of juices and nectars, while tree-trunk exploring, as in creepers, nuthatches, titmice, etc., also prevails. They have been de scribed as at once the most fascinating and the most exasperating of birds. In the spring they come with a rush and although the woods may be full of them, only a faint lisp from the tree tops gives note of their presence, and unless you are a very good observer you will not know they are about at all. If you listen to other birds, instead of res olutely devoting yourself to warblers, you will lose the opportunity of the sight of a diminutive bird disappearing in a tree top. Some of the warblers dash about among the leaves on the ground hunting for gnats, others hunt over the branches of the trees, though some of them hop gaily on the ground, while others walk sedately, bobbing their heads or tilting their tails. The majority of the tribe fly northward to nest in pine forests. A few, however, remain and build in our parks, gardens and shrubbery. They are all insect- eaters, destroying ants, flies, caterpillars, larvae, plant lice, canker-worms, and May flies. They are therefore of great value in the protection of vegetation. The mourning warbler, whose com mon name is black-throated ground warbler, has its habitat in eastern North America, breeding from northern United States- northward; more rare in the Atlantic states. It winters in south eastern Mexico, and Costa Rica, and thence south to Colombia. During the spring migration this bird is very com-' mon. Early in May, 1881, they were found in abundance near wheat lands in Indiana, most of them being observed about brush piles in a clearing, and along fences in the immediate vicinity. In the early part of June, 1871, a pair were seen in a thicket along the border of Fox Prairie, in Richland Co., Illi nois, and it was presumed at the time that they were breeding there, but they may have been merely late migrants. It is known to breed in mountainous portions of Pennsylvania, New England, New York, Michigan, Minnesota, and eastern Nebraska, northward. It has been found nesting in Illinois south of latitude 39. Its nest is built on or near the ground in woods. One discovered by Burroughs in the state of New York was built in ferns about a foot from the ground, on the edge of a hemlock wood. It contained three eggs. The nests are usually composed of fine strips of bark and other fibrous material, lined with fine hair. The eggs are white, with a sprinkling of reddish dots near the larger ends. The feeling that all life is one life slumbers in the child's soul. Only very gradually, however, can this slumber ing feeling be transfigured into a wak ing consciousness. Slowly, through a sympathetic study of nature and of human life, through a growing sense of the soul and meaning of all natural facts and of all human relationships, and through recreating in various forms that external world which is but the objective expression of his own inmost being, the individual attains to a con sciousness and unity of life and to a vision of the Eternal Fountain of Life. —The Nest. 35 THE RAVEN AND THE DOVE. ELANORA KINSLEY MARBLE. Y EA, master," croaked the raven, "I understand," and spreading his sable wings over the waste of waters he flew, anxious, as was Noah, for a sight of dry land. The day passed, evening fell, and the raven had not returned. "An ill-omened bird," gloomily said Shem, "so black and uncanny looking. His croak, even, hath to mine ear an evil sound." "What thou sayest is true, brother," returned Ham. "Verily the raven hath a wicked look. A bird of more cheer ful aspect, it seemeth to me, might well have been chosen. The albatross, so majestic, with powers of flight ex celling all other creatures of the air; the eagle, or better still the stormy petrel, so light of body, its webbed feet enabling it, with expanding wing, to rest at will upon the face of the waters." "Coo-o-o," came a low, plaintive call from a far corner. "Coo-o-o." "Ah, my turtle dove," responded Japheth, "so loving, so true! Had the choice of a messenger been left to me, my brothers, verily would I have chosen the dove. Naught but death would have kept it, believe me, from its mate and us." Noah turned from the window and gazed sternly upon his three sons. "What signifieth the complexion of bird, beast, or man," he demanded gravely, "when one standeth in need of courage, intelligence, strength? Among all the winged creatures of the air within the ark, canst thou name one with instinct more subtle than the raven's? Black and uncanny looking, forsooth! Witness his speech, I tell thee," decisively, "the bird hath under standing." As Noah ceased speaking, there came a low, faint tapping at the win dow. With a glad countenance he hastened to open it, and in flew the raven, quite exhausted. "Water, water, everywhere," croaked the bird, and after wearily eating the food Noah gave him, tucked his head beneath his wing and was soon fast asleep. Upon the morning of the next day, Noah again sent the raven forth, also the next, and the next. "Water, water, everywhere," croaked the raven, as before, upon his return, and after wearily eating of the food which Noah gave him, tucked his head beneath his wing and was soon fast asleep. "Verily," sneered Ham, who with his brothers had grown very impatient, "the sable-plumaged bird which thou dost insist upon sending forth daily, knoweth naught, to my mind, but the words which he so glibly speaketh. Surely he hath heard them uttered an hundred times." Noah reflected. "What thou sayest, my son, may be true," he responded, "for of a surety when gazing from the window these many, many months, those words of our speech have been the daily burden. To-morrow, then," his gaze fixed upon the stormy petrel, "we will send forth— "Coo-o-o" came a plaintive call from the corner. "Coo-o-o." "The dove," finished Noah, thought fully, "for verily it doth seem to answer me. Though devoid of speech, its af fectionate nature may yet prompt it to devise some way by which its message may be interpreted." And so upon the morning of the next day Noah opened the window of the ark and, the dove, poising upon his finger, spread her beautiful wings and over the waste of waters took her joy ful flight. The day passed, evening fell, and the dove had not returned. A dark frown was settling upon the brow of Ham, when a faint tapping was heard at the window. "Water, water, everywhere," croaked the raven, maliciously, as Noah has tened to open it and draw the exhausted bird within. "Water, water, everywhere." 36 "Verily, oh, raven!" despondently said Noah, "it doth appear that the dove, not more than thou, didst find a place for the sole of her foot. I will wait yet another seven days," he added thoughtfully, "ere I send her forth again." And Noah waited seven days, and on the morning of the eighth he sent the dove forth again in quest of dry land. The day passed, but ere evening fell the bird returned, bearing in her bill, as a token that the waters had abated, a freshly-plucked olive leaf. "Thou art God's own messenger," joyfully said Noah, tenderly caressing the dove. "Verily something more than instinct guided and prompted thee in thy flight this day." And Noah waited yet another seven days ere he again sent forth the dove. This time, to the ark, the dove re turned no more. "Coo-o-o," more plaintively than usual, called her mate the next morn ing. "Co-o-o-o." "He mourns for his lost love," pity ingly said Japheth, the youngest son. "Verily, something hath befallen the bird!" "Nay," responded Noah, "liberty is sweet. After long captivity in a dark, close house-boat, freedom might well try the fidelity of e'en a turtle dove. She awaits his coming, perchance, in the nearest pine or willow tree. Open then the window and let him forth." And Japheth did as his father com manded, but sorrowfully, for it chanced that in close companionship, lo, these many days, with these innocent chil dren of nature, Japheth had come to acquire a tender love and care for both beast and bird. "Go, thou mourning dove," he said, unconsciously bestowing a fitting name upon the gentle bird. "Go!" And, spreading his beautiful wings, off the dove joyfully flew, following with uner ring instinct the path in the air yester day taken by his mate. And yet a few days and Noah re moved the covering from the ark and looked, and behold, the face of the ground was dry. THE MAYFLOWERS. (The trailing arbutus, or Mayflower, grows abundantly in the vicinity of Plymouth, and was the first flower that greeted the Pilgrims after their fearful winter.) Sad Mayflower! watched by winter stars And nursed by winter gales, With petals of the sleeted spars And leaves of frozen sails! What had she in those dreary hours, Within her ice-rimmed bay, In common with the wild-wood flowers, The first sweet smiles of May? Yet, "God be praised!" the Pilgrim said, Who saw the blossoms peer Above the brown leaves, dry and dead, "Behold our Mayflower here!" "God wills it: here our rest shall be, Our years of wandering o'er, For us the Mayflower of the sea Shall spread her sails no more." O sacred flowers of faith and hope, As sweetly now as then Ye bloom on many a birchen slope, In many a pine-dark glen. Behind the sea-wall's rugged length, Unchanged, your leaves unfold, Like love behind the manly strength Of the brave hearts of old. So live the fathers in their sons, Their sturdy faith be ours, And ours the love that overruns Its rocky strength with flowers. The Pilgrim's wild and wintry day Its shadows round us draws; The Mayflower of his stormy bay, Our Freedom's struggling cause. But warmer suns ere long shall bring To life the frozen sod; And through dead leaves of hope shall spring Afresh the flowers of God! — Whittier. 37 THE CHESTNUT-SIDED WARBLER. (Dendroica pennsylvanica.} LYNDS JONES. POR one reason or another we come to think of this or that bird as an exquisite. This may be due to color pattern, form, carnage or song, but whatever it be, the bird's presence adds color and beauty to all our surroundings. It is not easy to tell why the chestnut-sided warbler impresses me as an exquisite. His colors are not so bright, nor their pattern in either the contrast or har mony that may be found with other warblers, but there seems to be some thing about the bird that makes the day brighter, the wearing field-work easier, and hours of fasting forgotten when he flits into view. I have some times half suspected that he was more than half conscious of my admiration from the manner in which he displayed his pretty colors and trim form. But no doubt this is base slander. The slightly opened wings, spread tail, and quick movements give an alertness to the little fellow which adds to his other wise bright appearance. The females and fall birds lack the distinct contrasts of color found in the male in his spring dress, but they usually have some trace of the chestnut on the side of the body, which, with the small size, will serve to distinguish them from all others. The tree-tops seem to possess few attractions for this warbler, but in vil lage parks he may often be found well up among the branches gleaning from the buds and new leaves for insects and their eggs. In the woods he gleans much nearer the ground, but I have never seen him upon the ground search ing among the fallen leaves. Many times he may be found among the low underbrush, preferably not at the edge of the woods, but usually a few rods in. He seems rather partial to damp woods, but may often be found among the up lands as well, where insect life is abun dant. The song is uttered while feeding, the bird seldom arresting his search for food, but turning his head this way and that scanning each leaf and stem. It is often a less spirited song than that of many other warblers, seeming to be a sort of soliloquizing accompaniment to the pressing duties of sustaining life, but it is none the less a pleasing song. There is a somewhat close resemblance to some phrases of the yellow warb ler's song in the rendering of the chest nut-side, but a little attention and a discriminating ear will readily distin guish the difference both in quality and in quantity. The song is more often heard on the college campus here than in the woods, and there it sounds something like this: "Wee-chee wee- chee wee-cliee-e-e-e" with the accent on the first syllable of each phrase. This, in common with other warbler songs, cannot be well represented by a whis tle, but rather by hissing or whisper ing the syllables between the closed teeth. The pitch is too high for my whistle. In the woods a common form of the song is, "te te te te wee chu" and occasionally, "to wee to wee to wee tee e- e-e." In the woods the song seems to be far more spirited than in the village, as well as being different. This differ ence may be rather due to the fact that the first migrants are those that visit the village, while the later ones are found in the woods. It is well known that with man)' of the warblers the first singers, or at least the first songs heard, are often different from the later ones. In the vicinity of Oberlin, Ohio, this little warbler makes his appearance about the fifth of May and does not leave for the north until the last week of May. It can not be called common at any time, some years not being seen at all, but may usually be found in the shrubbery fringing woods, or in the shade trees in the village. None have been found during the summer months, and it is doubtful if any remain to nest. The winter is spent in the Bahamas and Mexico, and from there southward. The species ranges north to Manitoba, Ontario, and Newfoundland, and west !OM COU. F. M. WOODRUFF. 6-99 CHESTNUT -SIDED WARBLER. Life-size. COPYRIGHT 1H99. NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO. to the plains, being a bird of eastern North America. It breeds from New Jersey and Illinois northward. I once found it breeding in central Iowa. The nest resembles that of the yellow warbler, both in situation and compo sition. It is usually placed in the fork of a bush or shrub from two to eightor nine feet from the ground, made of the fibrous bark of the milk-weed, or some other hempen material, grass and sometimes leaves, lined with some sort of plant down and long hairs. The bark fibers are wound about the bush twigs, securely lashing the nest into the crotch. The four or five eggs are of a creamy-white color, with a wreath of reddish and dark brown spots and dots around the larger end, the spots becoming smaller and less, numerous both ways from this wreath. They average about .66 x .50 of an inch. In the fall they are among the first warblers to appear, often being seen early in August, and continuing in the region for several weeks. At this time of year their bright colors are wanting, but they are the same birds for all that, and may be readily recognized by their trim form and animated carriage. NATURE STUDY— HOW A NATURALIST IS TRAINED. SOME VIEWS OF JOHN BURROUGHS. THE knowledge of nature that comes easy, that comes through familiarity with her, as through fishing, hunting, nutting, walk ing, farming — that is the kind that reaches and affects the character and becomes a grown part of us. We ab sorb this as we absorb the air, and it gets into our blood. Fresh, vital knowl edge is one thing; the desiccated fact is another. Do we know the wild flower when we have analyzed it and pressed it, or made a drawing of it? Of course this is one kind of knowl edge and is suited to certain minds; but if we cannot supplement it with the other kind, the knowledge that comes through the heart and the emotions, we are poor indeed. I recently had a letter from the prin cipal of a New England high school putting some questions to me touching these very matters: Do children love nature? How shall we instil this love into them? How and when did I my self acquire my love for her? etc. In reply I said: The child, in my opin ion, does not consciously love nature; it is curious about things; about every thing; its instincts lead it forth into the fields and woods; it browses around; it gathers flowers; they are pretty; it stores up impressions. Boys go forth into nature more as savages; they are predaceous, seeking whom they may devour; they gather roots, nuts, wild fruit, berries, eggs, etc. At least this was my case. I hunted, I fished, I browsed, I wandered with a vague long ing in the woods, I trapped, I went cooning at night, I made ponds in the little streams, I boiled sap in the maple- woods in spring, I went to sleep under the trees in summer, I caught birds on their nests, I watched for the little frogs in the marshes, etc. One keen pleasure which I remember was to take off my shoes and stockings when the roads got dry in late April or early May, and run up and down the road until I was tired, usually in the warm twilight. I was not conscious of any love for na ture, as such, till my mind was brought in contact with literature. Then I dis covered that I, too, loved nature, and had a whole world of impressions stored up in my subconscious self upon which to draw. I found I knew about the birds, the animals, the seasons, the trees, the flowers, and that these things have be come almost a grown part of me. I have been drawing upon the reservoir of youthful impressions ever since. If nature is to be a resource in a man's life, one's relation to her must not be too exact and formal, but more that of a lover and friend. I should not try directly to teach young people to love nature so much as I should aim to bring nature and them together, and let an understanding and intimacy spring up between them. — The Outlook. 41 JOHN'S HAWK. EMMA YARNALL ROSS. JOHN came home one evening from a ramble in the country with a peach-box under his arm. He set the box very carefully on the back porch and then sat down him self on the top of the box. His mother was watering, some gera niums in a bed near by and paused in her work to look at the lad. "Where did you get those peaches, John?" she asked, coming toward him with a pleasant smile. John gave a low laugh. "This is a peach box, mother," he said, "but if what is in it is a peach, it belongs to a new variety, I think. Look at him, he is a beauty!" "John Bonham, I hope you have not brought another pet to this house! Where in the world are we to stow away all these creatures on one little town lot? There is your groundhog, your owl, the crow, the coot, the tub of fish, the big dog, the little dog, and three Christopher Columbus cats." "Now, mother, please stop; poor Chuck stays most of the time in his hole under the corner of the house, and the owl keeps the mice out of the cel lar, and Jim Crow has not stolen any thing for a month except that half dol lar and your piece of lace and sister's red ribbon. You said I might have the wash boiler to make a swimming-pool for the coot, and I am going to feed the fish to him, so they will soon be gone and you can have your tub again. I heard you tell Mrs. Bland that our dogs guarded the whole neighborhood from burglars, and my Christopher Colum bus cats are cute enough for anyone to be glad to have them. Mrs. Goodall says she 'wants one of them real bad.' You see, mother," said John, persua sively, "this fellow was such a beauty I just had to bring him home. Jake Timmons shot him through the wing as he was carrying off a dove; he was going to wring the hawk's head off, but I told him I would give him ten cents for it, for I wanted to try an experi ment with the bird. I know I can tame him and make a pet of him; see, he ^ can move around even if his wing is broken." John's mother looked through the bars of the peach crate and saw a full- grown hawk with a beautiful brown head, eyes with blood-red rims, a strong, hooked beak, and long talons which he struck angrily into the stick John thrust at him through the bars. "I never saw a more fierce, cruel- lookingbird," she said. "Seehim tear at that stick! He will be tearing you next." "I shall give him no chance to tear me, mother, for I intend to tame him." "You might as well try to tame a tiger." "Well, I am going to try taming him, "saidjohn, in alow, determined tone. When his mother heard him speak in that way she knew his mind was made up to succeed, and he had never yet failed in taming any of his pets. John put the hawk in his dog-house, the front ot which was formed of strong iron bars, and the next day his mother saw him sitting before this improvised bird-cage, going through some fantas tic motions with his hands and gently chirping to the bird. No accident hap pened to the young naturalist in his care of the hawk, and gradually his mother ceased to think of it. One afternoon, about three weeks after this, the family were seated on the piazza when they were startled at seeing John come around the corner of the house bearing the hawk on his wrist. Over the bird's head was drawn a gay-colored hood adorned with tiny bells and tassels — John had read how hawks were dressed in medieval times, and had made the hood himself. A long string was tied to one of the hawk's legs, and, setting the bird down gently, the boy tied the string to a small tree. All were watching him to see what he would do next, and all kept silence as he lifted a warning hand and 42 uttered a low "H-u-s-h!" He then re moved the hood from the bird's head, when it immediately began tearing at the string, snapping viciously at objects near it, and running to and fro in an excited and angry manner. John seated himself on the ground before the bird and began clucking to it softly, with the index finger of his right hand extended and pointing straight at the bird's eyes ; then he turned quietly in whichever direction the bird moved, slowly waving his hand round and round in a circle and never taking his eyes off the bird's eyes. Gradually the hawk ceased to run about, then stood still gazing steadily, as though fascinated, at John's finger. It would shut its eyes slowly, then open them suddenly, only to shut them again more slowly than before. At first the bird stood perfectly erect; then its head began gradually falling over on its shoulder, and, without any warning, it tumbled backwards, its eyes shut, its legs sticking straight up in the air, its body perfectly rigid. John continued for a time to wave his hand in a circle with the index finger ex tended; then he walked over to the porch leaving the hawk on the ground, where he lay for nearly thirty minutes, when he gradually returned to con sciousness. A number of persons walking by had stopped in the street to look at John and the bird, and now exclama tions of surprise were heard as they saw the actions of the hawk. "What did you do to that bird?" asked a gentleman of John; "I never in my life witnessed so strange a per formance." " I call that hypnotism," said the lad. 41 I have been working with him every day since I brought him home, and for a week I have never failed to bring him under my influence and put him to sleep in this way. If I go to the cage to feed him, he flies at me in a great rage at first, but if I pass my finger in a circle before him several times he be comes quiet, and will take a mouse from my hand without biting or tearing me with his talons. Sometimes I partly hypnotize him and lay the mouse at his feet, and although he may be very hungry he will not touch the food until I let him out from under the influence of my finger. When he is over being hypnotized he is as fierce as he was when I brought him home, and I do not believe he can ever be made tame like other birds. Perhaps if I had captured him when he was young, with the down still on him, I could have tamed him, but now he is too old and fierce." 14 Well, my lad," said one of the men, laughing, " if he is not tamed you have him pretty well under your thumb and finger at least." John's wonderful hypnotic influence over the hawk was soon known through out the town and crowds of people often gathered to see him go through this truly wonderful feat of hypnotiz ing the fierce hawk. The hawk belongs to the family of the Falconidce, which is so called from the Latin wordfakis, meaning a scythe, the talons of the Falconidce being curved in the form of a scythe, thus giving the name to the species. The wings of the hawk are so short they do not extend to the tip of the tail, for which reason it is called an ignoble bird of prey, to distinguish it from the true falcon, the wings of which extend to the tip of the tail and which is called a noble bird of prey. The hawk's bill is short, curved from the base, often terminating in a sharp point called a tooth. They have rather short, exceedingly strong legs and long incurved talons with which they tear their prey. The species are numerous and widely distributed over the world; the gos hawk and the sparrowhawk are the best known and most important. The hawk is a diurnal bird of prey, which means that it hunts in the day time. It flies with exceeding swiftness, having been known to travel a distance of 1,350 miles in twenty-four hours. The hawk has very acute vision; hence the expression, "Keen-eyed as a hawk." It soars to a great height, always endeavoring to get above the bird it is pursuing in order to swoop down upon it from above. It soars in a series of arcs and against the wind, which helps it to rise as it does a kite. 43 The hawk does not attack its prey with its beak, as is generally supposed, but with its talons. After securing its prey by swooping on it and fastening its claws in its victim it gently de scends to the ground. The young hawk yet in the nest is called an eyas, one that can hop is a brancher, and a young hawk able to catch game is called a soar hawk. Young hawks taken in flying are called passage hawks, and the training of these is called reclaiming. Hawking was for many years a sport followed by kings and the nobility in Europe. It is of very ancient origin, hav ing been followed in Asia and Europe before the time of the Christian era. The hawk builds its nest in the forks of a tree or on some inaccessible cliff. The female is larger than the male and lays two or three eggs. CURIOUS TREES. 1. In Malabar, a tree called "the tal low tree" grows; from the seeds of it, when boiled, is procured a firm tallow which makes excellent candles. 2. The "butter tree" was discovered by Park in the central part of Africa; from its kernel is produced a nice but ter which will keep a year. 3. The palo de vaca, or "cow tree," grows on rocks in Venezuela, South America. It has dry and leathery leaves, and from incisions made in its trunk a kind of milk oozes out, which is tolerably thick and of an agreeable balmy smell. At sunrise, the natives may be seen hastening from all quar ters furnished with large bowls to re ceive the milk. 4. A tree of Madagascar, called the "traveler's tree, "yields a copious supply of fresh water from its leaves, very grateful to the traveler. It grows in the most arid countries, and is another proof of the tender care of our Heav enly Father in supplying all His crea tures' wants. Even in the driest weather a quart of water can be ob tained by piercing a hole at the bottom of the leaf stalk, and the liquid is pure and pleasant to the taste. The leaves are of enormous size, varying from ten to fifteen feet in length. 5. The date tree is a species of palm, and almost every part of it is valuable. Its fruit is delicious and it is also es teemed for the palm wine drawn from its trunk. Its leaves are made into hats, baskets, fans, and many other articles, and the fibres of the leaf stems are made into cord and twine. A de partment store might almost be fur nished from this tree. 6. The "sorrowful tree" is found on the island of Goa, near Bombay. It is so called because it flourishes in the night. At sunset no flowers are to be seen, but soon after it is covered with them. They close up or drop off asthe sun rises. It has a fragrant odor, and blossoms at night the year round. 7. There is a tree in Jamaica called the "life tree," whose leaves grow even when severed from the plant. It is im possible to kill it save by fire. — Normal Instructor. 44 FROM COU. f. M. WOODRUFF. BLACK-THROATED BLUE WARBLER. HTURE STUDY PUB CO., CHICAGO, THE BLACK-THROATED BLUE WARBLER. (Dendroica ccerulescens.