Chapter II: Part 2

TIN.--Tin is a beautiful silver-white metal, with a tinge of yellow. There was no tin produced in the United States in 1896. The tin-producing countries are Malacca, Banca, Bolivia, Australia, and Cornwall.

ZINC.--A metal of a brilliant white color, with a shade of blue, and appearing as if composed of plates adhering together. It is not brittle, but less malleable than copper, lead, or tin; when heated, however, it is malleable, and may be rolled into plates.

LEAD.--A metal of a dull white color, with a cast of blue. It is soft and easily fusible. It is found native in small masses, but generally mineralized by sulphur and sometimes by other substances. It is the least elastic and sonorous of all the metals.

YOUNG WILD BIRDS.

The thickness of the foliage on the trees, the high vegetation of the cultivated land, and the natural tendency of young birds to keep quiet and still, make the study of them a matter of some difficulty. In the hedgerows and by the wood-sides unfamiliar notes and calls of birds are constantly heard--the notes of young birds, which cannot be identified owing to the thickness of the foliage, and though in the large woods the cry of the young sparrow hawks and the flight of the pigeons and woodpeckers betray their presence, it is almost impossible to watch them, or to ascertain their way of procuring food. Probably most of the larger species are fed by the old birds long after they leave the nest.

Of game birds, young partridges are the most self-reliant, and young pheasants the least able to take care of themselves. The present writer has never seen young quails, but as those coveys which are hatched in England often number as many birds as the quail usually lay eggs, it may be presumed that these, the smallest of all the game birds, are not less active and precocious than the young of the partridge. The latter are almost as active upon land as young wild ducks are upon the water. They run swiftly and without hesitation, even among thick vegetation, when they are no bigger than a wren, and follow or precede their mother through mowing grass, hedgerows, or the sides of furze breaks and copses, seeking and catching insects all the while, and neither losing themselves nor betraying their whereabouts by unnecessary noise or excursions.

MANDIOCA.

ANNA R. HENDERSON.

Mandioca (_Jatropha Manihot L_.) is the principal farinaceous production of Brazil, and is largely raised in nearly all parts of South America; in fact, is the main bread food of that continent, and is therefore worthy of consideration.

It is difficult for dwellers in northern climes to conceive of a land which does not look largely to fields of wheat or corn for sustentation; yet millions inhabit such a region, and strange to say, derive their bread from a root which combines nutritious and poisonous qualities.

Mandioca is indigenous to Brazil, and the Indians, strange to say, discovered methods of separating its nutritive and detrimental qualities. The Portuguese, learning its use from them, invented mills for its preparation, and it became the bread food of a great tropical region where wheat and Indian corn do not thrive.

The plant has a fibrous stalk, three or four feet high, with a few branches and but little foliage; light-green five-fingered leaves. The roots are brown tubers, often several inches thick, and more than a foot in length.

It is planted from slices of the tubers and is of slow growth, taking eighteen months to mature. The poisonous quality is confined to the juice of the roots, and even this may be rendered innocent by boiling. It then becomes vinegar by fermentation. The leaves may be eaten by cattle. The roots must be ground soon after digging, as they become putrid in a few days.

The Indians scraped the roots to a pulp with oyster shells, and after pressing it, dried it before the fire, or cut it under water into thin slices which they dried.

I will now describe the Portuguese method of making farina from mandioca, as I witnessed it in my Brazilian home, a _fazenda_, plantation, near Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. The mandioca, which loves a dry soil, was grown on the hillsides among the orange and the coffee trees. It was cultivated by the hoe. When its great masses of tubers were mature they were dug and hauled to the farina house, a cool room, tile-roofed, dirt-floored, and which contained mill, presses, and drying-pans. Then the merry work began. The negroes, who love to work in company, would sing, as, seated on benches or stools, they scraped the brown skin from the tubers. These were washed and fed to the mill, while the children took turns riding the mule which pulled the creaking beam that turned the mill.

The tubers are very juicy and, on being ground, make a milky white mass, which is put into soft baskets made of braided palm leaves. These baskets are placed under a heavy screw press, and the milky juice which flows from them is caught in tubs and set aside to settle. In twenty-four hours in the bottom of the tub is a deposit of starch several inches thick. This is the well-known tapioca of commerce, extensively used for puddings and other delicate foods; good also for starching clothes. The clear juice above it, a deadly poison, is drawn off through underground tiles--that no chicken or other living creature may taste it. The damp pulp in the baskets is transferred to large concave trays of brass or copper placed over a slow fire, where it is constantly stirred until entirely dry. It is now ready for use, is as coarse as corn meal, but very white, and has a pleasant flavor, resembling popcorn. It cannot be made into loaves, as much moisture would make it too glutinous to bake. It is eaten dry or mixed with beans or other vegetables at the table, or it is dampened and salted and baked on a griddle in a hoe-cake half an inch thick. In this way it is very nice and sweet. It is a favorite breakfast dish made into a clear glutinous mush called _pirao_ (pronounced _pe-rong_). Brazilians are very fond of the dry farina and throw it into the mouth by a movement so dexterous that it does not powder the face.

This is the bread of Brazil. Though wheat bread is sold in the bakeshops of the cities, it is not used to any great extent in the rural regions.

