Chapter II: Part 2

The investigations of Professor Weismann have done more to solve the problem, "How death came into the world" than those of any other living man. It is generally assumed that death is associated with all forms of life, but this is not really the case. The lower forms of life, for example, may be said to have a perpetual existence, and not to be subject to death; for in unicellular reproduction life is practically endless. In the case of higher forms of life death is universal, and for a very natural reason. The aim of nature is the perpetuation of the species, not of the individual, and when creatures have, as in the case of certain insects, reproduced themselves once for all, they have no further need of existence. Creatures that nurse their young, like mammals, and produce them slowly, have need of longer life, or the species would speedily be exterminated; but there is no reason why the individual, having performed its duty in relation to the species, should continue to exist, since its existence then becomes a superfluity. Between multicellular and unicellular existence there is, therefore, the marked difference that, whereas the former dies when it has reproduced itself and so perpetuated its species, the latter goes on perpetually reproducing itself--one cell growing out of another without cessation. To Weismann we owe the knowledge of how it is that death intervenes when multicellular existence develops from unicellular. The change is effected by the differentiation of the individual--or somatic--and the reproductive cells. The former have lost the power of multiplication and reproduction, and consequently died, while the latter have preserved it.

* * * * *

The most curious of all objects in New Zealand is that which the Maoris call "aweto." One is uncertain whether to call it an animal or a plant. In the first stages of its existence it is simply a caterpillar about three or four inches in length, and always found in connection with the rata tree, a kind of flowering myrtle. It appears that when it reaches full growth it buries itself two or three inches under ground, where, instead of undergoing the ordinary chrysalis process, it becomes gradually transformed into a plant, which exactly fills the body, and shoots up at the neck to a height of eight or ten inches. This plant resembles in appearance a diminutive bulrush; and the two, animal and plant, are always found inseparable. One is apt to relegate it to the domain of imagination, among dragons and mermaids; but then its existence and nature have been accepted by the late Frank Buckland. How it propagates its species is a mystery. One traveler, after describing its dual nature, calmly states that it is the grub of the night butterfly. If so, then the grub must also become a butterfly, or what becomes of the species? One would be ready to suppose that the grub does really so, and that some fungus finds the cast-off slough congenial quarters for its growth. But as far as present observation goes the grub never becomes a butterfly, but is changed in every case into a plant.

A TAME TARANTULA.--A half-breed boy of Mexican and Indian blood recently attracted much attention at Winslow, Ariz., by the performances of an educated tarantula he owns. He carries the big, formidable-looking insect in a large wooden box slung about his neck, which, when exhibiting his pet, he places on the ground as a sort of stage. At the command of its master the tarantula mounted a small ladder, rung a bell and performed on a miniature trapeze. Then to the thumping of a tambourine in the hands of the boy, it proceeded to revolve slowly about as if waltzing, and when it had finished saluted the crowd by lifting one leg three times.

After its performance was over, it crawled to its master's shoulder, where it sat, occasionally running round his neck or down into his bosom. The boy says he tamed the spider when it was young, first by feeding it every day until it grew accustomed to him, then gradually taught it the tricks it knows. He declares that it is much more intelligent than any dog, and very tractable, though uncompromising in its enmity to any one but himself. It is as large as a silver dollar when curled up, though its legs are two or three inches long.

The body is an ugly, dull brown, covered with short, coarse, black hair, which also covers the limbs, but is very sparse and bristly. The eyes are small and gleam like diamond points, while the mouth is furnished with slender, overlapping fangs. The power of spring in these creatures is said to be something incredible, a leap of ten feet being no tremendous exertion. The boy, who owns the only one which has ever made friends with any other living creature, is from the Magollon mountains.

* * * * *

A story is told by George W. Griffin, of Henderson county, of a shepherd dog owned by him, which certainly demonstrates the superior instinct of this little woolly creature over most species of the canine family. "One day," said that gentleman, "I was driving along the public highway, and the dog was following me. I stopped to talk to some friends that I met, and while conversing with them unknowingly dropped my watch from my vest pocket. The watch had a short piece of leather attached to it, which answered for a fob. As soon as the chat ended I got into my buggy, and drove on. I had driven half a mile or more, when, to my astonishment, I noticed the dog was trotting along close behind the vehicle with the watch hanging from his mouth by the leather strap, which he held firmly between his teeth. Of course, I made haste to stop, and get out of the buggy. As I did so the dog came up to me wagging his tail, seemingly conscious and proud of what he had done. This, though, is just one of the many intelligent acts to that little animal's credit."--_Louisville Post._

* * * * *

When a dog barks at night in Japan the owner is arrested, and sentenced to work for a year for the neighbors whose slumbers may have been disturbed.

OPOSSUM.

(_Didelphys virginiana._)

SHAW.

The opossum is the only member of its order, the _Marsupialia_, which inhabits North America, says Mr. Chas. Hallock, one of the leading naturalists in the United States. It is confined to the southern portion, its range not reaching much north of the Ohio River on the west, or New Jersey on the east. It is probably never found east of the Hudson River.

This animal is about twenty inches long to the root of the tail, which appendage is fifteen inches in length. The color is pale grayish, the hair being nearly white with brown tips. The tail is nearly naked, and is prehensile; and the general aspect of the creature is rat-like.