} LYNDS JONES. THE bird-lover has many red-letter days in his calendar, particularly when the birds are moving northward. The earliest arriv als, while snow still covers the ground, give their own peculiar thrill of delight, and waken in him new energy and great anticipations for the coming sea son of bird study. But these early arrivals soon become a part of the landscape and cease to lend any pe culiar delight. Not so with the host of warblers, for they are here one day and may be up and away the next, not to be seen again for two or three months or even a year. One must be on the alert during warbler time if he expects to catch a glimpse of the passing host. But there are distinctively "warbler days" during this warbler time. These vary in different years with the weather and the advance of vegetation, from late April to the second or even third week of May, in northern Ohio and central Iowa, and proportionately later or earlier north or south of that latitude. The subject of our sketch is not among the early migrating warblers nor yet among the later ones. He usually travels with the second large flight, and may then be expected late in April or early in May. The earliest Oberlin, Ohio, record falls on April' 27, 1896, and the latest on May 10, 1897. Whether the birds arrive early or late they usually remain in the vicinity two weeks, the males being present during the first week and the females during the second. I have never found the two sexes present on the same date. The species cannot be said to be com mon even during the height of the spring migration, nor yet are they rare. Few are seen during the fall migration at Oberlin, and they during the last week of September and the first week of October. Further west in the Mis sissippi valley the fall migrants seem greatly to outnumber those of spring. This is not a tree-top inhabiting spe cies, but seems to prefer the middle branches of the trees or the tops of shrubbery, often descending to the ground and gleaning there much after the fashion of the Maryland Yellow- throat. In the higher woods free from underbrush he seems to prefer ground gleaning, but where low underbrush affords a place for 1 .w gleaning he is seldom seen on the ground. In village parks he is fon ' of a much higher perch, and must be looked for there well up in the trees, even to the top most branches, where he gleans among the bursting b ds and new leaves. On the Oberlin College campus he is a reg ular spring visitor in early May, and here seems to appreciate his environ ment and rare opportunities, for he sings his best to the accompaniment of the medley of pianos in the Conserva tory of Music across the way, and the deeper tones of the great pipe organ in the chapel hard by. Here I have heard him singing at all hours of the day, while in the woods his song is less often given. One is at a loss to assign a rea son for the decided preference for the college campus, which is in the center of the village activities. Rumbling wagons and tramping feet cause the birds not the slightest alarm, but swiftly moving bicycles act upon the birc1 ' nervous system much as upon t..at .. an elderly woman. The song of this warbler is variously rendered by the various writers upon bird songs. None of these renderings seems to describe the song as I hear it on the college campus. It is singing as I write: "Tu euu euu e-e-e-e-e!" A variation sounds, "C'weu, c'weu, cwee- e-e-ef sometimes "c'weu, c'weu, cw\ cyw' , c'wee-ee-e-e-e" There is also often a single phrase which sounds more like a scolding note than a song. It is: "Tw\ tw\ tw\ tw1 ', twee'e-e-e-e-e" or even "Z-z-e-e-e-e" rarely it may sound simply "Z-z-z-z-z-z" The song 47 is uttered in a spirited manner while the bird is feeding and flitting about in the foliage, it interfering with the feeding only as a sort of after-thought, causing a momentary pause as the bird raises his head and straightens his body for the effort. It is one of the warbler songs that are easily recognized and not readily forgotten. Were it not for the white spot or patch on the wing of both male and female at all seasons of the year and in all plumages, this warbler would easily escape the notice of all but the alert ornithologist. His black throat and breast, white belly and blue back and wings and tail are not conspicuous in the trees and foliage. The black-throated blue warbler spends the winter months in Guatemala and the West Indies, and migrates north to Labrador and Hudson's Bay, nesting there and in the northern parts of the United States. It ranges west to the border of the plains. The nest is placed in low shrubs or bushes from a few inches to two feet above the ground, and is composed of dry fibrous bark, twigs, and roots, lined with black rootlets and hair. The out side is often more or less covered with cocoons. The thick swampy woods with an undergrowth seems to be the favorite resort for the nesting birds. The four eggs are buffy-white to green ish-white, rather heavily blotched with varying shades of brown. They aver age about .69 x .50 of an inch. THE EMPEROR'S BIRD'S NEST, Once the Emperor Charles of Spain, With his swarthy, grave comman ders — I forget in what campaign- Long besieged, in mud and rain, Some old frontier town of Flanders^ Up and down the dreary camp, In great boots of Spanish leather, Striding with a measured tramp, These Hidalgos, dull and damp, Cursed the Frenchmen, cursed the weather. Thus, as to and fro they went, Over upland and through hollow, Giving their impatience vent, Perched upon the Emperor's tent, In her nest, they spied a swallow. Yes, it was a swallow's nest, Built of clay and hair of horses, Mane or tail, or dragoon's crest, Found on hedge-rows east and west, After skirmish of the forces. Then an old Hidalgo said, As he twirled his gray mustachio, "Sure this swallow overhead Thinks the Emperor's tent a shed, Arid the Emperor but a macho!" Hearing his imperial name Coupled with those words of malice, Half in anger, half in shame, Forth the great campaigner came Slowly from his canvas palace. "Let no hand the bird molest," Said he solemnly, "nor hurt her!" Adding then, by way of jest, "Golondrina is my guest, 'Tis the wife of some deserter!" Swift as bowstring speeds a shaft, Through the camp was spread the rumor, And the soldiers as they quaffed Flemish beer at dinner, laughed At the Emperor's pleasant humor. So unharmed and unafraid, Sat the swallow still and brooded, Till the constant cannonade Through the walls a breach had made And the siege was thus concluded. Then the army, elsewhere bent, Struck its tents as if disbanding, Only not the Emperor's tent, For he ordered, ere he went, Very curtly, "Leave it standing!" So it stood there all alone, Loosely flapping, torn and tattered, Till the brood was fledged and flown, Singing o'er those walls of stone Which the cannon-shot had shattered. — Longfellow. 48 BIRDS AND ALL NATURE. ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY. VOL. VI. SEPTEMBER, 1899. No. 2 THE POINTER. (Canis familiaris — Sagax avicularius.} THERE is a wide difference of opinion among naturalists as to the stock from which our dogs of the present day came. Hal- lock says that some have it the wolf, others the jackal or fox, while not a few claim that the wild dog of India is the source from which sprang all the varieties. He maintains, however, that it cannot be declared with any degree of certainty what the parent stock was. Certain it is that to no one animal can the paternity of these useful races be credited, as they are so widely different in form, color, and characteristics, and man could never have developed and brought together such vast differences, opposite natures and shapes, as can be seen in domestic dogs, unless the origi nal species were in possession of the rudiments. Neither could food, cli mate, nor any contrivance whatever so completely alter the nature, decrease the powers of scent, render the coat short, long, or curly, lengthen or shorten the limbs, unless separate types had furnished the material. Ancient bas-relief and monumental delineations picture the dog as distinct in its characteristics thousands of years ago as at the present day, and fossil re mains have been repeatedly discovered so little resembling either the wolf, jackal, or fox, and so different in type, as to be classified with the spaniel, ter rier, hound, bulldog, pointer, and pug; and as we know these to be made dogs, or in other words hybrids, the species must have been fully as numerous as at the present time. There are numerous species of wild dogs differing from one another almost as much as our own domestic animals of to-day. Granting that the spaniel, greyhound, and terrier sprang origi nally from the wolf, as some argue, why not point out first why the male dogs are so dissimilar? And again, why are the wolves of different coun tries unlike, and which species of wolf is the true and only one? Without wishing to conflict with the opinions of those so much more learned on the subject than ourselves, we would ask, would it not be much more reasonable to suppose, without positive proof, that the origin of the domestic dog can be referred to numerous aboriginal species, crossing with the wild varieties — as we know our dogs will frequently do, in cluding the wolf, jackal, and the fox, if we like, climate assisting, and man aid ing by judicious intermixing and breed ing — until the present high standard of this useful animal has been reached? It is noticeable that we have in America far more well-bred setters than pointers, and greater attention seems to have been paid in the last few years in procuring the former blood than the latter. This arises from the fact that the setter is the greater favorite of the two, and justly the choice of the sports man when he desires a dog that will unflinchingly stand the rough-and-tum ble nature of our shooting. Of the two, the point of the shorter-haired animal is. far the more marked when on game,, and the training once received by him is always retained, and on each return- ing season he enters the field to be de pended upon, while the setter oftener has to be partially rebroken each year; and if not owned by a sportsman who shoots continually, becomes headstrong and unreliable. "For the person whose business wilt not allow him to take his gun in hand but two or three times in the autumn," says an authority, "we advise by all 4') means that his. /dog should be the pointer; but'. for the one who takes ad- van tag'e Of the open season for differ ent game from its beginning to its close, we recommend the setter as best able to bear continued work in all de scriptions of cover." The short hair of the pointer enables him to do work on the prairies while "chicken" shooting where water is sel dom found, and which he can do without for a long time ; but in New Jersey, Del aware, and Maryland, and in countries where the game invariably takes to the briery thickets on being started, the pointer is at a disadvantage, as it re fuses to enter them. The pointer originally is a cross of the Spanish dog with the greyhound, or foxhound, by which the delicacy of the nerves of the nose, to some extent, is diminished, and the body rendered more light and elegant. No dog has a higher step, sense of smell, or shows greater intelligence or docility. The principal reason that he becomes rigid, or points, by the scent of game, is from the extraordinary condition of his ner vous system, acquired centuries ago and handed down by his ancestors. According to Hallock, a thoroughly broken pair of high-bred pointers are so obedient to the voice and gesture of their master and so well trained to act with each other, that a wave of the hand will separate them, one going to the right and the other to the left, so that they hunt the entire ground, cross ing each other regularly in front of the sportsman as he walks forward. There is one matter that is generally over looked in ranging with the pointer. If in early life you have taught him to re trieve, and a case occurs in the field where hd has to cross a stream, as the dog returns with the bird, never tell him "down charge." His coat is so thin and his organization so delicate that he is sure to catch cold; therefore, by all means, allow him to run around a little. Points for the show bench, as given by the Fancier s Gazette, are: Head should be moderately long, narrowing from the skull; the skull not too prominent above the eyes, as this gives a heavy appearance; rather deep in the lip, but not any flaw, or very slight; nostrils open, with level jaw; eyes moderately bold; ears thin, set in to the head, just where the skull begins to recede at the sides of the head, hanging flat on the cheek; throwing the ears back so as to show the insides has a bad appearance, and too often indicates a cross; neck medium in pro portion to head, and body rather in clined to be long, but not much so, thickening from the head to the set-in of the shoulders; no looseness of the throat skin; shoulders narrow at the meeting of the blade bones, with a great amount of muscle, long in the blades, set slanting, with arm of the leg strong and coming away straight, and elbow neither out nor in; the legs not great, heavy boned, but with a great amount of muscle; leg pressed straight to the foot, well-rounded, and symmet rical, with foot well rounded (this is the forelegs and feet); chest moder ately deep, not over wide, but suffi ciently wide and deep to give plenty of breathing-room; back level, wide in loins, deeply ribbed and with ribs car ried well back; hips wide and full of muscle, not straight in the hock, but moderately bent; stifles full and well developed; the stern nearly straight, going off tapering to the point, set-in level with the back, carried straight, not above the level of back; symmetry and general appearance racy, and much beauty of form appears to the eye of a real pointer breeder and fancier. The weights considered best for different purposes are from fifty pounds to about sixty-five pounds. Coat short and glossy, but a deal here depends on condition. POINTS IN JUDGING. Head 25 Neck 10 Shoulders 15 Ivegs 10 Feet 10 Ivoins 10 Stifles 5 Stern 15 100 Color and Coat. — The coat ought to be very short and soft, and fine, and the skin thin and flexible. Most people in England pre fer the letnon-and-white to liver- and-white, or black-and-white. SO THE PSYCHOLOGY OF BIRD STUDY. ST is of advantage to know why a given occupation is profitable, why it is attractive or other wise, to what sort of minds it is best adapted, and how it should be conducted to yield the best returns. Other things being equal, the mind acts most healthfully on what is most pleasing. Children are attracted most by things having life, character, color, and rarity. Whatever has life appeals directly to the young mind, especially where the various stages of life are apparent. Birth, infancy, the family relation, society, paternity, sickness, death, joy, sadness, homes, building of nests, eggs, incubation, flying, singing, fighting, foraging, searching covert places, digging, boring, hammering, wading, swimming, catching, devour ing, sentry duty, migration, gregari- ousness, dress, differences in appearance of sexes and ages, moulting, mimick ing, special equipment for occupations, anatomy, physiology, hygiene, useful ness to man, assistance in agriculture and arboriculture, destructiveness to noxious life, swiftness, deliberation, expertness, stupidity, instincts for re markable performances, lack of judg ment in certain lines, loquacity, vivacity, sympathy and mutual help fulness, resemblances to humanity and differences, and apparent moral sensi bility, are among the leading features of birds in general which make them attractive to the youthful mind. Where any of these subjects may be utilized in the ordinary instruction of children the results are more perma nent and direct than where the same sort of instruction has been attempted with material that appeals less strenu ously to the soul of the learner. That which arouses the most intense activity makes the most lasting impression. Even where the impression is a painful one the result endures ; as in old England the memory of landmarks was impressed upon young boys by showing and flogging the boys at once. The unreasoning pain and the sight of the landmark remained for ever associated. Modern research has found that pleasant sensation opens the mind and that attention is easily concentrated where inclination also leads. Whatever is discovered by the pupil while thoroughly aroused is of most lasting value. The ideas which school men have for centuries been trying to beat into the minds of children by senseless and dull repeti tion have been found to be easy of acquisition and in many instances matters almost of intuition if they may first be brought into the consciousness in a natural manner. The instructor who has not the time nor the tact and invention needed to open the minds of his pupils first and then arrange matters so that self- directed activity will follow, will have a great deal of hard work before him if he hopes to compete with those who have found the secret of the mind's growth and act upon it intelligently. Such teaching cannot produce the results which are now being acquired in our best schools. A whole system of education could be arranged with bird life as material for arousing and fixing the interest of the learner. But this is not our pur pose. A whole system should take in all of the universe that is capable of interesting the learner. Our purpose is to take the most intensely absorbing field and show how it may be tilled. 53 Birds are used because so much more and better activity is to be secured by using them as the material for school work than from any other. Why birds are so commanding to the growing mind will become clear to one who will patiently follow the thought in the remainder of this article. In avoiding technical terms the statement has been weakened, but it is believed that those who would enjoy the reading better if the terms were technical and closely accurate do not need to have the matter stated to them at all. Hence the statement is made in the terms of common speech with the object in mind of giving the reasons to those not much accustomed to the terms used by writers on psychological topics. The mind is somewhat like the eye. It takes in whatever is before it. It is never concentrated upon one object alone, but has to occupy itself to some extent with the surroundings of the object. It is impossible to fix the mind, or the attention, exclusively upon one thing. We frequently ask our pupils to do this, but it is impos sible. The mind at any one instant resembles the surface of a wave of water, part of what it carries is low, another part higher, and some other things are highest. But few things can be at or near the crest at once. Many things are around the base. As with the eye a few objects are at or near the focus, many things are where they are sensed but are not in the supreme position. And as the wave of water runs along its course so the mind moves forward. It will either run directly away from the subject or it will turn the subject over and carry it along in continually changing aspects. The mind cannot stand still. It cannot keep anything more than an instant except by turning the thing about and perceiving it in relation to other things. We still consider we have the thing in mind after we have ceased to think of it as a whole and pass on to thinking of .its relations to other things. The. mind differs from the wave of water in that it is not extensive to the right and left of its course. It is like a hill with a small crest that can hold but few objects upon its surface. When we say we are thinking pro foundly upon a subject we mean that that subject and its connections are continuously upon the crest of the wave, and that unrelated things are either not in the mind at all or they are at least not at the focus. The things that are in the mind but not focal are continually striving, as if they were alive and very active to get at the focal point. Just as the eye is continually tempted to wander, making one object after another its focal one, so the mind is bound to travel unless it has been trained to turn from the thing to its relations and related things and from them back to the main thing again. That is the only way to pay attention. You cannot pay attention to one physical thing for more than an instant. But you can hold a chain of connected things running through the mind, but the things are continually modified by their relations and the absolutely same thing is never again in the mind. When it appears again it is clothed upon or enlarged or modified by what the mind has discovered about it and its relations or has invented and attached to it. It is easy to repeat the multiplica tion table without having it focal in the mind. You may read half a page of print with your focal point upon some other matter. You may pray and find in your mind at the same moment a wicked thought. Worse than this, you may continue your prayer and the wicked thought may become focal. Not by your desire that it shall be so, but by the power of marginal things in the mind which makes them focal without your apparent anticipa tion or desire to have them at the focus. You cannot say that the multi plication table is not in the mind when you are repeating it and wonder ing who will be at the party this evening. It is there but not focal. When you are reading the words of the page the words may be in your mind, but the focal point may be occupied at the time by wondering how the baby learned to climb so young and guessing whether you ought to catch her or run the risk of her falling, and if she should fall how much she would be injured, what the people would think of you for sitting there and letting her fall, why babies have to fall so much, whether they really learn much about slipping or center of gravity by falls so early in life, and a thousand other items in child study. But the reading is in your mind much as it used to be when your teacher said to you, "Now I want to see you keep your eyes on your book for fifteen minutes without looking off." The mind grows at first by use of the senses. The sight is the main instrument of youthful mental growth. Things which can be seen or visually remembered are most appropriate sub jects for juvenile thinking. You can not well converse with children upon the pleasures of hope, the uses of ad versity, nor any of the forms of mind stuff that are called abstractions. True, they like to play upon words and com mit them to memory so as to repro duce them. But this is not because of the real meaning of the words com mitted but because the ear is pleased. Children enjoy talking like adults as well as looking and acting like them in their unstudied masquerades. The proper material for juvenile mind action is what may be acquired by the senses. All those subjects in the second paragraph of this article are mainly appeals to the senses. These readily become focal in any mind, but chiefly in the mind that has never been trained away from the senses by abstract thinking. No child can pay attention to anything else when a bird flies in at the window. The bird and its act, its motive, its fellows, its appearance, its nest, its young, and a thousand other notions rush to the focus of his mind, no mat ter how diligently he may strive to keep them down. Instead of repress ing in the mind what is naturally inclined to become focal, education is now finding out the value of permit ting these things to come naturally into the mind and so operating upon them that mental growth ensues with little or no friction, and without ask ing the learner to flaggellate himself continually that he may have knowl edge to use in that distant and half- believed-in time when he shall be a man. Everyone knows that children are delighted with colored pictures. But there is an intensity of delight aroused by a certain class of colored pictures which has been a matter of surprise to most educators and parents since color photography has become practical for illustration. Infants in arms, who have never seen any birds except a few of the size of a canary, are so fas cinated with the bird charts that psy chologists have found a new problem presented. If we look upon the child as he views an accurate colored picture we note that he is affected just the same as if the bird itself were before him. His imagination carries him beyond the picture to the thing itself, even i»t 55 the instances v/here he has never seen the bird nor any like it. As to his mental state, we can say that the bird rises directly to the focal point in his mind, and it is not the bird picture that holds him but the bird itself. For teaching purposes this is peculiarly fortunate, for the child is ready to grasp any suggestion from the teacher in order to enjoy the bird more at length. All the subjects of school work will ordinarily appeal to the child, rising readily into the focus of attention where the bird, its relations, its acts, and things pertaining to it, become the material for school activity. This liveliness and readiness are not so manifest where mounted speci mens are used, because the element of death becomes focal at the first instant, is displaced with difficulty, and con tinually recurs with sickening fre quency during the exercise. The acts associated with the capture and death of the bird are too dangerously strong to be avoided. They should by no means be suggested. Mr. Aima B. Morton puts it in this way: Why do children like colored pictures to abstraction ? Because the child is father to the man. And what do we love more than tone and color, music and pictures ? It is an inherent quality, the Soul of life leading us back to nature, the All-mother. We have hung up pictures and maps of a poor quality before the class for years, and then lectured away at them ad infinitum and ad nauseam, thinking, because we understood, that the child also understood. But this is not so. We nearly always suppose too much, especially in lower grades. Diesterweg said: "If you speak about a calf in the school room, bring it in and show it.K This principle is still true to-day. All things in nature, as far as possible, should be present in propria persona. Where not possible, we must try to approach that ideal by bringing the very best, and natural pictures of the objects, that is colored ones, and the vivid imagination of the child does the rest. It does not see the picture, the object itself is there, nature has entered the school room. So we learn that bird study, aided by color photographs, is psychologically the most valuable means to the attain ment of school ends. It is attractive to the young mind because it furnishes material which rises most readily to the focal point in the mind. It re lieves teacher and pupil of the strain attendant upon work where it is diffi cult to get the class to "pay attention." It is chiefly adapted to growing minds. No matter how strongly the matured mind with its powers of abstract think ing may be drawn toward it, it is yet more attractive to the mind that has not been trained to any sort of re straint. To get the best results, bird study should not be conducted with a view to storing the child's mind with scientific knowledge, nor for the sole purpose of employing it effectively to teach language and other branches of school effort. But it should be pur sued as a mode of activity which developes mind, acknowledging the fortunate circumstance that school learning and bird knowledge will both be acquired at the same time, although they are not the direct objects of the pursuit. 56 the instances where he has never seen the bird nor any like it. As to his mental state, we can say that the bird rises directly to the focal point in his mind, and it is not the bird picture that holds him but the bird itself. For teaching purposes this is peculiarly fortunate, for the child is ready to grasp any suggestion from the teacher in order to enjoy the bird more at length. All the subjects of school work will ordinarily appeal to the child, rising readily into the focus of attention where the bird, its relations, its acts, and things pertaining to it, become the material for school activity. This liveliness and readiness are not so manifest where mounted speci mens are used, because the element of death becomes focal at the first instant, is displaced with difficulty, and con tinually recurs with sickening fre quency during the exercise. The acts associated with the capture and death of the bird are too dangerously strong to be avoided. They should by no means be suggested. Mr. Aima B. Morton puts it in this way: Why do children like colored pictures to abstraction ? Because the child is father to the man. And what do we love more than tone and color, music and pictures? It is an inherent quality, the soul of life leading us back to nature, the All-mother. We have hung up pictures and maps of a poor quality before the class for years, and then lectured away at them ad infinitum and ad nauseam, thinking, because we understood, that the child also understood. But this is not so. We nearly always suppose too much, especially in lower grades. Diesterweg said: "If you speak about a calf in the school room, bring it in and show it.'' This principle is still true to-day. All things in nature, as far as possible, should be present in propria persona. Where not possible, we must try to approach that ideal by bringing the very best, and natural pictures of the objects, that is colored ones, and the vivid imagination of the child does the rest. It does not see the picture, the object itself is there, nature has entered the school room. So we learn that bird study, aided by color photographs, is psychologically the most valuable means to the attain ment of school ends. It is attractive to the young mind because it furnishes material which rises most readily to the focal point in the mind. It re lieves teacher and pupil of the strain attendant upon work where it is diffi cult to get the class to "pay attention." It is chiefly adapted to growing minds. No matter how strongly the matured mind with its powers of abstract think ing may be drawn toward it, it is yet more attractive to the mind that has not been trained to any sort of re straint. To get the best results, bird study should not be conducted with a view to storing the child's mind with scientific knowledge, nor for the sole purpose of employing it effectively to teach language and other branches of school effort. But it should be pur sued as a mode of activity which developes mind, acknowledging the fortunate circumstance that school learning and bird knowledge will both be acquired at the same time, although they are not the direct objects of the pursuit. 