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 PRACTICAL 
 NATURAL HISTORY.
 
 By the Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A. 
 
 s. d. 
 
 Homes without Hands 14 
 
 Strange Dwellings, crown 8vo 7 6 
 
 Strange Dwellings, 4to 6 
 
 Bible Animals 14 
 
 Insects at Home 14 
 
 Insects Abroad 14 
 
 Out of Doors 7 6 
 
 London, LONGMANS & CO.
 
 OUT OF DOORS: 
 
 A SELECTION OF ORIGINAL 
 
 ARTICLES ON PRACTICAL 
 
 NATURAL HISTORY. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 EEV. J. GK WOOD, M.A., F.L.S. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'HOMES WITHOUT HANDS' 'BIBLE ANIMALS' 'INSECTS AT HOME' 
 'INSECTS ABROAD' ETC. 
 
 NEW EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 LONG-MANS, GEE EN, AND CO. 
 
 1882. 
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 AND PAKLIAMENT STKEET
 
 Stack 
 
 Annex 
 
 6 
 
 5W? 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE PRESENT VOLUME is composed of a selection of 
 original articles on practical Natural History, which 
 have been contributed from time to time to various 
 periodicals, and are republished by the kind permis- 
 sion of the proprietors. 
 
 From London Society are taken ' A January Day 
 at Kegent's Park,' c The Children of the New Forest,' 
 ' Turkey and Oysters,' and ' Our Eiver Harvests.' ' The 
 Home of a Naturalist ' is from the Cornhill Magazine, 
 and ' A Summer Walk through an English Lane ' 
 and ' The Repose of Nature ' are from the St. James's 
 Magazine. Five essays were written in the Dark 
 Blue, namely, ' A Sand Quarry in Winter,' ' Under the 
 Bark,' 'Mrs. Coates's Bath,' 'A Blackberry Bush in 
 Autumn,' and ' De Monstris.' The articles on the 
 
 1117129
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 ' Wood Ant,' the ' Green Crab,' 'Medusa and her Locks,' 
 and e My Toads ' were contributed to Once a Week ; 
 and the two concluding essays, ' Life in the Ocean 
 Wave ' and ' Our Last Hippopotamus,' appeared in the 
 Daily Telegraph. 
 
 The reader will probably see that the first twelve 
 essays are arranged according to the seasons of the year, 
 beginning with a winter of activity, and ending with a 
 winter of repose.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A JANUARY DAT AT REGENT'S PARK .... i 
 
 A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER 2 9 
 
 UNDER THE BARK 46 
 
 MBS. COATES'S BATH gi 
 
 A SUMMER WALK THROUGH AS ENGLISH LANE . . gi 
 
 THE WOOD ANT 115 
 
 THE GREEN CRAB . 126 
 
 MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS -136 
 
 MY TOADS 146 
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST . . . . -156 
 
 A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN . . -. . .181 
 
 THE REPOSE OF NATURE 1 99 
 
 TURKEY AND OYSTERS . . . . . . . 22 3 
 
 DE MONSTRIS 244 
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS ....... 260 
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST . . . . . . 290 
 
 LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE . ..... . 319 
 
 OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS 881
 
 LIST OF ELLUSTEATIONS. 
 
 FULL PAGE. 
 
 STEALING A HIPPOPOTAMUS . 
 
 THE SAND QUARRY . 
 
 MRS. COATES'S BATH 
 
 CRABS Al HOME 
 
 NIGHT IN THE NEW FOREST . 
 
 MT BLACKBERRY BUSH 
 
 IN THE TEXT. 
 
 HATCHING-TROUGHS IN GREENHOUSES 
 
 HATCHING-PLATE .... 
 
 EGG, FRY, AND PARR . 
 
 OPEN-AIR TROUGHS .... 
 
 TRANSPORTING-BOX 
 
 frontispiece 
 to face p. 32 
 80 
 
 n 123 
 
 ,) 176 
 
 192 
 
 p. 261 
 274 
 
 . 274 
 
 876 
 
 . 287
 
 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 A JANUARY DAY AT REGENT'S PARK. 
 
 HAVING always felt a strong interest in the economy of 
 animated nature, I was recently led by a casual conver- 
 sation to recall a visit paid to the Zoological Gardens 
 in the coldest part of a winter now long passed away, 
 and to reflect with some regret that the only remi- 
 niscences of that visit were a dim recollection of a polar 
 bear paddling in some half-frozen water, and a general 
 idea of ubiquitous straw. I therefore determined to 
 watch for the first defined frost, and to renew my ac- 
 quaintance with the gardens as soon as the temperature 
 should be sufficiently severe for the purpose. 
 
 To the lover of all animated beings the sight could 
 not fail to be most interesting, considering the different 
 elements involved. "Within a comparatively narrow 
 space are assembled a variety of living creatures from 
 all parts of the world, forming a collection at present 
 unrivalled, and bidding fair to increase year by year. 
 From the frozen circle of the pole to the burning belt 
 
 B
 
 2 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 of the equator come representatives of the fauna of 
 every land, gathered together in the grounds of the Zoo- 
 logical Society like the beasts of old in the ark, though 
 happily with more space to move, and enjoying better 
 ventilation. Beasts, birds, reptiles, fishes, and even the 
 lowest forms of animal life, inhabit these wonderful 
 gardens, which contain very nearly eighteen hundred 
 specimens to be fed and tended daily, and to be placed 
 as nearly as possible in the same conditions which they 
 would have occupied in their native land. 
 
 Some of these creatures inhabit the lofty mountains, 
 while others pass an almost subterranean life in the 
 plains and valleys ; some require a warm and moist at- 
 mosphere, while others would die unless they could 
 breathe a cold and dry air ; one must live almost wholly 
 in water, while another would be injured even by a, 
 momentary immersion therein. Some animals, again, 
 are fierce, savage, and powerful, requiring heavy iron 
 bars and resolute keepers, while others are so soft and 
 gentle in their nature that they require to be tended 
 as carefully and watchfully as infants. Some are sullen 
 and morose, others are affectionate and cheerful ; some 
 are shy, others are familiar; and, in short, there i& 
 hardly a mental phase that does not find a representa- 
 tive in the creatures forming this collection. 
 
 In the matter of food, again, there is as great a 
 diversity as in climate or disposition. 
 
 The carnivora, whether furred, feathered, or scaled, 
 of course require animal food, which, again, is varied ta
 
 A JANUARY DAT AT REGENTS PARK. 8 
 
 suit the particular species that need it : the lions and 
 their kin eating flesh meat ; the seals and others need- 
 ing fish ; and the snakes requiring living prey, such as 
 frogs, birds, rabbits, and similar creatures. As to the 
 variety of vegetable food which is needed to meet the 
 wants of the beasts and birds that live on herbs, leaves, 
 and seeds, it is too complicated for any detailed ac- 
 count. Add to all these elements the individual idio- 
 syncrasies of many valuable specimens, and some idea 
 may be formed of the labour involved in keeping such 
 an establishment in proper order. 
 
 Few persons have the least notion of the intellect, 
 perseverance, and watchfulness that are daily exercised 
 in this place, of the ready invention required to meet 
 sudden and unexpected difficulties, and the resolute 
 courage by which alone they can be overcome. Few 
 of the visitors who stroll leisurely from cage to cage 
 think of the exceeding benefit conferred on science by 
 this collection, and the valuable additions to zoological 
 knowledge that have been made through its means. 
 
 Many curious and disputed points in animal physi- 
 ology have been cleared up, which otherwise must 
 have been left to conjecture and theory, and the 
 pains taken about the needful experiments are as sur- 
 prising as they are generally unknown. In order to 
 ascertain but a single mooted point, a staff of observers 
 has been organised, relieving each other at regular in- 
 tervals, never quitting their posts for a single instant, 
 either day or night, and keeping their ceaseless watch 
 
 B 2
 
 4 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 lest at some unguarded moment the golden opportunity 
 might be lost, perhaps never to recur. Any one who 
 wishes to form an idea of the accuracy, perseverance, 
 and "watchfulness that are exercised on such occasions, 
 need but refer to the celebrated experiments conducted 
 by Professor Owen, in order to settle certain difficulties 
 in the development of the kangaroo. 
 
 In spite of all the care lavished upon this institu- 
 tion, winter is always an anxious period. Bearing, 
 therefore, all these and many other considerations in 
 my mind, it was with no small interest that I entered 
 the Zoological Gardens on Old Twelfth Day, Saturday 
 January 18th, 1862, the thermometer then indicating a 
 temperature of 24 Fahr., and a tolerably sharp breeze 
 blowing. 
 
 On casting a comprehensive glance at the various 
 enclosures, the first object that caught my eye was a 
 creature something like a grenadier's cap, or a lady's 
 muff set on end, reared against the bars of the enclosure, 
 and gently swaying its body backwards and forwards. 
 Presently it began to sidle along the bars, still standing 
 or sitting upright, and being rendered so indefinite in 
 shape, by intervening twigs, wires, and posts, that I 
 could not make it out at all. However, it soon turned 
 its odd, wise-visaged head, and all the Beaver sat con- 
 fessed. As the beaver is a North-American animal, 
 accustomed to brave the terrible winters of that climate, 
 and quite familiar with ice, I should not have troubled 
 myself about it, but for its movements and general de-
 
 A JANUARY DAY AT REGENT'S PARK. 5 
 
 meanour partaking so largely of the absurd, and its 
 perfect contentment amid conditions that would seem 
 the very acme of discomfort to a human being. After 
 watching the inquisitive creature for some time, it was 
 easy to appreciate the veneration in which its intellec- 
 tual powers are, or were once, held by the noble savage 
 of North America, who would naturally reverence an 
 animal that could build a house far superior to his wig- 
 wam, and was clever enough to dam up a too shallow 
 stream, and to lay by a store of food for the winter 
 two branches of social economy which the savage mind 
 would not have conceived, far less have executed. 
 
 Dripping with water which froze almost immediately 
 on touching the ground, and had already covered the 
 enclosure with spots and paths of ice, the beaver looked 
 as luxuriantly comfortable as a cat on a hearthrug, and 
 was enjoying himself amazingly. Sometimes he would 
 patter round his pond, his flat tail dragging behind him ; 
 then he would make for the water, flounce into the half- 
 frozen liquid with a splash that caused the nerves to 
 shudder in misplaced sympathy, make a great turmoil 
 with paws and tail, and then emerge, walk to the bars 
 with the water dropping from every hair, seat himself 
 on end, holding with his feet to the iron fence, and, with 
 a calmly inquisitive air, inspect the carriages passing 
 on the road, or the visitors who happened to approach 
 his home. 
 
 Good store of tree trunks and branches have been 
 considerately furnished to him, and the grooves on the
 
 6 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 wood, and the chips which strew the enclosure, are 
 convincing proofs that the kindness of his attendants 
 is not wasted, and that his teeth have been rightly ex- 
 ercised. 
 
 Near this animal is another of the same species, 
 not so large, and inhabiting quite a little enclosure 
 with a mere trough of water, transformed by the 
 united exertions of the animal and the frost into an 
 unpleasing compound of water, mud, ice, and chips. 
 The animal was mightily hard at work when I came to 
 its cage, carrying a bundle of straw in its mouth for 
 some time, washing it well, and then rearing the bundle 
 carefully against the angle of its den, and tucking it 
 down neatly with its paws. I thought it was playing 
 at building a dam. 
 
 It was evident that as far as the beaver was con- 
 cerned there was no cause for anxiety, and I therefore 
 passed on to see how the inhabitants of Southern Africa 
 were comporting themselves under the present circum- 
 stances. 
 
 As usual, the hippopotamus was enjoying himself in 
 his bath, rolling about and wallowing in the familiar 
 element in a lazily contented fashion, ever and anon 
 slowly submerging the whole of his unwieldy person 
 below the surface, with that remarkable power of 
 adaptability which permits such animals as the hip- 
 popotamus and elephant to rise and sink at will, 
 thus making themselves heavier or lighter than an equal 
 bulk of water without needing to expel or inspire air.
 
 A JANUARY DAT AT REGENTS PARK. 7 
 
 This is a most interesting performance, especially to a 
 practical swimmer, and is probably achieved by com- 
 pressing the muscles of the chest so as to reduce the 
 bulk when the creature desires to sink, and allowing 
 itself to expand to its former dimensions when it wants 
 to rise. 
 
 The native habits of this huge animal are well ex- 
 hibited in the magnificent male specimen now in the 
 gardens, and it is curious to see how wonderfully the 
 creature is fitted for an aquatic existence. Heavy, 
 corpulent, and unwieldy as it appears on land, its legs 
 set so widely apart that when it walks in high grass the 
 limbs of each side make a separate path, leaving a ridge 
 of untrodden grass between them, it assumes quite 
 another aspect as soon as it enters the water, and, in the 
 easy playfulness and almost grace of its movements, 
 affords as great a contrast to its former clumsiness as 
 does the swan proudly sailing on the lake to the same 
 bird uncouthly waddling on the shore. 
 
 As the tank in the enclosure was so thickly covered 
 with ice that the animal might have practised sliding, 
 but would have found swimming next to impossible, 
 the hippopotamus was forced to content himself with 
 the small tank within his house, where the water 
 is kept at a moderate temperature by artificial means, 
 and the atmosphere is such as this delicate though 
 monstrous animal can breathe with safety. The atten- 
 dants are peculiarly careful of so valuable a creature, 
 and have made arrangements for cleansing its house
 
 8 OUT OF DOOES. 
 
 without sending their charge into the outer air during 
 the operation. 
 
 The giraffes are nearly, if not quite, as delicate as 
 the hippopotamus, and are obliged to content them- 
 selves with gratifying their very inquisitive natures by 
 inspecting the visitors who occasionally pass through 
 their warm house, and would like to feed the graceful 
 and gentle creatures, were not all such attempts sternly 
 prohibited by the watchful guardians. It is rather 
 remarkable that within a yard or two of each other are 
 located specimens of animals which inhabit the same 
 land, and yet are as strongly contrasted in shape and 
 habit as if they came from opposite portions of the 
 globe. 
 
 The elands are well and comfortable, and appear to- 
 be tamer than was the case a few months ago. They 
 are able to withstand the weather better than the 
 hippopotamus and the giraffe, being, indeed, mighty 
 mountain climbers in their native land, and therefore 
 accustomed to a low temperature. I may here mention 
 that the healthy condition of these magnificent ante- 
 lopes, and the comparative ease with which they are 
 bred in this country, afford most gratifying encourage- 
 ment to the efforts now being made in many quarters 
 to acclimatize in our own land the useful and orna- 
 mental inhabitants of other parts of the world, and 
 show in a striking manner the national value of a 
 collection upon which so much time is spent, and to 
 which such stores of knowledge are cheerfully dedicated.
 
