PART III.--_The Wearer._

The lady has surely a beautiful face,

She has surely a queenly air;

The bonnet had flowers and ribbon and lace;

But the bird had added the crowning grace--

It is really a charming affair.

Is the love of a bonnet supreme over all,

In a lady so faultlessly fair?

The Father takes heed when the sparrows fall,

He hears when the starving nestlings call--

Can a tender woman _not care_?

--_Anon._

STRANGE PLANTS.

One of the most remarkable growths in the government botanical gardens

is the so-called barber plant, the leaves of which are used in some

parts of the East by rubbing on the face to keep the beard from

growing. It is not supposed to have any effect on a beard that is

already rooted, but merely to act as a preventive, boys employing it to

keep the hair from getting a start on their faces. It is also employed

by some Oriental people who desire to keep a part of their heads free

from hair, as a matter of fashion. A curious looking tree from the

Isthmus of Panama bears a round red fruit as big as an apple, which

has this remarkable faculty, that its juice rubbed on tough beef or

chicken makes the meat tender by the chemical power it possesses to

separate the flesh fiber. One is interested to observe in the botanical

green houses three kinds of plants that have real consumption of the

lungs--the leaves, of course, being the lungs of a plant. The disease

is manifested by the turning of the leaves from green to white, the

affection gradually spreading from one spot until, when a leaf is all

white, it is just about to die. Cruelly enough, as it would seem, the

gardeners only try to perpetuate the disease for the sake of beauty and

curiosity, all plants of those varieties that are too healthy being

thrown away.

A BRIGAND BIRD.

The kea is an outlaw bird of New Zealand for each of whose bills the

government offers a reward of a shilling. The kea is a gourmand. It

prefers the kidney of a sheep to any other part of the beast.

Coming down out of the mountains in winter, it attacks the sheep,

alighting on their backs, and tearing away the hide and flesh until it

reaches the titbits which it seeks.

How the birds learned to tear away the skin to get at the flesh forms

a curious story of the development of bird knowledge. The birds had

been feeding on the refuse of cattle and sheep killed for human

consumption. They learned to associate the idea of meat with the living

animal, and now they kill the sheep for the meat without waiting for

human aid or consent.

The Maoris have a legend about this bird to the effect that it used

to be a strict vegetarian, building its nest on the ground. The sheep

came and trampled on the nests, and the birds attacked them furiously,

drawing blood.

They liked the flavor of flesh, and have ever since been eating it.

The bird builds its nest in trees now, out of the reach of the sheep's

hoofs.

THE BROOK.

Little brook, little brook,

You have such a happy look,

Such a very merry manner as you swerve and curve and crook;

And your ripples, one by one,

Reach each other's hands and run

Like laughing little children in the sun!

Little brook, sing to me,

Sing about a bumble-bee

That tumbled from a lily-bell and mumbled grumblingly

Because he wet the film

Of his wings and had to swim,

While the water bugs raced round and laughed at him.

Little brook, sing a song

Of a leaf that sailed along

Down the golden braided center of your current swift and strong,

And the dragon-fly that lit

On the tilting rim of it,

And sailed away, and wasn't scared a bit!

And sing how oft in glee

Came a truant boy like me

Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody,

Till the gurgle and refrain

Of your music in his brain

Caused a happiness as deep to him as pain!

Little brook, laugh and leap!

Do not let the dreamer weep;

Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest sleep;

And then sing soft and low

Through his dreams of long ago,

Sing back to him the rest he used to know.

--_Anon._

[Illustration: BLOOD-ROOT.

BY PER. HARRIET E. HIGLEY.

A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER, CHICAGO.

COPYRIGHT 1900, BY

NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO.]

THE BLOOD-ROOT.

WILLIAM KERR HIGLEY, Secretary of the Chicago Academy of Sciences.

Thou first-born of the year's delight,

Pride of the dewy glade,

In vernal green and virgin white,

Thy vestal robes arrayed.

--_Keble._

The true lover of flowers, though he may be enraptured by those under

cultivation, finds a greater satisfaction in the study and observation

of those that are developed only under the influence of Nature's laws.

In the field, the forest, and even in the sea there are plants not only

pleasing to the eye, but that are doubly interesting because of the

wonderful provision made for them to assure their survival. Plants,

like animals, have their enemies, and sometimes it seems that, with

thoughtful care for its own protection, a species will gradually change

its habits, thus conveying a sense of danger to its descendants.