"It is with a certain feeling of sadness that we chronicle the dying out, one by one, of old customs and habits. Each year old usages give place to new, and the change certainly in very many cases is not for the better.

"The opossum can hardly be classed among the game animals of America, yet its pursuit in the South in old plantation days used to afford the staple amusement for the dusky toilers of the cotton states. It was the custom in ante-bellum times, as often as the revolving year brought round the late fall days with their ripened fruit and golden grain, for the dark population of the plantation, occasionally accompanied by young 'massa,' to have a grand 'possum hunt _a la mode_. This custom, through desuetude, and change of circumstances, has been well-nigh consigned to oblivion.

"Its food, upon which it becomes fat and toothsome to the dusky palate, is persimmons and wild grapes, together with the various berries and fruits that abound in the Southern states. After the first hoar frost has whitened the hills the 'possum is most eagerly sought for by Cæsar, Pluto and Mars. At night the darkies start forth _en masse_, armed to the teeth with every available weapon, and accompanied by a number of nondescript dogs, generally well trained for 'possum or coon hunting.

"These dogs have some hound blood in their composition, and understand the requirements of the occasion perfectly. Some ancient shade of Dis with snowy hair is selected as leader, and he controls the dogs and manipulates the horn. The favorite haunts of the "varmint" are familiar to the negroes, and the "meet" is generally held on the borders of the swamp, where persimmons abound, or, if the moon shine too brightly for the game to venture far from cover, in the darker vales where the luscious grapes run wild and plenty.

"The dogs range far from the party, and the moment one of them strikes the "trail ob an ole 'possum" he gives the signal note to the expectant party by a short yelp. This sets the sable hunters wild with excitement; they listen for the second sound, sure to come, which will betoken that the varmint is treed. They are not long kept in suspense, for faint, away down in the valley, comes the joyful bay, and at the signal the whole party stampede, spite of all 'ole uncle Cæsar's' attempts to restrain them, and rush pellmell through bush and brake in the direction of the sound. They arrive panting and breathless from the wild race, in twos and threes, and are soon all assembled at the foot of a small sapling, in the branches of which the 'possum has taken temporary refuge from his pursuers.

"Soon a nimble young buck shins the tree, and the marsupial is shaken off after some difficulty, for he clings with the utmost tenacity to the limb, using the tail not the least in this battle for freedom. The anxious dogs below await his fall, and his death is compassed in less time than it takes to tell it. This is the only method employed in the capture of the opossum, and this is rapidly becoming traditional."

SOMETHING ABOUT DOGS.

Blenheim or Marlborough spaniels, which greatly resemble the latter in form and general appearance, get their English name from Blenheim Palace, in Oxfordshire, where the breed has been preserved since the beginning of the eighteenth century.

Mastiff is the term applied to a very large and powerful species of the canine family, and there is considerable conflict of opinion regarding the origin of the word. Some claim that it is derived from the Italian _mastino_, or the French _mastin_, both of which signify large-limbed.

This word, they say, was gradually corrupted into masty, a Lincolnshire expression, meaning very large, muscular, or big, until it gradually assumed its present form. Others, again, say its true origin is the old German masten, to fatten, because the mastiff is a large dog, and seems better fed than any other.

These animals were very highly prized by the early Romans, who matched them to fight in the arena with wild animals. It is related that very often two or three mastiffs defeated a lion in such combats.

Poodle is derived from the German _pudel_, a puddle or pool. This dog was originally German, and the name was probably given it because of being very closely allied to what is known as the water dog. They are without doubt the most intelligent of all canines.

The shepherd dog--called collie in Scotland, from the Gaelic _cuilan_ or puppy--gains its title from the fact of its being used to watch sheep, and protect them from marauders of every description.

As to the derivation of the word bull-dog, it is only necessary to state that this species was exclusively used in bull-baiting, and from that circumstance arose the name by which it is universally known. A cross between this and the terrier is appropriately termed the bull-terrier.

* * * * *

The Alaskan dog is almost human in intelligence. He weighs about 100 pounds. Heavily laden, he will travel sixty miles a day, says the _St. Paul Dispatch_. With twenty dogs in a team, no two of them are in a straight line from the driver. When unhitched for the night they pile upon the first blanket that is thrown upon the snow, and there they stay. When you crawl into your sleeping bag, and pull a robe over it, the dog will get under the robe. Unless you are careful he will be inside of the bag in the morning. The animal's endurance is phenomenal, and they are capable of strong affection. They are great fighters. A traveler who recently returned from Alaska says of the treatment accorded these faithful animals: "The whip that is used on them is the cruelest thing of its kind that is known to man. Thirty feet in length, and two inches thick near the short handle, it has a lash ten feet long that cuts like a knife. The Russian knout isn't to be compared to it. When a dog is struck you hear a sharp yelp, and then your sleigh whirls past a bit of fur or possibly a piece of bloody skin lying on the snow."

* * * * *

Recently a little girl named Lillian could not be found. It was early in the afternoon when she was missed. There was great excitement, for it was feared the little girl had been stolen, or fallen into the river not far away. Searchers were sent in every direction, but there was no trace of the little girl even when night came. Among the most earnest searchers was Lillian's pet dog, Rover. He ran about with his nose to the ground hunting everywhere. When night came lanterns were lighted, and the people still looked for, and hoped they would find, Lillian.