 A JANUARY DAT AT REGENTS PARK. 9 
 
 The acquisition of a single new article of food, 
 whether animal or vegetable, is no slight boon to a 
 country, and it is almost impossible to exaggerate the 
 benefits that will accrue to this land if we can fairly 
 establish this splendid antelope as a denizen of our 
 parks or paddocks. When adult and well fed it is 
 as large as a prize ox ; its meat is of a peculiarly deli- 
 cate and piquant flavour ; its fat, a handbreadth thick, 
 is thought to surpass that of venison, while the marrow 
 is of such transcendent merit that a South African 
 hunter can hardly trust himself to think about it. 
 There are, of course, many difficulties in the way, 
 inasmuch as the animal has not yet become civilised, 
 and is apt to display an amount of irascibility that is 
 rather terrifying in an animal that wears horns as sharp 
 and powerful as those of an Andalusian bull, that can 
 leap a fence or chasm from which the boldest hunter 
 would recoil, and can charge down a precipitous hill 
 with the speed and sure foot of the chamois. Still it is 
 possible that in successive generations this evil temper 
 may be eliminated by careful management ; and it is 
 to be hoped that before the lapse of many years the 
 eland may be as common in our parks as the fallow 
 deer. 
 
 Nor is this the only creature which is being bred at 
 the Zoological Gardens with the intention of acclima- 
 tizing it. Among quadrupeds the bison of North 
 America and the kangaroo of Australia are among the 
 number of the intended denizens of this country, while-
 
 10 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 among the birds may be noticed a great number of 
 species belonging to the poultry and the pigeons, such 
 as the splendid curassows of tropical America, and the 
 large wonga-wonga pigeon of Australia. France and 
 England are uniting in the same great object by means 
 of their respective Societies of Acclimatization, and 
 should Europe be hereafter enriched with the valuable 
 beasts and birds that are now being gradually accus- 
 tomed to the conditions of a strange land, it is to be 
 hoped that posterity will not forget how deep a debt 
 of gratitude they owe to the Zoological Gardens of 
 London, the property of a private Society. 
 
 Desirous of seeing how the cold weather was borne 
 by the ostriches, I went to look at my old friends, 
 whom I found shut up in their houses, but very glad to 
 see me, and as desirous as ever of eating any object they 
 could snap up. The shining top of my pencil-case was 
 a wonderful object to these inquisitive and voracious 
 birds, and it was most absurd to see all the heads 
 bobbing up and down, the large brown eyes gleaming 
 with excitement, and the wide mouths opened and shut 
 with impatience, just because I was writing with a 
 pencil that had a glittering top. 
 
 The temperature was 45 Fahr. in this department, 
 and the ostriches and cassowaries were quite at their 
 ease, as probably was the apteryx ; but as the latter 
 bird was hidden, as usual, behind her bundle of straw, 
 and was in all likelihood fast asleep, her exact condition 
 could not be ascertained. There are plenty of odd
 
 A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK 11 
 
 birds in these gardens, but the apteryx without doubt 
 is the oddest of all existing feathered bipeds. Wing- 
 less, tailless, thick-legged, long-beaked, and brown- 
 coated, she is about as queer a specimen of a bird as 
 can well be imagined ; and, as a climax to her eccen- 
 tricities of behaviour, persists, though a spinster apteryx 
 living in more than conventual celibacy, in laying enor- 
 mous eggs, each of which weighs one-fourth as much 
 as the parent bird. Several emus, however, were 
 trotting about in the open air, and were pecking here 
 and there at the grass, or poking their long necks over 
 the rails of the enclosure, as gaily as in the summer 
 months, though the ground was frozen to a strong 
 hardness, firm ice was at their feet, and the sounds of 
 boys sliding were heard just outside the fence. 
 
 There are, of course, far too many beasts and birds 
 in this collection to be separately examined, so I turned 
 my steps towards the tunnel, walking casually through 
 the parrot house, and dropping a word or two of 
 recognition to my garrulous acquaintances, and then 
 passing out to pay a visit to the piping crows of Aus- 
 tralia, who were chattering away in the open air, brisk 
 and saucy as ever, and always ready for a conversation. 
 One of them, the white-backed species, was singularly 
 lavish of his conversational powers, and engaged in a 
 contest of strength on the spot. First the bird 
 whistled a few wild notes, and then paused, while I did 
 the same. Twisting his head on one side, and looking 
 up knowingly with one eye, he waited for my lead, and
 
 12 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 imitated my whistle with wonderful fidelity. He got 
 quite excited at last, flew to his perch, thence to the 
 wires on a level with my face, clung firmly with his 
 strong claws, poked his beak through the interstices of 
 the intersections, and fairly screamed with exultation. 
 Meanwhile his companion was making the best of his 
 time by pecking my boots. 
 
 Pleasant as this amusement was, the hours were 
 passing, and the wind was chilly, so I bade farewell to 
 the piping crow, and cruelly left him, in spite of his 
 repeated attempts to recall me by screams and whistles. 
 
 Mag, in the next compartment, was cheerful 
 enough ; so were the ravens, with whom I exchanged a 
 friendly croak in passing, and allowed them their usual 
 bite at my pencil. 
 
 The elephant and the rhinoceros have been too 
 long residents to care much for the vicissitudes of an 
 English climate. The former was swinging itself from 
 side to side in his den with that peculiar movement 
 which seems instinctive to the creature, and may 
 possibly answer as a succedaneum for walking exercise. 
 The latter was serenely munching a truss or so of straw, 
 his nose in the air, slapping his lips together with 
 every sidelong movement of his mouth, while from his 
 big lungs issued an occasional grunt of satisfaction, 
 though certainly the substance which he was eating 
 seemed absurdly incapable of affording any nourishment 
 to the system, or gratification of the palate. None
 
 A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK 18 
 
 of these animals are allowed to expose themselves to 
 the virulence of so frosty and inclement a day. 
 
 The reptile house is always kept at so uniform a 
 temperature that winter's cold or summer's heat makes 
 hardly any perceptible difference. The fine specimen 
 of the North African monitor was in a state of great 
 excitement, endeavouring apparently to climb up the 
 plate-glass front of his cage, and ever and anon falling 
 back ignominiously, only to resume the attempt with 
 renewed vigour. It was astonishing what a noise the 
 creature made by scratching his claws and rubbing his 
 chin against the glass, and to what unexpected attitudes 
 his lithesome body and slender neck could be writhed. 
 The reptile was shedding its epidermis, which hung in 
 shreds and patches from different parts of the body, 
 showing the bright scales beneath as they were freed 
 from their effete covering. The creature was very per- 
 severing in his exercise, continually darting out his 
 long and deeply-cleft tongue, looking, indeed, as if it 
 had been furnished by nature with two slender pointed 
 tongues, and affording an admirable opportunity for 
 studying the arrangement of the beautiful spotted 
 scales on the lower surface of its body. 
 
 Its near neighbour, the rock snake, or pythoness, 
 as it is just now the fashion to call her, was not visible, 
 being, in fact, as well as could be expected under the 
 circumstances, and lying under her blanket, coiled like 
 a shallow cone around her new-born family of eighty or 
 ninety eggs. The chameleons were perched immoveably
 
 14 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 as usual on the branches with which the cage is plenti- 
 fully furnished, and gave no signs of life, except occa- 
 sionally turning one great green-pea of an eye upwards 
 or downwards, as the case might be. The African cobra 
 lay flat upon the floor of its cage, but on seeing a 
 human face, surmounted by a hat, coming close to the 
 glass, it became rapidly excited, spread its hood, puffed 
 out its body, and raised itself as if threatening an 
 attack. Not wishing to be the cause of a possible in- 
 jury to a valuable reptile by letting it strike its nose 
 against the glass, as it was evidently preparing to do, I 
 passed on to the bull frogs, and so out of the room. 
 
 In the next apartment the creatures were all doing 
 well. A single specimen of the flying fox survives, 
 though the keeper expressed himself as rather anxious 
 concerning its chance of getting through the winter. 
 That singular creature, the gigantic salamander, lay 
 impassive as usual along the bottom of its tank, and 
 though so remarkable an animal, attracts but little 
 notice from visitors. Hundreds pass through the room 
 daily without seeing it at all ; and of those who con- 
 descend to cast a glance at it, the greater number ex- 
 press themselves as sadly disappointed. The general 
 public has heard great tales of salamanders, and 
 through the medium of a weighty culinary instrument 
 bearing the same title has learned to connect the name 
 with fire and glowing metal. Reading the name of 
 gigantic salamander, they enter the room in a rather 
 nervous and uneasy state of mind, expecting to see
 
 A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 15 
 
 nothing less than fourteen or fifteen feet long, and 
 hoping that the bars are strong enough to prevent it 
 breaking from prison. Great, therefore, is their dis- 
 appointment on being shown a glass tank of water 
 such as they see in any naturalist's window, and are 
 referred to a creature like a big black tadpole which 
 lies grovelling quietly in one corner. Some decline to 
 believe that the animal is the dreadful creature which 
 they have been led to expect, and others openly aver 
 that the whole affair is a delusion, and akin to Barnum's 
 mermaid. Yet the beast is a wonderful beast after all, 
 and in the eyes of naturalists is a very gigantic sala- 
 mander. For, in sooth, the eft or newt is a salamander, 
 and an eft of thirty inches in length is gigantic beyond 
 doubt. Besides, it is very rare even in Japan, whence 
 it comes, and its habits and general economy are very 
 remarkable. 
 
 Nearly opposite to this salamander is a creature of 
 unpretending form and dimensions, but still more 
 curious in its structure and habits than even its black, 
 flat-headed neighbour : this is the lepidosiren or mud- 
 fish of Africa, remarkable for having long been an 
 object of contention among naturalists. Is it a fish or 
 is it one of the frog tribe ? No one exactly knows, and, 
 to judge from the opposite opinions expressed by the 
 most accomplished naturalists and dissectors, no one is 
 likely to know. Perhaps it is neither, but represents 
 an intermediate class between the fish and the reptiles, 
 with the heart of one and the gills of the other. This
 
 16 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 specimen has lived for about three years in the tank 
 which it now occupies, and has grown, though slightly, 
 in that time ; thus affording a singular contrast to the 
 specimen at the Crystal Palace, which attained a length 
 of nearly a yard in the same time, though not nearly 
 so large when first brought to England. But then the 
 Crystal Palace animal got into the large hot-water 
 basin and there lived a despotic life, feeding ad libitum 
 on gold fish until he was captured and his depredations 
 stopped, and on frogs afterwards. Should the reader 
 pay a visit to the Zoological Gardens, as I trust soon 
 will be the case, let him look well at the mud-fish, the 
 Gordian knot of systematic zoology. 
 
 On my way to the lions I looked in at the wombat's 
 ca^e, and there saw to my surprise that the animal, 
 though a native of Australia, was lying curled up in 
 one corner of the enclosure fast asleep, with the ther- 
 mometer marking eight degrees below freezing point, 
 and the wind blowing in keen and cutting blasts. The 
 bars of the enclosure being open and of iron afforded no 
 protection whatever, but would rather have the effect 
 of chilling a creature that was pressed against them. 
 The seals were naturally indifferent to the cold, and 
 darted about in the water, or flounced their way over 
 the rim of their bath, as if enjoying the icy coldness of 
 their home. They ran some very good races after fish, 
 driving up the water before them like the bows of two 
 fast steam-boats, and had quite a struggle for the last 
 fish. The otter, too, cared nothing about the tempera-
 
 A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 17 
 
 ture of the water, but sat on a heap of wet straw, eating 
 his dinner, with the end of his tail in the water, and 
 the freezing drops glittering around him. To the 
 shivering observer, whose chilled fingers could scarcely 
 hold the pencil, and whose heart yearned for a seat in 
 a warm room and a large cup of hot tea, the choice of 
 locality seemed singularly unfortunate. There, how- 
 ever, sat the animal, thoroughly contented with his 
 position, holding his flounder tightly between his paws, 
 and crunching and tugging with hearty goodwill. 
 
 The lions, tigers, and other large carnivora, are 
 carefully defended from the outer cold by means of 
 thick screens rigged from the eaves of the projecting 
 roofs to the bars beyond which visitors are requested 
 not to pass. As, however, the greater number of 
 visitors would be sadly disappointed if they had to go 
 away without seeing these beautiful animals, they are 
 admitted for the nonce into the space between the bars 
 and the cages ; and in order to prevent the fierce beasts 
 from thrusting out a paw and inflicting a wound, 
 either in sport or anger, a strong wire grating is affixed 
 to the front of the cage, which effectually prevents any 
 such mishap. Notwithstanding all these precautions, 
 and an assured conviction of the absolute security at- 
 tained, I could not help instinctively starting back 
 when the lion took it into his illogical head that I was 
 going to steal his meat, and flew at me with flaming 
 eyes and a roar that shook the place. I had much 
 respect afterwards for the steady nerve of those who 
 
 c
 
 18 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 can endure such a charge with a firm hand and un- 
 winking eye, and very much less contempt for the 
 native attendants who in such cases always throw away 
 their guns and run for their lives. The whole of these 
 dens are kept at a comfortable temperature by hot 
 pipes, and the animals seem as contented as in the hot 
 summer time. 
 
 Two lions, however, in neighbouring cages became 
 angry with each other, or perhaps jealous ; and putting 
 their mouths to the floor just by the wooden partition, 
 began to roar against each other to the utmost of their 
 power. It was a grand exhibition, and would alone have 
 been worth the trouble of the visit. The threatening 
 sounds seemed to reverberate through every nerve, the 
 whole building trembled as if shaken by rolling thunder, 
 and the rest of the beasts sank into respectful silence 
 while the kings of the forest lifted their mighty voices. 
 No wonder that at the sound of the lion's roar the 
 beasts of burden break their halters and flee in terror 
 over the plain ; but it is a wonder that the ostrich, the 
 meekest looking of birds, should roar so exactly like 
 the lion that even the native hunter cannot always 
 distinguish the one from the other. 
 
 As if intended to produce a striking contrast to the 
 lions, tigers, and leopards existing in a temporary hot- 
 house, and sheltered from the chilling blasts by a screen 
 erected expressly for the purpose, the polar bears live 
 within ten yards of these heated localities, rejoicing 
 in the cold, and probably thinking of the ice-fields and
 
 A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 19 
 
 freezing waters of their proper borne. This is one of 
 the few northern animals whose fur retains its white 
 hue throughout its life, experiencing no change in 
 winter or summer. The coat of the ermine and the 
 arctic fox alters from its dark summer tints to its 
 snowy winter hue ; not, I imagine, to aid in conceal- 
 ment by assimilating the colour of the animal with 
 that of the ground, but because the pure white hue is 
 endowed with some wondrous power of resisting the 
 effects of cold. 
 
 I wonder whether polar bears when wild are in the 
 habit of taking exercise in the fashion in which these 
 specimens indulge ? Do they always walk forward for 
 six paces, and retire backwards over precisely the same 
 ground, with as much accuracy as if they had been 
 volunteer riflemen practising the back-step? It can 
 hardly be too troublesome for them to turn round, and 
 they have ample room for the purpose, being able 
 if they choose to indulge in quite a promenade, unre- 
 stricted by the narrow limits in which those unfor- 
 tunate lions and tigers are confined. 
 