56 5"/[5//5 kindly loaned by J. M. Wic 266 y^ - CHICAGO : W. MUMFORD, PUBLIfcMtR. SHELLS. SHELLS AND SHELL-FISH. Scientific Name. Turbo Argyrostona. Strombus Bitubereulata. Nerita Peleronta. Strombus Urceus. Turbo Sarmaticus. Cyprsea Argus. Helix Hsemastoina. Murex Pomum. Oliva Inflata. Conus Arenatus. Fascioloria Tulipa. Conus Leoninus. Spondylus Pictorum. Conus Literatus. Haliotis Iris. Terebra Maculata. Murex Regius. Oliva Porphyria. Murex Bicolor. HO does not love the beauty of shells? Who, when visiting the sea-shore, has not sought them with eagerness ? Their beautiful colors are pleasing to the sight. The Indians have always loved shells on account of their bright colors. No doubt they many times tried to paint their faces the same color. They used to make money from the pink or purple portions of them. There are thousands of different kinds of shells. To get the full beauty of them we must see them in their native homes amidst the sands and stones and the roaring sea. Mr. Kmerson tells of finding the "deli cate shells on the shore," and how the fresh waves seemed to add new beauty to them. He wiped away the foam and the weeds and carried them home. He could not take the foam and waves and sky and ocean's roar. He says the shells "Had left their beauty on the shore, With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar." Bid you ever place a large shell to your ear and listen to its roar ? It sounds like the distant roar of the sea. Mr. Words worth says: Common Name. Named by Where Found. Silver Mouth. Linn. Singapore. Kid Conch. West Indian Islands. Bleeding Tooth. Linn. West Indies. Linn. Amboina. Turk's Cap. Linn. Algoa Bay. Eyed Cowry. Linn. New Caledonia. Red Mouth Snail. Linn. Ceylon. Smet. Florida. Linn. Singapore. Sandy Cone. Hwass. Red Sea. Linn. West Indies. Gmelin. Florida. Chem. California. Lettered Cone. Linn. Ceylon. Green Abalone. Gmelin. Japan. Marlin Spike. Linn. Sandwich Islands. Red Murex. Wood. Panama. Tent Shell. Linn. Panama. Pink Murex. Val. Mexico. "I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract " Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy, for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea." We can not all go to the sea to study its wonders. So we will have to do the best we can studying pictures of shells, making collections of as many kinds as possible and studying about the animals that have lived in them. Bach shell, it matters not how small, has been the home of a living creature. Each has an interesting story for us if we will but read it. Shell-fish have no bones as other fish have. They, therefore, need a solid house in which to live. , The shells not only serve them for houses, but for bones to keep their pliable bodies in shape, for ships in which to sail, and for beautiful dresses, starched and shining. If these soft animals had no solid shells they W7ould immediately be eaten by other animals of the sea or dashed to death by : the waves. 59 But it is not alone the beauty of shells that renders them interesting. Conchology, which treats of shells, is as a science at least as old as the days of Aristotle, the study of which was resumed, along with that of the other sciences, when the dark ages had passed away. Since the beginning of the nineteenth cen tury it has given place to a more ex tended and comprehensive study of molluscous animals, the presence or absence of a shell having been found not to constitute one of the most im portant characteristics which distin guish different classes of mollusks. Conchology was only the form of the science suited to a time when the shell was more considered than its inhabi tant. Yet it is claimed that the rela tions between shells and the mollusks which possess them are such that the labors of the merest conchologists have contributed to the real advancement of science, both zoological and geo logical. Shells consist of carbonate of lime secreted by the animal and intermixed with some animal matter. In the spe cies in which it is least developed it appears as a hollow plate, which serves as a protection to the breathing organ and heart. The protuberances and ridges seen on many univalve and bivalve shells appear in the course of their growth by the margin of the man tle, turning out at a considerable angle and thus building up a plate in this po sition for a certain distance. This growth then ceases, the mantle retracts, or may be regarded as changing itself into the shelly layers, and thus it ex tends in the original direction, carrying out the shell with it, till it turns again to form a second plate or ridge; and so the process goes on. Many mol lusks possess the power of altering and enlarging their shells t9 adapt them to their growth, which they appear to do as if by an intelligent will. The distinguishing marks of shells are the number of parts of which they are composed, and their peculiar forms and prominences. Some consist of a single piece, some of two pieces, and some of three. The textures of shells are described as pearl, fibrous, horny, and some are glassy and translucent. The pearly shells are in alternate lay ers of very thin albuminous membrane and carbonate of lime, which by their minute undulations give the pearly lustre. This structure is the least per manent and in some geological forma tions the shells that were provided with it have disappeared, leaving only their casts, while those of fibrous text ure are preserved unchanged. Colors, however beautifully exhibited upon the surface of shells, are to them no more distinctive features than to the miner als and flowers upon which they are also prominently displayed. They are most richly developed upon those sur faces most exposed to the light and in the class of shells found in shallow waters. The whole number of species of mol luscous animals known is estimated at about twelve thousand recent and fif teen thousand fossil. Many of the liv ing species furnish wholesome food, and some are esteemed as delicacies. The marine shells, by the immense numbers in which they are produced, perform an important office in abstract ing from the sea-water its excess of cal careous matter and thus aid in main taining its purity. As objects of beauty, shells have al ways been admired and frequently been used as ornaments Some varieties were used by the Athenians as ballots, with the name upon them of the per son to be banished, whence the term ostracism. Some shells have served the purpose of coin among rude na tions. Others are noted for the pearls which are secreted between their valves around some foreign substances. Mother-of-pearl is the polished shell of nacreous. Rare species of shells are highly prized by collectors, and single specimens have been sold for large sums. The South Sea Islanders use the conch as an instrument of music, blowing into the shell through the broken top, thereby producing a loud and mellow sound. It is a species of sea conch which is represented by the god Triton. In many rural parts of the United States conchs are used in place of dinner bells or tin horns to call persons from a distance. 60 THE FLOWN BIRD. R. H. STODDARD. The maple leaves are whirled away, The depths of the great pines are stirred; Night settles on the sullen day As in its nest the mountain bird. My wandering feet go up and down, And back and forth, from town to town, Through the lone woods and by the sea, To find the bird that fled from me. I followed, and I follow yet, I have forgotten to forget. My heart goes back, but I go on, Through summer heat and winter snow; Poor heart, we are no longer one, We are divided by our woe. Go to the nest I built, and call, She may be hiding after all, The empty nest, if that remains, And leave me in the long, long rains. My sleeves with tears are always wet, I have forgotten to forget. Men know my story, but not me For such fidelity, they say, Exists not — such a man as he Exists not in the world to-day. If his light bird has flown the nest, She is no worse than all the rest; Constant they are not, only good To bill and coo, and hatch the brood. He has but one thing to regret, He has forgotten to forget. All day I see the ravens fly, I hear the sea-birds scream all night; The moon goes up and down the sky, And the sun comes in ghostly light. Leaves whirl, white flakes about me blow — Are they spring blossoms or the snow? Only my hair! Good-bye, my heart, The time has come for us to part. Be still, you will be happy yet, For death remembers to forget! FOREST PARK, SPRINGFIELD, MASS. THIS is one of the most beautiful public parks in the United States. In his annual report, which is a handsomely printed and illustrated volume, President Marsh says that while there are few changes during the year in the make up of the big family of birds and ani mals that compose the zoological and ornithological department, it continues to be an ever increasing source of pleasure to the thousands of persons who visit the park for recreation, and no part of the park is more thoroughly appreciated. The departure from the usual plan of park menageries in ar ranging an exhibit of domestic animals has been a marked success, giving to the park visitors a chance to become acquainted with the more common breeds of the higher types of our do mestic animals, an education in which the average city resident is sadly lack ing. The exhibit of thoroughbred cows has been especially a source of pleas ure and instruction. The collection comprises seven thoroughbred cattle, no two of the same breed, and children and grown people alike take delight in visiting the barns to see these splendid animals, finding it as instructive as it is entertaining. This is a departure that might be favorably considered by other boards of park commissioners. All of the do mestic animals of 'superior breed might be annually exhibited with great ad vantage to the general public. The ornithological and zoological exhibits of Forest Park are hardly sur passed anywhere, containing as they do one hundred and eighty-nine speci mens of animals and three hundred and ninety-seven of birds. 61 MARBLES. MR. GEO. D. MERRILL, Head Curator, Department of Geology, U. S. National Museum. THE origin of the name marble, like that of many another name now in common use, is some what obscure. By many au thorities the word is supposed to have been somehow connected with the Greek word meaning " sparkle." How ever this may be, a sparkling appear ance is by no means universal among marbles, but is limited to those which, like the white statuary or other crystal line varieties, have a granular structure, the sparkling itself being due to the reflection of light from the smooth surfaces of the constituent minerals. As used to-day, the word marble is made to include any lime rock of such color and hardness as to make it desir able for ornamental, or even the higher grades of building work. Stones of precisely the same composition and origin, which are not of the desired color, are classed simply as limestones. Accepting the definition given above, it follows, then, that with a few excep tions, to be noted later, marbles are but hardened and otherwise changed beds of marine sands and muds, con taining, it may be, still recognizable fragments of the corals and mollusks of which they were originally com posed. But inasmuch as these muds were rarely of pure carbonate of lime, but were contaminated with matter from seaweeds and animal remains, or by iron compounds, so the resultant marble is not always white, but, if con taining matter from plants or animals, gray, blue gray, or even black; and if containing iron, buff, pink, or red. If the change in form of the original muds was just sufficient to produce crystallization, we may have a marble full of fossil remains which may be of a white or pink color, standing out in fine contrast with the darker ground. If, on the other hand, the change was complete, we may have a marble of small granules, pure white in color, and of a texture like loaf sugar, such as to render it suitable for statuary purposes. At one early period of the geologi cal history of the North American con tinent, all that portion now occupied by the Appalachian mountain system was sea bottom, and on it was being deposited not merely sediments washed down from the land, but, in favorable localities, deposits of lime, sand, and mud. This deposit went on, on a gradu ally sinking floor, for long ages, until the lowermost beds were buried under thousands of feet of the later formed materials. Then began the slow up lifting of the sea-bottom in the form of long, parallel folds to form the mountain ranges. During this uplift ing the lime sediments, which are the only ones we need consider here, were changed to marbles, and have since been exposed and made available to the quarriers through the wearing-down action of rain and running streams. So, then, a quarry is but an excavation in the hardened mud formed on the bottom of a very ancient sea. In the Vermont marble region the beds are highly inclined and of varying colors. From the same quarry there maybe produced pure white, gray, blue gray, and greenish varieties, often vari ously veined and blotched owing to the collection of their different impur ities along certain lines. Some of these quarries have been worked a depth of two hundred feet and more. Not all marble beds are upturned at this steep angle, however, nor have they been worked so deeply. In Georgia, the quarries are often in hill sides, extending scarcely at all, if any, below the surface of the ground. Where opened in the valley bottoms they have the form of huge rectangu lar pits, with perpendicular walls. In Tennessee, many of the sediments were so slightly changed that the fos sil remains are still easily recognized, and the stone is of a pink or chocolate red color, owing to the abundance of iron. The marbles are quarried mainly by channeling machines, which cut out the stone in blocks of any desired 62 MARBLES OLD TENNESSEE. SIENNA. FLORENTINE VERMONT. ALPS GREEN MEXICAN ON"! AFRICAN size, or at least in sizes such as the nature of the beds will allow. Blast ing is never resorted to in a properly managed quarry, since the shock of the explosion is likely to develop flaws in so tender a material. When freed from the quarry bed and brought to the surface the stone is sawn into the desired shapes by means of " re ciprocating" blades of soft iron, the cutting material being sand, washed under the blades by small jets of water. The use to which any particular marble is put is governed largely by its price and color, though texture or grain often are taken into con sideration. The coarsely crystalline white and white clouded marbles of southern New York, Maryland, and Georgia, are used almost wholly for building purposes; the pink and varie gated marbles of Tennessee for interiors and for furniture; while the white and blue-grays of Vermont find a large market for interiors, cemetery work, tiling, and, to a much smaller extent, for building. It was stated before that not all our marbles were changed (metamor phosed) marine sediments. The ex ceptions are (i) the onyx marbles, which, though composed of carbonate of lime, like the last, are deposited from solution, and (2) the so-called verdantique marbles, which are mainly altered eruptive rocks. These last differ widely from those we have been describing, being of a prevailing green color, though often variegated with white or red. They are, in fact, not to be classed with the lime rocks at all. The names verdantique, verte antique, and verde antique are but varying forms of the same words, indicating a green antique marble. The term antique has been applied simply because stones of this type were used by the ancients, and particularly by the Romans. The so-called onyx marbles are, as noted above, spring deposits, differing from ordinary lime deposits only in color and degree of compactness. The name has also been made to include the stalagmites and stalactites in caves, such as were used by the ancient Egyptians in the construction of ala- bastrons, amphorae, funeral urns, and various household utensils. The ma terial is translucent and often beauti fully clouded and veined in amber, green, yellow, and red colors. Owing to its mode of origin it shows a beauti ful wavy banding, or grain, like the lines of growth in the trunk of a tree when cut across the bedding. This fact, together with its trarislucency, has been the cause of the wrong use for it of the name onyx, which properly be longs to a banded variety of agate. Equally wrong and misleading is the name " oriental alabaster," which is commonly applied to the Egytian vari ety, the true alabaster being a variety of gypsum. The larger part of our onyx marbles comes to-day from Mexico, though there are equally good materials of this type in Arizona and California. The foreign supplies come in part from Egypt. Their use is almost wholly for interior decoration, as wain- scotings, and the like, and for tops to small stands, bases for lamps, and so forth. These are by far the most ex pensive of all the stones to which the name marble is properly applied. Some of the most noted of our for eign marbles are those of Carrara, Italy, which are ancient sediments thought to have been changed at the time of the uplifting which formed the Apennines. They are of white and blue-gray colors, sometimes beautifully veined. A beautiful, mellow yellow to drab variegated variety, very close in texture and almost waxy in appearance, is found near Siena, and is known as Siena marble. It is a great favorite for interior decorative work, as may be seen to advantage in the vesti bule of the new public library building in Boston, and the rotunda of the Na tional Library building at Washington. Other marbles, which at the present time are great favorites with the archi tects, are the so-called Numidian mar bles, from Algeria. These are of yel low, pink, and red color, and often beautifully mottled. Their textures are so close that they take a surface and polish almost like enamel. Since their first hardening these beds have been shattered like so much glass into 65 countless angular fragments, and then the whole mass, with scarcely any dis turbance, once more cemented into firm rock. The result is such that when large blocks are sawn into slabs, and the slabs then polished and spread out, the same series of veins, of angu lar blocks and streaks of color, may be traced from slab to slab, even repeat ing themselves with only slight changes throughout the entire series. — Nature and Art. THE WHIPPOORWILL. MRS. MARY STRATNER. A VALUED pet of ours is the whippoorwiilorAntrostomusvvci- ferus. When most of the other songsters have tucked their heads under their wings our whippoor- will wakes up to the business of the night. First, he darts about catching insects and moths for his babies' breakfast— for this is their breakfast time — or if his babies are not hatched he takes the insects to the faithful mother-bird on the nest. After this is done he thinks his business cares are over, and he feels free to enjoy himself. Our especial whippoorwill always selects the same spot, year after year, just about ten yards from our front door, in a clear white space on the shell-walk, and there, squatted on the ground and facing us as we sit on the piazza, in the moonlight, he vocifer ously demands that we " whip poor Will." This demand he keeps -up for a minute or two. Finding that we do not intend to heed his request, as our sturdy six-year-old Will objects, he commences a low muttering kind of grumbling. Suddenly he has a new idea and he now orders us to "Chuck Will's widow! Chuck Will's widow!" but this order, too, goes unheeded, as our Will has no widow, and if he had why should we chuck her? Now he does some more grumbling and finally flies away. We had almost forgotten him, when back he comes and squats in the same place. First he gives a low " Chuck, chuck;" then cries out shrilly, " You free Wheeler! You free Wheeler!" We know of no Wheeler who needs freeing, so again we cannot comply with his wishes. Then, as if disgusted with our un- responsiveness, he flies up in a near-by orange tree where he laments some what like an Irishman: " O whirr-r, whirro! O whirr-r, whirro!" He keeps this up so long that it causes some sleepy boy to say: " I wish that old bull-bat would be still." And sometimes the boy feels tempted to get up and drive him away, but he re members in time that this feathered friend rids us of many obnoxious in sects. For this reason the southern whippoorwill, or bull-bat, is protected by law in many of the states. We know where our whippoorwill nests every year in May, and we often pay the mother-bird a visit in order to get a peep at her brown speckled eggs, and later at her two brown babies; but we never bother them, contenting our selves with taking their picture with a kodak. This last is very difficult to do, for mamma whippoorwill always selects a dense, shady part of the woods for her motherly duties. The nest is flat on the ground, generally under a pal metto leaf, which keeps off the rain. It is composed of dry leaves which seem to have been just scratched to gether, and is not noticeable unless the bird is there. Even then, the brown color of the bird blends with that of the ground and leaves, so that it takes sharp eyes to detect her. When the young birds first leave the nest they sprawl about in a comical manner. When in repose they squat flat on the ground, with wings spread out to the fullest extent, and they keep up a rolling motion with their bodies from side to side, for all the world as if they wanted to roll over, but were prevented from doing so by the posi tion of their large wings. 66 TWILIGHT BIRDS. COLE YOUNG RICE. Swallow, I follow Thy skimming Over the sunset skies — Follow till joy is dimming To sadness in my eyes. And hollow seems now thy twittering High up where the bittering Night-blown winds arise. Throstle, the wassail Thou drinkest Daily of chalice buds — Wassail in which thou linkest Thy notes of springtime moods- Should docile thy elfish fluttering Where twilight is uttering Sorcery through the woods. Plover, thou lover Of moorlands Drained by the surfing sea — Lover of marshy tourlands, What is the world to thee? Nay rover, wing on unquerying O'er mallows ne'er wearying Over the pebbly sands! But sparrow, the care o' Thy nesting Pierces thy vesper song — Care o' the young thy breasting Shall warm through the blue night long- Till, an arrow, seems thy dittying, Of pain to the pitying Heart that knows earth's wrong. AWESOME TREES. W E made a side trip to the big trees of the Mariposa group, which are about one hour's ride from the hotel, says a corre spondent of the Pittsburg Dispatch. If the smallest of these trees could be planted anywhere in Pennsylvania the railroads would run excursion trains to it and make money. The trees in this grove are so large that it takes a good while to fully appreciate the facts about the size of the biggest of them. The "Grizzly Giant" is thirty-four feet through at the base and over 400 feet high. This tree would overtop the spires on the Pittsburg cathedral by over 100 feet. The trunk of this tree is 100 feet clear to the first limb, which is twenty feet in circumference. Many other trees here are very nearly as large as this one, and there are 400 in the grove. Through several tunnels have been cut and a four-horse stage can go through these tunnels on the run and never graze a hub. You get an ap proach to an adequate idea of their size by walking off 100 yards or so while the stage is standing at the foot of a tree and glancing .from top to bot tom, keeping the stage in mind as a means of comparison. The stage and the horses look like the little tin outfit that Santa Glaus brought you when you were a good little boy. These trees are no longer to be called the largest in the world, however. A species of eucalyptus has been found in Australia as large or larger. Emer son warns us against the use of the superlative, but when you are in this region of the globe you can't get along without a liberal use of it. He himself says of Yosemite: "It is the only spot I have ever found that came up to the brag." And as I stood in the big tree grove I remembered that some one called Emerson himself "the Sequoia of the human race." 67 THE EDGE OF THE WOOD. ELLA F. MOSBY. THE ideal place for birds, says Mr. Frank Chapman, is the edge of the wood where field and forest meet, and a stream is not far off. If an orchard be in sight, so much the better. It was my delight to spend a summer, or part of it, in just such a spot not long ago, and I made many charming discoveries here. In the first place I learned that tt is by no means necessary for birds to " be of a feather" in order "to flock ogether." I came one bright morning on a flock of indigo buntings near the water's edge, the proud father, in ex quisite blue, like finest silk, with shim mering lights of green playing over it, the mother in siena brown, and the babies, neither blue nor brown, but a sooty black, with only a solitary wee feather now and then to show the blue that was coming. What an odd, but what a pretty, happy little family! The banks of the stream were thickly overgrown with milk-white elder, orange butterfly-weed, and a thousand feathery grasses and nodding leaf- sprays, already touched on edge with crimson or gold "thumb-marks." On the tall stalks swung the goldfinches, " a little yellow streak of laughter in the sun," and every stake or post in the fence near by made a " coigne of vant age" for the merry wrens to call and whistle. The calls of birds express, bird- fashion, every feeling that the heart of man knows — surprise, fear, joy, hope, love, hate, and sorrow. If we could only contrive to think bird- thoughts, as perhaps an Audubon may have done, or a Wilson, we might un derstand these strange signals and cries, often uttered by invisible speak ers from a world above ours. I learned at this time that the quails, or Bob-Whites, have many calls instead of the one from which they are named. There is the low, sweet mother-talk to the brood, the notes of warning, the "scatter calls" of autumn from the survivors of an attack, " Where are you? Where are you?" and a sort of duet between male and female at nest ing time. When she leaves the nest, she calls Lou-is-e! and he strikes in on the last syllable with "Bob? she repeats, and he bursts forth "Bob White!" with emphasis. Then the clear, ringing whistles through midsummer sound up and down the meadow from one quail to another. The old farmer interprets their colloquy thus: — '* Bob White, Bob White, Pease ripe, pease ripe?" " Not quite, not quite." These birds are very tame during the spring and fall, and will come into town, on the edges of the streets, and call from roof and door-step without fear, sometimes even mounting into a tree close beside a window and whis tling for an hour or two. On the contrary, it is by the edge of the wood and after the brood is reared, that tree-top birds, like tanagers and cardinals, grow most friendly and fear less. Frequently, when I raised my glasses to look at some plain brown or gray bird, the scarlet of a tanager would flash across the field, and the rose glow of the cardinals appear in the grass. The female cardinal, with her lovely fawn tints and rose linings, and her beautiful voice, equals the male in interest. She is a bird of lively emo tions, and being rebuffed by a catbird one day, made the lawn ring with her aggrieved cries, while her mate sought to comfort her most tenderly. They are not graceful on the ground, but they have a stout air of proprietorship that is not unpleasing. Both of our tanagers, the summer and scarlet, the cardinals, and the brilliant orioles, live together very peaceably, nor have I seen any sign of envy, malice, or spite among them. I suppose each one of us has his own Arcadia ; mine — and that of these winged neighbors — assuredly lies at the boundary - line between shadowy forest and sunny meadow — at the edge of the wood! 68 ORES. SPECIMENS AT TOP OF PAGE ARE GOLD BEARING KOC SILVER OUARTX. NATIVE COPPER. TIN OKI* P. Ji NICKEL PVRITES. ^KA1) CRYSTALS. SPATHIC IRON ORE. KIDNEY IRON ORE. ZINC ORE. CHICAGO : A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER. BLUE CARBONATE COPPE NEEDLE IKON ORE. ORES. NICKEL is a silver-white, ductile metal, discovered by Cronstedt in 1751. It is closely allied to iron and cobalt, and is associated with many ores. Nickel, according to Deville, is more tenacious than iron. It is magnetic at ordinary temperatures. Many of the copper coins of the European continent and the United States are alloys contain ing various proportions of nickel. Nickel-plating has become an industry of great importance in the United States. It is used for magnetic needles, for philosophical and surgical instru ments, and in watch movements. SPATHIC IRON ORE. — Carbonate of iron, when found in a comparatively pure and crystallized state, is known as spathic or sparry. In its purest form it contains 48 per cent, of iron. The ore is found near Hudson, N. Y., and in Tuscarawas county, Ohio. COPPER. — Copper is one of the most anciently known metals, and its name is derived from the island of Cyprus, where it was first obtained by the Greeks. In the earlier times it does not appear to have been employed by itself, but always in admixture with other metals, principally tin, forming bronze. Great masses of native copper have been found both in North and South America. TIN. — Tin is a beautiful silver-white metal, with a tinge of yellow. There was no tin produced in the United States in 1896. The tin-producing countries are Malacca, Banca, Bolivia, Australia, and Cornwall. ZINC. — A metal of a brilliant white color, with a shade of blue, and appear ing as if composed of plates adhering together. It is not brittle, but less malleable than copper, lead, or tin; when heated, however, it is malleable, and may be rolled into plates. LEAD. — A metal of a dull white color, with a cast of blue. It is soft and easily fusible. It is found native in small masses, but generally miner alized by sulphur and sometimes by other substances. It is the least elas tic and sonorous of all the metals. £;; £ YOUNGQWILD BIRDS. THE thickness^of the foliage on the trees, the high vegetation of the cultivated land, and the natural tendency of young birds to keep quiet and still, make the study of them a matter of some difficulty. In the hedgerows and by the wood- sides unfamiliar notes and calls of birds are constantly heard — the notes of young birds, which cannot be identified owing to the thickness of the foliage, and though in the large woods the cry of the young sparrow hawks and the flight of the pigeons and woodpeckers betray their presence, it is almost im possible to watch them, or to ascertain their way of procuring food. Probably most of the larger species are fed by the old birds long after they leave the nest. Of game birds, young partridges are the most self-reliant, and young pheas ants the least able to take care of them selves. The present writer has never seen young quails, but as those coveys which are hatched in England often number as many birds as the quail usually lay eggs, it may be presumed that these, the smallest of all the game birds, are not less active and precocious than the young of the partridge. The latter are almost as active upon land as young wild ducks are upon the water. They run swiftly and without hesitation, even among thick vegetation, when they are no bigger than *a wren, and follow or precede their mother through mowing grass, hedgerows, or the sides of furze breaks and copses, seeking and catching insects all the while, and neither losing themselves nor betray ing their whereabouts by unnecessary noise or excursions. 