Rover had come back to the house, and in some way he went down an unused stairway. At its foot was a window that opened into a small room that had not been used in a long time. Rover gave three sharp barks, and the little girl's grandfather hurried to the part of the house where the dog was. When Rover saw him he barked more sharply, and sprang at the window, in front of which was a chair. The chair was moved, and there sat the little girl, just waked up. She had gone into this room to play house, and had fallen asleep. Rover is the hero now in that family.

EASY LESSONS IN EVOLUTION.

With the growing popularity of South Kensington Museum the directors and curators of its priceless collections have increased their efforts to adapt some of the accumulated store of knowledge which those collections represent to popular comprehension. The results of this activity have of late become manifest, both in the great Central Hall, and in the incomparable collection of British birds. The birds, which have been for many years a dull assemblage of specimens, all stuffed alike, and bearing an unnatural common resemblance to one another, are being rearranged in cases with a proper environment of rocks and shrub, sandhill or marsh; and with a skillful and successful attempt to display them in their habitat as they live.

The work is not nearly complete; it will hardly be so for two years to come; but already some of the cases, especially those of the solan geese, the eagles, the cormorants, and the almost vanished British bustard, are most interesting and beautiful object lessons in natural history. A lesson of a different kind is being begun in the Central Hall. During the period of Sir William Flower's directorship a number of specimens of canaries, pigeons, and domestic fowl were collected, and it was sought to show by means of these the variations which breeding might produce on a single type. Two cases of these specimens now stand in the Central Hall. On the top of the "pigeon exhibit" is the common rock pigeon. Below him, tier upon tier, are ranged the carriers, tumblers, pouters--the thirty odd breeds which fanciers have produced from the original ancestors. Many of these specimens were prize-winners in their day.

The same distinction appertains to the twenty or thirty varieties of canary, which are in an adjoining case, and which are the descendants of some ancestors whose little wings were not bright yellow at all, but a dull brownish green. The domestic fowl in the same case are intended to exhibit similar artificial peculiarities, though it should be noted that the nine-feet-long tails of the Japanese bantam are not so much the result of breeding as of eccentric cultivation, for the unfortunate bird's feathers are carefully trained in this way throughout the whole of an uncomfortable life. But the lesson in evolution which these cases seek to convey is to be carried out on a much larger scale. At the further end of the Central Hall are to be ranged a number of specimens of dogs, cows, goats, horses, cats, every species, in fact, of which mankind has produced definite breeds. Even fish, bees, silk-moths, and the greatly modified native oyster will find representation here. The nucleus of the dog collection has already been formed, and includes a mastiff of the old English breed, heads of the Irish wolf hound, Danish and French mastiffs, Russian and Mexican lap dogs, remarkable for their smallness, and Fullerton, the famous coursing greyhound. Numerous skulls, and several mummied dogs, given by Professor Flinders Petrie, will add to the interest of this collection. The authorities hope that persons who lose pure-bred or prize animals by death will present their bodies to the museum in order that they may be added to this extremely interesting display.

THE CECROPIA MOTH.

REST H. METCALF.

The cecropia, a lepidopterous insect of the family _Bombycidiæ_, is the largest and most beautiful of our American moths. It is quite generally distributed throughout the United States.

The large wings, measuring from five to six inches, are covered with dusky brown scales, the borders richly variegated and beautifully marked, the anterior ones having near the tops a dark spot resembling an eye, and both pairs of wings having kidney-shaped red spots.

The caterpillar or larva is nearly as beautiful in color as the perfect moth, being about three inches long, of a light green color with coral red, yellow and blue warts with short black bristles near its head. It feeds on the leaves of nearly every species of forest fruit and shade trees, till late in August or September; then it descends from the trees to seek some shrub upon which to fasten its winter home. Occasionally they will be satisfied with a location in a tree-top, but not often.

This home building is exceedingly interesting, and although you can watch them only for a few hours you still linger near and imagine what you cannot see.

When the right location is found it spins a very strong thread for the outside, fastening it securely to a small branch, and going back and forth with this strong silk until it assumes its proper shape and proportion. You will find it almost impossible to tear it open with your fingers, and only a sharp knife will enable you to see the contents. This strong outside is necessary for protection, as the woodpeckers are very fond of the larva and imago. After this strong outside is completed the silk is woven very loosely between it and the cocoon proper. This serves as a blanket for warmth, so that the baby moth is as safe from severe winter cold and storms as a baby child in its cradle.

The inner room of this home or the cocoon proper is made of very fine silk, which can be readily reeled off, and we are told that it has been carded and spun and knit into stockings that washed like linen, and that cloth woven from this silk is much more durable than that made by the silk worm.

But for the delicate character of the larvæ, which are very difficult to raise, it would become an important article of commerce.

The inside of this cocoon is as smooth as satin and the larva after changing to the proper state is glossy black, from one and a half inches to two inches in length. As the time draws near for the great change to the beautiful moth, the pupa grows very soft and, moistening the smaller end of the cocoon with a secretion prepared for this use, comes forth with damp, small wings, which as they dry out develop into the regular size of the beautiful moth, leaving a round hole in the cocoon where both the outer and inner cocoon were woven less closely and strong than any other portion.

In New England the cecropia may be found in the month of June.

Often the larva uses a leaf in forming the outside, and after a leaf dies and is blown away the impress of the veins remains, making such a pretty cocoon. You can easily find them during the winter months, when the trees are bare, if you keep a sharp watch for them.