 I pity those active and restless creatures with all 
 my heart. I wish they had more appropriate residences, 
 and am sure that if they were only permitted to ex- 
 ercise their limbs as intended by their Maker, they 
 would be healthier, live longer, and display their won- 
 derful powers in a more perfect manner. There are, 
 of course, some difficulties attendant upon the construc- 
 tion of an enclosure sufficiently large to give ample 
 
 c 2
 
 20 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 room to the agile limbs of the feline race, sufficiently 
 strong to withstand the fiercest assault of the lion, and 
 properly roofed so as to counteract the danger of a 
 leopard or jaguar climbing over its walls. I cannot 
 but think, however, that it would be quite practicable 
 to construct an enclosure that would comply with all 
 these requisitions, and at no very great outlay of space 
 or money. The enclosure might be common to all the 
 feline race, and each species might be allowed to exer- 
 cise in it in regular rotation. There would be no diffi- 
 culty in decoying them back to their dens, as a piece 
 of meat would effectually accomplish that design, and 
 allow of the door of communication being closed while 
 the animals were engaged upon their food. 
 
 The interior of the enclosure should be furnished 
 with artificial trees, and I have often pictured to my- 
 self the magnificent sight of a pair of lions or tigers 
 careering round their pleasure ground, exulting in their 
 strength, or a company of leopards disporting among 
 the branches, and displaying their lithe forms in all 
 their spotted beauty. Look, for example, at the 
 monkeys, and think how much we should have lost by 
 cooping them up in little boxes, where they could 
 hardly move, instead of giving them spacious apart- 
 ments, fitted with ropes, bars, and boughs, so as to 
 enable them to display their marvellous agility to our 
 wondering eyes. Sure am I that a lion, tiger, or 
 leopard, when permitted to range freely over an ample 
 space, would present as great a contrast to the same
 
 A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 21 
 
 creature uneasily deambulating its narrow den, with 
 its head close to the bars, and its paws slipping over 
 the smooth wet boards, as does a monkey in a box to 
 the same animal in a spacious apartment, or a caged 
 squirrel to a scuggy in his native woods. 
 
 Both species of camel the dromedary and the 
 double -humped camel of Bactria were quite at their 
 ease about the weather. The former animal was stand- 
 ing partially in its shed, with its long neck and meek- 
 looking head peering out at the landscape, while the 
 latter was quietly walking about its enclosure, though 
 the ground must have been very uncomfortable to its 
 feet, and the water in its trough had been frozen so 
 hard that the attendant had been obliged to break the 
 ice, in order to allow the animal to drink. 
 
 The coypu rat seemed rather unwilling to face the 
 cold, though attracted by a large carrot that the keeper 
 had placed within its den. This odd, blunt-nosed, 
 orange-toothed quadruped only emerged at intervals, 
 ate a piece of carrot, and then returned to its warm 
 home. I remarked that the mice are very fond of the 
 coypu's house, and run in and out of the straw with 
 amusing impudence. The creature evidently dislikes 
 the ice, trying in vain to get its usual bath, and feeling 
 sadly disappointed at finding itself arrested by the icy 
 covering of its little pool. The reader is hereby ad- 
 vised to pull up a little tuft of grass by the roots, and 
 place it in the coypu's cage, for he cannot fail to be 
 amused by the clever and systematic manner in which
 
 22 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 the ingenious and cleanly animal picks up the grass, 
 takes it to the water, and washes it carefully before it 
 will condescend to nibble a single blade. 
 
 The honey-ratel, with his dark waistcoat and grey 
 coat, was in great force, running about his cage ii, 
 quite an excited fashion, and even climbing up the 
 wires as if to survey the prospect. In the summer 
 time of the year this animal has a habit of running 
 continually about its den in an oval-shaped course, 
 which is marked by the continual tread of the feet like 
 the sawdust in a circus. The oddest part of the per- 
 formance is that whenever it reaches either extremity 
 of its course it puts its head to the ground, turns a 
 somersault, and recommences its race. The fine speci- 
 men of that very fierce animal, called from its evil 
 temper the Tasmanian devil, was occasionally to be 
 seen in the open air, but it preferred the warm retreat 
 of its straw-sheltered shed. 
 
 The winter aviary, which is ingeniously constructed 
 so as to admit of glazed casements in addition to the 
 wires, is employed as the home of several valuable and 
 delicately constituted animals. In the central com- 
 partment is a remarkably fine specimen of that curious 
 animal popularly called the Tasmanian wolf, but which 
 really is not a wolf at all, but one of the marsupial tribe, 
 related to the opossum and their kin. The beautiful 
 pariamas thrive well ; and as they sat on their perch 
 with bent knees, and head sunk so deeply upon the 
 breast that the curious feathery crest that decorates the
 
 A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 23 
 
 head was scarcely perceptible, they could hardly be re- 
 cognised as the same birds who stalk about their cages 
 with long and haughty strides, erect gait, and bold, 
 intelligent gaze. Perhaps, however, the most curious 
 inhabitants of this aviary are the crested eagles, fine, 
 handsome birds, notable for an erect tuft or plume of 
 black feathers upon their heads, not unlike the ostrich 
 plumes of a lady's court dress. 
 
 The last animals visited were our volatile friends 
 the monkeys, who seemed none the worse for the com- 
 paratively close quarters to which they are confined in 
 severe weather. The house is rather dark just now, 
 because the windows are thickly banked up with straw, 
 a precaution necessary lest the monkeys should be 
 chilled by coming in contact with the cold glass. The 
 temperature of the room is very comfortable, but not 
 unpleasantly warm, and is maintained by a partly open 
 stove or fireplace in the centre. I was sorry to miss 
 my dear old friend Sally, the spider-monkey, whose 
 gentle manners and wonderful length of limb I have 
 often admired. Agile as are all the monkey tribe, 
 Sally was certainly the most active I have yet seen in 
 this country, and her performances on the rope would 
 have put the combined efforts of a dozen Leotards or 
 Blondins to shame. I shall never forget her happiness 
 when dancing and swinging about on a clothes line in 
 a garden near Reading, the curious air with which 
 she contemplated the surrounding objects, and the look 
 of piteous entreaty with which she deprecated the order
 
 24 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 to leave her rope and return to her seat on the back 
 of a chair near the kitchen fire. 
 
 The funny little Capuciu monkey was as amusing as 
 ever with his nuts and pebble, using the latter in the 
 light of a hammer and smashing the nutshells with 
 wonderful certainty. The odd little creature has a 
 perfect passion for hammering, and had battered the 
 woodwork of his cage so severely that the keeper was 
 forced to take away the stone, and now lends it only 
 when it is wanted. Even the hard, angular shell of 
 the Brazil nut is broken by this clever little animal, 
 and the keeper told me that he the monkey, to wit 
 could hardly have a greater treat than to be given 
 a hammer and a board with a nail partly driven, so 
 that he might take the hammer and finish driving the 
 nail. 
 
 The great anubis baboon sat sulky and impassive on 
 his perch, his chin sunk on his breast, his limbs 
 gathered up into marvellously small compass, and his 
 toes holding tightly to the bars. Offerings of nuts and 
 other dainties failed to propitiate his frigid dignity ; and 
 it was not until the keeper spoke to him that he would 
 condescend to notice the gifts that were freely proffered. 
 Even after taking the nuts and pieces of cake, he just 
 put them in his mouth, ascended again to his perch, 
 and resumed his former misanthropical attitude. Large 
 store of straw is placed in his cage, and when evening 
 approaches he retires to the farther corner of the cage, 
 creeps into the heap of straw, and with hands and feet
 
 A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 25 
 
 disposes it around him in such a manner that not a 
 vestige of his person can be seen. 
 
 In a large cage, where a number of the smaller 
 monkeys are congregated, the ruling power of the 
 establishment was evidently the huge white and black 
 cat, who lay calmly dozing among all the restless 
 quadrumana, supremely indifferent to their noisy 
 gambols. Even when a graceless monkey leaped on 
 her back from a perch, and was straightway assaulted 
 by one of his companions, the cat did not even open 
 her eyes, but lay purring, with her paws tucked com- 
 fortably under her chin, in utter unconcern. Pussy has 
 been used to monkeys for so long a time that she is 
 quite uncomfortable out of their presence, and cannot 
 endure being placed in the open air. The keeper 
 fetched her out of the cage to enable us to judge of her 
 weight, which is really wonderful for a cat of the 
 gentler sex, and hardly was she fairly on the ground, 
 and the door of the cage opened, than she leapt through 
 the aperture and resumed her former position. 
 
 No sooner did the shades of evening become per- 
 ceptible than the monkeys made arrangements for the 
 night, ceasing from their sports, and even allowing the 
 armadillo to run about the cage according to its 
 pleasure, without jumping on its back for a ride, or 
 trying to pull it over as it trotted past them. They 
 congregate together in compact bodies, presenting 
 a most absurd effect of parti-coloured fur, inter- 
 twined limbs, and long dangling tails, and were con-
 
 26 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 tinually struggling for the snuggest and warmest spot, 
 which was, of course, the centre of the group. One 
 individual was totally excluded, but he took the matter 
 in a philosophical light, going carefully over the cage 
 and picking up all the little bits of biscuit and stray 
 nuts which his companions had relinquished when 
 battling for a place on the perch. 
 
 Throughout the whole of the visit it was pleasant 
 to denote the demeanour of the attendants, upon 
 whose sympathetic kindness depends so much of the 
 comfort and happiness of the animals under their 
 charge, and the manner in which they accommodate 
 themselves to the individual idiosyncrasies of their 
 charges. Should the animal happen to be docile and 
 intelligent, no one is more proud than the keeper, 
 and no visitor can be more interested in seeing 
 the clever performances of any creature than is the 
 keeper in exhibiting them. It was pleasant, for 
 example, to see the two splendid chetahs' behaviour 
 towards their attendant, and ludicrous enough to 
 watch him coolly sweep either individual out of his way 
 with the broom if they happened to interfere with his 
 movements while cleaning their cage. If they had 
 been a pair of three months' old kittens there could 
 not have been more confidence on the one side or play- 
 fulness on the other. As the keeper left the cage, the 
 gentle and beautiful creatures pressed after him, but 
 were gently put back with one hand while he took 
 down some meat with the other. Even under such
 
 A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 27 
 
 exciting circumstances, with their dinners in their sight, 
 they displayed none of the fierce eagerness so common 
 among the feline race when they see or smell their 
 food, and they took the meat with even less haste than 
 my own pet cat exhibits when the food is to his taste, 
 and he happens to feel hungry. 
 
 Should, however, the animal be of a vicious and 
 impracticable disposition, the keeper only seems to be 
 amused at the various exhibitions of cross-grained 
 temper, and laughs good-humouredly at every growl, 
 or attempted assault. 
 
 Perhaps the reader may have remarked in the 
 course of this slight sketch of a very wide subject, the 
 apparent absence of all rule regarding the capability of 
 any animal to resist the effects of cold weather and a 
 strange climate. It is easy enough to understand 
 that the beaver and the polar bear could be quite 
 happy on a frosty day, and that the lions, tigers, and 
 leopards would need protection against the chilling 
 atmosphere. But it was hardly to be expected that the 
 camel, which is essentially the 'ship of the desert,' 
 made to endure long thirst and to pace for weeks over 
 the burning sand, should walk about quite at its ease 
 upon frozen soil, and drink from a trough in which 
 the ice was thickly gathered. This phenomenon will 
 perhaps give some idea of the difficulties attendant 
 upon acclimatizing the denizen of a strange soil, inas- 
 much as it is quite impossible to treat one animal on 
 a system derived from the management of another
 
 28 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 species from the same country and with similar habits. 
 Each new species must be learned by means of repeated 
 and cautious experiments, and to the minds of thought- 
 ful lovers of nature, and observers of animal life, this 
 very want of uniformity affords a better hope of ulti- 
 mate success than if it were possible to reduce the 
 management of foreign animals to a rigid system, and 
 treat all creatures of kindred forms and similar 
 countries on the same stereotyped principles.
 
 A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 
 
 THE end of November, 1872, 6.30 A.M. Wet, wet, wet ! 
 Thermometer 34 deg. A fierce wind blowing some- 
 where from the northwards, howling and shrieking 
 through the trees, and, as can be seen even at that 
 hour, tearing off the leaves that still keep their hold 
 on the branches, whirling them high in air, and mixing 
 them with the already fallen leaves which have been 
 swept up from the ground, and tower upwards in spiral 
 eddies before they again drop to the earth. No moon : 
 the sun is not due yet, but he is trying hard to drive a 
 few pale, watery beams through the dull, leaden, 
 black-patched canopy which does duty for a sky ; and, 
 as the eye becomes more accustomed to the semi-dark- 
 ness, a few large snow-flakes are seen here and there 
 amid all the flying leaves. The sash is opened for a 
 better glance of the sky, and in rushes the triumphant 
 wind, sending all my papers flying helter-skelter about 
 the room, and causing great confusion among the 
 multitudinous savage weapons, implements, and orna- 
 ments with which the walls are covered. 
 
 The house is situated on the top of the hill, so that
 
 80 OUT OP DOORS. 
 
 the wind does pretty well as it likes, especially at this 
 time of year when the foliage is off the protecting belt 
 of trees in front, and nothing is left but their bare 
 branches. Clearly, this is a day for home-work, for 
 avoidance of the elements, and for cheerful fires in de- 
 fiance of the colliers. 
 
 A letter from the editor, urgently requesting an 
 article at once, because the magazine has to go to 
 press so early in November. I had looked forward to 
 a nice bright December day for this task one of the 
 many wintry days when the sun shines clearly, though 
 coldly ; when the sky is blue, when scarcely but the 
 slightest breeze is perceptible, and when the exhilarating, 
 bracing atmosphere almost takes away the sense of 
 cold. Moreover, I had intended to write an article 
 entitled, ' Under the Ground,' as a companion to ' Under 
 the Bark,' but the perpetual rains of the last two or 
 three months have rendered such a task all but useless. 
 There are hundreds of insects which pass their winter 
 time some few inches below the surface of the earth, 
 and I had thought of taking a limited area, digging it 
 carefully, and jotting down the results; but there is 
 nothing which does so much damage to most insects as 
 wet. Cold they can bear well enough, provided they 
 are not exposed directly to the elements, but wet is 
 more than they can endure, and fairly drowns them, 
 and it is for that reason that insects are often so rare 
 after a very wet autumn. 
 
 Surely no one could be expected to go out in such
 
 A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 81 
 
 weather and dig for insects ; and if he were rash enough 
 to do so, the chances are that no sooner did he uncover 
 an insect than it would be blown far out of his reach. 
 At last I bethought myself of a small, sheltered sand 
 quarry, about half a mile from my house, and, taking 
 with me the old familiar butcher's knife in its sheath, 
 and some boxes, I started for the quarry. 
 