71 MANDIOCA. ANNA R. HENDERSON. TUT ANDIOCA (Jatropha Manikot L) /Y\ is the principal farinaceous i \. production of Brazil, and is largely raised in nearly all parts of South America; in fact, is the main bread food of that continent, and is therefore worthy of consideration. It is difficult for dwellers in northern climes to conceive of a land which does not look largely to fields of wheat or corn for sustentation; yet millions inhabit such a region, and strange to say, derive their bread from a root which combines nutritious and poison ous qualities. Mandioca is indigenous to Brazil, and the Indians, strange to say, dis covered methods of separating its nu tritive and detrimental qualities. The Portuguese, learning its use from them, invented mills for its preparation, and it became the bread food of a great tropical region where wheat and Indian corn do not thrive. The plant has a fibrous stalk, three or four feet high, with a few branches and but little foliage; light-green five- fingered leaves. The roots are brown tubers, often several inches thick, and more than a foot in length. It is planted from slices of the tubers and is of slow growth, taking eighteen months to mature. The poi sonous quality is confined to the juice of the roots, and even this may be rendered innocent by boiling. It then becomes vinegar by fermentation. The leaves may be eaten by cattle. The roots must be ground soon after dig ging, as they become putrid in a few days. ^?p%$ The Indians scraped the roots to a pulp with oyster shells, and after pressing it, dried it before the fire, or cut it under water into thin slices which they dried. I will now describe the Portuguese method of making farina from man- dioca, as I witnesssed it in my Brazil ian home, a fazenda, plantation, near Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. The mandioca, which loves a dry soil, was grown on the hillsides among the orange and the coffee trees. It was cultivated by the hoe. When its great masses of tubers were mature they were dug and hauled to the farina house, a cool room, tile- roofed, dirt-floored, and which con tained mill, presses, and drying-pans. Then the merry work began. The negroes, who love to work in company, would sing, as, seated on benches or stools, they scraped the brown skin from the tubers. These were washed and fed to the mill, while the children took turns riding the mule which pulled the creaking beam that turned the mill. The tubers are very juicy and, on being ground, make a milky white mass, which is put into soft baskets made of braided palm leaves. These baskets are placed under a heavy screw press, and the milky juice which flows from them is caught in tubs and set aside to settle. In twenty-four hours in the bottom of the tub is a deposit of starch several inches thick. This is the well-known tapioca of commerce, extensively used for puddings and other delicate foods; good also for starching clothes. The clear juice above it, a deadly poison, is drawn off through underground tiles — that no chicken or other living creature may taste it. The damp pulp in the baskets is transferred to large concave trays of brass or copper placed over a slow fire, where it is constantly stirred until entirely dry. It is now ready for use, is as coarse as corn meal, but very white, and has a pleas ant flavor, resembling popcorn. It cannot be made into loaves, as much moisture would make it too glutinous to bake. It is eaten dry or mixed with beans or other vegetables at the table, or it is dampened and salted and baked on a griddle in a hoe-cake half an inch thick. In this way it is very nice and sweet. It is a favorite breakfast dish made into a clear glutinous mush called 72 pirao ( pronounced pe-rong}. Brazilians are very fond of the dry farina and throw it into the mouth by a movement so dexterous that it does not powder the face. This is the bread of Brazil. Though wheat bread is sold in the bakeshops of the cities, it is not used to any great extent in the rural regions. There is another species of mandioca called aipin (pronounced i-peen), which cannot be converted into farinha. It matures in eight months and has no poisonous qualities. It is a staple article for the table, being baked like a potato, and its taste resembles that of a roasted chestnut. TRAVELING BIRDS. Cleaving- the clouds with their moon-edged pinions, Hig-h over city and vineyard and mart; April to pilot them; May speeding- after; And each bird's compass his small red heart. — Edwin Arnold. RIVER valleys, coast lines, and mountain chains are the ways followed by the migrating birds; and frequent observations have determined the fact that birds travel at great heights, many as much as a mile from the earth. This may be one of the reasons why the tiny creatures have such keen sight; for from this dis tance they can obtain a far-reaching view of the surrounding country and distinguish landmarks readily. If the weather is stormy or foggy, then the birds are obliged to fly much lower; and, too, it is then that the lights along the coast attract them and such countless numbers perish by being beaten against the lighthouses, many more birds being killed in the fall season of migration than in the spring, when the weather is less stormy. They fly in vast numbers, and often on still nights they can be heard call ing to each other. A good idea of their number can be obtained by the use of a telescope, which, if focused on the moon, will often show the birds on a brilliant background so that they can readily be discerned. The motion of their wings can easily be seen in this way, and the immense numbers of them better realized. A good way to form an idea of the distance covered each year by the birds as they migrate is to take a single bird and note its journey. The bobo link makes his winter start in August, rests awhile in the marshlands and then visits the rice belt of the Southern states, doing damage directly and in directly each year to an amount cover ing several millions of dollars. Then he flies over Cuba, and there his name is chambergo. Next he lingers along the coast of Yucatan, then goes on south through Central America and the island of Jamaica,'in which place they call him "butter-bird," on account of his great plumpness, the result of the rice-feeding, no doubt; and from this place he makes one continuous long journey for over four hundred miles to Brazil, where he spends the winter. Here he stays until early spring, and then, if no accident has come to him, he will again brighten our months of blossoms by his chipper presence and his delightful song. One of the most curious things ob served in the fall migration of birds is in this same bobolink. By some man ner of means many of these birds have gone west, some as far as Utah, to spend their summers, and when the winter is coming they, too, take their flight south, but not by the direct way through Mexico, and then to Central America, as would seem most natural, but following their hereditary instincts they come back to the Atlantic coast and journey down it, along the whole way to Florida, then across to Cuba, and on with those from New Jersey and New England until the winter resting-place is reached. This bird gives a most conclusive and interesting illustration of the permanency of bird routes and the " hereditary habit " of the winged flocks. — Bangor Commercial, 73 MINERALS. HORNBLENDE.— A mineral species, placed by Dana in the augite section of the anhydrous silicates. In common use the name is limited, as it was formerly ap plied only to the dark crystalline minerals which are met with in long, slender prisms, either scattered in quartz, granite, etc., or generally dis seminated throughout their mass. The color of the mineral is usually black or dark green, owing to the presence of much iron. It appears to have been produced under conditions of fusion and cooling which cannot be imitated in the laboratory, the crystals obtained artificially being of augite type. MALACHITE. — One of the native car bonates of copper. It is sometimes crystallized, but more often occurs in concretionary masses of various shades of green, which are generally banded or arranged in such a manner that the mineral, which takes a fine polish, is much prized as an ornamental stone. Great quantities of it are found in the Siberian mines, and many beautiful objects are manufactured from it. QUARTZ. — The most abundant of all minerals, existing as a constituent of many rocks, composing of itself the rock known as quartzite or quartz rock and some of the sandstones and pure sand, forming the chief portion of most mineral veins. In composi tion it is silica, and when uncontami- uated with any foreign intermixture it appears in clear, transparent crystals like glass or ice. Pure quartz is largely employed in the manufacture of glass and is commonly obtained for this pur pose in the form of sand. Quartz veins with few exceptions form the gangues in which gold is found. TOURMALINE. — A name applied to a group of double silicates, composed of many other minerals. The color of tourmalines varies with their compo sition. The red, called rubellite, are manganese tourmaline containing lithi um and manganese, with little or no iron; the violet, blue and green contain iron, and the black are either iron or magnesium-iron tourmalines. Some times the crystals are red at one ex tremity and green at the other, or green internally and red externally, or vice versa. Pink crystals are found in the island of Elba. Tourmalines are not often used in jewelry, although they form beautiful gems and bear a high price. A magnificent group of pink tourmalines, nearly a foot square, was given by the king of Burmah to Col. Sykes, while commissioner to his court. The tourmaline appears to have been brought to Europe from Ceylon by the Dutch about the end of the seven teenth century, and was exhibited as a curiosity on account of its pyro-elec- tric properties. AGATE. — Of the quartz family, and is one of the modifications in which silica presents itself nearly in a state of purity. Agates are distinguished from the other varieties by the veins of dif ferent shades of color which traverse the stone in parallel concentric layers,, often so thin as to number fifty or more to an inch. Externally the agates are rough and exhibit no appearance of their beautiful, veined structure, which is exposed on breaking them, and still more perfectly after polishing. Though the varieties of agate are mostly very common minerals in this country as well as in the old world, those locali ties only are of interest which have long been famous for their production and which still furnish all the agates required by commerce. AMETHYST. — So named because it was supposed by the ancient Persians that cups made of it would prevent the liquor they contained from intoxi cating. The stone consists of crystal lized quartz of a purple or blue violet color, probably derived from a com pound of iron and soda. The color is not always diffused through it, and is less brilliant by candlelight. SERPENTINE. — Serpentine differs in composition from the other marbles. It is a soft mineral of different shades of green, of waxy luster, and suscept ible of a high polish. It is better 74 HQRNBIJ5NDT. CROCIDOUTE. MINERALS. ROSE QUARTZ. PINK TOURMALINE RUBELUTE A n AT*T? CHICAGO : A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER. AMETHYST. adapted to ornamental work within doors than to be exposed to the action of the weather. SULPHUR. — An elementary substance belonging to the class of metalloids. It has been known from the earliest times as the product of volcanoes, and as a natural mineral deposit in clay and marl formations. It also exists in primitive rocks, as granite and mica. ACCIDENTS TO BIRDS. GUY STEALEY. STRANGE accidents happen to birds as well as to people, and some of them are as unexplain- able as those that fall to our lot. I remember rinding a meadow lark suspended from a barbed-wire fence several years ago, dead, its throat pierced by one of the sharp barbs. The bird had apparently attempted to fly between the wires and, miscalculat ing the distance, had dashed against the barb. Another curious case Which came under my notice was that of a small water bird. While walking along the bank of the river flowing through our place, I discovered the little fellow dangling from a willow, his head firmly wedged in one of the forks. He had been there some time, and how he ever got caught in that fashion is a mystery. But the strangest mishap of all I ever witnessed occurred last summer. I was picking peas in the garden when my attention was attracted by the flut tering and half choked cries of a bird a little distance from me. Hastening to the place I found a brown field bird hanging from a pea vine. Around its neck was a pea clinger, which formed a perfect noose. As nearly everyone knows, pea clingers form into all im aginable shapes. The bird was feed ing under the vines and, being frightened by my approach and in trying to escape, had thrust its head through the clinger with the above result. I soon freed it and saw it fly away but little the worse for the adventure. To the Editor of BIRDS AND ALL NATURE : I find your periodical most interest ing and instructive, as it brings one into closer relation with all forms of life. Better than a knowledge of Hebrew, Greek and Latin is it to know what the birds, the trees, and flowers all say, what the winds and waves, the clouds and constellations all tell us of coming events. There is a world of observation, thought and enjoyment for those who study nature in all her varying moods that is denied those who, having eyes see not and having ears hear not. In looking over BIRDS AND ALL NATURE I have noticed with pleasure some articles from the pen of Caroline Crowninshield Bascom that have par ticularly pleased me. Her interpreta tions of what her pet cats and birds have to say, their manifestations of in telligence, and the sentiments of affec tion, or envy, jealousy, and malice; their obedience and their moralities under her judicious training. A woman who can train a cat to live in harmony with a bird, to see each other caressed in turn by a beloved mistress, should be on the county school board as a successful educator. For boys and girls can be more easily trained than those in the lower forms of life. I trust Miss Bascom will not try to harmonize the cat with rats and mice, lest those natural-born thieves increase to such an extent that every municipality will be compelled to have traps and police in every nook and corner, in every cellar and garret of all our private and public buildings. There is a limit, dear Miss Bascom, to peace and good will on earth. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. New York, July /, 1899. 77 THE INFLUENCE OF PICTURES. J. P. M CASKEY, IF IT is a very good thing to hang attractive pictures on the walls of the home, then it is doubly so thus to ornament the walls of the school room. "In the emptiest room," says Ruskin, "the mind wanders most, for it gets restless like a bird for want of a perch, and casts about for any possible means of getting out and away. Bare walls are not a proper part of the means of education; blank plaster about and above them is not suggestive to pupils." The landscape makes a bright opening through the dead wall like a window; flowers and ferns are suggest ive of the garden, the lane, the field, the woods, the purling stream; of song birds in the air or among the branches, and blue sky overhead. Animals sug gest a life with which we should be more or less familiar. The portrait speaks the man, what we know of him, suggesting trains of thought that may be most interesting and profitable. A mother wondered why her three brave lads had all gone to sea from an inland home. She was speaking, in her loneliness, with a friend who had called upon her, and she could not suggest any reason why they should all have adopted the sea-faring life when none of their friends or relatives had been sailors. The man observed a picture of a full-rigged ship hanging above the mantel. It was perhaps the only pic ture in the room, at least the only one at all conspicuous. A thought struck him. "How long has that picture been hanging there?" he asked. "Oh, it has been there ever since the boys were little children." "It was that," he said, " that sent your boys away. The sea grew upon their imagination until they longed for it, and sought it, and so they are gone." So a striking or attractive picture, in the schoolroom as in the home, may sink deep into the heart of the child, and mean far more to him than much of the work which the school program usually imposes. He may forget the name and lose all recollection of the personality of the teacher and of most of his schoolmates, but the striking picture is a picture still. That he will always remember. In our experience, as we grow older, if we are at all ob servant, we know more and more the value of these things — how great a fac tor in education they may become! Men wonder sometimes how they can expend a modest sum of money to good purpose in giving pleasure and profit to others. Get some pictures of good faces,*and flowers, and landscapes, and other proper subjects, and put them upon the walls of your nearest school- house, or of some other in which you may be interested. When you have done this for one school you may want to do it for a second, or you will sug gest to some other generous heart the like gift of enduring value. What chance have boys and girls with a dead- alive teacher in a school-house whose blank walls are eloquent of poverty? Oh, the weariness of it! Real, genuine, helpful, beautiful art is now brought within reach of the mil lion. The arts of chromo-lithography and half-tone engraving are putting exquisite pictures, at low cost, wher ever there is taste to appreciate and enjoy them. In our homes they are everywhere. Why not everywhere also upon school-room walls bare of these choice educational influences? To many a child good pictures come like the ministrations of the angels. We feel this, we know it; and for the years remaining to us shall do what we can to make school-life better for the pic tures on the wall. THE SEA-CHILDREN. COLE YOUNG RICE. "Oh, mother, I lay A-dreaming one day By the wreck of the Alberdeen, And I heard a singing Under the sea Of children swinging — Their hair was green! — In seaweed swings, and they called to me— Oh, mother, they called to me"- " Hush, hush thee, my child! Thy prattle is wild, For the children that dwell in the sea Are the fishes swimming Amid white shells Whose pearly hymning But echoed to thee The strangled songs of the sinking swells — My child, 'twas the song of the swells." "And, mother, they said "Come to us! — oh, dread Not the waves tho' they fret and foam; They're far, far over Us while we play Beneath the cover Of our sea-home, All day, all day o'er the beds of the bay!' Oh, mother, the beds of the bay!" "Hush, hush thee, my child!"— But strangely he smiled As he gazed at the weird-lit waves. For he heard a singing — "Come to us, come!" He saw them swinging In crystal caves, And cried, "I'm coming! I'm" — ah, how numb His death-dewy lips — how numb! NATURE STUDY IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS. FIT THE Shaw banquet in St. IY Louis the subject for the even- / L ing was " Horticultural Educa tion," and a good deal was said as to the introduction of the study in the public schools. On the question of its interfering with other school work, Prof. Jackman of Chicago said: " The intimation has been thrown out here to-night that perhaps the child's study of nature might interfere with something else in the schools. I can assure such ob jectors that it will interfere with some of the things they are taught. It will interfere with some of the dull routine that you and I can recollect, which we passed through when we were in these schools. The children have waited all too long for such an interference." State Superintendent of Schools Kirk, said: "It is my firm conviction that a large part of what we now call ' geography' should be eliminated from the school curriculum. Much of it is so worthless or misleading as to retard education and exhaust the children's energies without any definite purpose. Children should learn about the coun try they live in, rather than the remote regions of Asia and the Arctic Zone." One speaker declared that the re creation time can be restfully utilized for nature- study work. Memory is good but observation is better, and teachers are asking for specimens of fruits, nuts, grains, grasses, woods, leaves, twigs, buds, and flowers. BIRDS AND ORNITHOLOGISTS. BIRDS has entered upon a new year with the satisfaction of having pleased its readers as well as hav- ingrendered actualservice to the cause of education, ornithological liter ature and art. Nature with her usual prodigality has scattered thousands of rare and attractive birds throughout the world, and of these the editor of BIRDS selects the most interesting spe cies, the loveliest forms and the richest plumage for preservation by means of magnificent illustrations, obtained through the expensive process of color photography. A unique treatment of text makes the magazine interesting and instructive to old and young alike. The people of this locality are noted for being lovers of birds and students of nature, and it has given the three greatest naturalists the world has ever known. This is the native heath of Audubon and Robert Dale Owen. Mr. S. G. Evans, the well-known dry goods merchant of this city, has a very fine and complete set of Audubon's birds. All this fills our eyes to think what the world lost in the death of William Hamilton Gibson. He made all life seem related to our lives, all being to appear one substance, all to be worthy of interest, sympathy, love, and rever ence. There are strange and beautiful stories told of his power to attract and handle the shyest creatures. Once, it is said, he went to a public library in Brooklyn to make a sketch of some rare butterfly, and had found a book of plates from which he was studying his subject, when, lo! there floated into the great room one of the very specimens he desired to picture, fluttered down upon the open page, and at last rested with throbbing wings beside its own portrait. On one election day, Mr. Gibson went to vote, and as he was studying his ticket, there came in at the open door, no one knew whence, a stray pigeon, which flew at once to him and perched upon his shoulder. He caressed it in his tender fashion, and murmured to it, and then it flew away, no one knew whither. Once, too, as he sat upon his veranda at The Su macs, his country home in Connecti cut, describing to a visitor the pe culiar markings upon the wings of a certain song-bird, he suddenly arose, stepped to a bush upon the lawn, and coaxed into his hand the very bird of which he was talking, and which he brought to show to his astonished guest. This sympathy with the world of life outside of man fills his text and his illustrations to overflowing. — Evans- ville (Ind.) Courier. ACCORDANCE OF NATURE. For Nature beats in perfect tune, And rounds with rhyme her every rune, Whether she work in land or sea, Or hide underground her alchemy. Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, Or dip thy paddle in the lake, But it carves the bow of beauty there, And the ripples in rhymes the oar for sake. The wood is wiser far than thou; The wood and wave each other know. Not unrelated, unafified, But to each thought and thing allied, Is perfect Nature's every part, Rooted in the mighty heart. — Emerson. O painter of the fruit and flowers, We thank thee for thy wise design, Whereby these human hands of ours In Nature's garden work with thine. And thanks that from our daily need The joy of a simple faith is born. That he who smites the summer weed May trust thee for the autumn corn. Give fools their gold and knaves their power, Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall, Who sows a field or trains a flower Or plants a tree is more than all. For he who blesses most is blest, AndGod andmanshall havehis worth Who toils to leave as a bequest An added beauty to the earth. — Whittier. \ \\ \ \ \ I 270 CHICAGO . A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER WATER LILIES. THE WATER LILY. THIS is the name of an aquatic plant of the genus Nymphcea', distinguished for its usually very fragrant flowers and large, float ing leaves; applied also to the yellow pond lily of the genus Nuphar. The species alba has a large flower filled with petals, so as almost to appear double; it raises itself out ot the water and expands about seven o'clock in the morning, and closes again, re posing upon the surface, about four in the afternoon. The roots have an astringent, bitter taste. They are used in Ireland and in the island of Jura to dye a dark brown or chestnut color. Swine are said to eat it, goats not to be fond of it, kine and horses to re fuse it. The flowers, the herb, and the root were formerly used in medicine, but are all now obsolete. The lotus resembles our common white species in the form of the flower and leaves, but the latter are toothed about the edge. It is a native of the hot parts of the East Indies, Africa, and America, is very common in parks, lakes, and rivers in Jamaica and grows in vast quantities on the plains of lower Egypt, near Cairo, during the time they are under water. It flowers there about the middle of September and ripens toward the I2th of October. The Arabians call it nuphar. The ancient Egyptians made a bread of the seed of the lotus dried and ground. All the species of water lilies grow well in large pots of water with a few inches of rich soil at the bottom. They are propagated by dividing the root, and some sorts which produce bulbs are increased by the offshoots from these. Mr. Kent, who cultivated these plants to great perfection, found that the bulbous-rooted nymphaea, if limited in their growth for want of water, or from cold or excessive heat, were apt to form bulbous roots and cease growing for the season. Hence the necessity of water and heat to make them flower freely. The plant known especially in this country as the water lily, frequently as pond lily and sometimes as water nymph, was dedicated by the Greeks to the water nymphs. The fruit, which ripens under water, is berry-like, pulpy and thin, and each of its numerous seeds is enveloped in a thin sac. Of about twenty species two are found in the United States. Our common spe cies has almost circular leaves, which often cover a broad surface of water on the margins of lakes and ponds, forming what are known as lily pads. The flowers are often over five inches across, of the purest white, and have a most agreeable sweet scent. In some localities the flowers are tinged with pink, and they are found, though rarely, with the petals bright pink throughout. The leaves also vary in size and sometimes are crimson on the under side. The root stalk, as large as one's arm and several feet long, is blackish outside and marked with scars left by the leaves and flower- stems; it is whitish within. Though the plant often grows in water several feet deep, the leaf and flower accom modate themselves to the depth, and they may sometimes be found where there are but a few inches of water. At a place called Dutchman's Slough, we are informed by Mr. George Northrup, about half a mile above the outlet of Calumet Lake, south of Chicago, grow great quantities of water lilies, which are gathered every season for the Chicago market. 