Part 3

This joy in the beauties of Nature may be yours if you will; do not allow such a precious gift to escape you. It is beyond price, yet free to all. Each year adds to the wonder and value of Nature’s treasures; they are ever new, ever more and more welcome with each returning season. Happy are they who know and love them well.

Anne Wakely Jackson.

FROM AN ORNITHOLOGIST’S YEAR BOOK. FLUTE OF ARCADY.

In Ohio are many wide, grassy fields, covering the rounded hillslopes or filling open valleys. One day in March the world was white with snow, and I heard, as if in a dream, the soft cooing of the doves. Never before had I heard it except on sunny afternoons in pine woods, rich with warm, resinous odors. It is hardly a sound—rather silence perceptible, blending so perfectly with the sunshine, the hushed and brooding stillness of the air, the half-conscious sense of life, that I would often hear it a long while without knowing that I listened—the soft, tremulous cooing of the wood-doves, yet here the earth was white with snow and the air chill.

But the doves were right. Spring was near, and in a little while the feathery grass was nodding in the warm wind, gray and hazy, as the great white clouds swept overhead with wing-like shadows, or shining, each tiny blade like burnished steel, in the sunlight. The cooing of the doves had been only a low prelude; now the air was ringing with melody.

“N’er a leaf was dumb; Around us all the thickets rung To many a flute of Arcady.”

The fresh, glad songs of the western meadow larks! Everywhere, everywhere, the air was vibrant with the poignant sweetness of their silvery voices; everywhere you might see the shining yellow of their breasts as they rose with strong wing; everywhere you might perhaps chance to stumble upon some nest of woven grasses. Often with arched covering, on the very ground, with the dear little brownish mother bending over four or six white eggs, freckled with cinnamon spots. It is the season of the larks, and earth and sky are more lovely for the magic of their singing. One hardly knows how to describe it in words. Spring o’ the year! Spring o’ the year! it seems to say to the listener, both in the east and west, but the song of the western meadow lark has a richer melody, a more piercing delight. It seems to talk of forgotten things; of youth and first hopes; first love; it has all the glamour of the far-away, and yet a sweetness of the near. It rises from the thick grass at your feet, yet it mounts towards the blue sky! It is a veritable Flute of Arcady blown with a breath of joy.

Ella F. Mosby.

The dogwood blossoms white as snow Their favors now to rambler show, And where the Winter’s latest drift Through the dark moss did silent sift, All blossomed-starred, above the ground The shy arbutus now is found.

The cloud-capped mountains all appear With verdant slopes and summits clear; The sun has lost its soulless glare— Earth, sea and sky are wondrous fair. —George Bancroft Griffith.

THE RED-BACKED SANDPIPER. (_Tringa alpina pacifica._)

The sandpipers trip on the glassy beach, Ready to mount and fly; Whenever a ripple reaches their feet They rise with a timorous cry. —Duncan Campbell Scott, “Sandpipers.”

Very early in the spring the Red-backed Sandpiper leaves its winter home in the States and countries bordering the Gulf of Mexico and starts on its long journey to the cooler region of the far north. It arrives in Alaska early in May, in full breeding plumage, and the males are soon engaged in prettily wooing the coy females. Mr. Nelson, who had unexcelled opportunities for studying the habits of these interesting sandpipers, well describes their courting habits. He says: “The males may be seen upon quivering wings flying after the female and uttering a musical, trilling note, which falls upon the ear like the mellow tinkle of large water-drops falling rapidly into a partly filled vessel. Imagine the sounds thus produced by the water run together into a steady and rapid trill some five or ten seconds in length, and the note of this Sandpiper is represented. It is not loud, but has a rich, full tone, difficult to describe, but pleasant to hear. As the lover’s suit approaches its end the handsome suitor becomes exalted, and in his moments of excitement he rises fifteen or twenty yards, and hovering on tremulous wings over the object of his passion, pours forth a perfect gush of music, until he glides back to earth exhausted, but ready to repeat the effort a few minutes later. The female coyly retreats before the advance of the male, but after various mishaps each bird finds its partner for the summer and they start off house-hunting in all the ardor of a rising honeymoon.”

The Red-backed Sandpiper is not a bird architect and it does not build even a simple home. A slight hollow on a dry knoll, which commands a clear view of some body of water, is the site usually selected. Here the eggs are laid, either upon the dry grass already in the hollow or upon a few bits of leaves, twigs and grass hastily gathered and placed without order. After the appearance of the eggs the male seems to realize the responsibility of family cares, for his merry song ceases and he devotes his share of time to sitting on the nest, protecting the eggs with his warm body. That this is the case is shown by the bare patches that appear on his breast at this season.

With such a home as is prepared for their reception, it is not surprising that the little red-backs leave the nest as soon as they are hatched and freely run about. When frightened they readily conceal themselves by sitting on the ground and remaining quiet.