Many of the peculiarities of plants, that fit them for existence, may

be readily studied by the novice in botany as he tramps the fields in

search of recreation. There is nothing more delightful and charming to

the botanist than to seek the reasons for the beauties in Nature and to

find why plants live and exist as they do.

Many delicate plants seek the shelter and protection of the borders

of the forest. They do not penetrate far within, but remain near the

open, where the sunlight can reach them. The blood-root (_Sanguinaria

Canadensis_) is of this character. Beautiful and delicate, it seems to

shun the storm and wind and to retire from the gaze of man.

The blood-root belongs to the poppy family (_Papaveraceæ_), which

includes about twenty-five genera and over two hundred species. These,

though widely distributed, are chiefly found in the temperate regions

of the North. To this family also belong the valuable opium-producing

plant (_Papaver somniferum_), the Mexican or prickly poppy (_Argemone

Mexicana_), the Dutchman's breeches (_Bicuculla Cucullaria_), the

bleeding-heart (_Bicuculla eximia_) and the beautiful mountain fringe

(_Adlumia fungosa_). A large number of the species are cultivated for

ornamental purposes. The poppy is also cultivated for the commercial

value of the opium it produces. All the species produce a milky or

colored juice. Here, indeed, we may say that behind beauty there lurks

a deadly foe, for the juice of nearly all the species has active

narcotic properties. This property is a means of protection to the

plant under consideration, for its acrid taste is distasteful to

animals.

The red juice that exudes from all parts of the plant of the

blood-root gives it both its common and its generic names, the latter,

_Sanguinaria_, is derived from the Latin word _sanguis_, or blood.

This interesting plant is a native of Eastern North America, deriving

its specific name from the fact that it is found in Canada. It blossoms

in April or May. Usually but a single flower is borne by the naked

stalk that rises from the underground stem to the height of about

eight inches. The flowers are white, very rarely pinkish, about one

and one-half of an inch in diameter. The number of petals varies from

eight to twelve, and they fall very soon after expansion. The sepals

disappear before the bud opens.

A single leaf is produced from each bud of the underground stem. It is

wrapped around the flower-bud as the latter rises from the soil and

does not develop to full size till after the period of blossoming is

over. The necessary food material for the production of the flower was

stored in the underground stem during the preceding season. Thus the

green leaf is not needed early in the growth of the plant.

The adult leaf is kidney-shaped, smooth, and five to nine lobed. When

fully grown they are often more than six inches in diameter. The

leaf-stalk, which may be over one foot in length, and the radiating

veins vary in color from yellowish to orange. Few leaves are more

beautiful and graceful than these, both during their development and

when fully mature.

It is said that the Indians formerly used the juice of this plant as a

dye, and thus it is sometimes called red Indian paint and red puccoon.

TANSY CAKES.

Many of our garden herbs still in common use for purposes of seasoning

are in reality British plants, says Longman's Magazine. Among them may

be mentioned mint and marjoram and thyme and calamint, all of which

may be found in their native haunts. Fennel is abundant on sea cliffs

in many places in the south of England. Wild hyssop is perfectly

naturalized on the picturesque ruins of Beaulieu Abbey and wild balm

used to be found within the ancient walls of Portchester castle. The

garden parsley was formerly abundant on the shingly beach at Hurst

castle, where it used to be gathered for domestic purposes. One native

herb, however, much in use among our fore-fathers is now seldom seen

in kitchen gardens--we mean _Tanacetum vulgare_, the common tansy,

the dull yellow flowers of which are often conspicuous by the side

of streams. The young leaves and juice of this plant were formerly

employed to give color and flavor to puddings, which were known as

tansy cakes, or tansy puddings.

In mediæval times the use of these cakes was specially associated

with the season of Easter and it is interesting to notice that in the

diet rolls of St. Swithin's monastery at Winchester, which belong to

the end of the fifteenth century, we come across the entry "tansey

tarte." It has been said that the use of tansy cakes at this season

was to strengthen the digestion after what an old writer calls "the

idle conceit of eating fish and pulse for forty days in Lent," and it

is certain that this was the virtue attributed to the plant by the

old herbalists. "The herb fried with eggs which is called a 'tansy,'"

says Culpepper, "helps to digest and carry away those bad humors that

trouble the stomach." It seems more probable that the custom of eating

tansy cakes at Easter time was associated with the teaching of that

festival, the name "tansy" being a corruption of a Greek word meaning

"immortality."