THE GENISTA.

PROFESSOR WILLIAM KERR HIGLEY, Secretary of The Chicago Academy of Sciences.

The green earth sends its incense up
From every mountain-shrine,
From every flower and dewy cup
That greeteth the sunshine.
--_Whittier._

The more one studies plant life with reference to its structure, its mode of growth, its uses and the changes which may be wrought by man to adapt it to the requirements of his taste, the more one finds it impossible to repress the words--Wonderful! Beautiful! For there is no plant so insignificant as not to have something attractive about it.

The countries adjacent to the Mediterranean Sea and the Indian Ocean produce a profusion of forms noted alike for their beauty and economic value.

In this region, with about forty-five sister species, is found the plant of our illustration. Carried from its home, it is now a common decoration of the greenhouse and private conservatory. Its sisters are of economic value. Some are used for garden hedges, some to arrest the ever drifting sands of the seashore, and some to furnish a tanning principle. Cattle browse upon some species and all contain more or less of a yellow dye called _scoparin_.

These plants belong to the pea or pulse family (_Leguminosæ_), which also includes the clovers, the peanut, the locusts, the vetches, the acacias, the bean, the lupine, the tamarind, logwood, and licorice.

It has been estimated that this family contains over four hundred and sixty genera and about seven thousand species. Here are grouped herbs, shrubs, vines, and trees, the fruit of which is a pod similar in structure to that of the bean, and usually with irregular flowers. In this family the beasts of the field, as well as man, find some of their most valuable foods and nearly all of the species are without harmful qualities. The name of the family is derived from the Latin word _legumen_, meaning _pulse_.

The flowers of this group of plants are peculiarly adapted to cross-fertilization. Their colors, their odors, or the abundant nectar secreted by them attract numerous insects, and, while these little animals are providing for themselves Nature has also provided for the best interests of the plant, as the pollen scattered upon their bodies during their visit to a flower, is carried to another flower of like kind, thus causing a cross between the two plants, which results in a better grade of seeds.

The botanical name of the genista in the illustration is _Cytisus canariensis_, a native of the Canary Islands. The origin of the generic name, _Cytisus_, is obscure, though it is generally considered to be the ancient Greek name of the plant, and has its origin in the fact that the first species was discovered on the island of Cythrus, one of the Cyclades, a group of islands south of Greece. The specific name is derived from the name of the island where the plant is native.

The pure yellow flowers are grouped along the branches in terminal clusters. They are sweet-scented, showy and frequently so numerous as to make the plant appear like a mass of yellow blooms.

The leaves are very small, consisting of three leaflets similar in form to those of the common clove. The surface of the leaves, and of the young twigs, is covered by fine and soft hairs, causing a hoary appearance.

The plant is a shrub varying in height from a few inches to that of a man. It bears numerous and crowded branches.

Some of the other species of this interesting genus of plants bear purple or white flowers, and some obtain the stature of trees.

WHERE VEGETABLES CAME FROM.

The customer at a Lewiston market was in a reflective mood Saturday morning and would talk.

"How many of your customers know anything about what they eat?" said he.

"They ought to," said the blue frock, "they buy it and they order it."

"I don't mean that," was the reply. "Of course they know what they eat, but who of them know anything about the stuff? Take vegetables, for instance."

"Oh, lots of 'em know," said the market man. "Here's potatoes, for instance. They are native Americans. I guess Sir Walter Raleigh introduced them to Europe."

"I guess he never ate one, for in his time they were not considered fit to eat. They went to Europe from the hills of South America and a strange matter of fact, when you come to think of it, is that in the United States, where, barring a few sections, vegetables grow in greater abundance and beauty than any other part of the world, none save maize and the ground artichokes are native products."

"Nonsense!" ejaculated the amazed market man.

"No nonsense about it," continued the contemplative customer. "Europe, Asia, Africa and South America are all more richly endowed than we. I used to think the watermelon was ours, but, bless you! the north African tribes grew the big, juicy fellows and gave us our first seeds. As to the musk-melon, it is a vegetable of such lineage that, like the cabbage and lettuce, nobody knows just who were their first wild progenitors. The melon, at any rate, came out of Persia as a developed table delicacy, while the Adam of the cabbage family is agreed by botanists to have flourished way back there in Central Asia, where they say the Caucasian race came from. The Romans ate cabbage salad, and, according to count, there are nearly as many varieties of this sturdy old green goods as there are different races of men.

"There is another Roman delicacy," continued the customer, pointing to a box of beets. "They do say that the Greek philosophers thought a dish of boiled beets, served up with salt and oil, a great aid to mental exercise. For my part, though, I don't know a vegetable that should be prouder of its family history than the radish. Radishes came from China, but a scientific journal the other day announced the discovery from a translation of Egyptian hieroglyphics that Pharaoh fed his pyramid builders on radishes. He even went so far as to spend 1,900 silver talents in order to regale his masons with the crisp and spicy root. Again, if you read the Old Testament carefully, you will be sure to come across the announcement that in Egypt the children of Israel ate melons, beets, onions and garlic, and, evidently, in traveling through the wilderness, Moses had a great deal of difficulty in persuading them to cease yearning after these Egyptian dainties.

