booth consists of a few branches put together at the top of a pole where
a man can sit and scare away wild animals from the Eastern fields of
fruit and grain—an erection easily removed in a few moments; it is
appropriately likened to the moth grub’s tiny case which is cast aside
after a few weeks or months, when the perfect insect has emerged. There
are seven or eight allusions in the Scriptures to the ravages of the
moth in destroying apparel, and remembering that Eastern people are in
the habit of hoarding immense stores of richly embroidered clothing as
an evidence of great wealth, there can be no doubt but that the many
species of Tinea which are found in Palestine were a very real danger to
be guarded against with the utmost solicitude.
THE DEATH-WATCH.
“Alas! the poor gentleman will never get from hence,” said the
Landlady to me, “for I heard the Death-Watch all night long.”—STERNE.
THE DEATH-WATCH.
A CURIOUS ticking sound is frequently heard in old houses full of
ancient furniture, and especially during the still hours of the night.
This noise, which I often hear in my own rooms, is attributed by the
superstitious to some strange omen called the Death-Watch, and even in
these enlightened days there are those who imagine it to presage the
approaching decease of some one in the house.
But there is nothing really mysterious about it, and it will be well for
us to learn all we can about this house-dweller, so that such an absurd
idea may be entirely exploded.
The sound is really caused by a small beetle of nocturnal habits, the
_Anobium striatum_. This insect is of dark brown colour and rather
curious form, being so constructed that it can draw its head under the
thorax out of sight, retract its six legs, and thus make itself into an
oval pellet. It is seldom seen by day, unless a wall may have been newly
papered; to such a wall the death-watches will often flock in
considerable numbers, probably to feed upon the paste. If touched, the
beetles feign to be dead, and they are so brittle as to be easily
injured by handling. These insects do incredible damage by boring holes
in valuable old furniture, musical instruments, panels, and
skirting-boards, in fact hardly anything in the way of leather and
woodwork is safe from the attack of this minute pest. The female beetle
seeks a crevice in old wood, and with her ovipositor places a small
white egg in it and firmly glues it in a suitable position. In
twenty-one days the egg is hatched, and out of it comes a white grub
much resembling that which we often find in filberts. This larva begins
to bore into the wood, feeding upon it, and making those small round
holes we often see to our regret in some valued piece of furniture.
The grub throws out the yellow dust of the wood—often the first
indication of its being what we call “worm-eaten”—and when full grown it
forms a cell in the wood in which it undergoes its change into the
perfect beetle.
It is difficult to convince the ignorant that the ticking sound made by
this insect is nothing more formidable than the call of the beetle to
its mate! It strikes its hard-shelled head against the wood, and so
gives rise to the clicking sound; other _Anobiums_ hear it and reply in
the same way, and thus the amorous duets and trios go on, often to the
great annoyance of the sleepless and suffering. Do what we will, the
little torments are beyond our reach, and nothing will avail to stop the
noise, though on the other hand, if we wish to set it going I believe we
can do so by tapping sharply upon any wainscot where the beetles are
known to exist. It is strange to read how widely the fear of this insect
noise has spread in other countries besides our own. Mr. John Timbs in
his interesting book, “Things not Generally Known,” says: “The
superstition about the Death-Watch extends from England to Cashmere, and
across India diagonally to the remotest nook of Bengal, over three
thousand miles distance from the entrance of the Indian Punjaub.”
The only effectual remedy for the ravages of this beetle appears to be
pouring spirits of wine in which corrosive sublimate has been dissolved,
into the minute holes; the spirit finds its way from one tunnel to
another, and the beetles may be seen dropping out in numbers. If the
piece of furniture is of large size it may require several applications
to be effectual, but the process will render the wood distasteful to the
insect, and probably stop its operations.
A beetle of an allied species, _Anobium tessalatum_, makes the same
tapping sound in woodwork, and a minute insect, _Atropos pulsatorius_,
which may frequently be found under the paper lining of picture-frames,
is also credited with the power of making a clicking noise; but this can
hardly be so loud as the sound of the ordinary Death-Watch beetle.
CHEESE-MITES AND FLIES.
“O would the sons of men once think their eyes
And reason given them but to study flies.”
POPE’S _Dunciad_.