83 THE WHITE SWAN. THIS magnificent bird is well known from being kept in a half-domesticated condition throughout many parts of Europe, whence it has been carried to other countries. In England, accord ing to Newton, it was more abundant formerly than at present, the young being highly esteemed for the table. It was under special enactments for its preservation, being regarded as a •'bird royal," which no subject could possess without license from the crown, the granting of which license was accompanied by the condition that every bird in the " game," the old legal term, of swans should bear a distinct mark of ownership on the bill. Originally this ownership was con ferred on the larger freeholders only, but it was gradually extended, so that in the reign of Elizabeth upwards of nine hundred distinct swan marks, being those of private persons or cor porations, were recognized by the royal swanherd, whose jurisdiction extended over the whole kingdom. At the present time the Queen's com panies of Dyers and Vintners still maintain their swans on the Thames. The largest swanery in England is that belonging to Lord Ilchester. It has been stated that the swan was introduced into England in the reign of Richard Cceur de Lion; but it is now so perfectly naturalized that birds hav ing the full power of flight remain in the country. There is no evidence to show that its numbers are ever in creased by immigration from abroad, though it is known to breed as a wild bird in the extreme south of Sweden, whence it may be traced in a south easterly direction to the valley of the Danube. , The nest of the swan is a large mass of aquatic plants, is often two feet high and six feet in diameter. The eggs are from five to nine in number, of a grayish-olive color. The young are hatched in five to six weeks, and when hatched are clothed in sooty-gray down, which is succeeded by feathers of dark soot-gray. This suit is gradually replaced by white; but the cygnets are more than a year old before they lose all trace of color and become wholly white. The swan of North America is con siderably larger than that of the old world. The first species is the trum peter, so-called, of which the bill is wholly black, and the second ( Cygnus columbianus, or americanus] has the col ored patches on the bill of less extent and deepening almost into scarlet. Fossil remains of more than one species of swan have been found. Our picture presents this stately- bird swimming among water lilies, a sight that may be seen in summer in some of our American parks, notably the Central Park of New York City. Chicago and Cincinnati have some fine specimens. For portrait and sketch of the black swan, see Vol. Ill, pp.66, 67. NEBRASKA'S MANY BIRDS. NEBRASKA is distinctively the bird center of the United States. It contains more species than any other state in the Union, and ornithologists who have studied its feathered possessions have classified 417 distinct species that may be seen within its boundaries. Of these 225 species breed here and the remainder are migrants who drop in on us at cer tain seasons and then pass on to their breeding-grounds. The natural features of Nebraska are largely responsible for this remarkable variety of feathered population. It includes a diversity of country that offers attractions for hundreds of songsters. For instance, the mocking-bird and the cardinal grosbeak, who are distinctive Southern birds, frequently appear in the southern corner of the state, and in the west we have a large number of what are usually regarded as mountain birds, but which come down from the foothills at inter vals to the kingdom of Quivera. — Omaha Bee. 84 LURLALINE. Old Irish Air. There was a little water sprite, her name was Lurlaline; Amid the water lilies white sometimes she might be seen. She was a fairy child, Lurline, could sit secure and cool, Upon those lily leaves so green you see in some lone pool. There would she sit the summer day, singing a song so bright; You never heard the song, you say, and don't believe it quite? But that perhaps is just because when you quite near her stood, You did not notice where she was, or listen as you should. It happened in the month of June, the happy summer time. She always sang a lovelier tune and wove a lovelier rhyme, And you, too, like to Lurlaline, a lovelier song would sing, If only you knew what they mean, the flowers and ev'ry thing. If you were like a water sprite— the water sprites know well The wondrous things of day and night, and all they have to tell; They know and love the creatures wild, and all the flowers that grow; They live with them and love them well, God's hidden pets they know. And now if you want more to know what Amodine saw there, You first must love all things below, in water, earth, and air; You first must love all things that move among the trees and flowers, And then you shall have more to love in shining fairy bowers. A CONTRIBUTION TO CHILD-STUDY LITERATURE. IT HAS been a blessed thing for the child and for humanity that the former has at last attracted our attention in a way to force upon us the conviction that it is time we found out what to do with him. Peo ple of scientific bent think this can be done by measurement and test experi ments. Many fond and utterly unsci entific mammas think it can be done by an all-absorbing deference to the child's whims; by setting the child on a pedestal and pouring ointments over him and bringing him sweetmeats and nectar on silver platters. I am not sure but it was this latter conduct on the part of the parent that called the attention of teachers to the need of a thorough study of the child and his requirements. For nothing else is so detrimental to the child's development as this growing tendency to pamper him. The old method of treating the child was to ignore him; to let him be seen and not heard; to think that because he was young he could run errands all day, eat what was left at table, sleep in the coldest bed at night, and be thrust into the corner as an undesirable piece of furniture. Now the custom is exactly the reverse. In most well- to-do families the child is the central figure, and the parents stand around to minister to him. Nothing is too rich for him, and he becomes the darling, terror, and tyrant of the household. As between the old boxing-glove method and this modern kid-glove method of handling the child the former is preferable — the hardier ones survive; but no character is proof against the seductive enervation of pampering. These facts in regard to the develop ment of youth have not escaped the notice of that keenest of observers, Rudyard Kipling. In "Captains Cour ageous " he has given us his opinion as to the best means of rescuing boys and girls who threaten to become utterly worthless, and of transforming them into useful men and women. — Child- Study Monthly. 85 THE YELLOW PERCH. (Ptrca fluviatilis.} THIS is a fresh-water fish and is generally distributed over Eu rope, northern Asia, and North America, and so well known as to have been, it is said, selected for the type of an entire family of spiny- rayed fishes, the perddas, which is represented in European fresh waters by several other fishes such as the pope and the pike-perch. It inhabits rivers as well as lakes, and thrives best in waters of a depth of not less than three feet; in large, deep lakes it fre quently descends to depths of fifty fathoms and more. It occurs in Scan dinavia as far north as the 6gth par allel, but does not extend to Iceland or any of the islands north of Europe. In the Alps it ascends to an altitude of four thousand feet. The shape of the body of the perch is well proportioned, but many varia tions occur, some specimens being very high-backed, others low and long- bodied. Sometimes such variations are local, and Agassiz and other nat uralists at one time thought it possible to distinguish two species of the com mon perch of Europe; but it can be separated specifically from the North American form. The brilliant colors of the perch render it easily recogniz able even at a distance. A rich green ish-brown, with golden reflections, covers the back and sides, which are crossed with five or seven bands. A large black spot covers the membrane between the last spines of the dorsal fin, and the lower parts are bright ver- million. In the large, peaty lakes of North Germany a beautiful variety is not uncommon, in which the golden tinge prevails, as in a gold-fish. The perch is carnivorous and vora cious. It wanders about in small shoals within a certain district, playing havoc among small fishes, and is there- 'fore objectionable in waters where more valuable fry is cultivated. Perch of three pounds in weight are often caught; one of five would now be re garded as an extraordinary specimen, though in rare instances we read of individuals exceeding even that weight. An old fisherman, Mr. George North- rup, a man of rare intelligence, tells us that of thousands of perch caught by him he never took one that weighed above three pounds. Perch are good, wholesome food and highly esteemed in inland coun tries where marine fish can be obtained only with difficulty. The nearly allied pike-perch is one of the best European food fishes. It is very prolific, begins to spawn when three years old, in April or May, depositing the ova on water plants. MOUNTING OF BIRDS. THE mounting of birds and the small animals of the field and forest is an art which is pos sessed by few people, yet which is not difficult and which especially appeals to the lover of nature. It is an art which it is well worth while popu larizing, for it can be made the vehicle for the expression of a great deal of beauty, while preserving and making use, in the interests of scientific study, of materials which otherwise would be irretrievably lost. There has been need for some time of an authoritative work on the subject, something which would enable the amateur to mount birds and animals and which would be full and complete as to the information it con veyed. This want has been met by Mr. John Rowley, the chief of the De partment of Taxidermy in the Ameri can Museum of Natural History, who has written a convenient volume of something over two hundred pages on "The Art of Taxidermy," which has just been published by the Appletons. In the foreword with which the author introduces the book he says that the name "taxidermy" was formerly ap plied to the trade of most inartistically upholstering a skin, but that of late years it has made wonderful strides. BIRDS IN TOWN. ELLA F. MOSBY. WRENS are friendly to man. The little house wren in summer, .and the Carolina wren in win ter, give us a merry roundelay for all sorts of weather. Bewick's wren, Mr. Torrey says, "greatly pre fers the town to woods and meadows," and even the winter wrenkin, dear little saucy brownie that he is, vouchsafes us a glimpse of himself now and then in the city. As for the bigger kinsfolk, the mocking-bird and catbird, they love the shrubbery of our lawns, and gardens, and sing close at hand. Nor are the thrushes, shy as they are in the breeding season, hard to discover dur ing the migrations. A Swainson's thrush will sit for an hour or so, almost within touch, his big liquid eyes re garding his human neighbors placidly. Strange to say, I have seen but few swallows or sparrows in town, except the chipping or "door-step" sparrow and the purple martin which belongs to the swallow tribe, though the misnamed chimney swallow does not. The song of the martin, "like musical laughter rippling through the throat," and the "giggling twitter" of the chimney dweller, often seem to drop «to us out of the air as they dart overhead. Even pewees and cuckoos visit us after their broods are reared, the wistful cry of the first and the rattling call of the latter, sounding oddly from some tall tree close by the crowded street. At this time too, the grackles perch upon the roofs, and nighthawks and whippoor- wills are heard overhead in the dusky twilights. One would not naturally expect to find- game birds or birds of prey in a city, yet the Virginia quail frequently sends forth his ringing "bob 'white!" from any low roof or fence in the spring or early fall; and more than once long- billed water-birds have been caught by the street lamps at night. The eerie, tremulous cry of the little screech-owl sounds from the apple tree, and in winter he flies with a soft thud against the window pane, attracted by the light shining through the snow. Some owls choose a belfry tower as their favorite shelter, and live there year after year. Our most glorious bird-day is when the orioles appear in flashing black and gold with ringing whistle, or their or chard cousins in ruddy chestnut tints, alternately singing and scolding, chack! chack! and little later, come the scarlet and summer tanagers to the parks and public gardens, lighting up the tall trees with their splendid color, and making the neighborhood ring with their ckip-chur and chicky-tuck! as if in call and answer. One day I saw these, and not far away, the crested cardinal, glowing like a tropical flower, and the red-headed woodpeckers close by, and some redstarts glittering and flitting from bough to bough, truly a study in red! • As for the smaller birds, humming birds, kinglets, vireos, and warblers, the trees of any city yard will be a fre quented hostelry for all during their' wonderful journeys, and for many as a summer home. Those that love the tree tops are seen all the better by hu man inhabitants of upper stories, and some of our most charming bird-books give us the experiences of a busy woman in a New York flat, or of an other in a Chicago back yard, and of more than one invalid, watching these free, joyous lives with unenvious de light. A good glass, either opera-glass or field-glass, will open many a pretty bit of house-weaving, and brood-rear ing to an observer shut in by walls and pavements, and bring many a pleasant acquaintance. At this very moment, a slender grey catbird glides through the boughs close by my upper window, with a low chuck, chuck! as I glance at him. He knows I am a friend, but would fain enjoin silence, for a black cat prowls below. THE YELLOW PERCH. (Perca fluviatilis.} THIS is a fresh-water fish and is generally distributed over Eu rope, northern Asia, and North America, and so well known as to have been, it is said, selected for the type of an entire family of spiny- rayed fishes, the percidas, which is represented in European fresh waters by several other fishes such as the pope and the pike-perch. It inhabits rivers as well as lakes, and thrives best in waters of a depth of not less than three feet; in large, deep lakes it fre quently descends to depths of fifty fathoms and more. It occurs in Scan dinavia as far north as the 6gth par allel, but does not extend to Iceland or any of the islands north of Europe. In the Alps it ascends to an altitude of four thousand feet. The shape of the body of the perch is well proportioned, but many varia tions occur, some specimens being very high-backed, others low and long- bodied. Sometimes such variations are local, and Agassiz and other nat uralists at one time thought it possible to distinguish two species of the com mon perch of Europe; but it can be separated specifically from the North American form. The brilliant colors of the perch render it easily recogniz able even at a distance. A rich green ish-brown, with golden reflections, covers the back and sides, which are crossed with five or seven bands. A large black spot covers the membrane between the last spines of the dorsal fin, and the lower parts are bright ver- million. In the large, peaty lakes of North Germany a beautiful variety is not uncommon, in which the golden tinge prevails, as in a gold-fish. The perch is carnivorous and vora cious. It wanders about in small shoals within a certain district, playing havoc among small fishes, and is there- "fore objectionable in waters where more valuable fry is cultivated. Perch of three pounds in weight are often caught; one of five would now be re garded as an extraordinary specimen, though in rare instances we read of individuals exceeding even that weight. An old fisherman, Mr. George North- rup, a man of rare intelligence, tells us that of thousands of perch caught by him he never took one that weighed above three pounds. Perch are good, wholesome food and highly esteemed in inland coun tries where marine fish can be obtained only with difficulty. The nearly allied pike-perch is one of the best European food fishes. It is very prolific, begins to spawn when three years old, in April or May, depositing the ova on water plants. MOUNTING OF BIRDS. THE mounting of birds and the small animals of the field and forest is an art which is pos sessed by few people, yet which is not difficult and which especially appeals to the lover of nature. It is an art which it is well worth while popu larizing, for it can be made the vehicle for the expression of a great deal of beauty, while preserving and making use, in the interests of scientific study, of materials which otherwise would be irretrievably lost. There has been need for some time of an authoritative work on the subject, something which would enable the amateur to mount birds and animals and which would be full and complete as to the information it con veyed. This want has been met by Mr. John Rowley, the chief of the De partment of Taxidermy in the Ameri can Museum of Natural History, who has written a convenient volume of something over two hundred pages on "The Art of Taxidermy," which has just been published by the Appletons. In the foreword with which the author introduces the book he says that the name "taxidermy" was formerly ap plied to the trade of most inartistically upholstering a skin, but that of late years it has made wonderful strides. BIRDS IN TOWN. ELLA F. MOSBY. WRENS are friendly to man. The little house wren in summer, and the Carolina wren in win ter, give us a merry roundelay for all sorts of weather. Bewick's wren, Mr. Torrey says, "greatly pre fers the town to woods and meadows," and even the winterwrenkin, dear little saucy brownie that he is, vouchsafes us a glimpse of himself now and then in the city. As for the bigger kinsfolk, the mocking-bird and catbird, they love the shrubbery of our lawns, and gardens, and sing close at hand. Nor are the thrushes, shy as they are in the breeding season, hard to discover dur ing the migrations. A Swainson's thrush will sit for an hour or so, almost within touch, his big liquid eyes re garding his human neighbors placidly. Strange to say, I have seen but few swallows or sparrows in town, except the chipping or "door-step" sparrow and the purple martin which belongs to the swallow tribe, though the misnamed chimney swallow does not. The song of the martin, "like musical laughter rippling through the throat," and the "giggling twitter" of the chimney dweller, often seem to drop -to us out of the air as they dart overhead. Even pewees and cuckoos visit us after their broods are reared, the wistful cry of the first and the rattling call of the latter, sounding oddly from some tall tree close by the crowded street. At this time too, the grackles perch upon the roofs, and nighthawks and whippoor- wills are heard overhead in the dusky twilights. One would not naturally expect to find- game birds or birds of prey in a city, yet the Virginia quail frequently sends forth his ringing "bob "white!" from any low roof or fence in the spring or early fall; and more than once long- billed water-birds have been caught by the street lamps at night. The eerie, tremulous cry of the little screech-owl sounds from the apple tree, and in winter he flies with a soft thud against the window pane, attracted by the light shining through the snow. Some owls choose a belfry tower as their favorite shelter, and live there year after year. Our most glorious bird-day is when the orioles appear in flashing black and gold with ringing whistle, or their or chard cousins in ruddy chestnut tints, alternately singing and scolding, chack! chack! and little later, come the scarlet and summer tanagers to the parks and public gardens, lighting up the tall trees with their splendid color, and making the neighborhood ring with their ckip-chur and chicky-tuck! as if in call and answer. One day I saw these, and not far away, the crested cardinal, glowing like a tropical flower, and the red-headed woodpeckers close by, and some redstarts glittering and flitting from bough to bough, truly a study in red! • As for the smaller birds, humming birds, kinglets, vireos, and warblers, the trees of any city yard will be a fre quented hostelry for all during their' wonderful journeys, and for many as a summer home. Those that love the tree tops are seen all the better by hu man inhabitants of upper stories, and some of our most charming bird-books give us the experiences of a busy woman in a New York flat, or of an other in a Chicago back yard, and of more than one invalid, watching these free, joyous lives with unenvious de light. A good glass, either opera-glass or field-glass, will open many a pretty bit of house-weaving, and brood-rear ing to an observer shut in b^ walls and pavements, and bring many a pleasant acquaintance. At this very moment, a slender grey catbird glides through the boughs close by my upper window, with a low chuck, chuck! as I glance at him. He knows I am a friend, but would fain enjoin silence, for a black cat prowls below. THE OVENBIRD— GOLDEN-CROWNED THRUSH. NELLY HART WOODWORTH. A MARVELOUS choral is the rare ecstasy song of the ovenbird (see Vol. Ill, 126-7). It was first recorded, at a compara tively recent date, by that versatile writer — poet, essayist, naturalist— Mr. John Burroughs. After speaking of the bird's easy, gliding walk, it being one of the few birds that are walkers, not Iwppers, he says its other lark trait, namely, singing in the air, seems not to have been observed by any natur alist. Yet it is a well-established char acteristic, and may be verified by any person who will spend a half-hour in the woods where this bird abounds on some June afternoon or evening. I hear it frequently after sundown when the ecstatic singer can hardly be dis tinguished against the sky. Mounting by easy flights to the top of the tallest tree, he launches into the air, with a sort of suspended, hovering flight, and bursts into a perfect ecstasy of song — clear, ringing, copious, rivaling the goldfinch's in vivacity and the linnet's -in melody. Its descent after the song is finished is rapid, and precisely like that of the titlark when it sweeps down from its course to alight on the ground. The same writer speaks of waking up in the night, just in time to hear a golden-crowned thrush, the ovenbird, sing in a tree near by. It sang as loud and cheerily as at midday. My first acquaintance with this rare overture was at the close of a hot day in July, as I was walking with a naturalist. A splendor floated in the air like a mu sical cloud as strange notes of glad ness rang through the twilight with the clearness of a silver bugle. It came again, a clear, sweet, outpouring song, which I recklessly attributed to several goldfinches singing, as they often do, in concert. The trained ear of the naturalist was not so easily deceived, and when my attention was called to the more gushing character of the melody I wondered that it could have escaped notice. It was a very irrigation of song, the bursting of some cloud overhead that scattered melodi ous fragments all about, a mating- cnoral unheard, probably,, after the nesting season is over. Entering the woods in early summer this bird is sure to shake out its ordi nary, rattling chorus — " Teacher, Teacher, TEACHER," the notes delivered with tremendous force and distinctness and the emphasis increasing — a vi brant, crescendo chant as unlike the brilliant ecstasy song as can be imag ined. The ovenbird is also called the golden- crowned thrush, for no conceiv able reason unless it is that the bird is not a thrush, but classed with the warblers. Or is it that its white breast, thickly spotted with dusky, resembles the thrush's? There is a peculiar delicacy in the texture of its olive-green robes, as fine as if woven in kings' houses, while, set deep in hues of the raven's wing, it wears that regal appurtenance — a crown of gold. While watching from a rocky height a pair of hermit thrushes that were housekeeping in a hemlock beneath, an ovenbird flew from a maple bough to a high clump of ferns near by. In its beak was a quantity of dry grass, bulky material that interfered sadly with both walking and flight. The small burden-bearer managed, how ever, to progress slowly, moving its head from side to side to disentangle the grasses and lifting its little feet in the daintiest manner, until it disap peared where the ferns were thickest. Pretty soon it came in sight again, sauntered about with diverting non chalance, and was off, alighting upon the same bough to drop down into the same corner of the thicket. This be havior was not without an inference; it was an advertisement of future hopes too plainly written to escape notice; I might have been stone blind and seen straight into the future! The 90 nest must have been within a circle of a few feet, but with rank greenery above and underfoot the accumulated leafage of the ages, soft and penetra tive as if placed layer by layer for the bird's special accommodation, any square foot might have held the treas ure and kept the secret of possession. Soon after a farmer told me of a strange nest, a curiously covered house with a low door, within which the sit ting bird could be seen. The bird's flight as it left the nest first attracted his attention, just in time to prevent his foot from -crushing through the roof. He had never heard of oven- birds or of roofed-over nests, and was so interested in this new page of natural history that " once a day when he went for the cows he went round that way to see how things were get ting on there." " Every time I went," he said, " I expected to find that the cattle had spoiled it!" After describing his interesting ten ants he offered to share the pleasure of their acquaintance, saying most kindly, " I wouldn't mind leaving the hayfield any time to take you there! I've done my share of haying, I guess; the boys don't want me to work so hard; come up to-morrow and I'll go with you!" I was there with to-morrow and was, if possible, more amazed at the adapta tion of the "oven" to its surroundings than with the structure itself. The bird was sitting and not at all disposed to leave on our account; she merely drew in her pretty head, cud dled closer to the ground, and waited. Both house and tenant were so thor oughly blended in color with the en vironing leafage that, when pointed out, it was difficult for the eye to locate them. Possibly the brave little housekeeper divined the situation; or did she presume upon a previous ac quaintance with the friendly farmer? The proprietor of the establishment, a little man-milliner with a bow of orange ribbon in his bonnet, sang through the fragrant morning as if glad of an opportunity of speaking to a gracious audience, interlarding his song with rushing over to his family — vault, I was going to say, for being sunken a bit in the ground and dark within, it suggested a mausoleum. A tiny ledge of slate, tilted vertically, made a strong wall upon one side of the small estate; young beeches, kept down by browsing cattle, grew where the rear-gates should have been, and a maple twig partially screened the en trance. Evergreen ferns crowded between the "-oven " and the wall, their leaves interlaced, above the roof, with others opposite, the tips of two being caught down and interwoven with the roofing. The nest was made of dry leaves, lapped and overlapped, padded and felted in one compact arch — a ver itable arch of triumph! Upon July I5th six creamy-white eggs, dotted with brown and lilac, lay safe within, these being duly replaced by a round half- dozen " little ovens," whose mouths were always open. Indeed, more food was shoved into those open-mouthed storehouses than would have supplied a village bakeshop, and still there was room for more. Warm rains soon gave the nest an unyielding texture; so matted and felted that the full weight of the hand left no impression, and I questioned whether the foot, set plumply down, would have crushed it out of shape entirely. When the young birds had flown I brought home the nest as a unique souvenir of summer. Removed from the picturesque setting it was no longer interesting; its charm was that of environment; its beauty the marvel of adaptation. So surely does Nature equip each bird with an individuality that distin guishes it from all others! Not only have they common rules followed in obedience to the law of instinct, but each species has special gifts devel oped according to the law of its nature, a law of harmony so delicately enforced that the law itself is not per ceptible. 91 INSECT LIFE UNDERGROUND. L. O. HOWARD, PH. D., Entomologist U. S. Department of Agriculture, and Curator Department of Insects, U. S. National Museum. THERE is an old German child's story of a little girl who being told that if she could find a place to hide her first silver piece where no eye could see her, and then dance round it three times, she would have her wish. She sought everywhere for such a place, but always some bird or squirrel or mouse or in sect was near by, and even when she dug beneath the ground, there too were little crawling creatures watch ing her. It may be said that this story was meant to show that animal life is found almost everywhere, and certainly be neath the surface of the ground there are hundreds of kinds of insects work ing steadily away at their different occupations; for whatever disagreeable things you may find to say about in sects, you can never justly call them lazy. The scriptures recognized this fact in the well-known command to the sluggard, and the old nursery rhyme about the " busy bee" emphasizes the same characteristic. The truest underground insects are those which pass their entire lives be neath the surface of the earth; which are born there, live and grow and die without seeing the light of day. Such, for example, are the true cave insects, a number of forms of which are found in the great caverns in different parts of the world. Some of these insects feed upon the vegetable molds and low forms of plant life found in caves; others feed on dead animal matter and still others upon living insects. Nearly all are of pale colors and are blind or nearly so, for they have no use for eyes in the darkness. All are supposed to be descendants of above-ground forms, which through many generations of life in the darkness have lost their color and their power of sight. The genealogy of these true cave forms maybe guessed at with some certainty, for we know insects which are only partly transformed in structure from above-ground forms to true cave species. Such are certain beetles which live in the catacombs of Paris, and cer tain other insects which have been found in the old and deep burrows of the land tortoise in Florida. But we do not have to go to caves to find many other true underground in sects. Rich, loose soil.abounds in such creatures which live upon the decaying vegetation (soil humus or vegetable mold) or upon one another. The most abundant in numbers of individuals are the little spring-tails or bristle-tails, minute creatures seldom more than a sixteenth of an inch in length and which frequently swarm in the ground in such numbers that the earth seems fairly alive. These little creatures are by no means confined to the surface soil, but have been found in great armies at a depth of six feet or more in stiff clay, which they have pene trated by following the deeper rootlets of trees. Certain of these little insects have also become so accustomed to this lightless life that they have lost their eyes. Other true underground insects are found in the nests of ants, where they fill many different functions. They may be grouped, however as follows: I. Species which are fed by the ants and from which the ants derive a bene fit by eating a certain secretion of the insect. 