"Besides the melons and peaches and geraniums," continued the garrulous customer, "for all of which we have to thank productive Persia, water cress comes from her valleys and brooks and she taught the world how to grow and head lettuce. However, the Roman gourmands, who adopted both these salads, ate green peas and string beans that their gardeners found growing in France and South Germany, and cucumbers were as popular with them as with the Jews and Egyptians.

"To Arabia honor is due for the burr artichoke. They ate it for liver difficulties--and, as a matter of fact, there is no vegetable so good for men and women who lead a sedentary life, just as carrots, that grew first in Belgium, are an admirable tonic for the complexion, spinach for the blood, potatoes for the hair, and celery for the nerves. Rhubarb, they say, was never known until the fifteenth century, when the Russians found it on the banks of the Volga, and, if you will believe it, the only European people who appreciate the eggplant as we do are the Turks. North Africa first produced this vegetable; in France it is eaten raw often as not and in obstinate England they use it for decoration. However, the potato had to make a desperate struggle for popularity and for nearly a century, after it was imported and grown in Europe nobody could be persuaded to touch it. Finally Parmentier gave it a boom that in two centuries has not in the least diminished, and twice this little tuber has saved Europe from what promised to be a cruel famine." Whereupon the customer hurried off down the street, leaving the green-grocer staring at his stock of truck with a refreshing expression of pride and interest.

BIRDS AND FARMERS.

If it were customary, says a contemporary, to list such matters after the manner of stock reports, the pages of the daily papers in these days, suggestive of approaching spring, would contain two quotations something like these: "Millinery active," "Audubons aggressive."

During the cold winter months just passed, while its bird friends were in the South, the Illinois Audubon Society has been working to the end that the women who will flock to the "spring millinery openings" already heralded shall with resolute faces pass by the dainty feather-decked creations, and purchase only those which are flower-crowned or ribbon-decked. The directors of the bird protective society have issued within a day or two a pamphlet compiled by William Dutcher, treasurer of the American Ornithologists' Union. It will be sent to all the farmers' institutes, and to individual husbandmen by the hundreds, for the society believes, after having tried many means of teaching the bird-preservation lesson, that the best way to get at the milliners and the women is through the agriculturists. The more enthusiastic Audubonites declare that when the farmers read Mr. Dutcher's leaflet they will rise in mass and demand that bird killing for millinery or any other purpose be stopped. The husbandmen have a yearly crop interest of nearly three billion dollars. The total capital invested in the millinery trade is only twenty-five millions. Mr. Dutcher says that agriculture loses two hundred million every year because of the attacks of injurious insects. As the birds diminish in number, the loss increases, a fact which he declares is proved beyond a peradventure. A difference of only one per cent in the value of the farm products means a loss equal to the value of the millinery trade of the country. As a matter of fact, the farmer is the man who is paying the greater part of the millinery bills of the land.

The Audubon Society, after three years of active work, has come to the conclusion that appeals to the sympathies, and the humane feelings of men and women, are not so potent as are plain statements of facts which show how the pocketbook is touched.

FISH HAVE FAVORITE HAUNTS.

One strange feature of this sea life of the tropics is the regular recurrence of migratory swarms of fish of very small size that return in huge numbers year after year with such absolute regularity that the natives calculate on the event on a certain date in each year and even within an hour or two of the day, says a writer in _Lippincott's Magazine_. One such swarm of fish forms the occasion of an annual holiday and feast at Samoa. The fish is not unlike the whitebait for which the English Thames has so long been celebrated and each year it arrives in Samoa on the same day in the month of October, remains for a day, or at the most two days and then disappears entirely until the same day the following year. Why it comes, or whence, no curious naturalist has yet discovered, nor has anybody traced its onward course when it leaves the Samoan group, but the fact is unquestionable that suddenly, without notice, the still waters of the lagoon which surround each island within the fringing reef become alive with millions of fishes, passing through them for a single day and night and then disappearing for a year as though they had never come.

A visit to Samoa enabled me to see this strange phenomenon for myself and to witness the native feast by which it is celebrated year by year. I had been in Samoa for a month and in that month I had enjoyed almost a surfeit of beauty. I had coasted the shores of its islands, I had bathed in the warm, still waters of its lagoons, fringed to seaward by the white reef, on which the ocean broke in golden spray, and to landward by the silver beach of coral sand, flecked with the tremulous shadows of the swaying palms. I had climbed with my native guide the abrupt hills, covered with dense forests of tropical luxuriance, through the arcades of which I caught glimpses of the flash and luster of the ocean's myriad smiles, and again we had plunged into deep valleys among the hills, where little headlong streams murmur under the shade of the widespreading bread-fruit trees and wave the broad leaves of the great water lilies of the Pacific coast islands. This visit of the fishes came as a climax of wonders.

SILLIEST BIRD IN THE WORLD.

Dodo is the Portuguese name for simpleton, and it is given to the silliest bird that ever lived.

Three hundred years ago, when the Portuguese first visited the Island of Mauritius, they found a great number of these birds. They were about the size of a large swan, blackish gray in color and having only a bunch of feathers in place of a tail, and little, useless wings. More stupid and foolish birds could not be imagined. They ran about making a silly, hissing noise like a goose, and the sailors easily knocked them over with their paddles. They couldn't fly, they couldn't swim, they couldn't run at any great speed, and as for fighting, they were the greatest cowards in the world. They were much too stupid to build a nest, and so they dropped an egg in the grass and went off and let it hatch as best it could. Added to all these things its flesh was fairly good to eat, and the Portuguese pursued it so steadily for food that in less than a century's time there wasn't a single dodo left in the world. It was quite too silly and stupid to save its own life, and so it became extinct.