CHEESE-MITES AND FLIES.
IT is not an altogether pleasant idea to dwell upon, that the very food
we eat is sometimes tenanted by various forms of life. We can guard
against meal-worms in the flour-barrel, and keep weevils from devouring
our peas and beans; flies can be kept from the larder, and our dainties
may be protected from the marauding cockroach; but by general consent we
allow our cheese to be the home of a species of fungus, innumerable
mites, and the grubs of a minute fly. Not only so, but most people
prefer a Stilton or Cheddar cheese in a mitey condition, as it then
possesses a heightened flavour. The first glimpse through a good
microscope of a mass of cheese-mites is somewhat startling. We see a
confused heap of struggling insects, and the idea of eating them at our
next repast is by no means agreeable. Still they are worth examination
as a type of a large class of animalcules which have for their object
the destruction of many substances which might taint the air and do harm
if they were allowed to remain in a state of decay.
The Cheese-mite has an almost transparent oval body tapering to a
snout-like head. It can move with some agility upon its eight
brownish-coloured legs. In sunlight this creature’s globular polished
body shines as though it were made of crystal. This mite lays eggs
abundantly, and also produces young alive, so this double mode of
production may account for the rapid increase of the colonies in an
ancient cheese.
The generic term Acarus includes a large number of species. There are
those which, to the dismay of the entomologist, are found destroying his
finest butterflies and moths, and reducing his cherished specimens to a
little heap of dust. Some special kinds of mites prey upon figs, prunes,
honeycomb, sugar, and sweetmeats of various kinds. A special mite is
found in the cavities of the bones of skeletons; indeed, there seems
scarcely any limit to this widely-spread family of minute depredators.
Other branches of the family are represented by the Red Spider, which is
one of the plagues of our greenhouses, for, although so small as to be
scarcely discernible by the naked eye, it sucks the juices of plants and
often effectually prevents the healthy growth of valuable specimens.
The Plum-mite may frequently be seen in clusters upon fruit-trees,
puncturing the bark and doing considerable injury to the smaller twigs.
A closely allied species is known as the Harvest-bug. This almost
invisible atom burrows into the human skin and there deposits its eggs,
causing excessive irritation and annoyance to the workers in
corn-fields.
I will now turn from the mites to another cheese-inhabitant, _Piophila
casei_. Few people are likely to have noticed the perfect insect, a
small black fly with whitish wings margined with black; it is very
inconspicuous, and we should hardly suspect its object in visiting our
cheese. When cheeses are made and placed in a room to dry, before the
outside rind has had time to harden, the Piophila will seek out some
crevice in which to deposit its eggs. The creature is furnished with an
ovipositor, which it can thrust out to a great length so as to penetrate
to a considerable depth into the cracks of the cheese, and there it will
lay as many as two hundred and fifty eggs. These hatch into white grubs
without feet, but having two horny claw-shaped mandibles which enable
them to bore into the cheese upon which they feed.
The breathing apparatus of the cheese-maggot is very remarkable,
consisting of two tubes at the head and two at the tail, so the grub can
breathe at either end of its body. Lest any particles of cheese should
obstruct the front pair of tubes the little creature has the power of
drawing over them a fold of the skin, and whilst they are thus closed it
breathes through the air-tubes in the tail. A cheese inhabited by these
grubs soon grows moist and rotten, because they have the power of
emitting a liquid which softens and corrupts the cheese and renders it
suitable for the food of the maggot.
The leaping power of these larvæ is truly surprising. Swammerdam, who
seems to have carefully studied this creature, says: “I have seen one
whose length did not exceed a fourth of an inch leap out of a box six
inches deep, that is twenty-four times the length of its own body.” The
grub cannot crawl, as it has no legs; it must therefore progress by
leaps; this it achieves by erecting itself on its tail, which is
furnished with several knobs or warts to enable it to keep its balance;
then, bending itself into a ring, it lays hold of the skin of its tail,
and, suddenly letting go with a jerk, it can, by a succession of
springs, cover a surprising distance on a level surface. In considering
the life-history of this despised creature I cannot but endorse the
devout remark of the great naturalist I have just quoted. He says: “I
can take upon me to affirm that the parts of this maggot are contrived
with so much art and design that is impossible not to acknowledge them
to be the work of infinite power and wisdom from which nothing is hid
and to which nothing is impossible. It could not be the production of
chance or rottenness, but the work of the same Omnipotent Hand which
created the heavens and the earth.”