There is another species of mandioca called _aipin_ (pronounced _i-peen_), which cannot be converted into _farinha_. It matures in eight months and has no poisonous qualities. It is a staple article for the table, being baked like a potato, and its taste resembles that of a roasted chestnut.

TRAVELING BIRDS.

Cleaving the clouds with their moon-edged pinions,
High over city and vineyard and mart;
April to pilot them; May speeding after;
And each bird's compass his small red heart.--_Edwin Arnold._

River valleys, coast lines, and mountain chains are the ways followed by the migrating birds; and frequent observations have determined the fact that birds travel at great heights, many as much as a mile from the earth. This may be one of the reasons why the tiny creatures have such keen sight; for from this distance they can obtain a far-reaching view of the surrounding country and distinguish landmarks readily.

If the weather is stormy or foggy, then the birds are obliged to fly much lower; and, too, it is then that the lights along the coast attract them and such countless numbers perish by being beaten against the lighthouses, many more birds being killed in the fall season of migration than in the spring, when the weather is less stormy.

They fly in vast numbers, and often on still nights they can be heard calling to each other. A good idea of their number can be obtained by the use of a telescope, which, if focused on the moon, will often show the birds on a brilliant background so that they can readily be discerned. The motion of their wings can easily be seen in this way, and the immense numbers of them better realized.

A good way to form an idea of the distance covered each year by the birds as they migrate is to take a single bird and note its journey. The bobolink makes his winter start in August, rests awhile in the marshlands and then visits the rice belt of the Southern states, doing damage directly and indirectly each year to an amount covering several millions of dollars. Then he flies over Cuba, and there his name is _chambergo_. Next he lingers along the coast of Yucatan, then goes on south through Central America and the island of Jamaica, in which place they call him "butter-bird," on account of his great plumpness, the result of the rice-feeding, no doubt; and from this place he makes one continuous long journey for over four hundred miles to Brazil, where he spends the winter. Here he stays until early spring, and then, if no accident has come to him, he will again brighten our months of blossoms by his chipper presence and his delightful song.

One of the most curious things observed in the fall migration of birds is in this same bobolink. By some manner of means many of these birds have gone west, some as far as Utah, to spend their summers, and when the winter is coming they, too, take their flight south, but not by the direct way through Mexico, and then to Central America, as would seem most natural, but following their hereditary instincts they come back to the Atlantic coast and journey down it, along the whole way to Florida, then across to Cuba, and on with those from New Jersey and New England until the winter resting-place is reached. This bird gives a most conclusive and interesting illustration of the permanency of bird routes and the "hereditary habit" of the winged flocks.--_Bangor Commercial._

MINERALS.

HORNBLENDE.--A mineral species, placed by Dana in the augite section of the anhydrous silicates. In common use the name is limited, as it was formerly applied only to the dark crystalline minerals which are met with in long, slender prisms, either scattered in quartz, granite, etc., or generally disseminated throughout their mass. The color of the mineral is usually black or dark green, owing to the presence of much iron. It appears to have been produced under conditions of fusion and cooling which cannot be imitated in the laboratory, the crystals obtained artificially being of augite type.

MALACHITE.--One of the native carbonates of copper. It is sometimes crystallized, but more often occurs in concretionary masses of various shades of green, which are generally banded or arranged in such a manner that the mineral, which takes a fine polish, is much prized as an ornamental stone. Great quantities of it are found in the Siberian mines, and many beautiful objects are manufactured from it.

QUARTZ.--The most abundant of all minerals, existing as a constituent of many rocks, composing of itself the rock known as quartzite or quartz rock and some of the sandstones and pure sand, forming the chief portion of most mineral veins. In composition it is silica, and when uncontaminated with any foreign intermixture it appears in clear, transparent crystals like glass or ice. Pure quartz is largely employed in the manufacture of glass and is commonly obtained for this purpose in the form of sand. Quartz veins with few exceptions form the gangues in which gold is found.

TOURMALINE.--A name applied to a group of double silicates, composed of many other minerals. The color of tourmalines varies with their composition. The red, called rubellite, are manganese tourmaline containing lithium and manganese, with little or no iron; the violet, blue and green contain iron, and the black are either iron or magnesium-iron tourmalines. Sometimes the crystals are red at one extremity and green at the other, or green internally and red externally, or _vice versa_. Pink crystals are found in the island of Elba. Tourmalines are not often used in jewelry, although they form beautiful gems and bear a high price. A magnificent group of pink tourmalines, nearly a foot square, was given by the king of Burmah to Col. Sykes, while commissioner to his court. The tourmaline appears to have been brought to Europe from Ceylon by the Dutch about the end of the seventeenth century, and was exhibited as a curiosity on account of its pyro-electric properties.

AGATE.--Of the quartz family, and is one of the modifications in which silica presents itself nearly in a state of purity. Agates are distinguished from the other varieties by the veins of different shades of color which traverse the stone in parallel concentric layers, often so thin as to number fifty or more to an inch. Externally the agates are rough and exhibit no appearance of their beautiful, veined structure, which is exposed on breaking them, and still more perfectly after polishing. Though the varieties of agate are mostly very common minerals in this country as well as in the old world, those localities only are of interest which have long been famous for their production and which still furnish all the agates required by commerce.