THYME.

(_Thymus Serpyllum L._)

DR. ALBERT SCHNEIDER, Northwestern University School of Pharmacy.

But, if a pinching winter thou foresee,
And wouldst preserve thy famished family,
With fragrant thyme the city fumigate.
--_Virgil, Georgics, (Dryden), IV., 350._

The field or wild thyme (_Thymus serpyllum_) is a small, much-branched shrub, about one foot high, with rather slender quadrangular, purplish, pubescent stems. Leaves small, opposite, sessile. Flowers numerous, in clusters in the axils of the upper leaves. Corolla purplish, irregular; calyx green and persistent. The plant is propagated by means of underground stems. It is far from being a showy plant.

This plant is closely related to the garden thyme (_T. vulgaris, L._), and grows profusely in meadows, fields and gardens. Both species are very fragrant and it is to this characteristic that they owe their popularity. The ancient Greeks and Romans valued thyme very highly and made use of it as a cosmetic, in medicine and in veterinary practice, much as it is used at the present time. Thyme yields the oil of thyme which is a valuable antiseptic, used as a gargle and mouth wash, for toothache, in dressing wounds and ulcers, also for sprains and bruises, in chronic rheumatism, etc. It finds extensive use in the preparation of perfumes and scented soaps; but its principal use is in veterinary practice. The herb is much used as a flavoring agent in soups and sauces, in fomentations, in baths and in the preparation of scented pillows.

Two kinds of oil of thyme appear upon the market, the red oil and the white oil. The latter is less aromatic being the product of redistillation. The oil is also known as oil of origanum.

Although thyme is an insignificant plant as far as appearances are concerned it has been sung by many poets. In Shakespeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream" Oberon, the king of the fairies, says to Robin Goodfellow;

"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine."

Another reference to thyme is to be found in the beautiful and pathetic story of "The Adopted Child" by Mrs. Hemans. The orphan boy in speaking to the kind lady who has adopted him, says:

"Oh! green is the turf where my brothers play
Through the long, bright hours of the summer day;
They find the red cup-moss where they climb,
And they chase the bee o'er the scented thyme."

DESCRIPTION OF PLATE.--_A_, plant somewhat reduced; 1, 2, leaves;
3, flower bud; 4, 5, flower; 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, different views of the
flower; 9, flower without stamens; 10, stamens; 11, pollen grains;
12, 13, pistil; 14, developing fruit; 15, transverse section of
fruit; 16, ripening fruit; 17, 18, 19, seed.

A CURIOUS SURVIVAL.

ELLA F. MOSBY.

The tongue of a bird, says Mrs. Olive Thorne Miller, is the tool that shows how he gets his living, as the anvil and hammer tell of the blacksmith's work, the hod of the bricklayer's, and the chisel and plane of the carpenter's. The tongue of the woodpecker is a barbed spear, very adhesive or sticky on its surface. We know at a glance that he uses it to capture insects hiding in the crevices of the bark, and if they are too small to be speared by its sharp point, they will stick to its gluey surface. "The four-tined fork" of the little nuthatch is admirable for catching grubs out of the rough tree-trunk, and the slender tube of the humming-bird's tongue proves him a dainty taster of flower-sweets, though he, too, catches insects, with a _click_ of his long, sharp bill as he flies, when flowers are rare. But there is a small bird whose tongue does not tell his own story. His tropical ancestry of many and many a year ago, like the humming-bird, sucked honey from flower-cups and juices from fruits, and so by a very curious survival of structure, this Cape May warbler that feeds on insects now has the tongue cleft at the tip and provided with a fringe like the iridescent and shining sunbird's, the honey-creeper's and flower-pecker's of southern isles. Their tongues, "pencils of delicate filaments," brush the drops of honeyed nectar from the deep tubes of tropic flowers and their sharp, needle-like bills probe the juicy fruits, though, like humming-birds, they adds small insects to their bill of fare when necessary.

This peculiarity on the part of the Cape May is the more curious because _all_ the warblers, numerous as these are and varying as widely as possible in character, plumage and habits, are alike in one respect--they are insect-eaters. Whether they are ground warblers or haunt river side and stream or explore trunk, branch, and twig-like creepers, or glean their food from the leaves, or resemble the flycatchers in habit, they live on insects, flies, ants, canker-worms, caterpillars, gnats, the larvæ and eggs of insects; nothing of this sort comes amiss to them. Some warblers seek this food in the tree-tops, and rarely descend; others feed on the ground and build their nests there. Many frequent lower boughs and shrubs, but all seek insects as their prey. A few, it is true, like the eccentric chat and the pretty gold-crowned thrush, who is _not_ a thrush after all, in spite of his speckled breast, are very fond of berries. But none retain the honey-sucking habits for which the tube-like and fringed tongues, and keen, needle-like bills, were fashioned.