LEPISMÆ.
LEPISMÆ.
LONG ago, I remember reading with enjoyment a little essay I met with
somewhere, in which were described the various living creatures one
would be likely to meet with in one’s garden, if one took a stroll at
night with a lantern. Beetles would be seen crossing the path, worms
moving stealthily in search of food, moths hovering over the flowers; if
one were quiet and still for a little time even mice and shrews might be
watched foraging about bent on their own special errands.
I have indulged in such a nocturnal garden ramble occasionally, but I
think it needs younger eyes than mine now are, and perhaps exceptional
weather to ensure a glimpse of nature on the prowl; at any rate, I have
not been very fortunate in that way. My attention during the past year
has been specially directed to house-dwelling creatures, and my rambles
have been carried on indoors instead of in the garden. When I think of
the life-histories of the Cork Moth, of the various Cloth Moths, of the
Death-Watch, of the beetles I have found at work upon the specimens in
my museum, of the Solitary bees and wasps in the crevices and angles of
the outer brickwork of the house, and, finally, of the creature which I
am now about to describe, I think it must be admitted that there _is_ a
field for entomological study inside as well as outside our dwellings.
Remembering that I once caught sight of some silvery fish-like insects
upon the kitchen hearth, and afterwards watched a little pair of the
same kind moving below a window-ledge in a bedroom, I determined to
devote a little time to their investigation. I learned that they were
called _Lepisma saccherina_, and that Linnæus formed the genus, and
named it from the Greek word _lepisma_, a scale. The creatures are known
as “The Bristle-tails proper”; the genus belongs to the order
_Thyasanura_, which contains some extremely minute but very curious
insects.
Sir John Lubbock’s researches have thrown much light upon the structure
and habits of the _Lepismidæ_, and some of their near relations. I
cannot help transcribing his description of the love-making of a couple
of these atoms, known as _Smerinthus luteus_. Sir John says: “It is very
amusing to see these little creatures coquetting together. The male,
which is smaller than the female, runs round her, and they butt one
another standing face to face, and moving backwards and forwards like
two playful lambs. Then the female pretends to run away, and the male
runs after her with a queer appearance of anger, gets in front and
stands facing her again; then she turns coyly round, but he, quicker and
more active, scuttles round too, and seems to whip her with his antennæ.
Then for a bit they stand face to face, play with their antennæ, and
seem to be all in all to one another.”
Sir John Lubbock considers the _Lepismæ_ to be more nearly related to
cockroaches than to any other form, but they do not in the least
resemble those most unattractive creatures, being much smaller and of
elegant shape, like slender little fishes made of silver. The body of a
_Lepisma_ consists of fourteen segments, the head being one, the thorax
three, and the abdomen ten. The silvery scales which cover the body are
so lightly attached, that a touch will bring them off. These scales have
long been used as a test of power of microscopic lenses, the delicate
markings on the scale being more or less visible according to the power
of the glasses. The name Bristle-tail is given because of the seven
caudal hairs which the _Lepisma_ possesses, three of which are much
longer than the rest. The Germans call these insects _Borstenschwärze_
and _Silberfischen_ (Bristle-tails and Silver-fishes).
Many insects seem to find wall paper an attractive diet, and the pair of
_Lepismæ_ I used to watch every night in the same place on the wall of
my bedroom were evidently enjoying their evening meal, but as they lived
in a dark corner and no very perceptible damage was done I did not
interfere; when, however, the room was repapered I never saw these small
visitants again.
I had a great wish to keep and study these singular creatures, and the
only way to obtain them seemed to be by a nocturnal visit to my kitchen
hearth, where I learned they were sometimes to be seen darting about in
the warmth, seeking for such stray crumbs of sugar as they might find.
Happily this old house is not tenanted by cockroaches, else I should not
have cared to intrude upon their domain in the witching hour of night;
lepismas alone were to be seen gliding about, but how to catch them was
a problem I found hard to solve. I tried various methods without
success, and was about to retire quite discomfited by the exceeding
swiftness of my quarry, when a bright idea occurred to me. With a sudden
sweep of a small soft brush I wafted the insects on to a plate, and
quickly transferred them into a glass globe. In this way I obtained nine
perfect specimens, and was able to watch the beautiful little creatures,
and admire their glistening bodies and agile movements.