 When I visited the place in July last, it was a most 
 lovely little spot, clothed with abundant verdure, rich in 
 the sweet flowers of glorious summer, and musical with 
 the twitter of joyous birds and the hum of many insects. 
 The sky was serene and calm, with a few white clouds 
 drifting slowly across its azure expanse, and sending 
 their shadows travelling over the plain below. The 
 Thames ran, a meandering blue streak, glittering here 
 and there as the sunbeams glanced on its ripples, and 
 bearing many a white sail and swift steamer through 
 the valley over which it had once spread itself like a 
 shallow lake until restrained within its limits by the 
 mighty ' river-wall,' on which the seaweed dangles in 
 black and green clusters. 
 
 Now, how changed is all the scene ! The quarry 
 itself is tolerably sheltered, but above our heads the 
 wind tears its way through the wood, and speeds over 
 the country as if it meant to twist every tree up by 
 the roots. Every now and then, as some fiercer gust 
 passes along, a loud ruffling sound is heard, accom- 
 panied by a pattering as of hail, among the withered 
 leaves that strew the ground. At first, indeed, I took
 
 32 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 it to be really hail, but presently found that it was 
 caused by the little hard seeds of the broom, which 
 clung somewhat loosely to their opened and twisted 
 pods, and were shaken out by the wind. All the broom 
 trees above had lost their seeds long ago, but these still 
 survived in that partly sheltered spot. The rustling 
 sound was produced by a young sycamore tree. All 
 the leaves had been blown off it except one large leaf 
 at the end of each twig. These clung pertinaciously 
 to their hold, and the noise which they made was 
 really wonderful. 
 
 No longer bright and glittering, the Thames, a dull 
 grey stream, 'reflected the dull grey and leaden sky, 
 through which no ray of sunshine could pass, and over 
 which the black snow clouds sped with ominous rapidity. 
 Not a sail visible, and only an occasional empty screw- 
 collier, very much down at the stern with the weight 
 of her engines, and her ( nose tip-tilted ' as if disgusted 
 with things in general. Far away on either side lie 
 the marshes as they are still called 'the meshes' ac- 
 cording to aboriginal pronunciation and on the left 
 is the identical ' mesh ' where Pip encountered his 
 grateful convict, and nearly met his death in the hut 
 by the lime kiln. Not many years ago the bittern 
 haunted these marshes, but its weird, booming cry has 
 ne^er been heard since the marshes were drained and 
 cultivated. For all that may be seen now the bittern 
 might yet be there, and a more forlorn-looking place 
 can hardly be imagined than that dim, misty expanse
 
 A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 33 
 
 with the river winding through it, and closed in the 
 distance by the black, tree-topped Essex hills. 
 
 As to the wind, it seems scarcely to have made up 
 its mind what to do, or by what name it was to be 
 called, whether Boreas, Septembrio, or Thracias. It is 
 only determined on two points the one that the north 
 should be the leading element, and the other that it 
 had to blow its hardest. 
 
 It is quite a relief to turn into the quarry, as into 
 harbour out of a rough sea, and to be free from that 
 bitter, searching wind which takes away the breath 
 when faced, and, when the back is turned, seems to 
 force its way through all apparel as easily as if the 
 thick overcoat were little more than chain armour. 
 Here in the quarry, what a change is there ! A few 
 flowers still linger in this sheltered spot. The yellow 
 ragwort is plentiful, and a few purple mallow flowers 
 are visible among the green leaves. The soil, however, 
 does not seem to be kindly for mallow, as the leaves, 
 though numerous, are scarcely larger than penny- 
 pieces ; the plant crouches closely to the ground, and 
 the flowers, instead of flaunting some three feet in the 
 air, upborne by a stem like a walking-stick, are nestled 
 among the leaves, and almost hidden by them. Richer 
 colouring than the mallow is, however, there. The 
 entrance to the quarry opens into ' Ragged Robin 
 Lane,'' and there, on the spot where the southern sun- 
 beams can warm and the north wind cannot touch, is 
 Ragged Robin himself, with just one or two rosy flowers 
 
 D
 
 34 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 yet unfaded. I suppose that the flower has held its 
 own because, owing to its situation, nearly at the foot 
 of a hill, the bottom of the quarry is always moist, and 
 whatever warmth there may be it is sure to get. And 
 in the middle of the quarry stands a solitary oat plant, 
 tall, fair, and strong, its leaves broad and healthy, and 
 its graceful pendulous spikelets waving gently in the 
 slight breeze that can find its way into the quarry. 
 
 Thick and dark lie the fallen leaves, coloured with 
 the yet unfaded reds and browns and yellows of autumn. 
 Without moving I can note sycamore, maple, oak, 
 Spanish chestnut, horse chestnut, beech, birch, elm, 
 and ash. It is worthy of notice to remark how capri- 
 cious are the trees in retaining or parting with their 
 leafage, and how, when two trees of the same species 
 stand near each other, one will be entirely bare, while 
 the other will be half clad with fairly green leaves. 
 This difference is evidently to be attributed to the 
 particular soil into which the chief roots of the tree 
 have penetrated. 
 
 The soil in this spot is exceedingly varied, all sorts 
 of strata turning up close to each other. For example, 
 the eastern and southern sides of this quarry are soft, 
 friable sand, whereas the western side is rough con- 
 glomerate. Of the latter material, indeed, our hill is 
 mostly composed. It is very healthy, no doubt, and 
 has the advantage of creating scarcely any mud, so that, 
 even after a long and steady rain, a lady can safely walk 
 in the roads, provided that her boots be reasonably 
 stout.
 
 A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 35 
 
 Still it has its disadvantages. The ground does 
 well enough for trees and even shrubs, but it renders 
 floriculture a heart-breaking business. Only the thin- 
 nest and poorest layer of soil lies on it, and even if 
 abundant mould be added, the first heavy rain washes 
 it all away, and a fine crop of loose stones comes to the 
 surface. As for turf, it will not live on such a soil, 
 but becomes covered with moss, and gradually dies off. 
 After some ten years' experience, I have at last induced 
 a lawn to exist ; but then I had to dig away some 
 eighteen inches of rubbish, put down a layer of good 
 soil, than a thick layer of chalk, and then another of 
 marl. Chalk absorbs water like a sponge, so that it 
 retains the water which otherwise would have run to 
 waste, and gives it out slowly to the roots of the grass 
 in the dry weather. 
 
 Another disadvantage of such a soil is the abundance 
 of pebbles, varying in size from a cherry to a plum, and 
 nicely rounded for throwing. Consequently the boys, 
 with whom this place abounds, and who, boy-like, are 
 mostly at war with each other, and always with the 
 rest of mankind, find themselves amply provided with 
 weapons ready to hand. In the autumn, when the 
 chestnuts are ripe, it is scarcely safe to turn a corner, 
 or even to go near one, so perpetual is the fire that is 
 kept up at the trees and between rival parties of boys. 
 
 The perpendicular sides of the quarry show this 
 arrangement of strata very plainly. It is curious to 
 see how the roots of the trees have restricted them- 
 
 D 2
 
 gg OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 selves to the shallow stratum of soil, so that they run 
 almost horizontally. As the rain and wind beat away 
 the upper portion of the quarry, the earth falls away 
 from the roots, which hang down, waving loosely in the 
 air ; so when the strong wind attacks them they lash 
 about like whips, and cut large semicircular grooves in 
 the sand-wall against which they are blown. 
 
 Some trees seem to be little affected by this falling 
 away of the soil. The elder, for example, retains its 
 leaves bravely, and in one part has formed quite a 
 rampart against the wind ; so does the blackberry ; 
 while the elms are entirely stripped, the rooks' nests 
 coming out black against the grey sky, whilst even the 
 oaks have parted with their leaves, contrary to their 
 usual custom of keeping them, though withered, until 
 they are pushed off by the young foliage of the follow- 
 ing spring. 
 
 In July last, among the many insects which 
 thronged the quarry, I was greatly struck with the 
 number of sand-boring and parasitic insects that 
 buzzed about its eastern face, and so thought that such 
 a day as this would afford a good opportunity for 
 digging into the bank and seeing what the insects had 
 done. 
 
 Even the face of the quarry has undergone a great 
 change since July, not by the hand of man, but by 
 natural means. The rains of many consecutive weeks 
 have been dashed against it, run down it, and cut it 
 into multitudinous meandering channels, while at the
 
 A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 37 
 
 bottom of the quarry is a large heap of mud, composed 
 of the soil and sand -which have been washed down. 
 Indeed, the view of the quarry showed admirably, on 
 a small scale, how vast a work water does in changing 
 the face of the earth. The strangest point about this 
 channelled surface was the formation of numerous 
 stalactites and stalagmites. A stalactite of sand seems 
 rather a strange thing, but there they are and plenty 
 of them. They are, of course, but small, only a few 
 inches in length ; but size goes for very little in 
 Nature, and, when compared with the area of the whole 
 globe, there is not very much difference between six 
 inches and six feet. They fall to pieces at the slightest 
 touch of the finger, and yet remain unhurt while the 
 tempestuous wind is roaring above, and the air is full 
 of heavy rain, whirling leaves, and bits of dry branches. 
 
 A portion of the eastern face has escaped rather 
 better than the rest, and to that I directed my atten- 
 tion. It was literally covered with burrows, varying 
 in size from eighteen inches to the eighth of an inch 
 in diameter. The small burrows are evidently owing 
 to the insects which were so plentiful in the summer. 
 Chief among them were the Kentish bee (Andrena 
 pilipes), a very local insect, hardly to be found in any 
 other county of England except that from which it 
 takes its name ; the Sand-wasps (Crabro and Odynerus}, 
 and the lovely Euby-tail flies (Chrysis}, about all of 
 whom we shall presently learn something. 
 
 The largest is that of a fox, and a very clever con-
 
 38 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 trivance it is. After much search on the hill from 
 which the quarry is cut, I found the other opening of 
 the burrow. It is situated on the side of the hill, 
 shaded by grass and bracken, and is so carefully con- 
 cealed that, although I knew it must be situated 
 within a limited area, I had some difficulty in finding 
 it. Should the fox be run to earth, he would take 
 refuge in this burrow, crawl by its means through the 
 .hill, slip down the face of the quarry, and be off to 
 some other place of concealment. There are plenty of 
 rabbit burrows ; two of which are so close to each other 
 as to bear a curious resemblance to the Thames Tunnel, 
 especially as the rain has washed away the sand around 
 them, so as to form a sort of arched recess, in which 
 the two openings are seen side by side. Above them, 
 and not far beneath the layer of soil, are a number of 
 the sand-martin's burrows, now of course deserted, their 
 inhabitants being in climates where they are certainly 
 warmer, and, I hope, drier, than they would be here. 
 
 There are one or two mouse-holes ; but these are of 
 no consequence, and we proceed to those of the insects. 
 First in size comes that of the Kentish bee. It is really 
 a curious little insect. It bores horizontal tunnels 
 some seven or eight inches in depth, each tunnel being 
 about large enough to admit a common drawing-pencil. 
 The insect itself would scarcely be recognised by those 
 who had only seen specimens in a cabinet. Such 
 specimens appear in their natural colours, i.e., entirely 
 black, while the bee, as it flies to its burrow, is entirely
 
 A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER* 39 
 
 white. The fact is that in its state of grubdom the 
 young bee feeds on the pollen of the thistle. The 
 mother bee, after finishing her burrow, goes off to the 
 fields, carrying away a quantity of the required pollen, 
 and places it at the end of the burrow, together with 
 the egg from which the future bee will emerge. The 
 pollen being quite white, the bee is covered with it, 
 just as a miller is covered with flour, so that she is 
 quite metamorphosed for the time. 
 
 The sand being soft can easily be cut away with the 
 knife, and, a grass-stem having been previously intro- 
 duced into the burrow, there is no great difficulty in 
 tracing it to the end. Sometimes, however, a large 
 piece of sand breaks away and falls, carrying with it 
 the whole of the burrow together with the grass-stem. 
 At the end of the burrow may be found, at the proper 
 time of year, the cocoon containing the bee-grub, and 
 if it be carefully removed and placed in a box, the bee 
 itself will make its appearance in due time. I have 
 hatched out plenty of Kentish bees in this way. Al- 
 though so local, it is a very common insect in this part 
 of the country, where the soil is favourable. I am quite 
 sure that, contrary to the habits of most insects, the 
 Kentish bee has vastly increased in numbers since Kent 
 was brought into the high state of cultivation which 
 distinguishes the ' Garden of England.' 
 
 Before man brought his hand to bear upon the soil, 
 the Kentish bee must have been sorely troubled to find 
 a suitable place for its burrows. Sand very seldom
 
 40 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 forms itself into natural banks, and it is very rarely the 
 case that a gulf is cut through the sand by the action 
 of water, so as to leave a perpendicular bank on either 
 side. Now, as the Kentish bee makes horizontal and 
 not vertical burrows, it is evident that in the days when 
 England was in the hands of savages, who made no 
 roads and built no houses, the Kentish bee must have 
 been much fewer in numbers. But, now-a-days, roads 
 are cut through the sand-hills, and the sides of the 
 cutting are filled with the bees' burrows. Sand, too, is 
 urgently wanted both for building and agricultural 
 purposes, and consequently almost every sand-hill has 
 its quarry. It is most interesting in the bright summer 
 time to watch these places, and see the white throng of 
 Kentish bees flying into and out of their burrows, and 
 making the air musical with their busy hum. 
 
 In the particular quarry of which I am writing, the 
 Kentish bee has restricted itself to the upper portion 
 of the sand, so that its tunnels cannot be reached with- 
 out much difficulty. The lower part is occupied by the 
 small burrows of the sand-wasp, which are placed so 
 closely together that the face of the quarry looks very 
 much as if it had sustained a series of volleys of No. 7 
 shot. Not exactly so, as we shall see, for in one place 
 there actually is a group of shot-holes round the 
 entrance of a rabbit-burrow, the gun having evidently 
 been fired at the animal as it was making its escape. 
 Shot-holes differ from those of the sand-wasps in this 
 respect. The latter are quite circular, and their
 
 A SAXD QUARRY IN WINTER. 41 
 
 entrance is no larger than the diameter of the burrow 
 itself, while the former are irregularly conical, the blow 
 of the shot having always broken away a quantity of 
 friable sand. Not a single shot remains in any of the 
 many holes, the heavy leaden pellets having all rolled 
 out of their conical beds. 
 
 To trace up the burrow of the sand-wasp is a diffi- 
 cult task. I find that the best plan is to select a spot 
 about a foot square, in which the burrows are very 
 numerous, and then to pare away the sand in thin slices* 
 If this be done neatly and carefully, the whole of the 
 burrow can be laid down open from mouth to end* 
 Mostly they run horizontally, like those of the Kentish 
 bee, being driven at right angles to the face of the 
 sand-bank, but some of them make a sudden curve, 
 when they have gone a few inches into the sand, run 
 for a little distance parallel with the quarry face, and 
 then resume their former direction. 
 