This species exhibits considerable variation in the color of its plumage. In the spring and summer it may be known by the black patch on the belly and reddish color of its back, which is mottled with white and black. At this season it is often called Blackbreast. In the fall and winter the upper parts are brownish-gray in color and the under parts are whitish. It is then frequently called the Leadback. The Red-back is not as active as the other sandpipers and its unsuspicious nature makes it seem quite stupid. Though a beach bird, it is not infrequently met in grassy marshes, and by some it is called the Grass-bird.

A PANSY OF HARTWELL.

I was a Pansy of Hartwell, a dainty little thing, with gold and purple petals, touched with white, and leaves of tender green—“a dear, delicate thing, but fair,” so Louise said. I grew below her chamber window, where she had prepared a rich, warm bed of mother earth for me and for hundreds of my kindred. “But none,” she said, “no, not one of my kind, was ever so beautiful as I.”

I remember my birthland well. Our old home in Hartwell, where Louise and I were born, was surrounded by a wide, rolling lawn, filled with blooming flowers from the time of the first peep of the early March crocus to the stately bloom and decay of the autumn flowers. Here, too, near her window grew a straight, tall maple tree, whose branches stretched far and wide and even touched her window.

I liked this tree because it gave us a pleasant shade when the sun’s rays were inclined to be too warm and made us droop and feel so languid and so tired. Delicate, dainty things, as Louise and I, must not have too much sunshine, else we droop and die.

One day I asked Louise if this tree was old. I knew it was by the many deep furrows in its bark, but I loved the music of her voice so much that I often asked her useless questions that I might lift up my head and listen to its melody. Louise then told me its age and much else that I had never heard. She said that with each returning springtime this tree sent up the life-giving sap from its roots, which ran swiftly through the trunk to the branches. Soon on these branches little red buds appeared, then a bloom and finally leaves, and wonderful little wing-like looking keys which held the seeds of the maple tree.

These were strange, wonderful things for me to hear, but I knew them to be true, because Louise told them to me. No one ever doubted Louise, for all her life long she had worshiped at the altar of truth, and, because of her truthfulness, her beauty and her goodness, all things loved her.

Besides giving us moisture and shade, the south wind told me that this same fine old tree held in its forks a home for some little friends of Louise. When the March winds left us and the skies became clear and blue and warm, her friends the robins would return to their old home as they had done for many seasons past, and there under her kindly, watchful care would raise their brood of young.

One day I saw her—I was always watching her—drop a bit of cotton and several strings down from her window. The cotton fell near my bed. I wondered and wondered why she had done this thing. A long time afterward I was told that it was for the use of Mother Robin in making her nest. Father Robin thanked my dear Louise for her thoughtfulness by singing for her his most beautiful notes at the dawn, the noon-time and the evening.

I lived in happiness in that quaint old town of Hartwell, caring naught for its bright skies, wide rolling plains, its peaceful waters, its fruits of tree and vine. I was young; I was happy; I lived near Louise; it was all that I desired.

I remember—but why should I tell you? I am only a little pansy, born, perhaps, for an hour or a day, to bloom and be gathered and die—so the south wind has told me. It must know. “God gave the flowers and birds and all things for man’s use and abuse,” so you say; but I had thought it different, for I lived in the sunshine of Louise’s love and tender care. One day—how well I remember it!—it was a day in sunny, coquettish April—when I heard voices approaching. Nearer and nearer they came, until I felt the presence of my dear Louise with her dark haired friend. I could not see them, for one of my sister pansies held her head so high and haughty that a little pansy such as I could not see or be seen.

This day Louise was more tender than usual. Alas! why is it ever true that dearest love is bought at the price of death and separation?

She bent down, half hesitatingly, and kissed me, touched my petals lovingly, and whispered so gently—only I could hear: “My beauty, my golden-hearted pansy, shall I—must I—give you to my friend?”

The wind gave back my answer. I was sacrificed on the altar of friendship.

Then I felt my heartstrings slowly tugged at, and quivering and wounded and bleeding I was taken from my home, the home Louise had made for me, and placed in a basket with my cousins, the violets, to be carried to a new home, to meet new faces and perhaps make new friends.

Louise and this friend loved each other very dearly. Alas! for me, they loved pansies, too.

Perhaps it was an honor for Louise to have chosen me from among a hundred others, for to her a pansy was the dearest, the daintiest and most coquettish of all the flowers that bloom and die. But, though I felt the honor, I would a thousand times rather have lived to lift my petals to the breezes in my native land without glory and without pain; or better still, death on Louise’s breast, with her smiles and caresses, was preferable to honor and glory in a stranger’s land. I say this was preferable, but how foolish I am; we pansies have no preference. We of the flower family must take what you of the human family choose to give us.