I tried to cater for their rather _bizarre_ diet by giving them a little
sugar and cake, some wall paper and rotten wood. After a few days they
lost all fear, and would come on my hand and daintily nibble a little
sugar or cake offered them; they shunned the light and kept quiet
through the day, coming out for active frolics in the evening.
A German naturalist says _Lepismæ_ will gnaw holes in letter paper; in
fact they seem to be omnivorous, for, like the cockroach, they will eat
clothing, tapestry, and the silken trimmings of furniture. This insect
seems to be found abundantly in India, for a lady has told me that her
garments could not be laid aside for even a few days without swarms of
these “silver fishes” gathering in the folds and creases. It shares with
the Death-Watch a liking for paste, and this makes it attack the
bindings of books, so that it is not an infrequent tenant of the shelves
of damp, unused libraries, but from its small size I should imagine it
cannot do any very serious amount of damage.
Whether my specimens will develop any interesting “habits” remains to be
seen; they appear to be peaceable little folk, remaining quietly in the
cracks and crevices of some rotten wood during the day, and towards
evening they come forth to feed, and explore the bounds of their domain.
Their legs are so short they cannot climb up the sides of the glass
globe in which they live; it is therefore left open at the top, so that
I am able to watch all that goes on, and may learn in time something of
the life-history of _Lepismæ_.
POT-POURRI.
“I plunge my hand among the leaves;
(An alien touch but dust perceives,
Nought else supposes;)
For me those fragrant ruins raise
Clear memory of the vanished days
When they were roses.”
AUSTIN DOBSON.
POT-POURRI.
THOSE who have large gardens, and think, as I do, that the pleasure of
our possessions is doubled when we can share them with others less
happily endowed, may like to have a few suggestions as to the various
ways in which our floral treasures may be passed on to the poor, to
invalids, to hospital patients, and to lonely workers everywhere, who
may welcome a little bit of brightness coming unexpectedly to vary the
monotony of their lives. I need not touch upon the sending little
bunches of flowers to the sick out of our abundant stores, since the
good work done by the Bible Flower Mission is widely known, and from all
parts of England the welcome hampers are sent to the various _depôts_,
and find their way to nearly all our hospitals and infirmaries.
As flowers are not to be had for distribution all the year round, I
should like to draw attention to other little gifts which often take
their place in cheering suffering lives during the winter months. If we
were obliged to live for a few weeks in a miserable garret in one of the
slums of London, I suppose we might then have some idea of the pleasure
that a little bag of sweetly scented pot-pourri can give to a poor
sufferer who has to pass days and nights of pain in the midst of evil
smells.
It is always a great delight to me to pack up a box containing eighty or
a hundred of these little bags, with their pretty lace edgings and
comforting texts of Scripture, and send it to some of the kind workers
in London for distribution to the sick poor.
Let us follow our small gifts in imagination, and think of the gleams of
brightness they will convey. There is something in their sweetness as
they bring a whiff of country roses with them that must make them
welcome in many a dreary room, and, more than that, they tell of other
hearts caring for these sick ones, working for them, and taking thought
and pains to send them little gifts.
All these things have their cheering effect, and incline the sufferer to
listen to the gospel message read by the visitor from the text attached
to the scent-bag, and from that will often arise an opening for helpful
conversation.
The suffering one is thus led to fell of the heavy burdens that are
weighing down heart and mind, and before the visit closes it may be that
those burdens will have been laid on the true Burden-bearer, a humble,
broken prayer telling of the link being formed between the sinner and
the all-powerful Saviour.
Viewed in this light, we see of what value these gifts may be, and
surely that time is not wasted which is given to preparing in the quiet
of our happy country homes such things as may help the active workers in
town missions who have no time to make such things themselves.