There is also a queer coincidence between the nest-making of the Cape May warbler and that of the flower-peckers in the Philippines Islands--another curious survival. Mr. John Whitehead, the naturalist and explorer, found a most exquisite rose-colored pouch, which looked as if formed of rose-petals, though it was in fact made of other material. The little honey-sucker had woven it together with the silken threads of a spider's web. Now, the Cape May warbler weaves his partly hanging nest of twigs and grass, and lines it with horsehair in the great fir woods of the north, but he, too, fastens it together _with spider's webbing_.

The Cape May is a rare warbler. Dr. Rives, in his list of Virginia birds, mentions it as "a rare migrant," though Dr. Fisher says it is sometimes comparatively common in the fall near Washington. It was, therefore, a charming surprise when (September, 1899,) I found the Cape Mays our most common migrants at Lynchburg, Va. From September 20 to October 18 our maple-tree was rarely without them. A great deal of noisy work was going on close by, as the street was being widened and newly paved, but these "tiny scraps of valor," as Emerson calls his friends, the chickadees, showed no timidity or distrust. The colors of the different birds varied widely. One could hardly believe that the adult male Cape May with his striking white on rich olive above, and his tiger-like streaks of glossy black on shining yellow below, his dark cap and chestnut-red ear-patches, belonged to the same family as the immature female. _She_ is plain grayish olive above, and has a streaked grayish breast, as sober as a Quaker, save for her yellow rump. The Cape May, the prairie, the myrtle and the magnolia warblers are the four yellow-rumped species--a most convenient mark of distinction.

In character our little visitor showed energy and courage, usually driving off any new-comer, even of his own family, from his feeding-ground. He journeys in mixed crowds, but prefers a table to himself. He even won respect from English sparrows by his pugnacious traits. They generally let him alone, though they attacked the other strangers unmercifully. He explored his tree thoroughly, and with great agility, often spending hours in traveling from bough to bough, twig to twig, up and down our maple, and especially examining the underside of all the leaves within reach. Sometimes on tiptoe he stretched his pretty head to its farthest extent to investigate a dangling leaf above him; sometimes he hung, head downward, to clean the eggs and larvæ from a leaf below. I have seen him dextrously somersault to a lower bough, or hold on to a slender twig, scolding and pecking alternately, as the wind-tossed him to and fro. Occasionally he sang a little song, rather thin and monotonous, but not unpleasing. It has been compared to the song of the Nashville warbler, and also to that of the black and white creeper.

The cause of his long stay was no doubt the abundance of insects during our warm fall. Swarms of gauzy-winged insects were seen everywhere, wheeling in airy circles in the sun, and sometimes covering the wraps and hats of pedestrians. There were crowds of birds in our parks. One sunny afternoon I watched with interest the likeness between a wood pewee, catching insects in the air, and a flock of Cape May warblers engaged in the same pursuit. But there was a difference; the warbler darted straight out from his magnolia tree, caught his gnat and returned, whether to the same bough I could not see for the leaves were so thick, but probably only near by. The true flycatcher fluttered in an aerial circle, returning to precisely the same perch after capturing his insect.

The tiny fringed and cleft tongues seemed useless in this occupation, but like some parts of the human body for which we have not yet ascertained the present use, they may be invaluable as records of past history under different conditions from those of to-day.

* * * * *

"Look at Nature. She never wearies of saying over her floral pater noster. In the crevices of Cyclopean walls--on the mounds that bury huge cities--in the dust where men lie, dust also--still that sweet prayer and benediction. The 'Amen!' of Nature is always a flower."--_Autocrat._

The gorse is yellow on the heath,
The banks with speedwell flowers are gay,
The oaks are budding; and beneath
The hawthorn soon will bear the wreath,
The silver wreath of May.
--_Charlotte Smith._

THE RAVEN.

(_Corvus Corax._)

This handsome and truly interesting bird is found in nearly all portions of the globe wherever there are wide expanses of uncultivated ground. It is a solitary bird, living in the wildest places it can find, especially preferring those that are intersected with hills. In such localities it is said the raven reigns supreme, "scarcely the eagle himself daring to contest the supremacy with so powerful, crafty, and strong-beaked a bird."

The raven lives almost entirely on food of an animal nature, and there are few living things which it will not eat when the opportunity is given it. Worms, grubs, caterpillars, and insects of all kinds are swallowed by hundreds, though carrion is its chief diet. Its wings are large and powerful, and its daily range of flight is so extensive that many hundreds of objects pass under its ken, and it is tolerably sure, in the course of the day, to find at least one dead sheep or lamb. So strongly is the desire for attacking wounded or dying animals implanted in the breast of the raven, that, according to Mudie, the best method of attracting one of these birds within gunshot is to lie on the back on some exposed part of a hill with the gun concealed and close at hand. It is needful to remain perfectly quiet, because if there is the slightest sign of life the raven will not approach, for, as Mudie rather quaintly observes, "he is shy of man and of all large animals in nature; because, though glad to find others carrion, or to make carrion of them if he can do it with impunity, he takes good care that none shall make carrion of him." It is needful to watch carefully, and not to be overcome by sleep, as the first intimation of the raven's approach would to a certainty be the loss of an eye.

The tongue of the raven is rather curiously formed, being broad, flat, covered with a horny kind of shield, and deeply cleft at the extremity. At the root are four rather large projections or spines, the points being directed backward. The use of the spines is not known.