AMETHYST.--So named because it was supposed by the ancient Persians that cups made of it would prevent the liquor they contained from intoxicating. The stone consists of crystallized quartz of a purple or blue violet color, probably derived from a compound of iron and soda. The color is not always diffused through it, and is less brilliant by candlelight.

SERPENTINE.--Serpentine differs in composition from the other marbles. It is a soft mineral of different shades of green, of waxy luster, and susceptible of a high polish. It is better adapted to ornamental work within doors than to be exposed to the action of the weather.

SULPHUR.--An elementary substance belonging to the class of metalloids. It has been known from the earliest times as the product of volcanoes, and as a natural mineral deposit in clay and marl formations. It also exists in primitive rocks, as granite and mica.

ACCIDENTS TO BIRDS.

GUY STEALEY.

Strange accidents happen to birds as well as to people, and some of them are as unexplainable as those that fall to our lot. I remember finding a meadow lark suspended from a barbed-wire fence several years ago, dead, its throat pierced by one of the sharp barbs. The bird had apparently attempted to fly between the wires and, miscalculating the distance, had dashed against the barb.

Another curious case which came under my notice was that of a small water bird. While walking along the bank of the river flowing through our place, I discovered the little fellow dangling from a willow, his head firmly wedged in one of the forks. He had been there some time, and how he ever got caught in that fashion is a mystery.

But the strangest mishap of all I ever witnessed occurred last summer. I was picking peas in the garden when my attention was attracted by the fluttering and half choked cries of a bird a little distance from me. Hastening to the place I found a brown field bird hanging from a pea vine. Around its neck was a pea clinger, which formed a perfect noose. As nearly everyone knows, pea clingers form into all imaginable shapes. The bird was feeding under the vines and, being frightened by my approach and in trying to escape, had thrust its head through the clinger with the above result. I soon freed it and saw it fly away but little the worse for the adventure.

* * * * *

_To the Editor of_ BIRDS AND ALL NATURE:

I find your periodical most interesting and instructive, as it brings one into closer relation with all forms of life.

Better than a knowledge of Hebrew, Greek and Latin is it to know what the birds, the trees, and flowers all say, what the winds and waves, the clouds and constellations all tell us of coming events.

There is a world of observation, thought and enjoyment for those who study nature in all her varying moods that is denied those who, having eyes see not and having ears hear not.

In looking over BIRDS AND ALL NATURE I have noticed with pleasure some articles from the pen of Caroline Crowninshield Bascom that have particularly pleased me. Her interpretations of what her pet cats and birds have to say, their manifestations of intelligence, and the sentiments of affection, or envy, jealousy, and malice; their obedience and their moralities under her judicious training. A woman who can train a cat to live in harmony with a bird, to see each other caressed in turn by a beloved mistress, should be on the county school board as a successful educator. For boys and girls can be more easily trained than those in the lower forms of life. I trust Miss Bascom will not try to harmonize the cat with rats and mice, lest those natural-born thieves increase to such an extent that every municipality will be compelled to have traps and police in every nook and corner, in every cellar and garret of all our private and public buildings. There is a limit, dear Miss Bascom, to peace and good will on earth.

ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
_New York, July 1, 1899._

THE INFLUENCE OF PICTURES.

J. P. M'CASKEY.

If it is a very good thing to hang attractive pictures on the walls of the home, then it is doubly so thus to ornament the walls of the schoolroom. "In the emptiest room," says Ruskin, "the mind wanders most, for it gets restless like a bird for want of a perch, and casts about for any possible means of getting out and away. Bare walls are not a proper part of the means of education; blank plaster about and above them is not suggestive to pupils." The landscape makes a bright opening through the dead wall like a window; flowers and ferns are suggestive of the garden, the lane, the field, the woods, the purling stream; of song-birds in the air or among the branches, and blue sky overhead. Animals suggest a life with which we should be more or less familiar. The portrait speaks the man, what we know of him, suggesting trains of thought that may be most interesting and profitable.

A mother wondered why her three brave lads had all gone to sea from an inland home. She was speaking, in her loneliness, with a friend who had called upon her, and she could not suggest any reason why they should all have adopted the sea-faring life when none of their friends or relatives had been sailors. The man observed a picture of a full-rigged ship hanging above the mantel. It was perhaps the only picture in the room, at least the only one at all conspicuous. A thought struck him. "How long has that picture been hanging there?" he asked. "Oh, it has been there ever since the boys were little children." "It was that," he said, "that sent your boys away. The sea grew upon their imagination until they longed for it, and sought it, and so they are gone."

So a striking or attractive picture, in the schoolroom as in the home, may sink deep into the heart of the child, and mean far more to him than much of the work which the school program usually imposes. He may forget the name and lose all recollection of the personality of the teacher and of most of his schoolmates, but the striking picture is a picture still. That he will always remember. In our experience, as we grow older, if we are at all observant, we know more and more the value of these things--how great a factor in education they may become!

Men wonder sometimes how they can expend a modest sum of money to good purpose in giving pleasure and profit to others. Get some pictures of good faces, and flowers, and landscapes, and other proper subjects, and put them upon the walls of your nearest school-house, or of some other in which you may be interested. When you have done this for one school you may want to do it for a second, or you will suggest to some other generous heart the like gift of enduring value. What chance have boys and girls with a dead-alive teacher in a school-house whose blank walls are eloquent of poverty? Oh, the weariness of it!