2. Species which are treated with indifference by the ants and which feed upon the bodies of dead ants and other animal and vegetable debris to be found in ants' nests. The ants are cer tainly not hostile to these insects and evidently gain some unknown benefit from their presence. 3. Species which live among the ants for the purpose of killing and feeding upon them. The first true ants' nest insect was only dis covered and studied at the beginning of this century, but since that time hundreds of other species have been found, and a mere catalogue of their names fills a book of over 200 pages. t %_ \ 272 (CHI,AENIUS SERICEUS. ) (AI.AUS BEETLES. (LIBIA (CICINDEIvLA (CICINDEL,Iank was an angler. For an hour in patience he whipped the stream, now up, now down, with 'red hackles,' 'white hackles,' .' black hackles;' he changed fly after fly in vain. At length he folded his rod and passed away among the shadows of the night, without so much as a bite, without so much as a chance to tell of the big fish ' hooked * but lost. "There are many aquatic insects double brooded, or under favorable circumstances, of a succession of broods. Imitations of such can be used throughout the summer months. There are many insects that do not breed in water, yet are successful baits. As a rule, insects that appear in large numbers, whether they belong to land or water, are the- proper ones for imitation. Solitary specimens, al though dear to the heart of an ento- J -9-\ ~0"'1f(^tni Public. CHICAGO: JMFORD PUBLISHER. IRON ORES Pyrites Limonite Pyrites I.imonite COMMON MINERALS AND VALUABLE ORES. THEO. F. BROOKINS. I. IRON MINERALS. PROBABLY many a bright youth, accustomed to wander through the fields in enjoyment of na ture, has been thrilled with pleasurable anticipations on finding, in some outcrop of crystalline rock, a mineral substance that glittered as gold. That his anticipations were pre mature should not deter the ambitious youth. Men far beyond him in expe rience have been deceived by that same "fool's gold." History records that shiploads of the valueless yellow iron pyrites were sent to England by ex plorers of America on the supposition that they were accumulating gold. Of the various compounds of iron occurring in nature, but four may be considered as relatively common — py- rite, magnetite, hematite, and limonite. Pyrite consists of iron and sulphur; magnetite, hematite, and limonite are oxides of iron. The first-named min eral differs largely from the others in external appearance as well as in com position. The others are, however, readily differentiated. We will dis cuss each of the four minerals in the order mentioned above. The sulphide of iron, pyrite, occurs in many crystalline rocks; but, owing to the difficulty of separating the iron and sulphur, is not used as an ore of iron. The mineral much resembles in external appearance a yellow ore of copper, called chalcopyrite, from which it may be distinguished in that it will strike fire with steel. A specimen of pyrites containing large crystals is an interesting subject of study. These crystals are cubical in shape, but gen erally massed together so that no sin gle crystal form may be observed as complete. Peculiar striations on the cube faces may often be noted. The striations of no two adjoining faces are continuous; but rather a striation of one face bears to that of another in direction the relation of the stem of a printed T to the top, or vice versa. Owing to the affinity of each compo nent element for oxygen, pyrite often changes to vitriol, or else forms the oxide of iron, limonite, described be low. The black oxide of iron, ma-gnetite, occurs widely distributed. As its name indicates, it sometimes displays the properties of a magnet. If a frag ment of unequal dimensions be sus pended freely by a string, the longer dimension will gradually swing into a north and south direction. The prop erty possessed by magnetite of attract ing other bits of iron appears to have been known to the ancients, and by them the name lodestone was applied to the mineral. Since the power to attract other particles of iron is not apparent in all specimens of magnetite we must consider other more distin guishing characteristics. The ore is very heavy; particles of it are attracted by an artificial magnet, in which re gard it differs from the other minerals we have mentioned; if a piece of the ore be scratched across the surface of a harder substance, e.g., smoky quartz, a black "streak" will be left. Pure magnetic iron ore is intensely black, with no coloring. In a series of ore beds formerly operated by a mining company of northern New York, four distinctions 191 of the crude ore were made, two varie ties of blue, one of black, and one of gray. The blue coloring is apparently due to the presence of impurities; the black ore is evidently magnetite; and the steel-gray mineral, failing in the characteristic properties of magnetite, finds its class place under hematite. Hematite differs .from magnetite in representing a higher degree of oxida tion. It is often found, as indicated above, in beds distributed in close conjunction with those of magnetite. This ore is a valuable source of iron. Hematite commonly occurs in earthy materials, as red ochre. Its streak is red. All rocks of a reddish or red color owe the color to this oxide of iron. When hematite rusts, the brownish- yellow or yellow iron oxide, limonite, results. The streak of limonite is yel low, thus distinguishing it from hema tite. Disseminated through beds of clay, limonite gives them the charac teristic yellow color. Such clays turn red when heated, since the water of the limonite is driven off, leaving hematite as a residue. This is the ex planation of the usual coloring of bricks. Yellow ochre is impure, or earthy, limonite. WHEN ANIMALS ARE SEASICK. PHEBE WESTCOTT HUMPHREYS. ANYONE who has traveled exten sively has had an opportunity in some of the ocean voyages to witness the seasickness of animals, and many queer stories are told from time to time of their actions at such times — how lions become un- kinglike, monkeys ape humanity, and dogs are especially woeful — and one realizes that human beings are not the only ones that suffer from seasickness, by any means. One hears a good deal about pangs that have filled the men and women with woe, but little is said of the men ageries brought to America every year, or carried hither and yon in wave- tossed boats. Lions and tigers may be majestic when they have unwavering earth or rock against their paws, but a seasick cat of these tribes is as forlorn as any man ever was, and doesn't look a bit more kingly than a wet rabbit. Even its roars and growls have a weeping sound in them, quite in keeping with the general appearance of the beast. A monkey is as pitiable an object when it is seasick as any other beast so stricken, and its forlorn facial expres sion is so humanlike and the way it clasps its paws across its stomach is so natural that the man who is not seasick necessarily sees something to laugh at in the misery of the creature. Not so with the seasick man.' If he sees a seasick monkey he is sure to get very angry, thinking the poor thing is mock ing him. It takes a dog to be woeful at sea. It has a way of doubling all up, with its tail between its legs and its head hanging down that shows a deep-seated pain. To free itself the dog goes through all sorts of contortions. It will stretch out on the deck, groan and whine, sometimes rising on its haunches and lifting its head and howling long and miserably, as some dogs do at the sound of music. Many other animals show signs of great distress when on the water in rough weather, and any animal that is thoroughly seasick will show almost human signs of distress and appeal for sympathy, yet one can scarcely help laughing at their actions, even in the face of their evident suffering. 192 THE TRAMPS OF BIRDLAND. ELANORA KINSLEY MARBLE. THE birds had met in council that morning, and from the great chattering and chirping I judged some very serious ques tion was up before the board. "Something must be done," Mr. Red- eyed Vireo was saying, as I sauntered down to the orchard and seated myself beneath an apple tree, "we have stood the imposition long enough. Every year we meet and draw up resolutions, with many 'whereases' and 'where fores,' and 'aforesaids' — resolutions with nothing resolute about them. To day, I say, something must be done." Mr. Wood-thrush, Mr. Towhee, Mr. Chipping Sparrow, Mr. Yellow-breasted Chat, Mr. Song Sparrow, and several Mr. Flycatchers, beside a number of other small birds, nodded their heads in une quivocal assent. "We have enemies enough," con tinued Mr. Vireo, "how many only Mother Nature knows. Even in the dark ness of night we are not safe from the owls, skunks, snakes, and other robbers, and in the day-time, besides our feath ered foes, we have the ruthless 'collec tor,' and the ever-present bad boy. Enemies without are bad enough, but to have in our very midst a — a — Mr. Vireo paused, presumably choking with indignation, but really because he had quite forgotten what he had prepared to say. "Hear, hear!" cried the assembled birds, making a great clamor and clat ter in order that the speaker might have a chance to slyly consult his notes. (>A tribe of social outcasts — tramps, in fact," continued Mr. Vireo, "whose females, disliking the cares of family life, build no homes of their own, but instead deposit their eggs in some other bird's nest that their young may „ be hatched and reared without any trouble to themselves. Our mates have enough to do to bring up their own families, so I say the tribe of cowbirds must be driven from this community, or else, like the rest of us, be forced to work." ."H'm! yes," sighed Mr. Towhee, 195 "that's what we 'say every year, and every year the conditions remain just the same. The cowbirds are tramps by nature, and you can't change their natures, you know." I judged, from the great chattering and chirping, that grave exceptions were taken to this remark, but quiet at length being restored, Mr. Towhee con tinued: "My mate says it depends upon our selves whether the whole tribe shall be exterminated. She, for one, does not intend to hatch out any more of Mrs. Cowbird's babies. This spring we found one of her speckled eggs in our nest, but it wasn't hatched out, I warrant you. We simply pierced the shell with our bills, picked it up by the opening, and carried it out of the nest." A round of applause greeted these remarks, much to Mr. Towhee's gratifi cation. "It strikes me,'J said Mr. Indigo Bunting, "that the whole fault lies with our mates. From the size and differ ent markings of Mrs. Cowbird's eggs they can always be distinguished from their own. No self-respecting bird should ever brood one; in that way we can exterminate the race." " 'Tis the mother-instinct, I presume," said Mr. Vireo, "or the kindly nature of some females, not to neglect a forlorn little egg abandoned by its parents at their very door. Ah," he broke off, pointing in a certain direction, "is not that a sad sight for an affectionate hus band to see?" On a fence near by stood two birds — a very small one, with a worried, har assed air, endeavoring upon tip-toe to drop into the mouth of the great fat baby towering above her a green cater pillar which she held in her bill. "That is Mrs.Vireo, my mate, and her foster child," continued the speaker. "The egg of the cowbird being larger than her own, received all the warmth of her breast, so that her own little ones perished in the shell. It takes all her time and strength to feed that great hulking baby, who will accept her nurs- ing long after he can take care of him self, then desert her to join his own tribe in the grain fields." "Last year my mate had no better sense than to brood one of Mrs. Cow- bird's eggs," said Mr. Chipping Spar row. "It emerged from the shell first, of course, and in attending to its ever lasting clamor for food she neglected her own birdlings so that all but one of them died. That one has always been a puny, weak little thing. We were greatly astonished, I assure you, at the size of our first offspring, neither of us being acquainted with the habits of Mrs. Cowbird, and disappointed that in neither feather nor feature it resembled her or me." "I got the best of the lazy tribe, this year," chuckled Mr. Yellow Warbler. "Our nest was just completed, and my mate had deposited one egg, when in our absence one day Mrs. Ccfwbird sneaked in, laid one of her own beside it and then stealthily crept away. My mate said nothing, and might have brooded it with her own, but the next day the same thing, in our absence, oc curred again; another female of the lazy tribe, I presume, finding our home •quite to her liking." "Two to one," said the Chat with a laugh, "that was not fair. Well, what •did you do then?" "Why we concluded to abandon the nest and build another, but on second thought gave up that plan. We simply built a floor over the lower portion of the nest, and on the upper floor, or second story, so to speak, my mate de posited four eggs, those, with the one shut in with the Cowbird's, making her full complement, you see." "It would have been far easier, it seems to me," said Mr. Towhee, "to have thrown Mrs. Cowbird's eggs out of the nest as we did. But then you and your mate must learn by ex perience and you will know better what to do the next time." "Doubtless," said Mr. Yellow-throat, a trifle stiffly, "but my mate is a very dainty bird and wouldn't for a moment think of using a cradle for her little ones that had been occupied, even for a short time, by two female tramps." "Hm!" replied Mr. Towhee, in his turn not altogether pleased, "that ac counts probably for the number of abandoned nests one meets with every year, containing a speckled egg of Mrs. Cowbird's. Too dainty, indeed!" "Did you ever happen to see one of the homeless creatures seeking some body's else nest in which to lay her egg?" interrupted Mr. Chipping Spar row, scenting a quarrel in the air. "I saw one in the woods once sneaking through the undergrowth, and when Mr. and Mrs. Red-eyed Vireo had flown away for a little time, out she crept, inspected their nest, and, finding it to her taste, entered and deposited her egg. She felt sure, you see, that Mrs. Vireo had a kind heart and would hatch out the foundling with her own." "And she did," sadly said Mr. Vireo, "she did." "The company the tribe keeps is no better than themselves," said Mr. Wood Thrush. "During the breeding- season you will see the grackles, and red-winged blackbirds, andthe cowbirds chattering and gossipping together, as they roost for the night. They are a lawless crew. No self-respecting bird will be found in such company." "I saw a number of the cowbird tribe perching on the backs of a bunch of cattle in the pasture-land to-day," said a very young Mr. Flycather. "What do you suppose they were doing?" "Searching for parasites," gruffly said an old bird; "that's the reason they are called cowbirds. They were once called 'buffalo birds' for the same rea son." No one spoke for the space of sev eral minutes. "If there are no further remarks, said Mr. Red-eyed Vireo, "the question will be put. All in favor — "What is the question, Mr. Chair man?" meekly asked a very young Mr. Flycatcher. "Is it or is it not our duty to destroy every egg of Mrs. Cowbird's we find in our nests, thus forcing the tribe to build homes of their own in which to bring up their familes? All in favor — "Ay," chirruped every bird at once. "Contrary minded?" There was no response, so the meet ing was declared adjourned. 196 THE NARCISSUS. WILLIAM KERR HIGLEY, Secretary of The Chicago Academy of Sciences. THE genus of plants called Nar cissus, many of the species of which are highly esteemed by the floriculturist and lover of cultivated plants, belongs to the Ama ryllis family (Amaryllidacea.) This family includes about seventy genera and over eight hundred species that are mostly native in tropical or semi-tropical countries, though a few are found in temperate climates. Many of the species are sought for ornamental purposes and, on account of their beauty and remarkable odor, they are more prized by many than are the species of the Lily family. In this group is classed the Ameri can Aloe (Agave americana] valued not only for cultivation, but also by the Mexicans on account of the sweet fluid which is yielded by its central bud. This liquid, after fermentation, forms an intoxicating liquor known as pulque. By distillation, this yields a liquid, very similar to rum, called by the Mexicans mescal. The leaves furnish a strong fiber, known as vegetable silk, from which, since remote times, paper has been manufactured. The popular opinion is that this plant flowers but once in a century; hence the name "Century Plant" is ofte'n applied to it, though under proper culture it will blossom more frequently. Other plants of equal economic and historic interest, but less known, belong to this family. It is said that one spe cies furnished the fluid used by the Hottentots for poisoning their arrows. The genus Narcissus derives its name from a Greek word meaning "stupor" because of the narcotic effect pro duced by the odor and by portions of the plants of some species. There are about twenty-five species, chiefly natives of southern Europe, but some of them, either natural or modi fied by the gardener's art, are world wide in cultivation. Blossoming early in the season they are frequently referred to as "harbin gers of spring." The flowers are hand some, large, varying in color from yel low to white and sometimes marked with crimson. They are usually borne on a nearly naked stem. Some of the species are very fragrant. The leaves are elongated, nearly sword-shaped and usually about a foot in length, rising from the bulbous underground stem. Among the forms that are familiar are the daffodils, the jonquils, and the poet's narcissus. An interesting feature in the struc ture of the flowers is the cup or crown, which is found at the base of the flower segments. The length and character of this is an important feature in the separation of the species. In Grecian mythology Narcissus was the son of the river god, Cephissus. He failed to return the love of the moun tain nymph, Echo, which so grieved her that she pined away till nothing re mained but her voice, which gave back: with absolute fidelity all sounds ut tered in the hills and dales. Narcissus was punished for this by- Aphrodite, who caused him to love his own image as it was reflected in the water of a neighboring fountain. "Con sumed with unrequited love, he too, wasted away and was changed into the flower which bears his name." 199 FASHION'S CLAMOR. E. K. M. JUDGING from late millinery cre ations, and the appearance of windows and showcases, women, in spite of the efforts of the Audubon societies, still elect to adorn themselves with the stuffed remains of rare or common birds. A live bird is a beautiful and grace ful object, but a dead duck, pigeon, or gull peering with glassy eyes over the brim of a woman's hat is, to the think ing mind, both unbecoming and repul sive. In deference to ." sentimental" bird lovers and at the same time the behest of Dame Fashion, wings and breasts are said to be manufactured out of bits of feathers and quills which have all the appearance of the original. Wings and breasts, yes, but never the entire creature, which the bird lover — in a millinery sense — chooses above all other adornments for her headgear. Apart from the humanitarian side of the subject, one cannot but marvel that such women cannot be brought to regard the matter from the esthetic point of view. " Esthetic," repeats my lady, glanc ing admiringly in the mirror at the death's head above her brow, "esthetic point of view, indeed ! Why, the point of view with most women is to wear whatever they consider becoming, striking, or outre. Now I flatter myself in selecting this large gull with spread ing wings for my hat, that I attained .all three of these effects, don't you?" " Especially the outre" muttered one of her listeners, at which my lady laughed, evidently well pleased. Five women out of every ten who walk the streets of Chicago and other Illinois cities, says a prominent journal, by wearing dead birds upon their hats proclaim themselves as lawbreakers. For the first time in the history of Illinois laws it has been made an offense punishable by fine and im prisonment, or both, to have in posses sion any dead, harmless bird except game birds, which may be " possessed in their proper season." The wearing of a tern, or a gull, a woodpecker, or a jay is an offense against the law's majesty, and any policeman with a mind rigidly bent upon enforcing the law could round up, without a written warrant, a wagon load of the offenders any hour in the day, and carry them off to the lockup. What moral suasion cannot do, a crusade of this sort un doubtedly would. Thanks to the personal influence of the Princess of Wales, the osprey plume, so long a feature of the uni forms of a number of the cavalry regiments of the British army, has been abolished. After Dec. 31, 1899, the osprey plume, by order of Field Marshal Lord Wolseley, is to be re placed by one of ostrich feathers. It was the wearing of these plumes by the officers of all the hussar and rifle regiments, as well as of the Royal Horse Artillery, which so sadly inter fered with the crusade inaugurated by the Princess against the use of osprey plumes. The fact that these plumes, to be of any marketable value, have to be torn from the living bird during the nesting season induced the Queen, the Princess of Wales, and other ladies of the royal family to set their faces against the use of .both the osprey plume and the aigrette as articles of fashionable wear. If this can be done in the interest of the white heron and osprey, on the other side of the water, why cannot the autocrats of style in this country pro nounce against the barbarous practice of bird adornrpent entirely, by stead fastly refusing to wear them them selves? The tireless energy of all so cieties for the protection of birds will not begin to do the cause among the masses so much good as would the total abandonment of them for milli nery purposes by what is termed so ciety's 400. 200 1Z 13 0 11 FROM KCEHLER'S MEDICINAL-PFLANZEN. 290 CVEA. CHICAGO: rtUMFORD PUBLISHES COCA.* {Erythroxylon Coca Lam.} DR. ALBERT SCHNEIDER, Northwestern University School of Pharmacy. It is an aromatic tonic and cerebral stimulant, developing- a remarkable power of en during hunger and fatigue.— Gould: Dictionary of Medicine. AT THE very outset I wish to state that coca is in no wise re lated to cocoa, a mistake which is very often made. The term coca, or cuca, as it is sometimes spelled, applies usually to the leaves of Ery throxylon coca, which are used as a stim ulant by the natives of South America and which yield cocaine, a very impor tant local anaesthetic. Cocoa or cacao re fers to the seeds of Theobroma cacao, fromwhichcocoaand chocalade are pre pared, so highly prized in all civilized countries. With these preliminary statements I shall begin the description of coca, hoping at some future time to describe the even more interesting and important cocoa-yielding plant. Coca and cuca are South American words of Spanish origin and apply to the plant itself as well as to the leaves. The plant is a native of Brazil, Peru, and Bolivia. It is a shrub varying in height from three to ten feet. The leaves resemble the leaves of tea in general outline. The margin, however, is smooth and entire, the leaf-stock (petiole) short; upper and lower sur faces smooth; they are rather thin, leathery, and somewhat bluish-green in color. The characteristic feature of the leaf is two lines or ridges which extend from the base of the blade, curving out on either side of the mid rib and again uniting at the apex of the leaf. The flowers are short pedi- cled, small, perfect, white or greenish- yellow, and occur singly or in clusters in the axil of the leaves or bracts. The shrub is rather straggling and not at all showy. Coca has been under cultivation in South America for many centuries. According to A. de Caudolle the plant was very extensively cultivated under the rule of the Incas. In fact it is generally believed that the original wild stock no longer exists; such emi nent authorities as D'Orbigny and Poeppig maintaining that the wild growing specimens now found in South America are plants which have escaped from cultivation. Coca is now exten sively cultivated in Peru, Bolivia, Bra zil, and other South American coun tries, particularly in the Andes region. It is also extensively cultivated in British India and in Java. Attempts have been made to introduce it into Southern Europe but without success. The plants are grown from seeds sown in pots or boxes in which they are kept until they are from eight to ten inches high, after which they are transplanted during the rainy season. Coca thrives best in a warm, well- drained soil, with considerable atmos pheric moisture. In the Andes region an elevation of 2,000 feet to 5,000 feet is most suitable. The young growing plants must be protected against the heat of the sun. The maximum growth is attained in about five years. The leaves are the only parts used although the active principle, cocaine, is present in small quantities in all parts of the plant. As soon as the shrubs are several years old the leaves are picked, usually several times each year. This work is done principally by women and children who pick the leaves by hand and place them in aprons. They are then spread upon large mats, awn ings, or cemented floors, and exposed to the sun for from five or six hours to two or three days. During very warm, bright weather drying may be com pleted in one day. If the process of drying is slow or if it rains upon the leaves they assume a dark color and are of less value. On the first indica tions of rain the leaves are placed in sheds specially made for that purpose. Coca leaves have been used for many centuries by the natives of South Amer ica who employed them principally as a stimulant, rarely medicinally. The leaves were at one time highly prized. 203 Acosta states that during the reign of the Incas the common people were not permitted to use the leaves without permission from the governor. After the passing of the Incas and after coca was more extensively cultivated all classes chewed the leaves. Children were, however, not allowed tou.se them. According to Mariani, the young In dian on arriving at the proper age was sent to an old woman whose duty it was to instruct him and to invest him with authority to chew coca leaves. The native carries the leaves in a little pouch (huallqui or chuspa] suspended from the belt. This pouch also con tains a small bottle-gourd or calabash (ishcupura} in which is carried the ash of some plant (species of Chenopo- dium), known as Llipta. A few leaves are placed in the mouth and rolled into a ball; a stick moistened with saliva is now dipped into the ash and wiped upon the leaves. The ash is supposed to develop the flavor and to cause a flow of saliva which is either entirely swallowed or partially expectorated. It is said that the use of the leaves en abled the Indians to undergb extreme hardships. A French missionary states that the leaves were absolutely neces sary to the slaves employed in the quicksilver mines of Peru. They were also used in dressing wounds, ulcers, and taken internally for the cure of in testinal troubles, jaundice, and various spasmodic troubles. Historians seem to agree that the constant chewing of the leaves by the Indians did not pro duce any very marked deleterious ef fects. Mariani, upon the authority of several authors, states that it even seems to be conducive to longevity. The dead of the South American In dians were always supplied with a lib eral quantity of coca to enable them to make the long and fatiguing journey to the promised land. Chewing coca leaves is a habit which may be compared to the habit of chew ing tobacco with the difference that the former is by far less injurious though there are good reasons to be lieve that it is far from harmless. Dr. Wedell says an habitual cocacheweris kno\vn as coquero and is recognized by his haggard look, gloomy and solitary habit, listless inability, and disinclina tion for any active employment. The same authority states further that the habitual use of coca acts more preju dicially upon Europeans than upon the Indians accustomed to it from their early years. Occasionally it causes a peculiar aberration of intellect, charac terized by hallucinations. Chewing coca leaves has never be come common among civilized nations. Large quantities of leaves are, however, imported for the purposes of extract ing the active principle cocaine, whose effects are very marked. Cocaine causes a feeling of depression, and a marked reduction in the activity of the senses preceded by stimulation. Co caine solutions are very extensively employed to produce local anaesthesia in minor surgical operations. Dentists employ it very extensively. Its use has several serious drawbacks. Occa sionally it produces no effects what ever and again an ordinary medicinal dose has caused fatal poisoning. For these reasons dentists, physicians, and surgeons often hesitate in using it. According to some authorities the poi sonous effects are due to a second alka loid which occurs in the leaves of some varieties of coca. If that is the case, then poisoning may be prevented by excluding these varieties from the market, which is not an easy matter considering that the leaves are col- ^ lected, dried, and shipped by ignorant natives. It is also known that the ac tive principle is rapidly destroyed, hence the necessity of using fresh leaves. In the course of one year most of the cocaine has undergone a chem ical change and the leaves are abso lutely worthless. Careless drying also destroys much or all of the cocaine. Description of Plate. — A, flowering branch; I, bracts, enlarged; 2, flower ing bud; 3, flower; 4 and 5, petal with ligula; 6, pistil with stamens; 7, stamen; 8, pistil; 9, ovary, transverse section; 10 and n, corolla; 12 and 13, fruit. *Cvea on plate, typographical error; Coca correct.