THE PARTRIDGE CALL.

Shrill and shy from the dusk they cry,

Faintly from over the hill;

Out of the gray where shadows lie,

Out of the gold where sheaves are high,

Covey to covey, call and reply,

Plaintively, shy and shrill.

Dies the day, and from far away

Under the evening star

Dies the echo as dies the day,

Droops with the dew in the new-mown hay,

Sinks and sleeps in the scent of May,

Dreamily, faint and far.

--_Frank Saville in the Pall Mall Magazine._

OUR FEATHERED NEIGHBORS.

BERTON MERCER.

Some few years ago, while living in the village of West Grove, Chester

County, Pennsylvania, I observed an unusual number of different birds

in our own immediate yard and garden, nearly all of which built their

homes within the narrow limits of our property.

Being deeply interested in the bird kingdom, and appreciating their

friendship and confidence, I carefully watched the progress of their

daily labors and their respective traits and individual habits. Our

buildings consisted of a house, small stable and a carpenter shop, and

I was much gratified to observe so many pretty birds nesting at our

very doors.

In the front yard stood three tall pine trees. In one of these a

pair of black birds made their nest and reared two broods of young.

A goldfinch also chose one of the lower branches of the same tree,

in the forks of which the clever little fellow hung a most beautiful

cup-shape nest. It appeared to be made of various mosses, lichens, and

soft materials, closely woven and cemented together, and the lining

inside consisted of thistle-down. Four pretty eggs were deposited in

due course and, as far as I know, the young were safely raised and

departed with their parents in the fall. I had the pleasure of seeing

the entire family frequently perched on the seed salad stalks in our

garden feeding in fearless content.

On both sides of the front porch was a lattice covered with woodbine.

In the top of one of these a robin chose to build her home, and showed

remarkable tameness during the entire nesting period. On the back

porch, also covered with woodbine, a pair of chipping sparrows built

their nest, a beautiful little piece of workmanship, displaying skill

and good taste. A happy little family was raised here in safety. Not

ten feet from the chipping sparrow's nest, we nailed up a little

wooden box which was tenanted for several years by a pair of house

wrens, in all probability the same two. These little birds afforded us

many hours of pleasure watching their cunning ways and listening to

their cheery song.

In another box raised on a high pole in the garden, we had a pair of

purple martins for two seasons and they helped to swell the population

of our bird community. Placed in a hedge row bordering the yard, I

observed the nest and eggs of a song sparrow, and their happy notes

were to be heard all day long. In a small briar patch in the corner of

the garden a cat bird made her home, and became quite tame, raising

four little ones successfully. In the eaves of the shop (although not

wanted or cherished) the English sparrows held sway and we destroyed

their nests on two or three occasions, as they repeatedly tried to

drive away some of our other pets.

Summing up we have a total of nine different birds which nested within

our small domain, and in each instance they seemed to feel a sense of

security and protection from all harm. In addition to those nesting on

our premises, we were favored with frequent visits from many more, such

as vireos, orioles, cardinals, indigo birds, chickadees, nuthatches,

snow birds, sparrow hawks, flickers, etc., according to the time of

year.

Prior to the summer in question, my father had been very ill, and

as he was then getting better he spent many days on the porch. This

afforded ample opportunity for him to study our birds, and they in

like manner became so accustomed to his presence that they were quite

fearless. Especially was this the case with the chipping sparrows above

mentioned. They became unusually tame during the season and the mother

bird finally ate out of father's hand or would sit on the toe of his

boot and pick crumbs from his fingers.

[Illustration: WESTERN BLUE GROSBEAK.

5/6 Life-size.

FROM COL. F. KAEMPFER.

A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER, CHICAGO.

COPYRIGHT 1900, BY

NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO.]

THE BLUE GROSBEAK.

(_Guiraca cærulea._)

This beautiful specimen of the finch family is found in the southern

United States from the Atlantic to the Pacific, although very local

and irregularly distributed. It is occasionally found north to Kansas,

Illinois, Pennsylvania and Connecticut. The male is brilliant blue,

darker across the middle of the back. The female is yellowish brown

above, brownish yellow beneath, darkest across the breast, wings

broadly edged with brownish yellow. Sometimes there is a faint trace of

blue on the tail. The young resemble the female. Males from the Pacific

coast region have tails considerably longer than eastern specimens,

while those from California are of a much lighter and less purplish

blue.

