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._

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.

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.

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. | +------------------------------------------------------------------+