— ED. 204 OUR NATIVE WOODS. REST H. METCALF. HOW many different varieties of wood are there in your own town? If you never have con sidered this question you will be surprised at the variety, and, I am sure, will enjoy making a collection for yourself. A pretty cabinet size is two inches in length and the same in diameter. This size is very convenient, unless you have an abundance of room, and will show fibre, grain, and color quite distinctly. If you will plane off two sides of the block you will see the grain plainly, and, if possible to polish one side, you will see what a beautiful finish some of our own woods will take. All that is necessary in obtaining your collection is a small saw, but a congenial companion will greatly add to your pleasure. Saw your specimen considerably longer than you call for after it is prepared, for most of the varieties will check in drying; then let it thoroughly dry before preparing for your collection. The fruit trees around your home may first take your atten tion. You will be interested in noting the differences in the grain of the ap ple, apricot, barberry, cherry, pear, peach, plum, and quince; and while you are becoming interested in the fruit trees, notice the variety of birds that visit the different trees, for you will find each bird has its favorite fruit and favorite nesting-place. The mountain ash will perhaps feed as many birds in the fall and winter as any tree, and is a pretty tree for the lawn, holding its place with the maples, the ever graceful elm, admired by all, except the man who is trying to split it into fire wood, and a favorite with the Balti more oriole. If you wonder why the horse chestnut was so named, just examine the scars after the leaves fall and you will think it rightly named. Who has not tried carrying a horse chestnut in his pocket to prevent rheu matism? The weeping birch, as well as the weeping maple, are much ad mired for shade and ornamentation, but are not very common. We were told recently that the Lombardy pop lar was coming back as a tree for our lawns, but many prefer the balm-of- gilead, so popular for its medicinal qualities. In the United States there are thirty-six varieties of the oak; you will find several in your own town and I trust will add a collection of acorns to your cabinet, and friends from the South and West will help make your collection a complete one. Then you will become interested in the cone-bearing trees and a variety of cones will also be added to your evergrbwing collection, you will enjoy gathering some green cones and listen ing to the report as the seed chambers open, and if you gather a small vial of the common pine and hemlock seeds you will puzzle many a friend. One person remarked, when shown a vial of hemlock seed, "O yes, I have seen something like that, that came from Palestine, but I have forgotten the name." Some of the fir trees are pitted with holes where the woodpeckers in sert grub-bearing acorns, leaving the grub to fatten, and in the fullness of time devouring it. Then the trees bearing edible nuts will call for their share of attention. The chestnut is familiar to all, as well as the butternut and hazelnut, but I knew one collector who called an ash tree butternut. There are twelve varieties of ash in our country, a wood that is coming more and more into prominence, and deservedly so; its toughness is pro verbial, and it has long been utilized by carriage-makers for certain parts of wheels. A fine, handsome wood, com bining in itself the qualities of oak and pine. There are eighteen varieties of wil low, several of the alder, but through out the United States there is only one kind of beech. The ironwood is often wrongly called the beech. Thehard and soft pine are interesting trees. The soft especially is a favorite for the sawyer, a beetle with long horns, who cuts large 20; holes through the wood. When ob taining your specimen from the thorn tree you may be fortunate enough to see the shrike getting his breakfast from the thorns where he had placed it some time before. The locust with its fragrant racemes of white blos soms in the spring and long seed pods in the fall will call for attention, and you may perhaps receive, as I did, a locust seed from the tree planted by George Washington at his Mount Vernon home many years ago. The shumachs and white birches are very artistic and sought out by all artists, for who does not want to put a white birch into a landscape! Every one knows the black birch by its taste. The laurel has a pretty, fine grain. The witch hazel is another favorite for its medicinal qualities as well as its popu larity for being the last blossom of the autumn. And many others will be added from the shrubs and vines until your collection, just from your own town, will number nearly, if not quite, one hundred. You will thus, too, have become interested in all nature and will be able more fully to appreciate all the beautiful things God has given us to use and enjoy. BIRD WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN GOLD. T^OSSIBLY the rarest of all feath ered creatures is the "takahe" bird of New Zealand. Science names it Notornis Mantelli. The first one ever seen by white men was caught in 1849. A second came to white hands in 1851. Like the first it was tracked over snow, and caught with dogs, fighting stoutly, and utter ing piercing screams of rage until over mastered. Both became the property of the British museum. After that it was not seen again until 1879. That year's specimen went to the Dresden museum at the cost of $500. The fourth, which was captured last fall in the fiords of Lake Te Anau, in New Zealand, has been offered to the gov ernment there for the tidy sum of $1.250. Thus it appears that the bird is pre cious; worth very much more than its weight in gold. The value, of course, comes of rarity. The wise men were beginning to set it down as extinct. Scarcity aside, it must be worth look ing at — a gorgeous creature about the size of a big goose, with breast, head, and neck of the richest dark-blue, growing dullish as it reaches the under parts. Back, wings, and tail-feathers are olive-green, and the plumage throughout has a metallic lustre. The tail is very short, and has underneath it a thick patch of soft, pure white feathers. Having wings, the takahe flies not. The wings are not rudimentary, but the bird makes no attempt to use them. The legs are longish and very stout,, the feet not webbed, and furnished with sharp, powerful claws. The odd est feature of all is the bill, an equi lateral triangle of hard pink horn.. Along the edge, where it joins the head, there is a strip of soft tissue much like the rudimentary comb of a barn yard fowl. "Around the glistening wonder bent The blue wall of the firmament; No clouds above, no earth below, A universe of sky and snow." — Whittier. FROM COL F. NUSSBAUMER <£ SON. ,. W. MUMFORO, PUBLISHER, CHICAGO. 291 RED-TAILED HAWK. Ji Life-size. COPYRIGHT 1899, BV E STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO THE RED-TAILED HAWK. (Buteo borealis.} C. C. M. UNTIL recently the red-tailed hawk was classified with the obnoxious hawks which prey upon birds and poultry, but the Department of Agriculture instituted an investigation of this species and concluded that it has a far worse rep utation with the average farmer than it deserves. The late Major Ben- dire asserts that, While it does capture a chicken or one of the smaller game birds now and then, it can readily be proved that it is far more beneficial than otherwise and really deserves protection instead of having a bounty placed on its head, as has been the case in several states. The red-tailed buz zard, as it is sometimes called, in its light and dark geographical races, is distributed throughout the whole of North America. Its food is chiefly small quadrupeds, red squirrels, go phers, and moles, and the remains of these rodents may be found in this bird's nest containing young. Where this hawk is found these small animals are most abundant. Longfellow in the "Birds of Killingworth," among the "Tales of a Wayside Inn," has written a defense of the hawks that the Audu- bon societies might well use as a tract. The nest of the red-tail is placed in high trees in deep woods; it is large and bulky, though comparatively shallow, and is made of sticks and twigs mixed together with corn husks, grass, moss, and on the inside may be found a few feathers. It is said that sometimes the deserted nest of a crow or that of another hawk is fitted up and used. Mr. J. Parker Morris records a nest oc cupied first by the great horned owl and afterwards by the red-tailed hawk each year. The young owls leave the nest before the hawk is ready to oc cupy it. Two or three, rarely four, eggs are laid. Eggs are found as late as the middle or latter part of May. They present many differences in size and markings; their ground color is white or bluish white, some are entirely unmarked, while others are very heav ily blotched and splashed with many shadesof red andbrown;andDaviesays some are faintly marked here and there with a light purplish tint, and again trie colorings may form an almost con fluent wreath at either end. The aver age size is 2.36 by 1.80. In old paintings the hawk is repre sented as the criterion of nobility; no person of rank stirred without his hawk in his hand. Harold, afterwards king of England, going on an important embassy into Normandy, is drawn in an old bas-relief, embarking with a hawk on his fist. In those days it was sufficient for noblemen's sons to wind the horn and carry the hawk. According to Mr. Horace A. King this is one of the commonest birds of prey to be found in northern Illinois. They may be met with in all sorts of places, but are most common in the vicinity of heavy timber. In driving through the country one will see them perched upon rail fences, trees by the wayside, sitting on the ground in stub ble or pasture fields, or soaring over fields in search of their prey. When on one of his foraging expeditions, the red tail, on sighting his quarry, will remain at the same place in the air by a continual flapping of the wings, when at the proper time he will dart swiftly and silently upon it. Mr. Claude Barton, while rowing up Flat river recently, came upon six mal lards. At sight of him the birds took flight, following the river. About two miles further up the stream he again came upon the same flock. There were four ducks and two fine drakes. He hid his boat in the rice and watched them. All at once a large red-tailed hawk dashed into the flock. The ducks, with the exception of one, dove, and this one took wing, a swift pur suer following. The hawk did not seem to gain on his prize, and the poor duck was screaming with terror. Had the duck sought safety in the water it would probably have escaped, but it was too frightened apparently to think of it. 209 A TRANSPLANTING. ALICE WINSTON. IT WAS the kitten who did it, though no one knew but Martha. Aunt Jenny thought it was the work of Providence and Aunt Amy thought it was the result of her own smiles and caresses. Aunt Mary never thought about it at all, of course. But really it was the kitten. And what was this thing that the kitten accomplished? The taming of Martha. And why did Martha need taming? Because she came at twelve, a very barbarian, with freckles and unmanageable hair, under the dominion of three smooth-locked ladies, who never had a freckle and. whose hair had always been smooth. Perhaps it would be better to begin at the beginning which was twenty years before there was any kitten. Most serene and happy wouldhavebeen the lives of the three Miss Clarkes, if it had not been for Arthur. Arthur was their brother, and the combination of prim, blonde girls and harum-scarum black-eyed boy, made a most surprising family. The son and heir was not looked on as a success by his sisters and the other staid and respectable cit izens of Summerfield. He did not join the church and he did not go to college, he wedded no one of the many eligible town's daughters, and, lastly, on his father's death he did not settle down at home, to take care of his property and his sisters. This last of his misdeeds had made a breach between himself and his sisters. The more serious, because of the very deep affection which lay at the bottom of their half apologetic demeanor toward their brother. The difference between them was augmented by his re moval to a far western town and his marriage with one of the natives. For the next twelve or thirteen years they never saw him and heard of him but seldom. Then he died suddenly, after accomplishing his task of wasting all his money. So it happened that Martha saw her aunts for the first time on the day of her father's funeral, and her dim recollec tion was of cold faces and mannerisms which worried her mother. Martha was the eldest of four and her mother was one of the ornamental of earth, andher father oneof the restless. So the first eleven years of her existence was wandering up and down through many cities, attended with much care for her slender shoulders, and an amount of worldly experience such as forty years of life had not given to the elder gen eration. Then her father died and they all went to share the spendthrift pov erty of the home, whence her mother drew her ideas of domestic economy. Through wifehood and widowhood, to her deathbed, Mrs. Clarke clung to an unreasoning hate of her sisters-in- law, and a dread of the time when her children must come into their hands kept her struggling against death for months. But just one month after her pitiful fight was over, Martha started for Sum merfield. Poor Martha! Never captive carried to slavery felt such dread as did she on her eastward journey. When the friend who had borne her company left her at a station near Summerfield, even the stoicism of Martha gave way before the horror of the unknown and she clung to the last landmark of her old life, with a sobbing eagerness, which even a carefully nurtured child might know. But there was no trace of frail, hu man grief in the little maiden who lifted the sullen blackness of her big eyes to Aunt Jenny's face that evening, who received Aunt Mary's greeting with a self-possessed composure alarm ing to that shy and gentle lady, and who gave the same degree of cold at tention to Aunt Amy's sweet speeches. They had looked forward to the com ing of Arthur's daughter with a strange mixture of excitement, pleasure, and dread. The dread was predominant now. For this stern little woman was not their flesh and blood, not the child 210 of their brother, but of the woman who had kept them apart from their brother in his trouble and sickness and death. Mariha was quiet and docile enough. In fact she did what she was told with a resignation most depressing. Aunt Jenny took her to church and the sight of her critical dark eyes roving over minister and congregation spoiled the sermon for Aunt Jenny. Aunt Mary told her stories of her father intended to be gently humorous. In the midst of them Martha jumped up and ran off into the garden. She cried there for half an hour, but nobody ever knew, and this business lost her the little hold shehadhad on Aunt Mary'sheart. Aunt Amy tried to amuse her and took her to Sunday-school, and to the Band of Hope. She gave her a doll and invited the neighbor's children to come and take tea. The doll was a source of se cret amusement to Martha, but the vis its of these pretty and proper children were trials which she could scarcely bear with patience. All the while, as the aunts half sus pected, she was criticising everything that came within the ken of her hungry eyes. She found Aunt Jenny imper ious, Aunt Mary dull, and knew that Aunt Amy was thinking of her sweet smile as she smiled. For Martha was outside of it all, a mere spectator of this life of peace and quiet and plenty, and she secretly hungered after some thing to care for — something to take the place of the little brothers and sis ters who had always run to her to have their faces washed and their aprons buttoned. They expected her to play 'with dolls, she, Martha Clarke, who had had real work to do and had learned to push and crowd her own way. Months went by and the barrier was unbroken. One evening the tea bell rang again and again without bringing any Martha. The aunts were in con sternation. Had she run away or was it a case of kidnaping? After nearly an hour the suspense was ended by the arrival of Martha. But such a Martha! Her neat raiment was muddy and torn. Her hair was in shocking disorder, Her right hand, tied up in a handker chief, was emphatically bloody, but in spite of this, it was used to steady her bonnet, which she carried by the string, basket-wise, in her left hand. Exclamations of horror and surprise burst from the astonished women. "Martha, where have you been? What have you been doing? What is the matter with your dress? Have you hurt your hand? Why, it's bloody! Has the child been righting? Martha, are you going to answer?" Martha was actually embarrassed. As she advanced into the lamplight they saw that her cheeks were crimson and her eyes sparkling, also that the contents of her bonnet was a dilapi dated kitten. When she did speak, her voice was shriller than usual. "I fell down in the mud and my hand is hurt," was her meager and hes itating answer. "Where did the cat come from?" "It isn't a cat, it's a kitten, and it was out in the yard, and I tried to catch it and it ran away and a dog chased it. When I came up, the dog was eating the kitten, and I hit him and then he bit me and pushed me down in the mud. But I'm going to keep the kitten." The last defiantly, then on second thought, she added: "If you please. It's awfully hurt, that kitten." In the silence that followed the shrill child-voice the aunts looked at each other and one thought was in the mind of each. "She looks like Arthur." When Martha went to bed that night the kitten, with its wounds all dressed, was slumbering peacefully before the kitchen fire. Time passed on happily for the kit ten, which was not very much injured after all, and full of new interest for Martha, who plunged head and soul into the education of the kitten. Toward her aunts her feeling was un changed. She drew a line between them and the kitten. One evening Aunt Jenny and Aunt Amy had gone to prayer-meeting. Aunt Mary was not well and she sat bolstered up in a rocking-chair, knit ting, before the bright fire in the sitting- room grate. Martha sat beside her, also knitting, in theory, but in practice carrying on a flirtation with the kitten, which was now a very gay kitten, in- 211 deed. An empty rocking-chair stood very near the fire and the kitten was leaping back and forth between its chair and Martha's, making its attacks with much caution and its retreats with much speed. Aunt Mary was sleepily watching the fun. Suddenly there was a loud crash. The kitten had fallen into the fire in such a fashion as to knock over the rocking chair in front of the grate. It was a prisoner in the fiery furnace. Many years had passed since Aunt Mary had moved so quickly. She threw herself at the rocking-chair and flung it to one side. She snatched up the unfortunate kitten and made one rush to the kitchen and the kerosene can, and by the time Martha overtook her, was soaking the poor little burned paws. Half an hour later when Aunts Jenny and Amy opened the sitting-room door, an astonishing sight met their eyes. The firelight redness flickered over the excited faces of Martha and Aunt Mary laughing and talkingeagerly together, Martha no longer dignified and Aunt Mary no longer shy. That was the beginning of the end, but Aunt Mary was always Martha's favorite. And it was the little kitten who did it. TWO BIRD LOVERS. SUNDAY afternoon the birds were sweetly mad, and the lovely rage of song drove them hither and thither, and swelled their breasts amain. It was nothing less than a tor nado of fine music. I kept saying, "Yes, yes, yes, I know, dear little mani acs! I know there never was such an air, such a day, such a sky, such a God! I know it! I know it!" But they would not be pacified. Their throats must have been made of fine gold, or they would have been rent by such rap ture - quakes. — Mrs. Nathaniel Haw thorne, in a letter to her mother. Lovely flocks of rose-breasted gros beaks were here yesterday in the high elms above the springhouse How very elegant they are! I heard a lark, too, in the meadows near the lake, the note more minor than ever in October air. And oh, such white crowns and white throats! A jeweled crown is not to be mentioned beside theirs — such marvel ous contrasts of velvets, black, and white! Swamp sparrows, too, and fox sparrows — I saw both during my last drive. — From letter to Ed., from Nelly Hart Woodworth, Vermont, Oct. 20, 1899. WINTER TIME. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. Late lies the wintry sun a-bed, A frosty, fiery, sleepy-head; Blinks but an hour or two; and then, A blood-red orange sets again. Before the stars have left the skies, At morning in the dark I rise; And shivering in my nakedness, By the cold candle, bathe and dress. Close by the jolly fire I sit To warm my frozen bones a bit; Or, with a reindeer-sled, explore The colder countries round the door. When to go out, my nurse doth wrap Me in my comforter and cap, The cold wind burns my face, and blows Its frosty pepper up my nose. Black are my steps on silver sod; Thick blows my frosty breath abroad; And tree and house, and hill and lake, Are frosted like a wedding-cake. 212 THE MARYLAND YELLOW-THROAT. (Geothlypis trichas.} C. C. M. ONE of the first birds with which we became acquainted was the Maryland Yellow-thoat, not es pecially because of its beauty but on account of its song, which at once arrests attention. Wichity,wichity> wichity, wichity, it announces from some thicket or bush where it makes its home. It is one of the most active of the warblers and is found throughout the United States, Canada, and Nova Scotia; in winter it migrates to the South Atlantic and Gulf States and the West Indies. The nest is not an easy one to find, being built on the ground, under the fooi of a bush or tussock of rank grass, sometimes partly roofed over like the oven bird's. The eggs are four or five, rarely six in number, creamy-white, speckled, chiefly at the larger end, with reddish-brown, dark umber, and black; in some, occasional lines or scrawls ap pear. The average size is .69 x .52 inches. Oliver Davie says that the best description of this bird's song was given by Mr. Thomas M. Earl. One evening in May, 1884, he was returning from a day's hunt, and, after a rest on an old log, he was about to start on his jour ney homeward. At this instant a little yellow-throat mounted a small bush and, in quick succession, said: Tackle me! tackle me! tackle me! The fact is, the yellow-throat has several notes and is rather noisy for so small a bird. It is known by other names, as black- masked ground warbler, black-spec tacled warbler, brier wren, and yellow brier wren. The female is much duller in .color than the male, without black, gray, or white on head. The young are some what like the adult female. BOB-O-LINK. GRANVILLE OSBORNE. Soaring high up in the bright blue sky, Can't keep track of him if you try; Flitting around in the pasture lot, Likes to be friendly, rather than not; Dancing along on the old rail fence, Sunshine and flowers where the woods commence; Got so he almost talks to me; Head a-nodding, he says, says he — "Bob-o-link, o-link, o-link." Clever and buttercups just seem to try Coaxing him up in the meadow to fly; Pees hunting honey keep buzzing around, Seem to know best where the sweetest is found, Almost forget when a-hearing him sing What kind of honey they all came to bring; Pert and saucy as he can be, Tail a-flitting, he says, says he— "Bob-o-link, o-link, o-link." Wings jet black and glossy as silk, Waistcoat a-gleaming as white as ,milk; Dainty and slender, quicker than light, First in the morning, last one at night, Perched on the post of the barnyard gate, Singing his sweetest to waken his mate; Dressing his feathers and winking at me, Mincing around, he says, says he— "Bob-o-link, o-link, o-link." 215 A STUDY OF THE COLOR PHOTOGRAPH. THE color photograph is found to be most useful in developing the color sense in children. The act of recognizing vari ous colors and shades is educative. When we consider that all the effects of the color photograph are produced by combinations of the three primary colors we at once step into a realm of thought and observation that is bound less. The danger is that we may at tempt too much with the abundance of material at hand and, by forgetting the limitations of the unformed mind, confuse instead of enlighten. It is well for the teacher to know the process by which the color photograph is produced, but young children who know little of the laws of light are not expected to understand it fully. In advanced classes the following will be found beneficial: A natural object is placed before a camera and a water screen is adjusted so no rays but the yellow may reach the photographic plate. A negative is thus obtained recording all the yellow that appears upon the surface of the object, whether it shows as pure yellow or in combination with other colors. With the camera and object in exactly the same position and another screen which absorbs all the rays but the red ones coming from- the object, a nega tive of the red is obtained. A third negative of the blue in the object is similarly got, and we have an accurate representation of the form and all the colors of the object separated into red, yellow, and blue. From these negatives three half-tone plates are made upon copper. A half tone plate is an acid etching produced by photographic process with fine lines crossing each at right angles so that the picture appears as a series of microscopic square points which de crease in size in the lighter portions of the plate. Red, yellow, and blue inks of the rarest quality are used in printing from these plates, with great care exercised as to getting the exact depth of color required for each. By placing a sheet of fine tissue paper beneath a plate printing red, the red is deepened, an other sheet makes it more intense, and others are placed under the plate, if necessary, to get the rich red required to blend with the yellow and blue to make the exact reproductions of na ture's colors which appear in the color photograph. The order of the printing is yellow first, and when this is thoroughly dry the red is laid on, and the blue a day later. As the color is nowhere a solid mass, but a series of points, one color does not hide another, but the three colors shine through and make the blendings which appear in the beauti ful and delicate shades and tints of the color photographs. Do not manifest surprise when you find pupils wholly or partly color blind. The boy who cannot find a red marble in the grass will show by his conversa tion that red and green are the same to him. His is an extreme case, but there are many who are slow to name the primary colors and totally fail to recognize differences in tints. For ordinary purposes there should be little effort given to the namirNg of the shades. If the colors are talked about by name, enough is done in the line of language. But classes become readily interested in comparing reds, and blues, or greens to say which is the deeper or the purer. The location of a patch of color often changes its apparent intensity. Contrast with sur- 216 roundings may deceive the eye. Whis tler has used Naples yellow so the ob server declares it pure white. A good exercise in color recognition is given in choosing masses of color on the picture and telling what primary colors are in them; also in compar ing two masses and saying which ap pears to have the more red or yellow in it. Where the class have water colors excellent practice may be had in select ing and mixing colors to correspond with a given one. The mixing should be first tried without placing the mixed mass beside the copy. Very young children often make surprisingly ac curate judgments of color, and no game pleases them more than a mix ing contest, having the game decided in each instance by placing the best work beside the original. No pictures have inspired so many young people with a desire to copy as have the color photographs. Their perfection of detail has not discour aged such attempts. The more easily copied lithograph has no such fascina tion. This shows that the nearer we approach nature in any presentation the more strongly we appeal to human nature and draw out its latent powers. THE PILEATED WOODPECKER. BELLE P. DRURY. THIS noble bird may be found in wooded districts of Illinois, but I made its acquaintance in the Indian Territory, where it is quite common. In size and beauty of color it is, second only to the ivory-billed. The Choctaw Indians told me it was the "Good God" bird. I asked what they meant by that designation. The reply was " Only listen and you will know." For days I spent much time watch- ;ng several pairs as they flew about among the trees on the Shawnee Hills, but the only sound I heard was the hammering of their strong stone- colored bills on the sides of the trees, a noise that might easily be heard a quarter of a mile away. They did not descend to fallen logs for their prey but made the chips and bark fly from the upright trees. Naturalists say the pileated will oc casionally leave the insect-laden trees in search of fruit and grain, a thing the ivory-billed never does. My beautiful, noisy companions eyed me and my opera glass suspiciously, trying always to keep on the other side of the tree from me, and, for a time, gave me no hint of the reason for their Indian name. But at last a hunter appeared upon the scene when the frightened birds bounded away through the air utter ing a cry which did indeed resemble the words "Good God," spoken in gutteral tones. The marksman brought down a fine specimen, which he gave to me. With magnificent red top-knot and wide-spread wings it looks as if it might be longing to fly back to its home among the Shawnee Hills. 