The blue grosbeak is a very inconspicuous bird. Unless seen under the

most favorable circumstances the adult male does not appear to be blue,

but of a dusky color, and Ridgway says may easily be mistaken for a

cow blackbird, unless carefully watched; besides they usually sit

motionless, in a watchful attitude, for a considerable time, and thus

easily escape observation.

The blue grosbeak frequents the thickets of shrubs, briars and tall

weeds lining a stream flowing across a meadow or bordering a field, or

the similar growth which has sprung up in an old clearing. The usual

note is a strong harsh _ptchick_, and the song of the male is a very

beautiful, though rather feeble, warble. At least two broods are raised

during a season.

ODD PLACES CHOSEN.

GUY STEALEY.

It would seem that nature had provided enough space and a sufficient

variety of nooks and corners for birds to choose from and build their

nests in; yet it is a strange fact that many of them often prefer to

follow man, and select, for their homes, some spot he has planned and

made.

In the fields one often sees the nests of robins and blackbirds built

between the rails of pole fences, and sometimes catbirds choose this

situation for a home. Around the barns will be found the swallows and

their curious nests of mud. Then there are those cheerful and always

friendly little birds, the wrens, which think that our houses are

just the homes they would like, too; and any box or can, or what is

prettiest of all, a miniature cottage placed on a fence, will rarely

ever remain unoccupied during the summer. Even the shy bluebirds, whose

sheen of feathers seems to be borrowed from the sky, like to peep into

these.

Of all the wild birds, I believe I love the wrens the best. They are

always so busy and yet so companionable. Last spring, when the days

began to get warm, I left the window of my room open to admit the fresh

free air; and on going in there one day I spied one of these spry

little fellows peeping and hopping around the curtains, which were

looped up, forming a cozy recess. He did not seem to be alarmed at my

presence, but calmly went on with his inspection; and would you believe

it, the next morning the pair of them were busy constructing their nest

in this nook. I let the window remain open all summer, and they raised

their family there.

But the strangest of all strange sites in which I ever found a nest was

nearly at the bottom of a deep well! This well was walled up with rock

and a couple of brown field birds carried twigs and grass down it and

formed their nest on a projecting spur of stone. Why they should choose

such a location as this it is hard to tell.

THE YOUNG NATURALIST.

There are other armies in South Africa besides the Boers and the

British; armies of very little folk, which go out on foraging

expeditions when their colonies stand in need of supplies--forays

planned and executed with military precision, and, as a general thing,

uniformly successful.

I speak of an army of ants.

A close observer, residing in South Africa, describes one of these

forays in the following way:

"The army, which I estimated to number about fifteen thousand ants,

started from their home in the mud walls of a hut and marched in the

direction of a small mound of fresh earth, but a few yards distant. The

head of the column halted on reaching the foot of the mound and waited

for the rest of the force to arrive at the place of operations, which

evidently was to be the mound of fresh earth. When the remainder had

arrived and halted so that the entire army was assembled, a number of

ants detached themselves from the main body and began to ascend to the

top of the mound, while the others began moving so as to encircle the

base of the mound.

"Very soon a number from the detachment which had ascended the mound,

or lilliputian kopje, evidently the attacking party, entered the

loose earth and speedily returned, each bearing a cricket or a young

grasshopper, dead, which he deposited upon the ground and then returned

for a fresh load. Those who had remained on the outside of the mound,

took up the crickets and grasshoppers as they were brought out and bore

them down to the base of the hill, returning at once for fresh victims.

Soon the contents of the mound seemed to be exhausted, and then the

whole force returned home, each ant carrying his burden of food for the

community."

* * * * *

My very young readers will be surprised, no doubt, to hear me speak of

wasps as cement-makers, or paper-makers, but such, in truth, they are.

You can form no idea of the industry and toil these little folk expend

upon the structure they call home. Nothing pleases them better than to

find an old fence rail covered with a light gray fuzz of woody fiber

loosened from decaying wood by excessive soakings of rain. Dozens of

these little pulp-gatherers will descend upon the rail, and as fast as

each of them obtains a load away he flies to the place where the home

building is already going on.