The cunning of the raven is proverbial, and many anecdotes are told of its intellectual powers. Charles Dickens in "Barnaby Rudge" has made of it an interesting character, which is by no means overdrawn. From the mass of these stories we will select one which is not generally known:

"One of these birds struck up a great friendship for a terrier belonging to the landlord of an inn, and carried his friendship so far as to accompany his ally in little hunting-expeditions. In these affairs the two comrades used to kill an astonishing number of hares, rabbits, and other game, each taking his own share of the work. As soon as they came to a covert, the raven would station himself outside, while the dog would enter the covert and drive out the hares from their concealment, taking care to send them in the direction of the watchful bird. On his part the raven always posted himself close to one of the outlets, and as soon as any living creature passed within reach, he would pounce upon it, and either destroy it at once or wait until the dog came to his assistance, when by their united efforts the prey was soon killed. Rat-hunting was a favorite sport of these strange allies, and it was said by those who witnessed their proceedings that the raven was even more useful than a ferret would have been."

Captain McClure, the Arctic voyager, says that the raven is the hardiest of the feathered tribe, and even in the depths of winter, when wine freezes within a yard of the fire, the bird may be seen winging his way through the icy atmosphere, and uttering his strange, rough, croaking cry, as unconcernedly as if the weather were soft and warm as springtime.

In captivity the raven is an exceedingly amusing, although mischievous creature, and displays a talent for the invention of mischief which is only equaled by its rapidity of execution. Except when placed in an inclosed yard where there is nothing that is capable of damage, "a single raven will get through more mischief in one hour than a posse of boys in twelve, and as he always seems to imagine himself engaged in the performance of some extremely exemplary duty, and works his wicked will as methodically as if he had been regularly trained to the task, and very well paid for it, he excites no small amount of rage on the part of the aggrieved person." He readily learns to speak, and retains many sounds which he has once learned.

The raven is nowhere abundant in Illinois. According to Mr. Nelson, it was formerly a not uncommon resident in the northeastern portion of the state, but now occurs only in winter and is rare. It frequents the sand hills along the lake shore from the last of October until spring. In winter they unite in small flocks and move from place to place.

WILD FLOWERS OF MAY.

President Marsh, in his report to the commissioners of Forest Park, Springfield, Mass., for 1899, mentions the following wild flowers as in bloom in the park during the month of May. We avoid the use of the botanical names:

WHITE BLOOM.

Star flower. Canada Mayflower. Shepherd's purse. White violet. Solomon's seal. False Solomon's seal. Bellwort. White baneberry. Wild strawberry.

YELLOW BLOOM.

Yellow violet. Common cinquefoil. Golden cup. Dandelion. Watercress.

PINK BLOOM.

Twisted stalk. Wild pink.

ORANGE AND RED BLOOM.

Lousewort.

BLUE AND PURPLE BLOOM.

Blue violet. Forget-me-not. Wild geranium. Ground ivy.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Jack-in-the-pulpit. Wild ginger. Wild pink azalea. Japanese hybrids. American rosemary. Parkman's crab. Flowering apple. Thunberg's barberry. Ashberry. Japan ashberry. Bayberry. Leatherleaf. American Judas tree. Golden chain. Japan weeping cherry. Siebold's double red flowering cherry. Weeping wild cherry. Choke cherry. Wild plum. Sweet fern. Flowering dogwood. Red flowering dogwood. Weeping dogwood. Red osier dogwood. Siberian red osier. Sheep berry. Cranberry tree. Naked viburnum. English wayfarer's tree. Common snowball. White thorn. Pear-leaved thorn. English hawthorn. Japan quince. Chinese lilac. Flowering peach. Buffalo berry. Wild rose. Sweet brier rose. Weeping willow. Bridal wreath. Tree peony. Flowering almond. Shrub yellow root. Wild red raspberry. Thimble berry, or black raspberry. Huckleberry. Blueberry. Common high blackberry.

In the June number of BIRDS AND ALL NATURE we shall give the flower shrubs which bloom in that month. The annual report of the commissioners of parks at Springfield is a worthy example for others to follow.

RICE PAPER.

The rice paper tree, one of the most interesting of the flora of China, has recently been successfully experimented with in Florida, where it now flourishes, with other sub-tropical and oriental species of trees and shrubs, says the _St. Louis Republic_. When first transplanted in American soil the experimenters expressed doubts of its hardiness, fearing that it would be unable to stand the winters. All these fears have vanished, however, and it is now the universal opinion that it is as well adapted to the climate of this country as to that of the famed Flowery Kingdom.

It is a small tree, growing to a height of less than fifteen feet, with a trunk or stem from three to five inches in diameter. Its canes, which vary in color according to season, are large, soft and downy, the form somewhat resembling that noticed in those of the castor-bean plant. The celebrated rice paper, the product of this queer tree, is formed of thin slices of the pith, which is taken from the body of the tree in beautiful cylinders several inches in length.

The Chinese workmen apply the blade of a sharp, straight knife to these cylinders, and, turning them round either by rude machinery or by hand, dexterously pare the pith from circumference to center. This operation makes a roll of extra-quality paper, the scroll being of equal thickness throughout. After a cylinder has thus been pared it is unrolled, and weights are placed upon it until the surface is rendered uniformly smooth throughout its entire length.

It is altogether probable that if rice paper making becomes an industry in the United States these primitive modes will all be done away with.

GOOD UNCLE TO ANTS.