 Suddenly we come upon a small lump of something 
 black and fluffy, looking much as if a small pinch of 
 black cloth teasings had been rolled into a little cylin- 
 der and pushed to the bottom of the tunnel. We care- 
 fully get it out with the point of a penknife, and slip 
 it into a box, so as to prevent it from being blown away 
 by the wind. Presently another and another of the 
 black lumps is discovered and transferred to the box. 
 Presently we come to another lump, which is pale 
 brown instead of black, and place it with the others. 
 Now, having preserved as many specimens as are
 
 42 OUT OF DOOES. 
 
 wanted, we make our way homeward through the lain 
 and wind, and proceed to the microscope, in order to 
 ascertain the precise character of the fluffy lumps taken 
 from the burrows. 
 
 The day is much too dull and dismal to afford 
 sufficient illumination, so the lamp is lighted, and one 
 of the black objects placed under the half-inch glass. 
 The first glance detects its nature. It is composed 
 entirely of fragments of little flies. Black, shining 
 bodies, heads, and severed wings are clustered thickly 
 together, the wings shining out in every colour of the 
 rainbow, amid the debris with which they are sur- 
 rounded. The sand-grains look like lumps of sugar- 
 candy, the withered, red-brown eyes still show their 
 thousands of hexagonal lenses, the black, hairy legs and 
 fragments of bodies lie about in utter confusion, while 
 the wings, though broken from the body and mixed 
 with sand and all kinds of miscellaneous rubbish, flash 
 and glitter in ripples of crimson, green, gold, and 
 azure. Gauzy and delicate as they are, they have sur- 
 vived the body to which they were once attached, and 
 have not lost one whit of their former beauty. One 
 fly presents a very curious aspect. It is a little black, 
 round-headed fly, quite shrivelled up and withered. It 
 has lost all its legs, but it retains its wings, and adheres 
 to the general mass by the very tips of those organs, 
 projecting itself forward, and looking like a tiny black 
 imp sustained on bright, glittering, many-coloured 
 wings that would do credit to a fairy. Altogether,
 
 A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 48 
 
 one of these insect masses reminds me much of the 
 4 pellets ' which are found so abundantly in owls' nests, 
 and which are composed of the skin, bones, and teeth 
 of mice, and the hard limbs and wing-cases of beetles. 
 
 The black lumps are all composed of the same 
 materials, so we pass to one of the brown masses. No 
 opalescent patches of colour betray the presence of 
 wings, but projecting from it on every side are long, 
 crooked legs, covered with sharp, brown, curved spikes, 
 showing in a moment that they are the legs of spiders. 
 All these brown masses are alike ; the spiders are ap- 
 parently of the same species, and all nearly the same 
 size. After examining a considerable number of speci- 
 mens, I can only find two materials for these masses, 
 namely, spiders and flies, and in no instance is there a 
 spider among the flies, or a fly among the spiders. Now 
 why were these creatures buried in the bottom of these 
 tunnels, and why are they so shrivelled and dismem- 
 bered ? They were placed there by the sand-wasp as 
 food for her future young, just as the Kentish bee 
 stores her burrow with pollen. Sand- wasps in all their 
 stages of existence are carnivorous, and so it is neces- 
 sary to supply the young with the appropriate animal 
 food. 
 
 There are very many species of sand-wasps, and each 
 chooses some particular insect as food for its young. 
 Many prefer flies, some furnish their young with aphides, 
 and others choose beetles. Even the little hard-bodied 
 turnip-beetles (turnip-fleas, as they are often called, on
 
 44 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 account of their small size and powers of jumping) are 
 used for this purpose. How the little sand-wasp grub 
 manages to eat them is more than I know, but perhaps 
 the hard integuments may be softened by the damp of 
 the burrow. This, however, is merely conjecture. 
 
 There is yet one insect to be accounted for. I have 
 already mentioned the ruby-tail flies that in July were 
 flitting so anxiously over the face of the quarry, their 
 burnished crimson and blue mail flashing in the sun- 
 beams like living jewellery. They were on a somewhat 
 similar errand to that of the bees and wasps, but they 
 carry it out in a different manner. They are parasites 
 on the sand-wasps, and just as the sand-wasp grub eats 
 the flies, so the larva of the ruby-tail eats both the 
 sand-wasp grub and all its store of food. From ob- 
 servations that have been made on the habits of these 
 insects, the larva seems at first to suck, rather than to 
 eat, the unfortunate grub on which it feeds; but, 
 having extracted nearly all the juices, proceeds to de- 
 vour the other portions of the body. 
 
 The mother ruby-tail is wonderfully persevering in 
 her attempts to insert an egg into some other insect's 
 nest. Sometimes the rightful owner detects the in- 
 truder, and then the latter generally suffers for her 
 deeds. When attacked by her angered foe, she usually 
 tries to shield herself by rolling her body into a ball 
 and lying motionless. Even this ruse, however, does 
 not always save her, and she loses her life, together with 
 her hope of providing for a future generation.
 
 A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 45 
 
 Considering the size of the ruby-tail, it can contract 
 itself in a really wonderful manner. Some little time 
 ago, on a bright day in early spring, I was looking at 
 some rough palings upon a park fence, and was ex- 
 amining the little holes made by the Scolytus and 
 similar beetles. The palings happened to face due 
 south, and as the meridian sun shone on them, a ray 
 penetrated into one of the holes and I discovered some- 
 thing blue within. I proceeded to cut it out very care- 
 fully, and there found a ruby-tail completely doubled 
 up, like a hedgehog, within a hole scarcely large 
 enough to admit a No. 5 shot. In the same row of 
 palings I found plenty more specimens, all alive, and 
 very much perplexed at being so unceremoniously 
 ejected from the resting-place in which they had 
 passed the winter.
 
 46 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 THE BARK 
 
 MAKCH. 
 
 THERE is a time for all things, and this is the time for 
 that pursuit so dear to the heart of all entomologists, 
 hunting ' under the bark.' And well may it be dear 
 to him, for, putting aside the fact that ' under the 
 bark,' and there only, are found some of the rarest in- 
 sects that can enrich a cabinet, the pursuit is in itself 
 one of singular fascination. By withdrawing the 
 curtain of the bark we are admitted, as it were, on the 
 stage whereon Nature acts her ever-varying drama, 
 and indeed penetrate behind the scenes of the theatre. 
 We trace insects throughout the various stages of their 
 existence, and see how, by regular degrees, the fat, 
 white, round-bodied, slow-moving grub is transformed 
 into the active, ample-winged, long-legged beetle. 
 Then there is all the fascination of the lottery attendant 
 upon the search under the bark, and every fresh tree 
 or stump contains within it new elements of amuse- 
 ment. That there will be something under the bark is 
 absolutely certain ; but what it may be no one can 
 tell. There may be, perhaps, nothing but a common 
 woodlouse or centipede ; but there may be, and very
 
 UNDER THE BARK. 47 
 
 likely will be, some insect which the searcher never 
 expected to find, and for which he has been long look- 
 ing. Without further preface I will give an account 
 of a few hours just spent in looking under the bark. 
 
 Close to my house only across the road, indeed 
 there is a piece of ground which at one time was 
 thickly planted with oak, birch, and fir trees, but which 
 has been of late years partially cleared ; the stumps 
 of the trees being in most cases left standing, so as to 
 project a foot or so above the ground. These trees are 
 on the upper part of the ground, while on the lower, 
 through which runs a tiny but permanent brooklet, 
 some willow trees are planted, one or two of them being 
 very old. In this ground I lately spent between two 
 and three hours, armed with a mortice chisel, a pair 
 of forceps, and a laurel-bottle, i.e., a bottle in which 
 are some young crushed laurel leaves, the odour of 
 which is fatal to beetles, and prevents them from eat- 
 ing each other. At this time of year, however, no 
 young laurel leaves are sufficiently grown, so I had to 
 make a substitute for them by putting a little Easter's 
 insect powder at the bottom of the bottle, and covering 
 it with a finely perforated card. This plan answered 
 so well that I shall try it through the season, for not 
 only was the odour of the powder fatal to the insects, 
 but it did not stiffen their limbs, which is the result of 
 laurel-leaf vapour. 
 
 As I have already mentioned, this is a good time 
 for searching under the bark. The severe frosts of
 
 48 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 winter have passed away, so that the fingers of the 
 searcher are not chilled into uselessness, a circumstance 
 which is very apt to occur when the enthusiastic ento- 
 mologist pursues his task in mid-winter. Moreover, 
 towards the spring a vast number of tree-inhabiting 
 insects become developed, and make their way towards 
 the open air before they undergo their last change, so 
 that at this time of year we may find almost imme- 
 diately under the bark many insects which at other 
 times would be buried deeply in the w\>od. 
 
 Taken roughly, all the creatures which are found 
 under the bark may be divided into two classes, 
 namely, those which have resorted there for shelter 
 during the cold months of winter, and those which 
 feed upon the bark or the substance of the tree itself. 
 The former can always be found under the bark of old 
 trees, especially oaks and willows. The latter, how- 
 ever, are the most prolific in insect life. In many old 
 willows the bark is slightly separated from the trunk 
 for many feet, and although no external sign be given of 
 this fact, the hollow sound which is returned when the 
 outside of the tree is tapped is a sufficient proof. On 
 carefully removing one of these sheets of bark from 
 the tree a most extraordinary sight is often presented. 
 
 The space between the bark and wood is a vast 
 camp of insect armies, their white and glittering tents 
 being set so closely together that there is not room 
 for a finger's tip between them. Under the bark also 
 flourish certain colonies of flat white cryptogams,
 
 UNDER THE BARK. 49 
 
 which spread themselves in fan-like rays, and almost 
 rival the silken insect tents in whiteness. Now and 
 then comes a circular tent, through which can be seen 
 a quantity of little yellow globular objects. The 
 character, of the silk tells us that the nest is certainly 
 that of a spider, and we just pull off a little of the 
 cover to get a better view of the eggs. Scarcely has 
 the tip of the forceps stretched the silken roof than a 
 simultaneous stir becomes apparent through the eggs, 
 and all at once they suddenly start into life, unpacking 
 in some mysterious way the limbs which had been 
 folded round their globular bodies, and all running 
 about as busily and aimlessly as the inhabitants of a 
 disturbed ants' nest. In fact, the seeming eggs are not 
 ggs at all, but very young spiders which have only 
 just been hatched and are waiting for warmer weather 
 before they make their appearance in the world. 
 
 This same space between the bark and the wood is 
 a favourite resort of many moth-caterpillars. Led by 
 instinct they proceed to the tree and climb up the 
 bark, seeking for some recess in which to pass theii 
 short period of helpless existence. In comparatively 
 young trees they content themselves with the crevices 
 formed by the rugged and knotty bark, but in old 
 trees, such as have been described, they manage to 
 discover some aperture through which they crawl into 
 the large sheltered space and there spin their silken 
 home. Careful investigation shows that, however safe 
 euch a retreat may be for the insect while in its pupa 
 
 E
 
 50 OUT OF LOOKS. 
 
 or chrysalis condition, it is little more than a trap for 
 the perfect insect. For not only are spiders' eggs to 
 be found under the bark,' but spiders themselves also 
 take up their residence there, and find ample subsis- 
 tence in the many insects that have found their way 
 under the bark and cannot find their way out again. 
 
 Only two or three days ago I found, under the bark 
 of an old willow tree, the remains of a beetle (Pris- 
 tonychus terricola) which had fallen a victim to a 
 spider. Unfortunately the edge of the chisel came 
 upon it and damaged the specimen, or I should have 
 cut it out and preserved it for my museum, as I never 
 saw anything more curious. In the first place, that 
 the insect had been caught by a spider was evident 
 from the fact that it was bound to the tree by spider 
 web. In the next, it was laid on its back with the 
 limbs, jaws, wings, and wing-cases separated and dis- 
 played with as much regularity, in spread-eagle fashion,. 
 as if it had been prepared by an entomologist as a 
 specimen of insect anatomy. 
 
 Now, that any beetle should have been so treated is 
 remarkable enough, but it is still more wonderful when 
 we remember that the insect in question is one of the 
 predacious beetles and measures three-quarters of an 
 inch in length, so that it appears to be much more 
 likely to eat the spider than to allow itself to be eaten. 
 
 Of all the insects which hibernate in the crevices 
 of the bark, by far the greater number seem to be the 
 chrysalides of various moths, which, as a rule, hide
 
 UNDER THE BARK. 61 
 
 themselves so well that they need a practised eye to 
 see them, and even though the greatest care be taken 
 are often accidentally destroyed. It is extremely pro- 
 voking, after selecting an apparently safe spot for the 
 chisel, to see a white creamy fluid run along the blade, 
 and then to know that the tool has passed through 
 the body of a chrysalis which has hidden itself so 
 cleverly as to escape observation. 
 
 The most successful of these hiders is the Puss 
 Moth (Dicranura vinula}, the chrysalis of which lies 
 hidden in a singularly ingenious cocoon. When the 
 caterpillar is full fed it crawls to the trunk of the 
 tree and looks about for a crevice in the rough bark. 
 Into this crevice it insinuates itself, and begins at 
 once to nibble the bark into tiny chips, which it 
 fastens together with the silk-fluid discharged from its 
 spinnerets, and so makes a cocoon which completely 
 shelters it. Owing to the materials of which the 
 cocoon is made, it exactly resembles the bark and can 
 scarcely be distinguished from it, and as the caterpillar 
 took care to retire into the crevice before spinning, the 
 surface of the cocoon does not project beyond that of 
 the bark in general. Very often when the eye fails in 
 detecting a cocoon the touch succeeds, the material of 
 the cocoon being soft ; but this is not the case with 
 the Puss Moth, whose cocoon is much harder than the 
 bark of which it was made, the silk-fluid forming a 
 wonderfully firm and tough cement. 
 
 As for woodlice, millipedes, armadillos, and centi- 
 
 E 2
 
 62 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 pedes, they swarm under the bark, especially the wood- 
 lice, whose dried and whitened skeletons can be seen 
 by hundreds, showing at once their crustaceous descent. 
 Earwigs also are sure to appear in great force, and, as 
 is their wont, do not lose their presence of mind when 
 disturbed, but make their way instinctively for the 
 nearest crevice, and wriggle their lithe bodies out of 
 reach almost before they have been seen. 
 
 Under the bark are also the relics of other creatures. 
 For example, in one willow tree, the nuthatch and the 
 squirrel have both left their marks in the shape of 
 sundry hazel nuts. There is no difficulty in distin- 
 guishing the work of these two creatures. The nut- 
 hatch wedges the nut firmly into a crevice of the bark, 
 and hammers rapidly and perseveringly at the point 
 until the nut is split in two as neatly as a boy could 
 do it with his knife. The bird then goes off with the 
 kernel and leaves the halves of the shell where they 
 happen to lie, some of them being still fixed in the 
 bark, some lying on the ground, and some having 
 slipped between the bark and the wood. In this place 
 the nuthatch abounds, so that there is every oppor- 
 tunity for watching its habits. The squirrel treats its 
 nuts in a different manner, first gnawing off the tip 
 and then splitting the shell with its chisel-shaped 
 teeth. Sometimes it gets hold of a bad nut, and after 
 nibbling at th- lip throws it away. In the same tree 
 that has just i^en mentioned were several bad nuts,
 
 UNDER THE SAEK. 63 
 
 each of which had been tested by a squirrel and then 
 thrown into the hollow between the tree and the bark. 
 