This friend of Louise’s, I knew not her name and cared not to know, carried me very gently with the violets, protecting me from the sun and dust as we went; and when I awoke from my misery and my long, long journey, I found myself an exile, with my kindred, in the far south-land where the birds are always singing, and the flowers are ever blooming, and youth and beauty and old age go hand in hand.

It was a beautiful home to which I was brought. Here I was surrounded with all that a pansy’s heart should long for; but I was not happy. I was not content. Soon my face looked sad; my shining green leaves began to wither and droop, and the breath of the south wind became so hot I felt as though I could not live. Then the battle against death began. I longed to live that I might see Louise once more. Then I tried to live for her to whom she had sacrificed me. I made a brave struggle for life, but all in vain. It was the battle of the weak against the strong.

Since life has left me and I have become a spirit flower with my earthly body caged between the pages of a musty old book, which my spirit may enter at will, Louise’s friend often holds communion with me. It is then I ask, “Does she love me, or is it Louise, of whom she thinks, for whom she longs when she looks at me so lovingly and talks to me of the old days?”

Laura Cravens.

GARNET.

This stone exhibits many varieties of color and of composition. The color probably most often thought of in connection with it is dark red, but it would be a mistake to suppose this the only color which it may manifest. Green, red, rose and brown are other colors which garnet transparent enough to be used as gems exhibits, while among opaque garnets may be found black and many varieties of the shades above mentioned.

These variations of color are more or less connected with differences of composition which it may be well first of all to consider. Garnet as a mineral is, like most minerals used as precious stones, a silicate. United with the silica the element most commonly occurring is aluminum. If calcium be united with these two the variety of garnet known as grossularite, or essonite, or cinnamon stone, is produced. If magnesium takes the place of calcium, then pyrope is formed. If iron, we have almandite, and if manganese, spessartite. Another variety of garnet, andradite, is composed of calcium and iron in combination with silica, and still another, uvarovite, of calcium, chromium and silica. Though they seem to differ so much in composition, all kinds of garnet crystallize in the same system and are closely allied in all their properties, so that it is always an easy matter to distinguish garnet of any variety from other minerals.

Garnet crystals may be of the twelve-sided form, known as dodecahedrons, the faces of which have the shape of rhombs, or the twenty-four-sided form known as trapezohedrons, the faces of which have the shape of trapeziums. Quite as commonly occur crystals which are combinations of these two forms, and then exhibit thirty-six faces, as in the crystal from Alaska shown in the accompanying illustration. Sometimes the crystals attain considerable size, some perfect ones from Colorado weighing fifteen pounds, while crystals two feet in diameter are reported from North Carolina. A curious feature of garnet crystals is that of often inclosing other minerals. The garnets from New Mexico, for instance, when broken open are sometimes found to contain a small grain of quartz. In the crystals from East Woodstock, Maine, only the outside shell is garnet and the interior is calcite. Other crystals are made up of layers of garnet and some other mineral.

Garnet has a strong tendency to crystallize, and hence is usually found as crystals. The grains of garnet found in the sands of river beds and on beaches, though not often showing crystal form, may be really fragments of crystals. Garnet is one of the most common constituents of such sands because of its hardness and power of resisting decay. These properties enable it to endure after the other ingredients of the rocks of which it formed a part have been worn away. It is quite heavy as compared with the quartz of which the sand is mostly composed, and hence continually accumulates on a beach, while the quartz is in part blown away. In such localities it will always be found near the water line, because the waves, on account of its weight, can carry it but a slight distance inland. Practically all garnet is three and one-half times as heavy as water, and some four times as heavy. Garnet, as a rule, is somewhat harder than quartz, its hardness being 7½ in the scale of which quartz is 7. Some varieties are, however, somewhat softer. The hardness of garnet and its uneven fracture are properties which give it an extensive use for rubbing and polishing wood. For this purpose it is spread upon glued paper in the manner of sandpaper and is used similarly, but it is superior to the latter. Most varieties of garnet fuse quite readily before the blowpipe, and the globules thus formed will be magnetic if the garnet contains much iron. The green garnet, uvarovite, is almost infusible, however. Garnet is not much affected by ordinary acids, although it may be somewhat decomposed by long heating.

Top row: Almandite (Colorado.) Almandite (Connecticut.) Center: Essonite (Italy.) Garnet in Matrix, polished (Mexico.) Garnet (Hungary.) Bottom: Garnet in Matrix (Alaska.) Uvarovite in Matrix (Canada.)

The name garnet is said by some authorities to come from the Latin word granatus, meaning like a grain, and to have arisen in allusion to the resemblance of its crystals in color and size to the seeds of the pomegranate. The German word for garnet, granat, is the same as the Latin word. Others think the word derived from the Latin name of the cochineal insect in allusion to a similarity in color.