This may be in a clump of bushes near a stream, and as fast as they

deposit their load of fiber down they fly to the stream, and having

secured a mouthful of water back they go to the nest to beat the

fiber into a thin sheet, which they deftly join to the main body,

the jointure being imperceptible. Such a throng of workers coming

and going, some to the fence, some to the nest, some to the brook,

each addition to the structure being the tiniest mite, yet growing

perceptibly under the united efforts of the little builders.

TAR.--One of the commonest substances met with in city or town is tar.

A paper roof covered with tar makes a very good protection against

sun and rain provided a suitable amount of gravel covers the tar. The

kind of tar most used is called coal-tar or gas-tar. This is made at

the gas factory from the distilling of soft coal. Tar that comes from

different varieties of pine and spruce is used to cover ropes and hulls

of ships. It is from his having some of it usually clinging to his

hands and clothes that the sailor boy came to be called "Jack Tar,"

and from his fondness for the sea one of the royal family of England

got the pet name of "Royal Tarry Breeks." It is strange that there has

been no change in the work of getting this kind of tar from the wood

for over twenty-three hundred years. The wood is placed in holes dug

in the ground and covered carefully with turf so as to keep out the

air and prevent too much burning. Some of the wood is left free so the

air may get at it and burn it enough to make heat enough to distil the

pitch from the rest of it. This is gathered into barrels and is black

because of the smoke that gets into it. It was this sort of tar that

Benjamin Franklin had his experience with one time in Philadelphia.

He was running along on the tops of tar barrels on the wharf one fine

day with his Sunday clothes on. The head of one barrel was not in good

condition, and so Benjamin went down into it. The next issue of his

paper had a very amusing account of the accident in which Franklin used

his powers to make puns to great advantage in making fun at his own

expense.

ANTS.--Would you like to get a clean skeleton of any small animal?

Place the body near or upon an ant hill and the little workers will

clean it off for you perfectly, picking every bone as clean as if they

were under contract with a forfeit for every scrap of flesh, skin,

or sinew left upon any bone. They like meat so well that they will

attack animals that are many times larger than themselves and carry

the work to a successful end. There are three kinds of ants in an ant

hill--males, females, and neuters. The males and females have wings and

do no work to speak of. They are always waited upon very carefully by

the neuters who have no wings, but are noted for their industry, skill,

and strength. It has been said that the ant stores up large quantities

of grain in the summer for winter use. Whoever said that was not well

acquainted with his subject. In winter the ants neither eat nor work.

Some of the neuters have their jaws, or mandibles, made much larger

than the rest. These are the soldiers, and they fight with greater

fierceness than any other creatures. Huber, the blind naturalist who

told the world so many astonishing things about bees, describes a great

fight he once saw between two colonies of these little warriors. "I

shall not say what lighted up discord between these two republics,

the one as populous as the other. The two armies met midway between

their respective residences. Their serried columns reached from the

field of battle to the nest, and were two feet in width. The field of

battle, which extended over a space of two or three square feet, was

strewn with dead bodies and wounded; it was also covered with venom,

and exhaled a penetrating odor. The struggle began between two ants,

which locked themselves together with their mandibles, while they

raised themselves upon their legs. They quickly grasped each other so

tightly that they rolled one over the other in the dust. When night

came they stopped fighting, but the next morning they went at it again

and piled the ground with slain and wounded." Their stings hurt because

they carry a liquid that is like that found in nettles and in the hairs

and other parts of certain caterpillars. This is called formic acid,

and is made by chemists for certain purposes. The red ant dislikes to

work if he can get slaves to do it for him. Perhaps we should say if

_she_ can get it done for _her_, because these neuters are rather more

like females than like male ants. They make war purposely to get into

the homes of other colonies to carry away their eggs and baby ants.

They bring these up to wait upon them. When they go on a journey the

slaves have to carry their owners, and sometimes they even feed them

until they refuse to feed themselves. They have been known to die of

hunger with plenty of food within easy reach, but with no slave at

hand to place it before them. In going out to fight for the offspring

of other ants they go in regular columns, and those that are left

after the slaughter return home in the same order, their solid trains

sometimes extending more than a hundred feet. Some ants keep cows.

