Part 5

For many years, both under Russian and American control, the herds have, as I have said, received absolute protection on land, the killing for skins being restricted to the bands of superfluous males. As only one male in about thirty is able to maintain himself on a rookery or to rear a family, about twenty-nine out of every thirty are necessarily superfluous. The survival of one male in a hundred is sufficient for all actual needs of propagation. The young males on land are as easily handled and selected as sheep, and no diminution whatever to the increase of the herd has arisen from selective land-killing. The number of females in the herd bearing young each year was, in the earlier days, about 650,000 on the American islands and perhaps half as many on the Russian. The numbers of males and of young were together about twice as many more. This gave an annual total on the American, or Pribilof, islands of about 2,000,000 animals of all classes, while on the Russian, or Komandorski, islands there were about 1,000,000.

About 1884 different persons, known as pelagic sealers--chiefly citizens of Canada, but some of them from the United States--began to attack the herd in Bering Sea. Here no selective killing was possible. The females were always in the numerical majority, as the males had become less numerous on account of land-killing and as they left the islands less frequently in the summer. Each female above two years, when taken in the sea, died with her unborn young. Most of the adult females so taken after July 1 had left their young on the islands, and these orphan pups invariably starved to death.

Beginning with this increase of pelagic sealing in 1884 the fur-seal herds rapidly declined in numbers. In 1897 there were about 130,000 breeding-seals on the American islands, or about 400,000 animals of all classes, while on the Russian islands there were less than 65,000 breeding-animals, or less than 200,000 of all classes.

For this great reduction in numbers there is but one cause--a cause plain, self-evident, and undeniable--and that is the slaughter of breeding-females at a rate largely in excess of the rate of increase. While other causes have been assigned, none of them is worthy of the slightest consideration in explaining the decline.

Even in 1893 it was evident, to all capable of forming an opinion, that pelagic sealing was the sole known cause of the decline of the fur-seal herds. It was also evident that as an industry it must be self-destructive, since, if permitted to exist on any scale which would make it profitable, it must destroy the herd on which it operated.--_"Lessons of the Paris Tribunal of Arbitration," by President David Starr Jordan, in Forum._

THE PEACH.

WILLIAM KERR HIGLEY,

Secretary of The Chicago Academy of Sciences.

The peach (_Amygdalus persica, L._), is one of our most important and best-known fruits.

It is not found in the wild state, in its present form, though in some localities it propagates itself, having escaped from cultivation.

It is probably a native of China, where it has been cultivated for centuries and where it is said to reach its greatest perfection, although Darwin holds that the evidence seems to indicate that the wild almond of Persia is the original source of the cultivated almond, the peach, and the nectarine. The specific name _persica_, has its origin in the fact that the peach was obtained from Persia, both by the Romans and the Greeks.

Dr. Willis tells us that "it was introduced into Italy from Persia by the Romans, in the reign of Claudius Cæsar. It was introduced into Great Britain during the sixteenth century, and thence brought in 1680 by the settlers of Virginia to America."

The number of varieties seems to be unlimited. Over four hundred have been catalogued, though less than one hundred of these are constant. The nectarine is considered a variety and closely related to the peach and the plum, the apricot, and the cherry.

The tree itself, when bearing its beautiful rose-colored, five-petaled flowers, is highly ornamental. It seldom grows higher than twenty feet and its branches form a symmetrical top. One very ornamental variety produces double flowers and bright, shining leaves, but no fruit.

This valuable plant is generally placed in the family _Rosaceæ_, which includes many species of economic and ornamental importance. Besides those already mentioned, here belong the rose, the strawberry, the raspberry, the blackberry, the apple, the pear, and the quince, as well as many beautiful wild forms.

The thousand or more species usually classed in this family may be readily separated into distinct groups, to which are given distinct family names by some authorities. Thus, the peach, the cherry, the plum, and the almond, which resemble each other in regard to the structure of their fruits and in their chemical constituents, may be placed in a family by themselves.

It is of interest to note that this luscious fruit was not always considered free from noxious qualities. Pliny states that it was considered by some that its presence in Egypt was due to its introduction there by the Persian king for the purpose of poisoning his enemies.