 There are plenty of beetles which find a shelter 
 under the bark during the months of winter. While 
 taking off one of the bark strips I saw something black 
 wriggling violently under the chisel, and presently saw 
 that it was a fine i Devil's Coach-horse ' (Goerius olens), 
 which had evidently attacked the chisel after the 
 manner of its fearless kind, and got itself caught be- 
 tween the blade and the wood. This is not a pretty 
 creature, but it is a wonderfully courageous one, and 
 will fight any antagonist without the least regard to 
 size. These beetles are very common at Margate, 
 living in the clefts of the chalk cliffs. I found one of 
 them at the foot of a flight of stone steps, and was ex- 
 ceedingly amused at the manner in which it attacked 
 my stick. It retreated fighting to the very top of the 
 stairs, keeping its front well to the enemy, and acting 
 on the offensive as well as the defensive whenever it 
 found a chance. These are useful beetles to the 
 gardener, as they feed upon many injurious insects, 
 and I rather fancy that the unfortunate individual 
 which was caught by the chisel had found its way under 
 the bark as much for the sake of food as of shelter. 
 
 Having thus examined the willow trees, I ascended 
 the hill and turned the chisel upon the stumps of the 
 fir trees. These were, as I thought they would be, 
 very prolific in insect life. In all cases I began by 
 gently removing the outer bark, and in the first stump
 
 64 OUT OF DOOES. 
 
 that I opened a gleam of rich metallic purple caught 
 my eye. It was well below the bark, and buried in the 
 soft decayed wood, and had it not been that a bright 
 ray of sunshine happened to light upon it, I should 
 perhaps have missed it altogether. On picking away 
 the wood a fine specimen of the Purple Ground Beetle 
 (Carabus catenulatus) was disclosed in my opinion 
 one of the handsomest of our British beetles, with its 
 rich purple thorax, and the purple edging of its beauti- 
 fully sculptured and elegantly shaped elytra. 
 
 To find one of these beetles is easy enough, because 
 it is one of our commonest species. But I certainly 
 never expected to find it in such a position. It is one 
 of the predacious beetles, and both in its larval and 
 perfect condition is a destroyer of other insects, so that 
 unless it fed while in the larval state upon the wood- 
 eating insects that inhabited the stump, I can scarcely 
 account for its presence. It was not a beetle which 
 had merely hidden itself under the bark by way of 
 finding shelter, for the beautifully perfect condition of 
 the insect showed that it had not as yet undergone any 
 battle with the world. Moreover, it was hidden rather 
 deeply in the wood, and was not merely lying under 
 the bark. I think, therefore, that it must have fed 
 while in the larval state upon the insects which in- 
 habited the stump, and have crawled into the spot 
 where it lay for the purpose of undergoing its trans- 
 formation. Under the bark of the same stump, and in
 
 UNDER THE BARK. 66 
 
 many others, were found various little beetles, which 
 are popularly known as Sun-beetles or Sunshiners. 
 
 Carefully opening another stump, and removing 
 half an inch or so of the rotten and damp wood, a slight 
 movement caught my eye, and in a short time an 
 antenna, evidently of a beetle, was seen gradually 
 working its way to the light. Presently another 
 antenna appeared, and then the head, which at once 
 proclaimed itself as that of one of the wood-burrow- 
 ing, long-horn beetles, called Mhagium bifasciatum. 
 I do not know that it has any popular name, as is 
 indeed the case with most beetles, however common 
 they may be. This is a pretty, though soberly 
 coloured insect, long bodied, long horned, long legged, 
 and having a bold and sharp spike on each side of 
 the thorax. To the unassisted eye it is only blackish 
 gray, with four diagonal, cream-coloured marks on 
 the elytra. But when a powerful light is concen- 
 trated upon it, and the magnifying lens is employed, 
 the colouring assumes a very curious aspect. The 
 elytra seem to be made of black glass, ribbed, and 
 covered on the surface with a multitude of tiny white 
 specks, while the cream-coloured marks appear to lie 
 quite beneath the surface, as if they were painted under 
 the glass. 
 
 I was very glad to find this beetle, having tried in 
 vain to discover one of its curious nests, but, though 
 three insects were in the same little stump, I could not 
 find a perfect nest. At last, however, in another stump
 
 66 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 I succeeded in finding the nest, cut off the stump with 
 a saw, and brought it home. 
 
 Just before these beetles are about to change into 
 the perfect state they make for themselves an oval cell r 
 so shaped that the head of the insect is upwards. This 
 cell is lined with strips of wood, which are torn away 
 by the jaws of the larva and arranged regularly, like- 
 the tiles of a house. The nest that is now before me- 
 is a little more than an inch in depth, and on the out- 
 side is an inch and a quarter in length by three-eighths 
 of an inch in width. This diminishes, however, both 
 in length and breadth in proportion to the depth, so- 
 that at the bottom, where the insect reposed, it is only 
 five-eighths of an inch in length and a quarter of an 
 inch in width, just large enough indeed to hold the- 
 beetle with its limbs and antennae packed tightly ta 
 the body. The insect which made this nest differed 
 from all the others in one respect. In the other cases 
 the beetles seemed only too anxious to escape from 
 their dark home and pass into the open air, while this 
 one persisted in adhering to its nest, and, as the light 
 was admitted, seemed to prefer darkness, pressing itself 
 into the farthest recesses of its cell. 
 
 Another stump disclosed a really wonderful scene 
 of insect life. On stripping off the bark of a small 
 stump, barely eight inches in diameter and about as 
 much in height from the surface of the ground, a large 
 colony of the Yellow Ant (Formica flava) was sud- 
 denly exposed to the light. The insects had th&
 
 UNDER THE BARK. 57 
 
 strongest objection to the inroad upon their premises, 
 and ran about actively in all directions. Their habi- 
 tation was elaborately made of small particles of earth, 
 which had been built together after the fashion of ants, 
 and had been arranged between the bark and the wood 
 so as to form a perfect labyrinth of soil cells and 
 passages. I was really sorry to have broken into so 
 elaborate a piece of insect architecture, but the mis- 
 chief had been done, and was aggravated by a brisk 
 and decidedly cold wind which had just sprung up, and 
 which blew the unfortunate ants about in a way of 
 which they did not at all approve. 
 
 This species of ant is very common, especially on 
 heaths and similar places, and has the power of varying 
 the structure of its nest so as to suit all conditions. 
 On open ground it builds little hillocks, which, fragile 
 as they appear, are quite capable of throwing off the 
 rain. If, however, it can find a flat stone, it takes 
 advantage of so good a shelter, and makes its habitation 
 immediately beneath it, while in the present instance 
 it had run up its chambers from the earth and extended 
 them between the wood and bark of the stump. The 
 bark was very close to the wood, and the insects had 
 gained the requisite space by making shallow cavities 
 in the decaying wood. During a severe winter these 
 ants carry their habitations deeply into the ground, 
 and make chambers, sunk well beneath the surface, 
 communicating with each other by passages some four 
 inches in length. It is in these nests, by the way, that
 
 58 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 some of our rarest beetles are discovered. The colour 
 of the insect is bright but pale yellow, the larger 
 workers being brighter in hue than the smaller. 
 
 Having already done as much mischief as could be 
 done, I had no scruple in removing the remainder of 
 the bark. To my astonishment, another ants' nest was 
 disclosed, but that of a different species, namely, the 
 Jet Ant (Formica, fuliginosa). Thus we have the 
 curious fact that on opposite sides of the same little 
 stump were two flourishing colonies of two different 
 species of ant, neither interfering with the other, and 
 both so completely concealed that no traces of them 
 were seen until the bark was removed. 
 
 When their house was thus broken open, the ants 
 showed at once the difference in disposition as weU as 
 in form. The yellow ants ran about in a state of great 
 perturbation, and although they could do but little ap- 
 peared to do a great deal. They were very angry too, 
 and one of them, when put into the bottle, attacked a 
 sun-beetle, grasped one of its antennae with a hold like 
 that of a bull-dog, and so died under the influence of 
 the poisoned vapour. As a memorial of the occasion, 
 [ intend to place in my cabinet the beetle with the 
 dead ant stiU griping the antenna between its jaws. 
 
 The jet ants displayed no such fussiness, but took 
 matters very coolly indeed. At first they seemed to be 
 surprised into something like activity, but they soon 
 appeared to make up their minds that there was no use 
 in troubling themselves more than necessary. So they
 
 UNDER THE BARK. 69 
 
 quietly slipped away under cover, some dropping at 
 once to the ground and so escaping into the recesses of 
 the nest, and others crawling very leisurely down the 
 ruins of their home and disappearing into the deep- 
 lying cells. Still, quiet, and almost sluggish as were 
 their movements, they answered their purpose wonder- 
 fully well, for the retreat was made so quickly that 
 almost before I had recovered from my surprise at find- 
 ing this second nest so close to the first scarcely an ant 
 was to be seen. 
 
 The jet ants carry this easy-going style into ordinary 
 life, and may be seen in the summer time doing what 
 few ants do, namely, idling. They have a way of 
 assembling together in considerable numbers just out- 
 side the nest and remaining quite still in the sunshine, 
 instead of running about and working as do most other 
 ants, whether the sun shine upon them or not. I need 
 scarcely say that both these ants are well worthy of ex- 
 amination under the microscope. All insects are worthy 
 of such an examination, but some seem to be more 
 worthy than others, and of such are these two species of 
 ants, so different from each other in form, colour, and 
 disposition. 
 
 The same fir-wood is also much frequented by the 
 magnificent insect called Sirex gigas the insect that 
 is so common in the neighbourhood of fir woods, and is 
 BO often mistaken for a hornet. When the bark is re- 
 moved from the tree, the holes made by the sirex in 
 its larval state are very evident ; but as the insect is an
 
 60 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 inhabitant of the wood itself, and is seldom to be found 
 under the bark, I pass but lightly over it in the present 
 instance. Under the bark is a favourite resort of many 
 of the weevil tribe, and those which do worst harm to 
 fruit-trees are mostly in the habit of hiding themselves 
 during the winter in the crevices of the bark. So all 
 growers of fruit-trees will do well during the winter to 
 search carefully under the bark of the older trees, and 
 to fill up the crevices with some greasy composition, 
 which will smother the beetles as they lie in their 
 hiding-places. Stripping off the bark is much recom- 
 mended, but I doubt its efficacy, inasmuch as these 
 beetles always let themselves fall to the ground when 
 they are alarmed, so that the greater number would 
 escape when they were disturbed. The greasy composi- 
 tion, which can be laid on with a brush, does no harm 
 to the tree, and very effectually smothers the insects 
 that are lying hidden l under the bark.'
 
 61 
 
 MRS. COATES'S BATH. 
 
 MRS. COATES'S BATH is, I am happy to say, a bath no 
 longer, but subserves a better purpose. What it was in 
 the old days, and what it is now, I proceed to explain. 
 One of the most delightful privileges of a practical 
 naturalist is to possess extensive grounds of varied cha- 
 racter. The next best thing is to live close to such 
 grounds possessed by a friend who allows free range 
 over them. In the same grounds that were mentioned 
 in the paper entitled * Under the Bark ' is a small pond 
 situated at the bottom of a rather steep dell close to the 
 house. Somewhere about the beginning of the present 
 century a certain Mrs. Coates inhabited the house, and 
 very judiciously converted a piece of swampy ground 
 into a convenient bathing-place, by having a pond dug 
 and paved, and the spring which saturated the ground 
 led into it at one end, and out of it at the other, and so 
 conveyed into a brook which just skirts the grounds. 
 For many years, however, the place has been disused as 
 a bath, and merely serves as a pretty object to the eye. 
 A week or two ago the idea struck me that the pond 
 was likely to be rich in animal life, inasmuch as it is 
 completely sheltered from the north-east wind, which
 
 62 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 is so hated by insects, and only open towards the south, 
 allowing the meridian rays of the sun to fall daily upon 
 it. So I fished in it for an hour or two, with a little net, 
 and found that my impression was true. It is absolutely 
 impossible, in so limited a space, to describe, or even to 
 mention, all the creatures which I found in that tiny 
 pond, but the following are some of the most character- 
 istic inhabitants of ' Mrs. Coates's Bath.' 
 
 There were plenty of newts. Now, these are really 
 very pretty creatures, especially in the breeding season, 
 when the males put on their nuptial splendours. Like 
 many birds, they only assume their best dress for a 
 short period, and when that brief period is over, they 
 can scarcely be distinguished from their more sombre 
 mates. The chief and most conspicuous portion of the 
 nuptial dress of the male newt is a sort of fin which 
 runs along the back, and looks something like a cock's 
 comb. It is deeply notched and toothed at the upper 
 edge, and, as it is extremely delicate, it waves about in 
 the water in graceful accordance with the movements 
 of the animal. My little boy took some of these newts 
 home, and, in the innocence of his heart, showed them 
 to the gardener. The man was horribly frightened. 
 He jumped back and absolutely yelled with terror. He, 
 keeping at a safe distance from the dread beasts, told 
 the boy that * the efiet was the most pizenous thing as 
 is,' and that he had known lots of people lie down in 
 the grass at haymaking time, when they were bitten by 
 effets, and then they swelled up and went on swelling
 
 MRS. COATE&S BATH. 6a 
 
 till they died. Fortunately, the boy was too well taught 
 to believe the man, and Ms terrors and warnings only 
 afforded the keenest amusement. 
 
 The newt is an interesting animal to keep. In the 
 first place, it is very graceful as it swims, and its pretty 
 colours and brilliant eyes show out much better in the 
 water than on land. Then it has a very curious manner 
 of depositing its eggs, doubling them up in the leaf of 
 some plant, sometimes, though not always, a plant 
 which is growing in the water. There is now before 
 me a blade of grass which I found in the pond. It is 
 neatly doubled in two, and in the fold is one of the 
 little translucent eggs of the newt. When these eggs 
 are hatched, little tadpoles issue from them, almost 
 exactly resembling those of the frog, having similarly 
 large heads, and long tapering bodies. 
 
 They do not show their individuality until their legs 
 begin to appear, when the distinction is at once evident. 
 In the frog-tadpole the hind legs are the first to 
 appear, but the reverse is the case with the newt. As 
 they increase in size the distinction becomes more ap- 
 parent, for the tail of the frog-tadpole is gradually 
 absorbed into the body, while that of the newt increases 
 in length. The newt, in fact, differs but little in struc- 
 ture from the frog, except that it retains its tail 
 throughout its life. I find that in captivity the newt 
 changes its skin oftener than it would do if left at 
 liberty, and that if the water in the vessel in which it 
 is left be changed, the newt generally casts its skin
 
 4 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 within a short time. This envelope is drawn from the 
 body in an almost perfect state. It is exceedingly fine, 
 like goldbeater's skin, and, if a card be slipped beneath 
 it as it floats in the water, the skin can be spread out on 
 it, and so removed, dried, and preserved as a specimen. 
 Two such skins are now before me, and very pretty 
 objects they are, every toe of each foot being quite 
 perfect, and looking like fairy gloves. 
 