Plant lice have honeydew in their bodies, and when well fed they give

out a great deal of it. Ants are fond of it. They sometimes confine the

plant lice, feed them, and milk the honeydew from the bodies of their

captors. A German scientist named Simon, has recently returned from

Australia with some great stories about ants. He says he suffered much

from their attacks. In trying to get rid of them in many ways he at

last hit upon the idea of spreading a poison where they would have to

pass across it. He used prussiate of potash which is sometimes used

in photography. Another name for it is cyanide of potassium. He says,

"How astonished was I when I saw the whole surface of the heap strewn

with dead ants like a battle-field. The piece of cyanide, however, had

totally disappeared. More than one-half of the community had met death

in this desperate struggle, but still the death-defying courage of the

heroic little creatures had succeeded in removing the fatal poison, the

touch of which must have been just as disagreeable to them as it was

dangerous. Recklessly neglecting their own safety, they had carried it

off little by little, covering every step with a corpse. Once removed

from the heap, the poison had been well covered with leaves and pieces

of wood, and thus prevented from doing further damage. The heroism of

these insects, which far surpasses what any other creature, including

even man, has ever shown in the way of self-sacrifice and loyalty,

had made such an impression on me that I gave up my campaign, and

henceforth I bore with many an outrage from my neighbors rather than

destroy the valiant beings whose courage I had not been able to crush."

In the extreme southwest of the United States are colonies of ants that

have a peculiar custom of setting apart some of their number to give up

their lives for their fellows in a strange way. They feed upon honey

until they are unable to walk. Then their fellows take the greatest

care of them and feed them so their bodies are distended enormously. A

number of these ants when fed so highly look very much like a bunch of

little grapes, they are so round and translucent. When food is scarce

later the other ants come to their heavy mates and eat them with great

relish.

AIR.--The wear and tear in our bodies is replaced by new material

carried to the spot by the blood. The heart forces the blood out along

the arteries in a bright red current. It comes back blackened with the

refuse material. It passes to the lungs, where it comes into contact

with the air we breathe. It does not quite touch the air, but is acted

upon by the air through very thin partitions much as the cash business

is carried on in some houses and banks with the cashiers all placed

behind screens, where they may be seen and talked to but not reached.

Purified in the lungs by contact with fresh air, the blood goes back

to continue the good work of making the body sound. But if the air

has been used before by someone in breathing it has become bad and

the blood does not get the benefit from contact with it in the lungs

that nature intended. Ordinarily a man breathes in about four thousand

gallons of air in a day if he is taking things easily, but when he is

hard at mental or physical work he needs much more than this. Air that

has been hurt by being breathed is restored to the right condition

by the leaves of trees and plants. In large cities where people are

crowded together there is a lack of good air. But nature is continually

rushing the air about so that new may take the place of what has been

used, rain washes it out, and the storm brings in from the country just

the kind of air the city man needs in his lungs.

BIRD LIFE IN INDIA.

In India bird-life abounds everywhere absolutely unmolested, and the

birds are as tame as the fowls in a poultry yard. Ring-doves, minas,

hoopoes, jays and parrots hardly trouble themselves to hop out of the

way of the heavy bull-carts, and every wayside pond and lake is alive

with ducks, geese, pelicans, and flamingoes and waders of every size

and sort, from dainty beauties, the size of pigeons, up to the great

unwieldy cranes and adjutants, five feet high.

IRELAND'S LOST GLORY.

There is perhaps no feature of Irish scenery more characteristic and

depressing than the almost universal absence of those tracts of woods

which in other countries soften the outlines of hills and valleys. The

traveler gazing on its bald mountains and treeless glens can hardly

believe that Ireland was at one time covered from shore to shore with

magnificent forests. One of the ancient names of the country was "The

Isle of Woods" and so numerous are its place-names derived from the

growth of woods, shrubs, groves, oaks, etc., that (as Dr. Joyce says)

"if a wood were now to spring up in every place bearing a name of this

kind the country would become clothed with an almost uninterrupted

succession of forests." On the tops of the barest hills and buried in

the deepest bogs are to be found the roots, stems and other remains of

these ancient woods, mostly of oak and pine, some of the bogs being

literally full of stems, the splinters of which burn like matches.

The destruction of these woods is of comparatively recent date.

Cambrensis, who accompanied Henry II. into Ireland in the twelfth

century, notices the enormous quantities of woods everywhere existing.