Real, genuine, helpful, beautiful art is now brought within reach of the million. The arts of chromo-lithography and half-tone engraving are putting exquisite pictures, at low cost, wherever there is taste to appreciate and enjoy them. In our homes they are everywhere. Why not everywhere also upon schoolroom walls bare of these choice educational influences? To many a child good pictures come like the ministrations of the angels. We feel this, we know it; and for the years remaining to us shall do what we can to make school-life better for the pictures on the wall.

THE SEA-CHILDREN.

COLE YOUNG RICE.

"Oh, mother, I lay
A-dreaming one day
By the wreck of the Alberdeen,
And I heard a singing
Under the sea
Of children swinging--
Their hair was green!--
In seaweed swings, and they called to me--
Oh, mother, they called to me"--

"Hush, hush thee, my child!
Thy prattle is wild,
For the children that dwell in the sea
Are the fishes swimming
Amid white shells
Whose pearly hymning
But echoed to thee
The strangled songs of the sinking swells--
My child, 'twas the song of the swells."

"And, mother," they said
"Come to us!--oh, dread
Not the waves tho' they fret and foam;
They're far, far over
Us while we play
Beneath the cover
Of our sea-home,
All day, all day o'er the beds of the bay!
Oh, mother, the beds of the bay!"

"Hush, hush thee, my child!"--
But strangely he smiled
As he gazed at the weird-lit waves.
For he heard a singing--
"Come to us, come!"
He saw them swinging
In crystal caves,
And cried, "I'm coming! I'm"--ah, how numb
His death-dewy lips--how numb!

NATURE STUDY IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS.

At the Shaw banquet in St. Louis the subject for the evening was "Horticultural Education," and a good deal was said as to the introduction of the study in the public schools.

On the question of its interfering with other school work, Prof. Jackman of Chicago said: "The intimation has been thrown out here to-night that perhaps the child's study of nature might interfere with something else in the schools. I can assure such objectors that it will interfere with some of the things they are taught. It will interfere with some of the dull routine that you and I can recollect, which we passed through when we were in these schools. The children have waited all too long for such an interference."

State Superintendent of Schools Kirk, said: "It is my firm conviction that a large part of what we now call 'geography' should be eliminated from the school curriculum. Much of it is so worthless or misleading as to retard education and exhaust the children's energies without any definite purpose. Children should learn about the country they live in, rather than the remote regions of Asia and the Arctic Zone."

One speaker declared that the recreation time can be restfully utilized for nature-study work. Memory is good but observation is better, and teachers are asking for specimens of fruits, nuts, grains, grasses, woods, leaves, twigs, buds, and flowers.

BIRDS AND ORNITHOLOGISTS.

Birds has entered upon a new year with the satisfaction of having pleased its readers as well as having rendered actual service to the cause of education, ornithological literature and art. Nature with her usual prodigality has scattered thousands of rare and attractive birds throughout the world, and of these the editor of BIRDS selects the most interesting species, the loveliest forms and the richest plumage for preservation by means of magnificent illustrations, obtained through the expensive process of color photography. A unique treatment of text makes the magazine interesting and instructive to old and young alike. The people of this locality are noted for being lovers of birds and students of nature, and it has given the three greatest naturalists the world has ever known. This is the native heath of Audubon and Robert Dale Owen. Mr. S. G. Evans, the well-known dry goods merchant of this city, has a very fine and complete set of Audubon's birds. All this fills our eyes to think what the world lost in the death of William Hamilton Gibson. He made all life seem related to our lives, all being to appear one substance, all to be worthy of interest, sympathy, love, and reverence. There are strange and beautiful stories told of his power to attract and handle the shyest creatures. Once, it is said, he went to a public library in Brooklyn to make a sketch of some rare butterfly, and had found a book of plates from which he was studying his subject, when, lo! there floated into the great room one of the very specimens he desired to picture, fluttered down upon the open page, and at last rested with throbbing wings beside its own portrait. On one election day, Mr. Gibson went to vote, and as he was studying his ticket, there came in at the open door, no one knew whence, a stray pigeon, which flew at once to him and perched upon his shoulder. He caressed it in his tender fashion, and murmured to it, and then it flew away, no one knew whither. Once, too, as he sat upon his veranda at The Sumacs, his country home in Connecticut, describing to a visitor the peculiar markings upon the wings of a certain song-bird, he suddenly arose, stepped to a bush upon the lawn, and coaxed into his hand the very bird of which he was talking, and which he brought to show to his astonished guest. This sympathy with the world of life outside of man fills his text and his illustrations to overflowing.--_Evansville (Ind.) Courier._

ACCORDANCE OF NATURE.