 As to aquatic insects, the water swarms with them, 
 and the number of water-beetles alone that I found 
 there is prodigious. This not being an entomological 
 work I do not intend to give a list of the insects 
 found in this little pond, but will only mention some of 
 the principal species. 
 
 There was the great water-beetle (Dyticus margin- 
 alis) in plenty. This, in common with all of its kind, 
 is not an eligible inhabitant of an aquarium. If two or 
 three be placed in a vessel with other inhabitants of 
 the water, they immediately begin eating their fellow 
 prisoners, and, having finished all the smaller creatures, 
 attack each other, the strongest killing and eating the 
 weakest. I have before me a very fine male Dyticus 
 in a pickle-bottle, where I was compelled to banish him 
 in consequence of his voracity. I feed him mostly on 
 blue-bottles, which he seizes between his powerful fore- 
 legs, and devours in a very short time. At first he was 
 rather puzzled with the flies, they not being his usual 
 prey, but he now knows how to manage them, and a fly 
 scarcely touches the surface of the water when it is
 
 MRS. COATE&S BATH. 65 
 
 seized and borne below, held firmly in the jaws of its 
 captor. 
 
 It is an insect full of wonders, and contains in itself 
 the elements of more than one mechanical invention. 
 In the first place it is a living diving-bell. Like all 
 insects it breathes atmospheric air by means of tubes, 
 which permeate the whole of the body. The apertures 
 by which these tubes communicate with the air lie 
 on the upper part of each side, under the wing-cases. 
 Now these wing-cases, or elytra, are convex, while the 
 upper part of the body is flat, so that there is a space 
 between the wing-cases and the body. Every now and 
 then the beetle comes to the surface of the water, pro- 
 trudes the end of the body, draws in a supply of air 
 into the space between the elytra and the body, and 
 dives again, the elytra fitting so closely to each other 
 and to the sides that the air cannot escape. Some- 
 times, if the beetle be not alarmed, it will remain at 
 the surface, with its head downwards, and its body 
 balanced by its extended swimming-legs, and on a calm 
 day quite a number of water-beetles may be seen thus 
 suspended. 
 
 The swimming-legs which have just been men- 
 tioned are themselves very wonderful examples of 
 structure. They are so made that the only movements 
 which they can perform are those of swimming, and 
 they are fringed with stiff hairs so set that when the 
 leg is struck against the water the hairs stand out and 
 act like the blade of an oar ; while, when the limb is 
 
 F
 
 66 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 bent back for the next stroke, they are drawn through 
 the water from their roots to their points, and so offer 
 the least possible resistance. 
 
 The first pair of legs of a' male Dyticus are worthy 
 the closest possible examination. On the feet of each 
 of them is a round disc, which, when magnified, is seen 
 to be made of three joints, flattened and dilated. 
 Their under surface is covered with a vast array of 
 suckers, one of which is very large, two of moderate 
 size, and all the rest very small, and set on foot-stalks. 
 With these suckers they can hold so tightly that they 
 can crawl up a pane of glass by their aid, and bold so 
 firmly that a rather sharp pull is required before they 
 can be detached. A few days ago I noticed that one 
 of these water-beetles had remained at the bottom of 
 the vessel for a long time, and, on closer examination, 
 found that it was dead. I took hold of it to remove 
 it, when, to my astonishment, the body came away in 
 my hand, the two fore-legs still clinging to the glass. 
 The beetle had evidently been dead for some time, and 
 was semi-putrid, but yet the suckers held on as firmly 
 as during life. 
 
 Owing to the great length and peculiar jointing of 
 the swimming-legs, the beetle is a bad walker, though 
 it is a good flyer and a better swimmer. If placed 
 upon the ground it crawls awkwardly about, and seems 
 to have little power of directing its course. Should it 
 fall on its back on a smooth surface it gives a series of 
 wild kicks with its long hind legs, the action being
 
 MRS. COATES'S SAT II. 67 
 
 precisely the same as in swimming, and both legs being 
 used simultaneously. If the surface be perfectly 
 smooth, such as a plate or a piece of glass, the insect 
 only spins round and round, and after a short time 
 seems to be seized with despair, and lies perfectly 
 motionless. 
 
 Though the beetle can do no harm, and may be 
 taken in the hand without fear, I do not recommend 
 indiscriminate handling, and this for two reasons. In 
 the first place it is wonderfully strong, and has a way 
 of forcing itself backwards through the hands, so that 
 a double-headed spike at the base of the swimming- 
 legs is apt to prick the fingers rather smartly. In the 
 next place when held it ejects a whitish fluid, which 
 issues from the junctions of the head, the thorax, and 
 the abdomen, and which has a strong and very un- 
 pleasant odour. 
 
 The larva or grub of this beetle is quite as formid- 
 able and ferocious as the perfect insect which it does 
 not in the least resemble. It is long-bodied, the body 
 swelling out in the middle, and tapering gradually to 
 the tail, at the end of which are a couple of diverging 
 fringed leaflets, which are attached to the respiratory 
 organs. The head is large and broad, and armed with 
 a pair of exceedingly long and sharp jaws, curved like 
 a reaper's sickle, and having a very sickle-like aspect. 
 The legs are long and slender, and the colour is a pale 
 brown. It moves by two modes of progression. It 
 can use its legs for walking, and does so when it is 
 
 F '2
 
 68 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 trying to crawl leisurely, but when it desires to move 
 with any swiftness it causes its body to undulate like 
 the movement of an eel or a serpent, and so gets along 
 at a good pace, its legs being used merely as balancers 
 to its body. 
 
 Its character is best seen when it is at rest. It 
 bends its body nearly at right angles, and ascends to 
 the surface of the water, upon which the fringed leaf- 
 lets of the tail are spread so as to enable the creature 
 to breathe at ease. It thus hangs, as it were, sus- 
 pended by these leaflets, with its head downwards, its 
 monstrous jaws wide open, and its long legs spread, so 
 that it forms a perfect living trap, ready to close on 
 any unfortunate creature that may come in its way. 
 Being rather a wary creature it escapes the net unless 
 proper precautions be taken. I have always found 
 that the best plan is to stir up the mud of the pond, 
 and then to sweep the net rapidly through the turbid 
 water, thus catching the Dyticus larva before it sees 
 its danger. In Mrs. Coates's Bath ' are many of this 
 beetle's kinsfolk, but the manners and customs of all 
 are so similar that one will suffice as an example of 
 them all. 
 
 Perhaps the reader may think that there is not 
 much to be seen in the common whirlwig, or whirligig 
 beetle (Gyrinus}, which may be seen in vast numbers 
 on the surface of the water, performing its mazy dance 
 in any sheltered spot. Summer or winter seem to be 
 the same to the whirlwig, and even in the cold days of
 
 MRS. COATES'S BATH. 69 
 
 winter a gleam of sunshine will bring out the whirlwig 
 beetles in any spot wherever the ice is not formed, and 
 they will dart about as merrily as if the July sun were 
 pouring its hot beams on them. I need not say that 
 there are plenty of these beetles, because there is 
 scarcely a piece of water larger than a puddle in which 
 they may not be found. A depression in the ground 
 which has been dry for months, and suddenly filled 
 with water by a rain-storm, will have whirlwigs in it 
 before many hours have passed. The fact is that 
 these beetles, like those which I have just described, 
 have large and powerful wings, and can use them with 
 great ease. They can take a flight from the surface of 
 the water a fact which I believe has not hitherto 
 been noticed, or at all events not published. I found 
 it out only a few weeks ago. 
 
 While stooping over the water, and admiring the 
 rapid movements of the whirlwig beetles, one of them 
 suddenly darted up, struck me on the nose, and fell back 
 again into the water. If the beetle were half as much 
 astonished as I was^ it must have been very much sur- 
 prised indeed. Wishing to see how this feat was 
 achieved, I took a number of the beetles, and put them 
 into an aquarium, thinking and, the result proved, 
 rightly that they would soon be tired of their limited 
 space and would take to wing. After whirling about 
 for a little time, some of them crawled up the glass sides 
 of the aquarium, while others darted into the air and 
 took to flight. They did it by striking the water
 
 70 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 violently with both swimming-feet at the same moment, 
 and thus jerking themselves several inches into the air. 
 Almost simultaneously with the spring, they spread their 
 wide wings, and flew off with incredible speed. 
 
 There is an old fairy tale about three sisters, who 
 had respectively one, two, and three eyes, the elder and 
 the youngest treating their sister very contemptuously 
 because she had two eyes like people in general. Now, 
 a whirlwig beetle goes one step beyond them for it has 
 four eyes, two above and two below two to see below 
 the water and two to see above it. Of course the beetle 
 has in reality a vast number of eyes, like most insects, 
 but those eyes are divided into four masses instead of 
 two. The reason is this. The insect is continually 
 scurrying about on the surface of the water, watching 
 for prey, and if its eyes were constructed in the ordinary 
 fashion it would only be able to see either above or below 
 the surface, according as its eyes happened to be placed. 
 In order to be able to see distinctly any object below 
 the surface of the water, its eyes must be submerged ; 
 and in the eyes of this little beetle we find the principle 
 of that well-known instrument, the water telescope. 
 This is used for the purpose of looking into the water, 
 and is simply a tube with a plain glass fixed water- 
 tight into one end. When the glass is pushed under 
 the surface of the water, and the eye applied to the upper 
 part of the instrument, objects can be seen with great 
 plainness, the vision not being obstructed by any ripples 
 on the surface of the water.
 
 MRS. COATES'S BATH. 71 
 
 In the larval state this is a very peculiar creature. 
 It is long-bodied, with a blackish head, and along the 
 sides of the body are delicate white filaments, which are 
 the ' branchiae,' or gills, by which the creature breathes. 
 Eespiration is effected by a continual passage of water 
 over the gills, and in still water this object is achieved 
 by a very constant undulation of the body, so that the 
 gills necessarily are brought in contact with fresh par- 
 ticles of water. By means of the same undulations, the 
 larva urges itself through the water, just as has been 
 mentioned of the Dyticus larva, and so, by the mere act 
 of progression, increased power of respiration is obtained. 
 In perfectly still water, the creature is never quiet for a 
 moment, but keeps up a perpetual undulation of the 
 body, during which the little gills have a most graceful 
 appearance, as they float like silver threads on either side 
 of the body. Sometimes the larva obtains its supply of 
 oxygen by ascending a few inches by forcible undulations, 
 and then allowing itself to sink slowly to the bottom, 
 the delicate branchiae being spread out on either side, 
 and acting as floats to prevent it from sinking too fast. 
 
 In ' Mrs. Coates's Bath ' are numberless water- 
 boatmen (Notonecta) of various species and in all stages 
 of existence. We will, however, content ourselves with 
 the commonest and largest species. The insect derives 
 the popular name of water-boatman from the fact that 
 it lies on its back, the sharp edge of which makes a very 
 good imitation of a boat-keel, and rows itself by its long 
 swimming-legs, which are nearly straight, and, with their
 
 72 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 bristle-fringed ends, look exceedingly like oars. In fact, 
 we have no oars that can in any respect approach in 
 efficiency the swimming-legs of the water-boatman, with 
 their invariably correct action, and their self-feathering 
 blades. The name of Notonecta or back-swimmer is 
 given to the insect in consequence of the habit of turn- 
 ing on its back when it swims. 
 
 These insects are not beetles, though they are often 
 thought to be so. They belong to another order of in- 
 sects altogether, and will give very tangible proofs of 
 this fact if carelessly handled. Anyone who has caught 
 one of the predacious beetles may expect a sharp nip 
 with the jaws if he does not take care of himself. But the 
 water-boatman, in common with the rest of its kin, is 
 furnished with a sharp and strong proboscis, which it will 
 drive deeply into the fingers of its captor if it gets a 
 chance. Like the whirlwig, the water-boatman is able 
 to take flight directly from the surface of the water, and 
 does so in a very similar manner, leaping out of the 
 water by a violent stroke of its swimming-legs, and then 
 spreading its wings before it falls back again. When 
 on the wing, it flies with a deep humming sound, very 
 like that which is produced by the humble-bee. 
 
 Its respiration is carried on much in the same way 
 as that of the water-beetle already described. On a calm 
 day, if ' Mrs. Coates's Bath ' be approached cautiously, 
 so that a heavy step does not communicate itself 
 through the land to the water, and that no shadow 
 be thrown upon the insects, whole fleets of water-
 
 MRS. COATES'S BATH. 73 
 
 boatmen of all sizes may be seen floating with their 
 heads downwards, the swimming-legs spread wide by 
 way of balancers, and the tips of their bodies just pro- 
 truding from the surface. A hasty step, however, a 
 sudden movement, or a shadow, even of a passing bird, 
 thrown on the water, will alarm the insects, and they 
 will scurry off in all directions. 
 
 By watching these insects very carefully in a bottle, 
 and keeping that bottle constantly before my eyes on 
 my desk, I have been enabled to observe the course 
 which the air takes in respiration, the partly trans- 
 lucent wing-cases enabling the bubbles to be traced as 
 they pass like globules of quicksilver under the wing- 
 cases and finally into the water. The air is taken in 
 at the end of the tail, and introduced into the space 
 between the wing-covers and the body. It is then 
 gradually drawn forward until it reaches the base of 
 the wing-covers, and is lastly forced out just where the 
 wing-covers fit against the breast. When the insect is 
 perfectly quiet the process may be seen going on with 
 perfect regularity, the air being taken in near the tail, 
 working its way under the wing-covers, and at last 
 squeezed out near the breast, when it ascends in bubbles 
 to the surface. In this position the water-boatmen are 
 accustomed to wash themselves. They are as cleanly 
 as cats, and perform the operation of washing in a 
 very similar manner, leaving not a limb nor a part of 
 the body untouched. Sometimes they will rest on the 
 surface of the water, but this time with their backs up-
 
 74 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 wards, til air wing-cases half opened, and their winga 
 partly unfurled. I never saw them assume this attitude 
 except when the sun was shining directly on them, but 
 I have in that case seen thirty or forty at a time sunning 
 themselves in this curious attitude, which has all the 
 effect of a disguise, and makes them look quite different 
 insects. 
 