But their extirpation soon began with the gradual rise of English

supremacy in the land, the object in view being mainly to increase

the amount or arable land, to deprive the natives of shelter, to

provide fuel, and to open out the country for military purposes. So

anxious were the new landlords to destroy the forests that many old

leases contain clauses coercing tenants to use no other fuel. Many

old trees were cut down and sold for twelve cents. On a single estate

in Kerry, after the revolution of 1688, trees were cut down of the

value of $100,000. A paper laid before the Irish houses of parliament

describes the immense quantity of timber that in the last years of the

seventeenth century was shipped from ports in Ulster, and how the great

woods in that province (290,000 trees in all) were almost destroyed.

The houses passed an act for the planting of 250,000 trees, but it

was of no avail, and so denuded of timber had the country become that

large works started in Elizabeth's reign for the smelting of iron were

obliged to be stopped at last for want of charcoal. The present century

has continued the deplorable story of destruction. In forty years, from

1841 to 1881, 45,000 acres of timber were cut down and sold. Every

landlord cut down, scarcely anyone planted, so that at the present day

there is hardly an eightieth part of Ireland's surface under timber.

BIRDS AND REPTILES RELATED.

Fossil remains have been found of birds with teeth and long bony

tails, and also of reptiles, with wings; great monsters they must have

been--veritable flying dragons.

In 1861, in the lithographic slates of Solenhofen, Bavaria, a fossil

feather was found which was the subject of considerable discussion

among naturalists. Again, in 1862, a curious skeleton was disinterred

from the same place, in which most of the bones exhibited the marks of

a true bird, but the skeleton had a most remarkable tail, containing

twenty distinct bones. From each of these bones proceeded a pair of

well-developed feathers, similar to the single feather which had been

previously found. Here was an animal which could be called a birdlike

reptile or a lizardlike bird, with equal propriety. Its twenty caudal

segments or vertebræ were a bar to its entrance to every existing

family of birds, while it was equally out of place among reptiles.

[Illustration: SHELLS

Reduced 1/10.

FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.

A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER, CHICAGO.

COPYRIGHT 1900, BY

NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO

Root Murex

Burnt Murex

Purple Murex

Venus Comb

Apple Murex

Branched Murex

Horned Murex

Two-colored Murex]

THE ROCK SHELLS.

FRANK COLLINS BAKER,

Curator of the Chicago Academy of Sciences.

The rock shells or murices are among the most beautiful and interesting

of all the mollusks or shell fish, and are a favorite among collectors.

Their peculiar spiny shells and brilliant colors caused them to be

among the first mollusks studied by naturalists and we find them,

therefore, described in the earliest works on natural history.

There are about two hundred different kinds of rock shells, mostly

confined to the tropical and subtropical seas, although a few are found

in temperate climes. The greatest number of these are found about rocks

at low water but not a few are inhabitants of waters as deep as fifty

fathoms or more. In our own country they are abundant along the coast

of Panama, the Gulf of California, Florida and the islands of the West

Indies, but the largest number of varieties comes from the Indian

Ocean, Japan, the Philippines and Australia. The more brightly colored

varieties are from tropical seas, while the dull, plain species are

from subtropical or temperate climes.

The murices are peculiar in having their shells ornamented by numerous

projections, which vary from long, needle-like spines to simple fluted

frills. What these spines and frills are for would probably puzzle

the ordinary observer, as they would seem at first sight to be in the

way. In some cases they are simply ornamental, but in the main they

are protective and enable the animal to escape being eaten by some

voracious fish. This is known as protective adaptation and was probably

brought about in this manner: the murices, or their ancestors, did

not at first have spiny shells, and they fell an easy prey to the

fishes. As time went on a few individuals, through some modification

of environment, developed small spines or prominences. The animals

having these were not eaten by fishes as the knobs and spines caused

the fishes pain when swallowed, therefore they preferred the animals

with smoother shells. In time this modification caused a weeding-out

process, the animals with smoother shells being exterminated and those

with spiny shells increasing in numbers and becoming more spiny as one

generation succeeded another. This continued until the present time and

is going on even now.

Another interesting fact concerning the development of this

ornamentation is that the smoother shells inhabit rocky shores where

the waves are constantly beating in with greater or lesser violence,

while the more spiny individuals live in protected and comparatively

still water. This adds additional weight to the theory expressed in the

last paragraph, for the fish which feed upon these shells do not, as

a rule, inhabit localities where the water is rough, as along a rocky

shore, but live abundantly in protected bays and lagoons in which the

spiny murices are found.