For Nature beats in perfect tune,
And rounds with rhyme her every rune,
Whether she works in land or sea,
Or hide underground her alchemy.
Thou canst not wave thy staff in air,
Or dip thy paddle in the lake,
But it carves the bow of beauty there,
And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake.
The wood is wiser far than thou;
The wood and wave each other know.
Not unrelated, unaffied,
But to each thought and thing allied,
Is perfect Nature's every part,
Rotated in the mighty heart.
--_Emerson._

O painter of the fruit and flowers,
We thank thee for thy wise design,
Whereby these human hands of ours
In Nature's garden work with thine.
And thanks that from our daily need
The joy of a simple faith is born.
That he who smites the summer weed
May trust thee for the autumn corn.
Give fools their gold and knaves their power,
Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall,
Who sows a field or trains a flower
Or plants a tree is more than all.
For he who blesses most is blest,
And God and man shall have his worth
Who toils to leave as a bequest
An added beauty to the earth.
--_Whittier._

THE WATER LILY.

This is the name of an aquatic plant of the genus _Nymphæa_, distinguished for its usually very fragrant flowers and large, floating leaves; applied also to the yellow pond lily of the genus _Nuphar_. The species alba has a large flower filled with petals, so as almost to appear double; it raises itself out of the water and expands about seven o'clock in the morning, and closes again, reposing upon the surface, about four in the afternoon. The roots have an astringent, bitter taste. They are used in Ireland and in the island of Jura to dye a dark brown or chestnut color. Swine are said to eat it, goats not to be fond of it, kine and horses to refuse it. The flowers, the herb, and the root were formerly used in medicine, but are all now obsolete.

The lotus resembles our common white species in the form of the flower and leaves, but the latter are toothed about the edge. It is a native of the hot parts of the East Indies, Africa, and America, is very common in parks, lakes, and rivers in Jamaica and grows in vast quantities on the plains of lower Egypt, near Cairo, during the time they are under water. It flowers there about the middle of September and ripens toward the 12th of October. The Arabians call it _nuphar_. The ancient Egyptians made a bread of the seed of the lotus dried and ground.

All the species of water lilies grow well in large pots of water with a few inches of rich soil at the bottom. They are propagated by dividing the root, and some sorts which produce bulbs are increased by the offshoots from these. Mr. Kent, who cultivated these plants to great perfection, found that the bulbous-rooted nymphæa, if limited in their growth for want of water, or from cold or excessive heat, were apt to form bulbous roots and cease growing for the season. Hence the necessity of water and heat to make them flower freely.

The plant known especially in this country as the water lily, frequently as pond lily and sometimes as water nymph, was dedicated by the Greeks to the water nymphs. The fruit, which ripens under water, is berry-like, pulpy and thin, and each of its numerous seeds is enveloped in a thin sac. Of about twenty species two are found in the United States. Our common species has almost circular leaves, which often cover a broad surface of water on the margins of lakes and ponds, forming what are known as lily pads. The flowers are often over five inches across, of the purest white, and have a most agreeable sweet scent. In some localities the flowers are tinged with pink, and they are found, though rarely, with the petals bright pink throughout. The leaves also vary in size and sometimes are crimson on the under side. The root stalk, as large as one's arm and several feet long, is blackish outside and marked with scars left by the leaves and flower-stems; it is whitish within. Though the plant often grows in water several feet deep, the leaf and flower accommodate themselves to the depth, and they may sometimes be found where there are but a few inches of water.

At a place called Dutchman's Slough, we are informed by Mr. George Northrup, about half a mile above the outlet of Calumet Lake, south of Chicago, grow great quantities of water lilies, which are gathered every season for the Chicago market.

THE WHITE SWAN.

This magnificent bird is well known from being kept in a half-domesticated condition throughout many parts of Europe, whence it has been carried to other countries. In England, according to Newton, it was more abundant formerly than at present, the young being highly esteemed for the table. It was under special enactments for its preservation, being regarded as a "bird royal," which no subject could possess without license from the crown, the granting of which license was accompanied by the condition that every bird in the "game," the old legal term, of swans should bear a distinct mark of ownership on the bill. Originally this ownership was conferred on the larger freeholders only, but it was gradually extended, so that in the reign of Elizabeth upwards of nine hundred distinct swan marks, being those of private persons or corporations, were recognized by the royal swanherd, whose jurisdiction extended over the whole kingdom. At the present time the Queen's companies of Dyers and Vintners still maintain their swans on the Thames. The largest swanery in England is that belonging to Lord Ilchester.

It has been stated that the swan was introduced into England in the reign of Richard Coeur de Lion; but it is now so perfectly naturalized that birds having the full power of flight remain in the country. There is no evidence to show that its numbers are ever increased by immigration from abroad, though it is known to breed as a wild bird in the extreme south of Sweden, whence it may be traced in a south-easterly direction to the valley of the Danube.

The nest of the swan is a large mass of aquatic plants, is often two feet high and six feet in diameter. The eggs are from five to nine in number, of a grayish-olive color. The young are hatched in five to six weeks, and when hatched are clothed in sooty-gray down, which is succeeded by feathers of dark soot-gray. This suit is gradually replaced by white; but the cygnets are more than a year old before they lose all trace of color and become wholly white.

The swan of North America is considerably larger than that of the old world. The first species is the trumpeter, so-called, of which the bill is wholly black, and the second (_Cygnus columbianus_, or _americanus_) has the colored patches on the bill of less extent and deepening almost into scarlet.

Fossil remains of more than one species of swan have been found.

Our picture presents this stately bird swimming among water lilies, a sight that may be seen in summer in some of our American parks, notably the Central Park of New York City. Chicago and Cincinnati have some fine specimens. For portrait and sketch of the black swan, see Vol. III, pp. 66, 67.