The Chinese writings refer to the peach as early as the fifth century before Christ, and it is given the name "tao" by Confucius. We are also told that in these writings "the peach tree holds the same place that the tree of knowledge does in the sacred scriptures, and that the golden Hesperides, apples of the heathen, hold among the western nations."

In Chinese mythology a peach tree is mentioned which was thought to possess the power of causing immortality but which produced its fruit but once in a thousand years, and another, which grew on a mountain and which existed in the early history of China, was said to be guarded by a number of demons.

THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE VICEROY.

(_Basilarchia archippus._)

REST METCALF.

Ugh! The ugly worm! Crush it! Wait a moment, listen, while I tell you a more excellent way. Notice on what your worm is feeding; take a branch of it home and place it in a bottle of water with the worm on it; then place the bottle with its contents in a large box, fastening a wire securely over the box, to prevent the escape; then watch your worm. Perhaps your worm will be the one so often found on the milkweed (_asclepias_) with black and yellow stripes around his body, two little horns in front on his head and one at the tail. If you keep him well supplied with fresh leaves, in a short time he will eat all he wishes and then, and not until then, will he leave the plant on which he is feeding and travel many a long journey up and down and all around the box, until you may imagine he has gone crazy from his confinement; but that is not the case, as you will soon see. When he finds just the right place, he will remain quite still to all appearances, but really he is very busy with his bobbin of silk and glue bottle weaving a small silken mat and fastening it very securely to the top of the box, and the next thing you will see him hanging by his tail from this mat, with his head recurved. Watch him and you will notice that he makes little jerky motions. For about twenty-four hours he remains in that same position, when suddenly he drops down his head so that he hangs straight down; now don't leave him for a moment, for very soon after taking that position, his black and yellow striped coat begins to split open, right between those two little black horns on the head, as evenly as though cut with a sharp knife and a pale green globular object comes into sight. With a few contortions of the body the little fellow pushes up his old coat, folding each stripe, just as Japanese lanterns fold up, then with a dexterous movement he fastens the end of his beautiful green chrysalis to the mat, dropping his old clothes, so closely compacted together that you would hardly recognize them. Now for two hours he exercises by little shrugs until the beautiful green chrysalis hangs complete, with gold band and pure gold spots, the most beautiful chrysalis I ever saw. Everyone exclaims, "How beautiful!" and wonders how an ugly worm could so transform itself into a thing of beauty.

For ten days we can see no change in the looks of this chrysalis; then it grows darker and darker until you can distinguish the veins on the wings of the future butterfly. Then this little fellow, tired of his close quarters, opens the door of his beautiful chrysalis and creeps out, clinging fast to the empty nest. O, what tiny wings! But as you watch they dry out and lengthen to three times their first size and you behold the beautiful large Viceroy--orange-red wings with black lines along the nervures and a row of white spots along the outer margin, his black body beautifully spotted with white.

Or perhaps you may find, on the carrots in your garden, a worm with black and green stripes around his body, the black stripe being decorated with yellow spots. He will spin a long silken mat the length of his body and to that mat fasten a swing to hang around his body, so that by using a little glue at the end of his body the swing will hold his chrysalis in place. This chrysalis is not as beautiful as the Viceroy, but very interesting in its odd shape and in its development and will well repay all the interest taken in it. Perhaps you may be surprised by not seeing a beautiful butterfly emerge from your chrysalis, but instead an Ichneumon fly, for often the Ichneumon fly deposits her egg in the caterpillar's back, and he can not say her nay; after he is nicely settled in his chrysalis this egg hatches and develops rapidly, needing so much food that nothing is left of the poor caterpillar or worm, but the fly prospers and soon comes forth full-grown, from a round hole which he makes in the side of the chrysalis.

Each variety of worm and caterpillar will reward you with a different chrysalis or cocoon. If you are not sure of your worm place a box of dirt in your box, for some worms go into the dirt to make the great change. After watching these changes you, too, will say: "Don't crush the worms! For are they not a symbol of our own death and resurrection when we shall awake in His glorious likeness?"

BIRD LORE OF THE ANCIENT FINNS.