There are shown on the plate eight species of rock shells, all more

or less common. The first one for us to consider may be called Venus'

Comb, (_Murex tribulus_) and is found in China, Japan and the Indian

Ocean. It belongs to a group of shells which is characterized by a long

snout or canal, and long, pointed spines. The color is yellowish; in

one variety the spines are tipped with black.

A shell which is found on the mantel in every household is known as the

Branched Rock Shell (_Murex ramosus_), which is widely distributed,

being found in the Red Sea, the Indian Ocean, New Zealand, Australia

and the Central Pacific Ocean, and attains a large size, some specimens

reaching the length of a foot and weighing several pounds. The aperture

is frequently tinged with a deep, beautiful pink. In many households

the large shells of this species are used for flower pots, suspended

from a hook over the window by a set of chains, and for this purpose

they are certainly very ornamental.

The Apple Murex (_Murex pomum_) is of home production, being found on

the shores of Florida and throughout the West Indies. It is not as

attractive as the shells just mentioned, but is very common, every

collector possessing several specimens in his cabinet.

In the aperture of this species will be noticed a dark brown object

which is known as an operculum or door, and its use is to close the

aperture when the animal withdraws into its shell, so that the latter

may be safe from its enemies. All of the rock shells possess this

organ, which is attached to the back part of the animal's foot.

A peculiar and somewhat rare shell is the Horned Murex (_Murex

axicornis_), found in the Indian Archipelago, whose shell is made up

of many curiously fluted spines. The Burnt Murex (_Murex adustus_), is

an inhabitant of the Indian Ocean, Japan and the Philippines, and its

name, which signifies burned, is well chosen, for all its spines and

frills and most of the shell are black in color and look just as though

the shell had been scorched. The aperature is often beautifully tinged

with pink or dark red.

A common rock shell found in the Mediterranean Sea as well as on the

Atlantic coast of France and Portugal and the Canary Islands, is the

Purple Murex (_Murex trunculus_). This is a light brown, three-banded

shell about two inches in length and is famous as having been used by

the ancients to obtain their beautiful and rich purple dye. On the

Tyrian shore these shells were pounded in caldron-shaped holes in the

rocks, and the animals were taken out and squeezed for the dye which

they secrete. If the animal of one of our common purpuras, a small

shell found along the Atlantic and Pacific coasts, be squeezed, it will

exude a purple fluid which will stain fabrics a reddish purple. It is

probable that much or most of the royal purple of the ancients was

obtained from these lowly creatures.

Although the most beautiful shells of this family are supposed to live

in the warm, tropical seas of the Indian Ocean, it is nevertheless true

that many of the most brightly colored rock shells live in the warm

waters of Panama and Mazatlan. The Root Murex (_Murex radix_) is one of

these shells, which attains a length of five inches and weighs several

pounds. The shell is white or yellowish-white and the spines and frills

are jet black, the two colors producing a peculiar effect. Another

beautiful shell from the same locality (Panama) is the Two-colored

Murex (_Murex bicolor_), a shell attaining somewhat larger dimensions

than the last. The spines are reduced to mere knobs in this species,

there are but a few frills, and only two colors, the shell being

greenish-white and the aperture a deep red or pink, plainly showing

whence the name, bicolor, two-colored. This shell is collected by

thousands at Panama and shipped all over the United States to curiosity

stores at summer watering places and other vacation resorts, where they

are sold at from a few cents to a dollar each, according to quality.

SPRING HAS COME.

Would you think it? Spring has come;

Winter's paid his passage home;

Packed his ice-box--gone--half way

To the Arctic pole, they say.

+----------------------------------------------------------------- +

| Transcriber's Note: |

| |

| Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. |

| |

| Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant |

| form was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. |

| |

| Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained. |

| |

| Mid-paragraph illustrations have been moved between paragraphs |

| and some illustrations have been moved closer to the text that |

| references them. |

| |

| Italicized words are surrounded by underline characters, |

| _like this_. |

| |

| The Contents table was added by the transcriber. |

+------------------------------------------------------------------+

Birds and All Nature, Vol. 7, No. 4, April 1900 · 第 3 / 3 章