NEBRASKA'S MANY BIRDS.

Nebraska is distinctively the bird center of the United States. It contains more species than any other state in the Union, and ornithologists who have studied its feathered possessions have classified 417 distinct species that may be seen within its boundaries. Of these 225 species breed here and the remainder are migrants who drop in on us at certain seasons and then pass on to their breeding-grounds. The natural features of Nebraska are largely responsible for this remarkable variety of feathered population. It includes a diversity of country that offers attractions for hundreds of songsters. For instance, the mocking-bird and the cardinal grosbeak, who are distinctive Southern birds, frequently appear in the southern corner of the state, and in the west we have a large number of what are usually regarded as mountain birds, but which come down from the foothills at intervals to the kingdom of Quivera.--_Omaha Bee._

LURLALINE.

_Old Irish Air._

There was a little water sprite, her name was Lurlaline;
Amid the water lilies white sometimes she might be seen.
She was a fairy child, Lurline, could sit secure and cool,
Upon those lily leaves so green you see in some lone pool.

There would she sit the summer day, singing a song so bright;
You never heard the song, you say, and don't believe it quite?
But that perhaps is just because when you quite near her stood,
You did not notice where she was, or listen as you should.

It happened in the month of June, the happy summer time.
She always sang a lovelier tune and wove a lovelier rhyme,
And you, too, like to Lurlaline, a lovelier song would sing,
If only you knew what they mean, the flowers and ev'ry thing.

If you were like a water sprite--the water sprites know well
The wondrous things of day and night, and all they have to tell;
They know and love the creatures wild, and all the flowers
that grow;
They live with them and love them well, God's hidden pets they know.

And now if you want more to know what Amodine saw there,
You first must love all things below, in water, earth, and air;
You first must love all things that move among the trees
and flowers,
And then you shall have more to love in shining fairy bowers.

A CONTRIBUTION TO CHILD-STUDY LITERATURE.

It has been a blessed thing for the child and for humanity that the former has at last attracted our attention in a way to force upon us the conviction that it is time we found out what to do with him. People of scientific bent think this can be done by measurement and test experiments. Many fond and utterly unscientific mammas think it can be done by an all-absorbing deference to the child's whims; by setting the child on a pedestal and pouring ointments over him and bringing him sweetmeats and nectar on silver platters. I am not sure but it was this latter conduct on the part of the parent that called the attention of teachers to the need of a thorough study of the child and his requirements. For nothing else is so detrimental to the child's development as this growing tendency to pamper him.

The old method of treating the child was to ignore him; to let him be seen and not heard; to think that because he was young he could run errands all day, eat what was left at table, sleep in the coldest bed at night, and be thrust into the corner as an undesirable piece of furniture. Now the custom is exactly the reverse. In most well-to-do families the child is the central figure, and the parents stand around to minister to him. Nothing is too rich for him, and he becomes the darling, terror, and tyrant of the household.

As between the old boxing-glove method and this modern kid-glove method of handling the child the former is preferable--the hardier ones survive; but no character is proof against the seductive enervation of pampering.

These facts in regard to the development of youth have not escaped the notice of that keenest of observers, Rudyard Kipling. In "Captains Courageous" he has given us his opinion as to the best means of rescuing boys and girls who threaten to become utterly worthless, and of transforming them into useful men and women.--_Child-Study Monthly._

THE YELLOW PERCH.

(_Perca fluviatilis._)

This is a fresh-water fish and is generally distributed over Europe, northern Asia, and North America, and so well known as to have been, it is said, selected for the type of an entire family of spiny-rayed fishes, the _percidas_, which is represented in European fresh waters by several other fishes such as the pope and the pike-perch. It inhabits rivers as well as lakes, and thrives best in waters of a depth of not less than three feet; in large, deep lakes it frequently descends to depths of fifty fathoms and more. It occurs in Scandinavia as far north as the 69th parallel, but does not extend to Iceland or any of the islands north of Europe. In the Alps it ascends to an altitude of four thousand feet.

The shape of the body of the perch is well proportioned, but many variations occur, some specimens being very high-backed, others low and long-bodied. Sometimes such variations are local, and Agassiz and other naturalists at one time thought it possible to distinguish two species of the common perch of Europe; but it can be separated specifically from the North American form. The brilliant colors of the perch render it easily recognizable even at a distance. A rich greenish-brown, with golden reflections, covers the back and sides, which are crossed with five or seven bands. A large black spot covers the membrane between the last spines of the dorsal fin, and the lower parts are bright vermillion. In the large, peaty lakes of North Germany a beautiful variety is not uncommon, in which the golden tinge prevails, as in a gold-fish.

The perch is carnivorous and voracious. It wanders about in small shoals within a certain district, playing havoc among small fishes, and is therefore objectionable in waters where more valuable fry is cultivated. Perch of three pounds in weight are often caught; one of five would now be regarded as an extraordinary specimen, though in rare instances we read of individuals exceeding even that weight. An old fisherman, Mr. George Northrup, a man of rare intelligence, tells us that of thousands of perch caught by him he never took one that weighed above three pounds.