It is a very pleasant duty on a bright day in summer to go round the
garden with a capacious basket and gather the harvest of rose-leaves
just ready to fall and litter the ground with their pink petals. All
kinds of roses will do for the purpose, and if our days were but sunny
enough the leaves might be spread out in the sunshine, and would soon
become dry and crisp. Unless, however, the season is exceptionally
bright, I find by experience it is best to place the rose-leaves in
wide, shallow pasteboard trays before the kitchen fire, and turn them
frequently until perfectly dried, when they can be stored in jars ready
for use.
I must give a caution against putting the leaves either in the oven or
on the rack over the kitchen range, as in either case a very useless
rose stew will be the result.
Where lavender bushes are available their sweet flowers may be dried and
added to the rose-leaves, and dried sprays of the lemon-scented verbena
will also add an agreeable perfume.
Verbena, by the way, is a plant easily grown from slips, and these, when
rooted, may be planted in a southern border, or against a wall, and if
matted in winter will become small, tree-like shrubs, with woody stems,
and will yield a useful supply of sweetly scented leaves for the mission
pot-pourri. They are best gathered when fully matured at the end of
summer. These are the chief materials required, and when the bags are to
be filled I prepare the scent thus—
Taking a large hand-basin, I fill it three-parts full of rose-leaves,
adding three handfuls of lavender flowers, a large cupful of
coarsely-bruised cloves and allspice, half an ounce of mace (no salt of
any kind), pouring over the whole about a teaspoonful of oil of lavender
and another of essence of bergamot.
The dried gland of the musk deer, which can be had at most perfumers,
imparts a delicious odour to the rest of the materials. This musk pod
can be retained to scent relays of the leaves, as it will continue to
give out a musky perfume for many months.
Sweet oranges entirely covered with cloves stuck into the rind form,
when dried, a pleasant addition to one’s jar of pot-pourri. A stiletto
is needed to make a small hole, and then the stalk of the clove is
pressed in as far as it will go. If the orange is thus pretty thickly
covered and then placed inside the fender where it will dry and harden
slowly, it will so shrink that only the clove heads are seen; it may
then be taken for some rare tropical fruit, and when quite dried it will
last for many years. The pot-pourri can be made and perfumed in a
variety of ways according to taste. I have only given some general
directions which I have found to answer well.
As winter comes on it is pleasant work to prepare the little bags to
hold the scent. These can be quickly made by a sewing-machine, or, as in
my case, enable one to keep a poor woman constantly employed to make the
thousands that I need for the purpose.
Fine spotted muslin is perhaps the prettiest material to use; any shape
or size may of course be adopted, but the Bible Flower Mission requires
that the bags should be about four and a half inches long by three and a
half inches wide, trimmed at the open end with a narrow piece of lace
about an inch wide. Special printed text cards are sold at the Bible
Flower Mission Depôt, 110, Cannon Street, E.C., with a small opening in
them through which the end of the bag is drawn and then tied by a little
piece of bright-coloured ribbon.
I would plead with those who have the varied pleasures of gardens,
woods, and fields, that they would kindly think of the utter dreariness
in which thousands of our fellow-creatures live from year to year, never
seeing a green leaf or bright flower, never enjoying the scent of
opening buds or fragrant hayfields. Shall we not try to send some rays
of sunlight into these cheerless homes, some of our bright flowers to
tell of kind hearts taking thought for others less favoured than
themselves? Even our dead rose-leaves will be gladly welcomed, and will
last even longer than the flowers. It brings gladness to our own hearts
to feel that we have been trying to cheer and uplift the weary-hearted,
sorrowing, and sinful, and with our gifts let us mingle our earnest
prayers that the portions chosen from God’s own Word and printed on the
cards may by Him be so blessed that, like seed falling into good ground,
it may sink deep into human hearts and bring forth fruit an hundredfold
to His praise and glory.
A WATER BOUQUET.
Young people living in the country may welcome the following hints,
which will guide them to several interesting occupations for leisure
hours.
A WATER BOUQUET.
WHEN flowers have been placed under water for a few hours they show a
remarkable kind of beauty which can be seen in no other way. Plants, we
know, are always exhaling oxygen gas from their leaves and flowers, but
in our rooms and out of doors it is an invisible process. We know that
this is the case from the testimony of scientists who have proved it by
experiments.
We can, however, render the process visible by placing flowers under
water, for we can then see the oxygen gas in the form of tiny pearls
edging each leaf and petal, and streaming up in columns to the surface
of the water.