In the _Bulletin of the Michigan Ornithological Club_ H. S. Warren says that nature and nature-worship form the center of all the life of the ancient Finns, and he quotes freely from Crawford's translation of "The Kalevala," the national epic of Finland. He says that, "as the English language is not strong in diminutives, and therefore lacks some of the most effective means for the expression of affectionate, tender, and familiar relations, in this respect all translations from the Finnish into English must fall short of the original, the former being the language of a people who live pre-eminently close to nature, and are at home among the animals of the wilderness, beasts and birds, winds and woods and waters, falling snows and flying sands." The metre is like that of "Hiawatha," and is the characteristic verse of the Finns.

As to birds, the duck lays the mundane egg. "Then the water-mother finds a place upon her own knees for the duck to rest, where it lays an egg which rolls into the sea. There it breaks and is transformed into the earth."

From one half the egg, the lower, Grows the nether vault of Terra; From the upper half remaining Grows the upper vault of heaven; From the white part come the moonbeams, From the yellow part the sunshine.

* * * * *

Wainamoinen, wise and ancient, Made himself an ax for chopping, Then began to clear the forest, Then began the trees to level, Felled the trees of all descriptions, Only left the birch tree standing, For the birds a place of resting, Where might sing the sweet-voiced cuckoo, Sacred bird in sacred branches. Down from heaven came the eagle, Through the air he came a-flying, That he might this thing consider-- And he spake the words that follow:

The eagle inquires of the ancient singer, Wainamoinen, why he has left the birch tree only standing; and upon being assured it was left solely for the use of the birds, he commends Wainamoinen's "hero-judgment." There is a lesson in forestry for the modern day.

Wainamoinen, old and trusty, Turned his face and looked about him; Lo! there comes a springtime cuckoo, Spying out the slender birch tree-- Rests upon it, sweetly singing: "Wherefore is the slender birch tree Left unharmed of all the forest?" Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: "Therefore I have left the birch tree, Left the birch tree only growing, Home for thee for joyous singing; Call thou here, O sweet-voiced cuckoo, Sing thou here from throat of velvet, Sing thou here with voice of silver, Sing the cuckoo's golden flute-notes; Call at morning, call at evening, Call within the hour of noontide, For the better growth of forests, For the ripening of the barley, For the richness of the Northland, For the joy of Kalevala."

Thus is the cuckoo looked upon as a prophetic bird, or perhaps a mediator between the man and his gods.

The woodpecker is another sacred bird of "The Kalevala." In that epic he is not directly named, perhaps, because he was so very sacred, but the minor wood god, Nyyrikki, upon whom Lemminkainen calls in his distress to help him track the elk, is, like his father, Tapio, evidently a survival of Pikker, the woodpecker.

O Nyyrikki, mountain hero, Son of Tapio of forests, Hero with the scarlet headgear, Notches make along the pathway, Landmarks upward on the mountain, That the hunter may not wander.

BIRD NOTES.

F. Schuyler Mathews says, in an article in _Popular Science_, that the bird not only possesses an ear for music but the mind to produce it. As our own conventional conception of music does not at all correspond with the wild bird's song, we are apt to consider the latter as foreign to art. If, however, we choose to consider the bird's conception of music a lawless one, we must show that he ignores all fundamental principles. This it is impossible to do, for he invariably resolves his effort to a perfectly intelligible, logical, musical idea. His music is, therefore, an art at least in part.

"There are," Mr. Mathews continues, "three woodland singers who will perfectly illustrate my idea of the underlying principle of bird-music. These are the chickadee, the white-throated sparrow, and the hermit-thrush. The chickadee sings, or I may say, calls his mate, with a perfect musical third, or with two notes separated by a complete musical interval. One bird may sing the third; another may answer in two descending notes. The remarkable thing about this simple example of melody is that the intervals between the notes are correctly measured. The result of his effort is a combination of tones in perfect accord with a law of music, and we are bound to accept it as an example of melody.

"The chickadee, too, it should be remembered, is not a high type of bird; there are many steps of progression between him and his more gifted cousins, the thrushes, who are, indeed, musicians of a high order. But, just here I might as well call attention to the fact that bird-music should not be overestimated. Its character is fragmentary, and its unconventionality is obvious. The wild songs of the woods and fields are not musical compositions; they are at best but detached bits of melody imperfectly conceived, although often replete with the suggestions of a complete musical idea.