Perch are good, wholesome food and highly esteemed in inland countries where marine fish can be obtained only with difficulty. The nearly allied pike-perch is one of the best European food fishes. It is very prolific, begins to spawn when three years old, in April or May, depositing the ova on water plants.

MOUNTING OF BIRDS.

The mounting of birds and the small animals of the field and forest is an art which is possessed by few people, yet which is not difficult and which especially appeals to the lover of nature. It is an art which it is well worth while popularizing, for it can be made the vehicle for the expression of a great deal of beauty, while preserving and making use, in the interests of scientific study, of materials which otherwise would be irretrievably lost. There has been need for some time of an authoritative work on the subject, something which would enable the amateur to mount birds and animals and which would be full and complete as to the information it conveyed. This want has been met by Mr. John Rowley, the chief of the Department of Taxidermy in the American Museum of Natural History, who has written a convenient volume of something over two hundred pages on "The Art of Taxidermy," which has just been published by the Appletons. In the foreword with which the author introduces the book he says that the name "taxidermy" was formerly applied to the trade of most inartistically upholstering a skin, but that of late years it has made wonderful strides.

BIRDS IN TOWN.

ELLA F. MOSBY.

Wrens are friendly to man. The little house wren in summer, and the Carolina wren in winter, give us a merry roundelay for all sorts of weather. Bewick's wren, Mr. Torrey says, "greatly prefers the town to woods and meadows," and even the winter wrenkin, dear little saucy brownie that he is, vouchsafes us a glimpse of himself now and then in the city. As for the bigger kinsfolk, the mocking-bird and catbird, they love the shrubbery of our lawns, and gardens, and sing close at hand. Nor are the thrushes, shy as they are in the breeding season, hard to discover during the migrations. A Swainson's thrush will sit for an hour or so, almost within touch, his big liquid eyes regarding his human neighbors placidly.

Strange to say, I have seen but few swallows or sparrows in town, except the chipping or "door-step" sparrow and the purple martin which belongs to the swallow tribe, though the misnamed chimney swallow does _not_. The song of the martin, "like musical laughter rippling through the throat," and the "giggling twitter" of the chimney dweller, often seem to drop to us out of the air as they dart overhead. Even pewees and cuckoos visit us after their broods are reared, the wistful cry of the first and the rattling call of the latter, sounding oddly from some tall tree close by the crowded street. At this time too, the grackles perch upon the roofs, and nighthawks and whippoor-wills are heard overhead in the dusky twilights.

One would not naturally expect to find game birds or birds of prey in a city, yet the Virginia quail frequently sends forth his ringing "bob white!" from any low roof or fence in the spring or early fall; and more than once long-billed water-birds have been caught by the street lamps at night. The eerie, tremulous cry of the little screech-owl sounds from the apple tree, and in winter he flies with a soft thud against the window pane, attracted by the light shining through the snow. Some owls choose a belfry tower as their favorite shelter, and live there year after year.

Our most glorious bird-day is when the orioles appear in flashing black and gold with ringing whistle, or their orchard cousins in ruddy chestnut tints, alternately singing and scolding, _chack! chack!_ and little later, come the scarlet and summer tanagers to the parks and public gardens, lighting up the tall trees with their splendid color, and making the neighborhood ring with their _chip-chur_ and _chicky-tuck!_ as if in call and answer. One day I saw these, and not far away, the crested cardinal, glowing like a tropical flower, and the red-headed woodpeckers close by, and some redstarts glittering and flitting from bough to bough, truly a study in red!

As for the smaller birds, humming birds, kinglets, vireos, and warblers, the trees of any city yard will be a frequented hostelry for all during their wonderful journeys, and for many as a summer home. Those that love the tree tops are seen all the better by human inhabitants of upper stories, and some of our most charming bird-books give us the experiences of a busy woman in a New York flat, or of another in a Chicago back yard, and of more than one invalid, watching these free, joyous lives with unenvious delight. A good glass, either opera-glass or field-glass, will open many a pretty bit of house-weaving, and brood-rearing to an observer shut in by walls and pavements, and bring many a pleasant acquaintance. At this very moment, a slender grey catbird glides through the boughs close by my upper window, with a low _chuck, chuck!_ as I glance at him. He knows I am a friend, but would fain enjoin silence, for a black cat prowls below.

THE OVENBIRD--GOLDEN-CROWNED THRUSH.

NELLY HART WOODWORTH.

A marvelous choral is the rare ecstasy song of the ovenbird (see Vol. III, 126-7). It was first recorded, at a comparatively recent date, by that versatile writer--poet, essayist, naturalist--Mr. John Burroughs. After speaking of the bird's easy, gliding walk, it being one of the few birds that are _walkers_, not _hoppers_, he says its other lark trait, namely, singing in the air, seems not to have been observed by any naturalist. Yet it is a well-established characteristic, and may be verified by any person who will spend a half-hour in the woods where this bird abounds on some June afternoon or evening. I hear it frequently after sundown when the ecstatic singer can hardly be distinguished against the sky. Mounting by easy flights to the top of the tallest tree, he launches into the air, with a sort of suspended, hovering flight, and bursts into a perfect ecstasy of song--clear, ringing, copious, rivaling the goldfinch's in vivacity and the linnet's in melody. Its descent after the song is finished is rapid, and precisely like that of the titlark when it sweeps down from its course to alight on the ground.