217 THE LYRE-BIRD. (Menura superba.) LYNDS JONES. IF AUSTRALIA were note'd for no other thing than the ancient and strange animal forms which are to be found nowhere else on the earth, it would still be a wonderful continent. Not the least remarkable of these forms is the lyre-bird, the subject of the present sketch. Since its discovery on January 24, 1798, by one Wilson, it has been handed about among the different orders of birds by different systemat- ists until its anatomy seemed to give it a more or less permanent place among the birds of passerine form, in spite of its fowl-like build and strong legs and large feet. The appearance of the bird, except the superb tail, is not remarkable; but paradoxical as it may be, the tail is the bird's crowning glory, at once giving it a name and fame. Like many other cumbersome things, the lyre-bird's tail is used for ornament during a part of the year only, being donned at the mating season and doffed at the close of the nesting period. It assumes the lyre-shape only when vol untarily spread, appearing simply as a long, greatly developed tail at other times. The bird throws up a mound of earth, dome-shaped, which serves as a raised platform or stage well suited to tail spreading and othercourtingantics. Strutting and wing-dragging are ac companiments of the tail spreading, and strongly suggest gallinaceous affin ities, especially since the bird is the size of the ordinary barn-yard fowl. In habits the lyre-bird is lowly, pre ferring the ground to bushes or trees, and running from danger rather than flying, the strong legs and feet permit ting a swift retreat. Rarely the bird may mount a tree, ascending branch by branch instead of flying up at once. They are said to use the wings to aid them in running, and in hopping up ward in the trees. They are so wary and timid that it is difficult to secure specimens except by resorting to de ception or the use of dogs. The bark ing of the dogs drives them into the trees, allowing the hunter a fair mark. They are inhabitants of the dense brush from which it is next to impossible to dislodge them. Authorities agree that the lyre-bird's powers of song are remarkable. It seems to have the power of mocking almost every other bird, as well as the barking of the dingo, besides possess ing a sweet song of its own. One au thor states that for the first two hours of the morning it repeats over again its own song, then gradually changes it to imitate other birds, ending its four-hour song period with imitations of all the other birds within hearing, then re maining silent for the rest of the day, The nest is a dome-shaped affair with the opening in one side, made of "small sticks, interwoven with moss and fibers of roots." "The single egg laid is of a very dark color, appearing as if it had been blotched over with ink-." The young emerges from the egg a downy white ball, perfectly helpless, and re mains in the nest for several weeks. The food seems to consist of insects, myriapods, and snails, of which large quantities must be destroyed to satisfy a bird of this size. This is another of the world forms which are doomed to complete extinc tion. It is to be earnestly hoped that the time of its disappearance will await a more careful study of its habits than has been accomplished thus far. A study of these curious forms can hardly fail to throw much light upon the de velopment of the bird fauna of the world. 218 ROBERT AND PEEPSY— THE TWINS. NELLY HART WOODWORTH. IN THE latter part of May a pair of Baltimore orioles built a nest in my maples, from which, eventually, a brood of noisy fledglings were launched upon the world. A quantity of Hamburg embroidery was woven into the nest and festooned gracefully from the outside. This was obtained from my neigh bor's washing as it lay bleaching upon the grass, a task demanding more time and strength than seemed necessary for useless ornamentation. To all appearance the esthetic taste of the builders was more pronounced than was their family discipline. The children were a clamoring, rol licking group, pushing each other about and insisting, forcibly, upon a high point of view that constantly threat ened their frail lives. I was in constant fear lest they come tumbling down and it was not long before my worst fears were realized. They fell, with a shower, upon the morning of the 23rd of June, tumbling pell-mell into the strawberry bed, the biggest baby picking himself up in a hurry, and climbing upon one of the fence wires'. The other nestlings were marched off by the head of the family to other fields of observation, the first little bird hopping from the fence to a wild rose bush that grew beside the kitchen door. There he was fed by his father dur ing the day; as his mother did not ap pear I inferred that she had her hands full with the other children. Neither parent appearing the next morning, the first baby was put into a grape basket upon the window-sill. Before noon the old birds came; the wire netting was removed from the window, both parents coming at short intervals into the kitchen with food. To my surprise they did not return the following morning, when I fully in tended to speed the parting guest, though the little one was placed in a cage outside the door. The helpless infant was left in an orphaned condi tion to my care; he could not feed him self, nor did he understand, under my tutelage, how to open his beak when food was brought. It was necessary to pry it open, the lunches coming so often that nearly all my time was spent in attending to his meals. That very evening the chore-boy brought a lank, long-legged bobolink which was given into my keeping only because it was threatened with starvation. Like the oriole he was too young to feed himself and had been for twelve hours without food. A more uninviting specimen of baby hood could not be imagined, forlorn, ragged, with unfeathered spaces upon his homely little body; but, though he had none of the oriole's commanding beauty, he was sure to perish unless regularly adopted and his infant wants supplied. He was placed in the cage while the oriole was taking a nap, the introduc tion prefaced by being stuffed till his bare little crop was as round and full as an egg. Mrs. Olive Thome Miller, who was with me at the time, assisted at the christening of the pair. As the oriole was always peeping we called him "Peepsy;" the bobolink was named "Robert" with due respect to the Robert o-Lincoln family. They were oftenest called "the twins," and troublesome twins they were, wak ing me at three o'clock each morning and crying loudly for their breakfast, which was prepared the previous even ing. Peepsy was first taken in my hand and given a few mouthfuls, then Rob ert's turn came, after which Peepsy was thoroughly fed and when Robert's demands were appeased, both birds were returned to the cage for another nap. After sleeping innocently for another hour they awoke, insisting with em phatic protest upon an immediate sup ply of rations. There were times when they jerked their heads from side to side and not 221 a morsel was safely lodged or appro priated, persisting in the clamor until, after patient effort, both little crea tures were satisfied at last. As may be surmised this was no en viable task, though the twins went promptly to bed at dusk leaving me free for the evening. Peepsy was far the brighter bird. He took the lead at first, helping him self to his meals at times, twinkling the soft brown wings at my approach with most flattering evidences of favor. Robert was a different bird; he scratched and bit, flopped about and hissed out his disapprobation. The last was not without compen sations. Wheneverhis beak was opened wide in disapproving hisses the oppor tunity was seized to fill it with food. Sometimes his tactics changed; he would throw back his head and refuse to swallow. In a short time he took on prettier ways, now and then coax ing a little while receiving his meals with dainty baby eagerness. From first to last their tastes di verged; Peepsy was high-born, Robert was of low degree. These low-born instincts preferring the cage floor he was given a sod to stand upon, the oriole's decided preference for higher stations culminating in the swing, his both by right of preference and forci ble possession. In ten days Peepsy began to believe himself a full-grown bird. Then began an investigation of the cage and its appointments, diving into every corner, thrusting himself into the drinking cup as far as its size would allow, playing with the food, and throwing the earthworms given him to the top of the cage before at tempting to swallow them. He would thrust his beak into Robert's feathers or catch hold of his legs, while the bob olink with ruffled plumage drew back with becoming indignation. He cer tainly was a homely baby which did not excuse the other twin for putting on airs, regarding him with lofty con descension, or stepping on his big, sprawling feet when they came too near. This unseemly behavior may have accounted for Robert's despon dent hours from which he emerged to sing low and tentatively with the tink ling music of falling raindrops. Then they tried to stand upon one foot, bal ancing with great difficulty meanwhile, crowding into the swing and tumbling out upon the floor together. In utter indifference to his own toilet Peepsy insisted upon preening Robert's plumage, calling his attention to the matter by vigorous pulls at his tail, or jerking some truant feather that beauty or tidiness required to be smoothed into place. This unappreciated service was re sented with many hisses, darting at the persecutor with wide-open beak and dire threatenings of vengeance, after which they cuddled up lovingly to gether for a nap. For several days this self imposed helpfulness was so officious that the twins were separated lest Robert's tem per, not over-good at the best, be per manently spoiled. On this account Peepsy had the lib erty of the house and went oftenest abroad. What with a better disposi tion and more enticing manners there was no resisting, whether it was coax ing to sit upon my finger or happy as bird could be when admired and ca ressed. He would fly to my shoulder, pull a stray lock of hair lying against my throat, dodge skillfully when the hand was raised in protest, only to reappear and bite my lips as they moved in cau tioning words. He followed me to my chamber morning by morning, hopping up the stairs one at a time till we reached the top, when he flew to my shoulder and entered the room master of ceremonies. As the clothes were replaced upon the bed he darted down upon sheets and blankets on purpose, seemingly, to be "shooed" away. Too much notice was spoiling the child, though his reign, poor baby, was short! He was quite independent as to feed ing himself when Robert first began to pick up cracker crumbs. What was stranger still, when the bobolink was well-versed in such matters, his mem ory was so unreliable that he forgot how to eat over night and had to be taught all over again for several morn ings, nor would he swallow till the egg or cracker was thrust clear down his throat. After the first month, in which the oriole took the lead, the order was re versed. Robert was first thereafter, coming to the front and taking entire charge of the establishment, chaperon, servant, adviser, nor was he above making sarcastic remarks at the ex pense of the faithful companion who followed closely at his heels. He pecked at the little blue kid shoes on the perch above, pulled the tiny toes, tweaked the feathers and tried to pull them out, and behaved generally, I regret to say, most impo litely. With this increased assurance there was a marked gain in song. He sang while we breakfasted or dined, the same ideally happy bobo link medley, a new discovery of the joy of living, lifting his voice in rainy days in rhythm with the shower, Peepsy joining with sundry encouraging notes t but no real song. After the first month both birds were ' fond of the bath; water in bowl, ) pitcher, or tumbler, was a challenge 1 seldom ignored. » Robert's short memory and inexpe rience were liable to mistake the dish of cracker and milk for a bath tub, crowding into and flirting the contents over chairs and floor. He was spe cially fond of my mother, planting his feet in her soft, wavy hair and jerking her locks in utter disregard of all threatening. The door to the next room, left ajar, was a ceaseless fascination. When the cage door was opened they started promptly, Robert leading, Peepsy fol lowing meekly, till they reached the crack in the door, stretching out their necks and peering with curious eyes into the room beyond; then, as if con fronted with some terrible ogre they turned quickly about and hopped back to the cage. The hidden possibilities were too great. In a moment back they came, repeating the search over and over, till the door was thrown openandthey were at liberty to explore the terrors and resources of the room beyond. After one of these excursions Peepsy was found fast asleep in the narrow space between the door and the wall! Both birds were very curious over the sweeping, Robert superintending, keeping just in front ot the broom, hopping straight into the dust-pan, bristling his feathers when reproved, or flying, in frigid terror, if pur sued. They helped also in preparing the meals, following from kitchen to pantry, from pantry to kitchen, till a too generous attendance was checked for the time by compulsory return to the cage. Ignorant of all fear they became my constant companions from room to room, from house to garden and orch ard, when wild birds looked down in wonder, coming from the higher branches to peer and question, Peepsy answering politely, fluttering the brown velvet wings in unavailing winningness, while Robert silently ignored their in quisitive ways. During the intense heat of midsummer I saw less of the twins than usual, the house being dark ened as much as possible to exclude the heat. Opening my door I heard the patter of little teet as they crossed the hall; Peepsy stood upon the thresh old and, with a welcoming chirp, flew towards me, coaxing and nestling against my cheek with many evidences of gladness. The heat of the day was waning; the sun had withdrawn from the valley; the heights were radiant still, the peaks of the mountain range dazzlingly lit with golden light. I carried the bird out-of-doors and across the way where children were playing, the tiny guest enjoying the call thoroughly, lunching upon raspberries, exploring the rooms, "trying on" each nook and corner, and regarding with astonished interest a huge feather duster that lay upon the carpet. Advancing and retreating before the huge monster, ruffling his feathers in rage, he hopped around it several times before his courage was equal to an attack. Then, with wide-spread wings he charged upon the savage ene my, striking it with his beak, tramp ling" upon and biting the feathers. When we returned Robert's indigna- 223 tion knew no bounds; he was furious. He might have been jealous that Peepsy went abroad while he stayed at home; anyway, he pounced upon his brother in angry passion, caught his foot and jerked him off the perch, pulled out his feathers ami tumbled him over upon the floor, when I inter fered promptly, As it was past thru bedtime 1 saw them salelv asleep, both little heads laid snugly against their wings, and thought by morning the ipiarrel would be loigotten When 1 saw them next pool I'ittle 1'eepsy lay dead upon the cage floor, I strongly suspect that Robert rose early to help him out of the world; at least there was no appear* anee of suieide! The remaining twin sang freely tor -i few hours; he had vanquished an im- agm.uyfoe and was singing the song ol him who ovoiromoth. A I tor that ho seemed preyed upon by lemtMse. nor was ho ever lumsell again, refusing food and pining away gradually through the few remaining weeks of his short life) when, in spite of all his faults, ho died, as the story- hooks say, mueli loved and lamented. THE COWBIRD. (Mohthnm a (<•>.) . C. M, UFFALp-BIRL)" was formerly one ot the names applied to this bird of strange habits, and Major Hcndiro, who was long an observer of all that took place on the plains, states that, one will rarely see a bunch of cattle without an at tending flock of cowbirds, who perch on their backs searching for parasites, or sit with "lazy ease, "their familiarity with the cattle suggesting their name of cowbird. They also follow the freshly plowed furrows and pick up worms and larva:. Mr. \\ M. Silloway, who has made a very extended and careful study of the cowbird, says that its strange behavior and stealthy move ments at certain seasons have- pre vented the acquisition of full data con cerning many features of its life, and a few unfounded speculations about its habits have become current. It oc cupies a parallel place with the Euro pean cuckoo. It never builds a nest, but deposits its eggs in the homes of other birds, usually those of the smaller species. It is, therefore, a homeless creature, and its young are all orphans or adopted children. "It is, indeed, a peculiar bird, having no attractiveness of color, no beauty of voieo, and no homo. No wonder that, when in the haunts of other species, it hides and skulks as it seeks a suitable and convenient habitation to house its unborn orphan." Major Heiuliie gives a list of ninety-one birds in whose nests she has been known to leave her eggs. This includes woodpeckers, llyeateheis, orioles, thrushes, spai rows, vireos, wrens, and warblers, but the most frequently imposed upon are so small that the cowbird 's big nest ling is almost certain to be the one to survive, the smaller birds beim; crowded out, and left to perish. It is said that as many as seven cowbird eggs have been found in a single nest, hut there is generally only one. It is believed that a brood oi inseetivorous and usetul birds is almost mvatiablv sacrificed for every cowbird raised. Mr. Ridgway, in his fasematmg- book on the birds of Illinois, gives the fol lowing vivid picture of the female searching for a nest in which to de posit her egg: "She hunts stealthily through the woods, usually among the FROM COL r. MUS88AUMER « SON. w . WUMFOPD, PUBLISHER, CHICAGO. NATURE STUDY PUB. CO.. CHICAGO. undergrowth, and when a nest is dis covered, patiently awaits from a con venient hiding-place the temporary absence of the parent, when the nest is stealthily and hastily inspected, and if found suitable, she takes possession and deposits her egg, when she de parts as quietly as she came." "In the village of Farmington, Conn.," says Florence A. Merriam, uwe once saw a song sparrow on a lawn feeding a cowbird bigger than she. When she handed it a worm, one of my field class exclaimed in astonishment, 'I thought the big bird was the mother!' ' Some of the foster parents abandon their nests, or build a second nest over the eggs, but usually the little bird works faithfully to bring up the found ling. Sometimes the egg is recognized by the mother and quickly thrown out. Frequently, also, the cowbird will eject one or more eggs of theownerto make room for her egg, or to deceive the owner and leave the same number of eggs as were in the nest before her visit. Sometimes an egg of the owner is found on the ground near a nest containing an egg of the cowbird, and it is no unusual occurrence to find an egg of the cowbird lying near a nest of a species regularly imposed upon by the parasite. Silloway says that the wood thrush, towhee, field and chip ping sparrows, yellow-breasted . chat, and the Maryland yellow-throat are oftenest selected to bear the burden of rearing the young of the cowbird. In their courtship the males are very gallant. They arrive from the south several days in advance of the females. At this season — about the middle of March — they generally associate in groups of six or eight, and the males are easily distinguished by the gloss of their black plumage in contrast to the dull brown of the female. They do not pair, the females meeting the advances of the malesindiscriminately. Dr. Gibbs, however, thinks that the birds may pair frequently for the sum mer, and suggests this as reasonable, referring to an incident coming under his notice when he saw a blue jay, on the point of despoiling the nest of a vireo, driven away by a pair of cow- birds in a most valiant manner. In go ing to the nest he found a large over grown cowbird occupying the largest share of the structure, "while a poor little red- eyed vireo occupied a small space at the bottom, and beneath his big foster brother." The eggs of the cowbird hatch in eleven or twelve days. They average .88 by .65 of an inch, the length vary ing from .95 to .67 of an inch, and the width varying from .72 to .58 of an inch. The ground is a dingy white or gray, and the markings vary through all the shades of brown, sometimes evenly distributed over the surface, and at other times predominating around the larger end. There is so much divers ity in the appearance of different speci mens, that frequently the investigator is puzzled in distinguishing the true eggs of the towhee, cardinal, and other species from those of the cowbird. In the breeding season the male grackles, red-winged blackbirds, and the cowbirds of both sexes, nightly congregate to roost together. Early after the breeding season they form into flocks of from fifty to sixty. The birds have then finished moulting, and the glossy black of the males has been changed into the duller colors of the females and the young. They assem ble with the blackbirds of various species where food is most abundant and easy to be procured. Late investigations of the food hab its of the cowbird indicate that the spe cies is largely beneficial. Prof. Beal showed the food of the cowbird to con sist of animal and vegetable matter in the proportion of about twenty-eight per cent, of the latter. Spiders and harmful insects compose almost exclu sively the animal food, while weed seeds, waste grain, and a few miscel laneous articles make up the vegetable food. Mr. Silloway thinks "it is not improbable that the so-called insectiv* orous birds displaced by the cowbird are thus kept in check by this natural agent, and their mission performed by the usurper in directions as helpful as the special functions of the sufferers. We may later come to understand that one cowbird is worth two bobolinks after all." 227 THE LEGEND OF SAINT SILVERUS. There runs an old, old legend, A tale of Christmas time, Low breathed round the fireside In distant Northern clime; It tells how once an angel Looked down in mercy sweet, And bade the people listen To hear the Master's feet: "Behold the Christ-child cometh ! The King of love is near! Oh! bring your gifts of Noel Unto the Lord most dear." With golden grain of plenty Fair shone each raptured home; The corn crown'd every dwelling Whereto the Christ should come And one, a blue-eyed stripling, In longing all unknown, With heart aflame had labored For gift that God might own: "Behold the Christ-child cometh!" Up rose the music blest, And Silverus stood waiting With sheaf the richest, blest. A tiny bird, nigh fainting, A little trembling thing, Through chilling airs of Christmas Drevv near on drooping wing; The people raised a clamor, They chased it from the corn, They drove it from the garlands That gleamed for Christmas morn "Behold the Christ-child cometh!" His praise they fain would win; How could they bring to Jesus An offering marred and thin? On drooping, dying pinion That vainly sought relief, The shivering bird down lighted Where shone the proudest sheaf; And Silverus moved softly, Though dews all wistful stirred, Close, close within his bosom He fed the fainting bird: "Behold the Christ-child neareth!" He spake in faltering tone, "The golden ears are broken, Yet broken for His own." And while the sheaf of beauty Grew marred and spent and bare, The sweet bird flew to heaven; The King of love stood there: "Oh! tender heart and Christlike, Whose yearnings soared on high, Yet could not see, uncaring, My weakest creature die! Lo, I am with thee always, My Christmas light is thine; The dearest gift of Noel Is pity poured for mine!" BIRDS GATHERED HIS ALMOND CROP. AN ALMOND-GROWER of this locality hit upon a neat device for gathering his crop last fall. His trees bore largely, and this early became known to the yellowham- mers, a species of the woodpecker tribe of birds, and they had regularly stored away large quantities of ripe nuts taken from the orchard in the limb of an oak tree near by. The astute orchardist watched operations, and at last hit upon a novel nut and labor-saving plan, and he lost no time in putting it into ex ecution. The limb was sawed from the tree and replaced by a square-shaped fun nel, long enough nearly to reach the ground; a bucket was then set under neath. A genuine robbing game then went merrily on. The birds gathered the nuts, which they dropped into the funnel and down into the bucket be low, and as regularly as night came the almond-grower would in his turn empty it of its contents and set it back for a new supply. This was kept up until the entire crop had been gathered and the yellowhammers had departed broken-hearted at the heartless decep tion practiced upon them. — Sutler •( Cat.) Enterprise. 228 STORIES FROM BIRDLAND. A SPECIMEN of the egg of that rara avis, the great auk, which was discovered after twenty- seven years in a disused attic in the house of Lord Garvagh in England, recalls to mind the tact that only about seventy of these zoological treas ures are now known to exist. Of these G. F. Rowley of Brighton possesses half a dozen, while Prof. Alfred New ton of Cambridge, the well-known zoological expert, has half that number. The same gentleman discovered a splendid set of ten, labeled " penguin eggs," in the Royal College of Sur geons upward of thirty years ago, while the university museum at Cam bridge possesses four, which were the gift of the late Lord Lilford, whose beautiful grounds at Oundle were a veritable paradise of bird life. One of these was brought to light in a farm house in Dorsetshire, and another changed hands in Edinburgh for a mere trifle. It is a remarkable fact that, whereas in 1830 the market price of a great auk's eggs was no more than $1.25, Lord Garvagh's specimen was bought from Dr. Troughton in 1869 for $320; Sir Vauncey Crewe, in 1894, paid $1,575 for one; in 1897, another was knocked down in London for $1,470, and a slightly cracked specimen went about the same time for $840; not so long ago a couple of these eggs was purchased at a country sale for $19 and resold'for $2,284. Some few years ago a robin took up his abode near the communion table in the old abbey at Bath, England, and remained there for some considerable time; his victualing department being presided over by a friendly verger, he naturally had every inducement to re main, and remain he did. During sermon time, with the exception of an occasional chirp of approval, he pre served an exemplary silence, neither coughing nor yawning, but when the hymns were sung, and he perched him self on the communion rail, his voice could be heard high above those of the human singers. All redbreasts, how ever, do not behave so well, and one at Ely cathedral some time ago carried on in such a manner that he brought disgrace on his tiny head. During the service he behaved fairly well, but when the clergyman ascended the pul pit and began to speak, the robin de liberately perched himself on an ad jacent pinnacle of the chancel screen and began to sing, and the louder the preacher spoke the greater volume of sound proceeded from the irreverent bird, till he had to be removed. The first place in the ranks of birds was until lately given by naturalists to eagles and hawks. The low-foreheaded tyrants are now dethroned, and the highest development of the race is reached in the family of the sparrows, if the following story be true. A man was feeding with breadcrumbs a wood pigeon at his feet. One of the bird's feathers, which was ruffled and out of place, caught the eye of a sparrow; the little bird flew down, seized the feather in its beak and pulled its best. The feather did not yield at once, and the pigeon walked off with offended dignity. The sparrow followed, still holding on; and, in the end, flew off triumphant with the trophy to its nest. DECEMBER. Down swept the chill wind from the moun tain peak, From the snow five thousand summers old; On open wold and hill-top bleak It had gathered all the cold, And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer's cheek; It carried a shiver everywhere From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare; The little brook heard it and built a roof 'Neath which he could house him, winter- proof; All night by the white stars' frosty gleams He groined his arches and matched his beams; Slender and clear were his crystal spars As the lashes of light that trim the stars; He sculptured every summer delight In his halls and chambers out of sight. 'Twas as if every image that mirrored lay In his depths serene through the summer day, Each fleeting shadow of earth and sky, L