"For instance, the white-throated sparrow or Peabody bird sings a perfect musical phrase which we may harmonize as we please, because it certainly suggests harmony. This is absolutely no more than the bird sings. The musical intervals, the pitch, and the lengths of the notes are all correctly sustained. In other words the bird suggests a complete musical idea. But the little Peabody bird seldom attempts a more difficult or elaborate task. He knows his limitations, and keeping within these, his attempts are musically both consistent and perfect. But let us turn our attention to the more gifted songster of the northern woods, the hermit thrush. His capacity for simple melody, his technical mastery of tone intervals and note values, his phrasing and his brilliancy as a performer, are certainly not exceeded by any vocalist of nature.

"But we must again studiously heed the limitations of the bird's idea of music. We are still in the presence of the untamed singer, who is amenable only to his own elastic laws. The hermit thrush starts his song with a prolonged keynote (often it is A) and then springs upwards in thirds and fifths with such rapidity and ease that we are amazed at the accuracy of the performance. Not only are the tones correctly given, but they are embellished with subsidiary or tributary tones.

"The last note, C, too faint to be heard at any distance, is rendered in a gyrating, suppressed way, impossible to describe, but comparable to the soft tones of a harmonicon. This note is an excellent example of bird lawlessness regarding music. It is quite antipodal in character to the initial note (A) with which the bird slowly begins, as if desirous to found upon it a solid musical phrase; but he fails most utterly at the last and subsides into an exquisite, elusive, compound tone--I do not know what else to call it--which he rounds off in a plaintive pianissimo. He is not satisfied; he begins the same strain again, now in another key, and with no better success in the final than in his first effort. So he starts again with a variation, this time striking an initial note higher than before. Then he makes another attempt; but still he seems dissatisfied and, after a short rest, three tiny high notes come from his throat, full of perfect melody, as simple as that of the chickadee."

The bird is a transcendentalist, ever attempting what he cannot satisfactorily accomplish, but failing, only to delight us with the strange sweetness of the imperfect performance. The highest form of bird-music is unquestionably revealed in the songs of the thrushes. Here we have not only a simple fundamental rule, amply demonstrated, but also a partially developed series of musical ideas, strung together with a well-chosen relationship. Of course, musically considered, the development of the melody and the connection of the phrases are more or less imperfect; but that does not matter. The truth is, the bird is an accomplished singer who cares less for conventional rules than he does for the essence, or the soul of the music; but above all he succeeds in inspiring his listener. What more, may I ask, could be expected of a musician?--_School Journal._

STORY OF A NEST.

ANNA R. HENDERSON.

Far away in the beautiful land of Brazil, Where the birds are all singing o'er valley and hill, Two little children walked out 'neath the trees, Talking in musical Portuguese; And if you will listen to what I say, I'll tell you in English their words that day. "Sister," said Manuel, "often I've heard, That the trees scarce have room for the nest of each bird; For this is the land of these beautiful things, And the air seems alive with their songs and their wings; And I think that I know of a little bird breast, Which was puzzled and troubled for place for a nest." "Now, brother," said Lena, "don't tell me a word, Let me hunt for the nest of this crowded-out bird," So away they went roving o'er hill and through dell;-- Of the nests that they found 'twould take hours to tell. There were nests in the orange trees, blossoming white, There were nests in the coffee trees, glossy and bright, There were nests in the hedges, the bushes and grass, In the dark, hanging vines, by each roadside and pass. There were blue eggs and speckled eggs, brown eggs and white, And yellow throats opening with chirpings of fright. "Search no longer," said Manuel, "'mid bushes and trees, 'Tis a stranger place, sister, than any of these." "I give up," said Lena, a shade on her brow, "Come, hasten, dear Manuel, I'll follow you now." Then away to the garden the little feet sped, And he showed her the nest in a big cabbage head!

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 nature, 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 premature should not deter the ambitious youth. Men far beyond him in experience have been deceived by that same "fool's gold." History records that shiploads of the valueless yellow iron pyrites were sent to England by explorers 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--pyrite, magnetite, hematite, and limonite. Pyrite consists of iron and sulphur; magnetite, hematite, and limonite are oxides of iron. The first-named mineral differs largely from the others in external appearance as well as in composition. The others are, however, readily differentiated. We will discuss 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 generally massed together so that no single 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 component element for oxygen, pyrite often changes to vitriol, or else forms the oxide of iron, limonite, described below.