The same writer speaks of waking up in the night, just in time to hear a golden-crowned thrush, the ovenbird, sing in a tree near by. It sang as loud and cheerily as at midday. My first acquaintance with this rare overture was at the close of a hot day in July, as I was walking with a naturalist. A splendor floated in the air like a musical cloud as strange notes of gladness rang through the twilight with the clearness of a silver bugle. It came again, a clear, sweet, outpouring song, which I recklessly attributed to several goldfinches singing, as they often do, in concert. The trained ear of the naturalist was not so easily deceived, and when my attention was called to the more gushing character of the melody I wondered that it could have escaped notice. It was a very irrigation of song, the bursting of some cloud overhead that scattered melodious fragments all about, a mating-choral unheard, probably, after the nesting season is over.

Entering the woods in early summer this bird is sure to shake out its ordinary, rattling chorus--"Teacher, _Teacher_, TEACHER," the notes delivered with tremendous force and distinctness and the emphasis increasing--a vibrant, crescendo chant as unlike the brilliant ecstasy song as can be imagined.

The ovenbird is also called the golden-crowned thrush, for no conceivable reason unless it is that the bird is _not_ a thrush, but classed with the warblers. Or is it that its white breast, thickly spotted with dusky, resembles the thrush's? There is a peculiar delicacy in the texture of its olive-green robes, as fine as if woven in kings' houses, while, set deep in hues of the raven's wing, it wears that regal appurtenance--a crown of gold.

While watching from a rocky height a pair of hermit thrushes that were housekeeping in a hemlock beneath, an ovenbird flew from a maple bough to a high clump of ferns near by. In its beak was a quantity of dry grass, bulky material that interfered sadly with both walking and flight. The small burden-bearer managed, however, to progress slowly, moving its head from side to side to disentangle the grasses and lifting its little feet in the daintiest manner, until it disappeared where the ferns were thickest. Pretty soon it came in sight again, sauntered about with diverting nonchalance, and was off, alighting upon the same bough to drop down into the same corner of the thicket. This behavior was not without an inference; it was an advertisement of future hopes too plainly written to escape notice; I might have been stone blind and seen straight into the future! The nest must have been within a circle of a few feet, but with rank greenery above and underfoot the accumulated leafage of the ages, soft and penetrative as if placed layer by layer for the bird's special accommodation, any square foot might have held the treasure and kept the secret of possession.

Soon after a farmer told me of a strange nest, a curiously covered house with a low door, within which the sitting bird could be seen. The bird's flight as it left the nest first attracted his attention, just in time to prevent his foot from crushing through the roof. He had never heard of ovenbirds or of roofed-over nests, and was so interested in this new page of natural history that "once a day when he went for the cows he went round that way to see how things were getting on there."

"Every time I went," he said, "I expected to find that the cattle had spoiled it!"

After describing his interesting tenants he offered to share the pleasure of their acquaintance, saying most kindly, "I wouldn't mind leaving the hay field any time to take you there! I've done my share of haying, I guess; the boys don't want me to work so hard; come up to-morrow and I'll go with you!"

I was there with to-morrow and was, if possible, more amazed at the adaptation of the "oven" to its surroundings than with the structure itself.

The bird was sitting and not at all disposed to leave on our account; she merely drew in her pretty head, cuddled closer to the ground, and waited. Both house and tenant were so thoroughly blended in color with the environing leafage that, when pointed out, it was difficult for the eye to locate them. Possibly the brave little housekeeper divined the situation; or did she presume upon a previous acquaintance with the friendly farmer? The proprietor of the establishment, a little man-milliner with a bow of orange ribbon in his bonnet, sang through the fragrant morning as if glad of an opportunity of speaking to a gracious audience, interlarding his song with rushing over to his family--_vault_, I was going to say, for being sunken a bit in the ground and dark within, it suggested a mausoleum. A tiny ledge of slate, tilted vertically, made a strong wall upon one side of the small estate; young beeches, kept down by browsing cattle, grew where the rear-gates should have been, and a maple twig partially screened the entrance. Evergreen ferns crowded between the "oven" and the wall, their leaves interlaced, above the roof, with others opposite, the tips of two being caught down and interwoven with the roofing. The nest was made of dry leaves, lapped and overlapped, padded and felted in one compact arch--a veritable arch of triumph! Upon July 15th six creamy-white eggs, dotted with brown and lilac, lay safe within, these being duly replaced by a round half-dozen "little ovens," whose mouths were always open. Indeed, more food was shoved into those open-mouthed storehouses than would have supplied a village bakeshop, and still there was room for more. Warm rains soon gave the nest an unyielding texture; so matted and felted that the full weight of the hand left no impression, and I questioned whether the foot, set plumply down, would have crushed it out of shape entirely.

When the young birds had flown I brought home the nest as a unique souvenir of summer. Removed from the picturesque setting it was no longer interesting; its charm was that of environment; its beauty the marvel of adaptation.

So surely does Nature equip each bird with an individuality that distinguishes it from all others! Not only have they common rules followed in obedience to the law of instinct, but each species has special gifts developed according to the law of its nature, a law of harmony so delicately enforced that the law itself is not perceptible.

INSECT LIFE UNDERGROUND.

L. O. HOWARD, PH. D.,