The use of garnet for gem purposes seems to date back to the earliest times. Among the ornaments adorning the oldest Egyptian mummies there are frequently found necklaces containing garnet. The Romans prized the stone highly, and it is a gem very largely used at the present day, its hardness and durability and richness and permanency of color giving it all the qualities desired in a precious stone.

Two varieties of garnet, almandite and pyrope, may exhibit the dark blood-red color especially ascribed to garnet. Almandite or almandine garnet derives its name from Alabanda, a city of Asia Minor, in the ancient district of Caria, whence garnet was first brought to the Romans. The finest almandite for a long time came from near the city of Sirian, in the old province of Pegu, Lower Burmah. While this was the center of supply, it is not known just where the garnets were obtained. Such garnets are still known as “Sirian” garnets. Their color tends toward the violet of the ruby and gives them a high value. There are several localities in Northern India where almandite is mined on a large scale, and the stone is much used in Indian jewelry. Some of these localities are Condapilly, Sarwar and Cacoria. Almandite is also found in Brazil, in Australia, in several localities in the Alps, and in the United States. Stones from all these regions are found suitable for cutting, the only qualifications needed being sufficient size and transparency and good color. The almandite of Alaska shown in the accompanying plate occurs in great quantities near the mouth of the Stickeen river, but has not been extensively cut on account of its being too opaque. Almandite usually occurs in metamorphic rocks, such as gneisses or mica schists; also in granite. It is also found in many gem gravels. From the ruby it can be distinguished, as can all varieties of garnet, by its lower hardness and single refraction of light. In artificial light, too, it borrows a yellow tint, rendering it less pleasing, while the color of ruby grows more intense.

Pyrope, the magnesian variety of garnet, does not differ much in color from almandite. Both are dark red, but while almandite tends toward a violet tone, pyrope shades toward yellow. Pyrope is lighter than almandite, the specific gravity being 3.7 to 3.8, while that of almandite is 4.1 to 4.3. It is also less easily fusible. It rarely occurs in crystals, and where found in place is always associated with the magnesium-bearing rocks, peridotite or serpentine.

It is thus probably always of eruptive origin. Pyrope is a characteristic constituent of the diamond-bearing rock of South Africa, and is the stone known in trade as “Cape ruby.” These garnets afford many excellent gems. The home of the pyrope, however, is and has been for many centuries, Bohemia. Here it is found in many localities, but chiefly in the northwestern part, near Teplitz and Berlin. The garnets are found in a gravel or conglomerate of Cretaceous age, resulting from the decomposition of a serpentine. Sometimes, however, they are found in the matrix and often associated with a brown opal. They are found by digging and separated by washing. Though of good quality the scones are small, those as large as a hazel nut being found but rarely. Although the Bohemian garnets have been known for many centuries, the industry of mining and cutting them on a large scale is said not to have assumed any special proportions until the advent of foreigners to Karlsbad. In this way a knowledge of the stones went out to other countries, and a demand sprang up which has led to the establishment of a great industry and made Bohemia the garnet center of the world. There are over three thousand men employed at the present time simply in cutting the stones, and if to these be added the number of miners and gold and silver smiths occupied in the mining and mounting of the garnets, it is estimated that a total of 10,000 persons are engaged in the Bohemian garnet industry. The stones are used not alone for jewelry and for ornamenting gold and silver plate, but also extensively for watch jewels and for polishing. Excellent pyropes are found in Arizona, New Mexico and Southern Colorado in our own country. They occur in the beds of streams as rolled pebbles, and often associated with the green chrysolite or peridot of the eruptive rock from which they came. They are especially abundant about anthills, being removed by the ants because their size stands in the way of the excavations of the busy insects. The name pyrope comes from the Greek word for fire, and is applied on account of the color of the stone.

Of quite similar origin is the name carbuncle, a term applied to nearly all fiery red stones in Roman times, but now used to designate garnets cut in the oval form known as cabochon. The word carbuncle comes from the Latin word carbo, coal, and refers to the internal fire-like color and reflection of garnets.

The calcium-aluminum variety of garnet, grossularite, cinnamon stone or essonite, is less used in jewelry than those above mentioned. It is usually yellow to brown in color, but may be rose red or pink, as in the specimen from Mexico shown in the accompanying plate. The yellow grossularites resemble in color the gem known as hyacinth and are sometimes sold in place of the latter, but true hyacinth is much heavier and doubly refracting. About the only essonites or cinnamon stones available for gems come from Ceylon. These are of good size and color. Those from Italy, shown in the accompanying plate, are too small to cut into gems, but surrounded as they are by light green chlorite and pyroxene, they make very pretty mineral specimens. Grossularite is almost always found in crystalline limestone.