 I am sorry to say that water-boatmen are very pre- 
 datory characters, and that they have a great fancy for 
 preying upon the water-gnats, as they are called, those 
 slight, dark-coloured, long-legged insects that run 
 about on the surface of the water as if they were on 
 land. They seize on the unfortunate insect, clasp it 
 tightly to them with their fore-legs, drive their beaks 
 deeply into its body, and suck out all its juices, after- 
 wards rejecting the body, which to the eye seems to 
 have undergone no change at all, and only to have been 
 killed by the wound. The water-boatman takes from 
 five minutes to a quarter of an hour to suck a single 
 water-gnat, and carries it about almost pertinaciously, 
 not even loosening its hold if alarmed and forced to 
 dive. > 
 
 Few facts have struck me more forcibly than the 
 peculiar life which is led by this and other aquatic 
 creatures. As a rule they are essentially predacious. 
 Taking merely those which have been mentioned, we 
 have the newt, which eats all kinds of water inhabitants, 
 provided they are not too large, and is in its turn often 
 subject to a fierce attack by the Great Dyticus, and has
 
 MRS. COATES'S BATH. 75 
 
 a bite or two taken out of its stomach, where it cannot 
 brush away its adversary. Then the water-beetles are 
 quite ready to eat each other should no better prey 
 offer itself, while they ordinarily feed upon water-boat- 
 men, water-gnats, and various larvse. Yet, with all 
 this mutual destruction, the creatures are not in the 
 least afraid of each other, and a whirlwig larva will, for 
 example, swim deliberately in front of a newt or a 
 water-beetle, though its destruction is almost certain. 
 I cannot but think that they do not look upon such a 
 death as we do, and that the larger predacious creatures 
 are to the smaller somewhat as disease and accidents 
 are to ourselves something which cannot be foreseen 
 or avoided, and which has no terror until it actually 
 comes to pass. 
 
 One more predacious insect, and we will conclude 
 with two which are vegetarians, and which, though 
 they find no food in their comrades o'f the pond, some- 
 times furnish it. I felt sure that in ' Mrs. Coates's 
 Bath ' the larva of at least one species of dragon-fly was 
 likely to be found, and a part of a cast skin of a dragon- 
 fly larva which I found in my net confirmed the theory. 
 There were some rather large patches of duck-weed 
 floating in the pond, which I thought were likely 
 haunts for the creatures. Accordingly I put the net 
 quietly under the duck-weed, drew it smartly with its 
 edge against the floating plant, and at the very first 
 dip secured three dragon-fly larvae, all belonging to the 
 genus JEshna, and being, indeed, the larvas of
 
 76 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 grcmdis, one of our largest dragon-flies. I afterwards 
 took more specimens, not only of that but of other 
 species, including the Demoiselle, but the present 
 creature is enough to act as a sample of the rest. 
 
 To my mind this is one of the most extraordinary 
 beings that the world produces. There is no need of 
 travelling to tropical countries for Nature's marvels. 
 They are lavishly poured out at our feet, and we only 
 have to recognise them. Its mode of progression is one 
 that has lately been taken up as a new method of pro- 
 pelling steam-vessels, and its mode of seizing its prey 
 displays a power of modification which very few struc- 
 tures attain. I took a number of these larvae home, 
 and watched their proceedings very attentively. They 
 were well worth watching. 
 
 In the first place we will see how the creature propels 
 itself. The body of the larva is long and tapering, rather 
 larger in the middle, and ending in five horny spikes, 
 which can be made to diverge from each other or can 
 be pressed closely together, when they look like a single 
 point. At the junction of these spikes is a circular 
 aperture, large enough to receive an ordinary pin, and 
 this aperture leads to a hollow space within the body. 
 In this hollow are the gills, and respiration is carried 
 on by means of the water which is drawn in and ejected 
 through the orifice at the root of the horny spikes. 
 When the creature is at rest the water is drawn in and 
 out very quietly, and producing a gentle current that
 
 MUS. COATES'S BATH. 77 
 
 extends for several inches behind the larva. But when 
 it desires to propel itself quickly the larva expels the 
 water violently, and so, on the principle of the ' direct- 
 action ' machine, drives itself forcibly in the opposite 
 direction. Thus the progress of the dragon-fly larva 
 is necessarily a series of jerks, as some appreciable space 
 of time is required in which the hollow can be filled 
 with water. The nautilus, the common cuttle-fish and 
 their kin, propel themselves in the same manner, 
 which is exactly identical in principle with the flight 
 of the rocket, and, in the creature called the Flying 
 Squid, produces much the same effect. 
 
 If the larva be placed in a shallow and flat vessel, 
 in which some very fine dark sand has been scattered, 
 the whole process is rendered plainly visible. When 
 the larva remains quietly in one place, the sand is 
 gradually washed away in a direct line with the insect, 
 leaving a track about a quarter of an inch wide, and 
 some three inches in length. This track is very clear 
 and well-defined near the insect, but becomes vague 
 and broad in proportion to the distance from the larva. 
 Now, if the larva be touched, a very different appear- 
 ance is shown. The larva darts suddenly through the 
 water, and, instead of the simple narrow track, a broad 
 fan-shaped track is left, the water having been expelled 
 with such force as to drive away the sand on both 
 sides. 
 
 Its mode of eating is as strange as its progression. 
 The lower lip, instead of being, as it mostly is, a mere
 
 78 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 appendage to the mouth, is developed into a powerful 
 instrument of apprehension. It is greatly elongated, 
 being fully one-fourth as long as the entire insect. It 
 increases gradually in width from its junction with the 
 head to the end, which is armed with two short but 
 sharp jaws, curved and toothed in their interior edges. 
 It is furnished with two hinges, one at the junction of 
 the ' mask,' as it is called, and the other about half of 
 its length, so that it can lie flat against the breast, th-e 
 hinge descending as far as the base of the first pair of 
 legs, and the jaws lying exactly over the lower jaws of 
 the mouth. It is called the mask because its broad 
 end lies over the mouth and face of the insect so as to 
 conceal them. When the larva sees some creature 
 which it wishes to eat, it propels itself quietly beneath 
 its unsuspecting prey, turns over on its back, and, with 
 a sharp darting movement, seizes the unfortunate insect, 
 and holds it against the true jaws, by which it is soon 
 devoured. 
 
 The voracity of this larva is extraordinary, and it 
 seems capable of continually eating. As for my own 
 specimens, they were so voracious that at last I took 
 them out of the aquarium and put them into a vessel 
 of their own, supplying them with flies and other 
 insects. I found that, although they would eat blue- 
 bottles in lack of other food, they never seemed to like 
 them, although they would readily eat as many house- 
 flies as could be supplied to them. One day, thinking 
 that the formidable larva of the water-beetle was quite
 
 MRS. COATJES'S BATH. 79 
 
 able to hold its own, I put one of them in the same 
 vessel. Next morning it was gone, and nothing was 
 left of it but the two sickle-shaped jaws, which were 
 lying at the bottom of the vessel. At last they took 
 to eating each other, and I have now but one survivor, 
 which, as may be expected, is a very large and fine 
 specimen. It changed to the pupal state while in my 
 possession, but is just as ravenous as it was when a 
 larva, and as it will be when it becomes a dragon-fly. 
 
 Within this little pond are many species of caddis 
 and several of May-flies at least, of these insects in 
 their preparatory condition. A really good collection 
 of caddis-tubes can be procured from this spot, and I 
 was rather surprised to find in it the curved and conical 
 tubes of the Sericostoma, which are made of sand and 
 tiny fragments of stone. May-fly Iarva3 also I found in 
 tolerable plenty, and obtained them by the simple pro- 
 cess of breaking up the mud of the bank, and catching 
 them as they issued from their dwelling tunnels. These 
 burrows are made in the soft muddy bank, and are 
 shaped like the letter ^} laid horizontally, so that the 
 inhabitants can pass in at one entrance and out at the 
 other. As for larvae of gnats and other flies, they 
 simply swarm, and are present in such numbers that to 
 give even a cursory description would take ten times 
 the space that can be spared. The aquatic Crustacea 
 are in great numbers, and within the compass of that 
 tiny pond may be procured enough specimens to give 
 a laborious naturalist work for a year or two. Leeches,
 
 80 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 too, abound, and I was specially pleased to find several 
 specimens of the Planaria, that curious flat-bodied 
 annelid which is worthy of much examination. 
 
 In this and the preceding paper I have endeavoured 
 to show the wonderful amount of interest which lies 
 hidden in every object around us. Those who take up 
 any branch of natural history pass straightway into a 
 new world, and the more thoroughly do they enter into 
 it the less do they complain of the narrowness of their 
 field. I have intentionally taken two very narrow 
 fields, namely, the living beings that are found ' Under 
 the Bark,' and the creatures that live beneath the waters 
 of a tiny pond measuring only three yards by four, 
 And, so far from exhausting either the bark or the 
 pond, I have given but the slightest and most sketchy 
 account of both, choosing a few of the most conspicuous 
 objects as examples of the rest, and leaving un described 
 and even unmentioned hundreds of others every whit 
 as interesting, but for which our limited space is in- 
 sufficient.
 
 81 
 
 A SUMMER WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH 
 LANE. 
 
 THEEE are myriad spots in fair England most dear to 
 the lover of nature, each having its peculiar attraction 
 to the spirit of the spectator, and gladdening the soul of 
 the poet or the artist with beauty as tender or majestic 
 as can be found in most parts of this globe. But, of all 
 beloved haunts, commend me to that which can be 
 furnished by no other country on earth, the real, dear, 
 genuine, old-fashioned English Lane, with its banks of 
 flowers, its little rippling streamlets, its shady hedge- 
 rows ; its feathered trees, with their gnarled roots 
 thrusting themselves out of the bank in strange knotty 
 contortions, and occasionally making their appearance 
 in the centre of the footpath, as if for the express pur- 
 pose of flinging the heedless passenger on his nose ; its 
 charming freedom from any kind of regularity, its 
 pleasant hum of busy insect wings, and its cheerful 
 twitter of little birds. The woodbine flings its graceful 
 masses of twining foliage and fragrant flowers over the 
 hedgerows, and the odorous white blossoms of the wild 
 clematis add their bright petals to vivify the scene. 
 In some parts of the country this plant is called the 
 
 G
 
 82 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 traveller's joy, because it is supposed only to grow on 
 the grounds of an honest man, and to wither straight- 
 way if he should fall into evil courses. Travellers, 
 therefore, who come upon this flower may rejoice in 
 their security, and place reliance upon the owner of the 
 soil they tread. 
 
 Not in every part of England will you find the true 
 unsophisticated lane but there is no other country 
 where you will find even its semblance. Some years 
 since, a well-known American authoress paid her first 
 visit to England, and was greatly charmed by the 
 elucidation of a mystery which had long puzzled her 
 while reading descriptions of English country life. 
 Not until she had with her own eyes seen a genuine 
 country lane could she understand how children could 
 push themselves through the hedge after flowers, and 
 so tumble into the ditch. Our painters have long dis- 
 covered the value of lane scenery, and our truest poets 
 have not been behindhand in painting with glowing 
 words these uniquely lovely scenes of their native land. 
 
 At this time of the year, the exquisitely delicate 
 tintings of the early leaves have passed away, and given 
 place to a dark luxuriance of foliage, sobered here and 
 there by the dried stalks of last year's vegetation, which 
 underlie the light summer verdure, and are wonderfully 
 effective in toning down the dappled greenage of the 
 living leaves. To all who are capable of appreciating 
 the many beauties of unrestrained nature the English 
 lane is very dear ; but to the field naturalist it derives
 
 A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 83 
 
 an additional charm from the varied forms of life which 
 swarm within its precincts. Every leaf is covered with 
 a very world of minute beings ; each bud and flower 
 attracts thousands of happy and sportive existences 
 within the sphere of its potent, though invisible 
 perfume ; and every plant is to creatures innumerable 
 a cradle, a nursery, a banquet, and a home. The air is 
 filled with the merry buzzing of insect wings that 
 glitter in the sunbeams ; the water teems with strange 
 and weird-like forms ; and even the apparently dull 
 earth below the feet contains within its bosom beings 
 as wonderfully mysterious in their structure and func- 
 tions, though seldom, to our eyes, so lovely as the in- 
 habitants of air. While we walk slowly through our 
 country lane, let us pay a little attention to a few of 
 the living hosts that are sure to cross our path. 
 
 There goes a great humble-bee, blundering along 
 the flower-clad bank, with its steady, continuous drone, 
 occasionally broken by a sharp, congratulatory buzz, as 
 it alights on some untouched flower, and proceeds to 
 rifle it of its sweet treasures. That is a maternal bee, 
 hard at work as usual, gathering stores for her home, 
 but taking very good care to give no intimation respect- 
 ing her address. 
 
 The wiles of these insects are really astonishing. 
 To find a humble-bee's nest is a common event enough ; 
 but to track the insect to her home is no such easy 
 matter. She soon finds out that she is being watched, 
 
 G 2
 
 84 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 and tries to mislead her pursuer by artifices that would 
 do credit to the curmingest fox that ever baffled a pack 
 of hounds. She first tries to elude observation alto- 
 gether, flies sharply to a little distance, settles on a 
 plant, drops to the ground through the leaves, and 
 either endeavours to lie hidden until the enemy has 
 left the spot, or to crawl quietly away under the shelter 
 of the foliage. It needs a practised eye to find the 
 crafty insect as she crouches to the ground ; and the 
 best way is to rustle the herbage with a stick, and 
 frighten her out of her hiding-place. 
 
 Off she goes in a great fume, humming and buzzing 
 like a dozen bees, but never in the direction of her 
 nest. Follow her up, and, finding that she cannot 
 escape, she will change her tactics. She then tries to 
 delude her pursuer into the notion that her nest is 
 close at hand, and exhibits a vast amount of spurious 
 anxiety about some little hole in the ground, about 
 which she makes a great turmoil crawling in, backing 
 out, fluttering all round it, and making as great a fuss 
 as if all her parental affections and household cares 
 were centred in that little empty hollow. 
 
 Then, perhaps, she will pretend that she has not 
 yet made her nest, and traverses the bank backward 
 and forward as if she were seeking for a suitable 
 locality, peering into every little crevice, scratching 
 out a little soil here and there, and sometimes sitting 
 quietly down for some moments as if quite fatigued. 
 Turn your back for a minute, and Madam Drumbledore
 
 A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 85 
 
 has vanished from the scene slipped off quietly to her 
 home in her own roundabout fashion. 
 
 Perhaps at another part of the lane, but certainly 
 not within some distance from the spot where she was 
 seen, the nest may be found, a mere insignificant hole 
 in the bank, guarded in all probability by the roots 
 of the neighbouring trees or bushes. Originally it was 
 the home of a country mouse, deserted by the exca- 
 vator, and squatted upon by the humble-bee. The 
 inhabitants may be seen passing in and out at rather 
 long intervals ; and if the ear be applied to the aper- 
 ture, a subdued kind of humming and buzzing is heard 
 in the interior. There is no danger in this process, 
 perilous though it may sound, for the big, heavy 
 Drumbledore is among bees what the Newfoundland is 
 among dogs, and seldom makes use of the formidable 
 weapon with which Providence has armed her for 
 1 defence, not defiance.' Many nests have I watched, 
 and many have I opened, and never yet was stung by 
 the humble-bee for my intrusion. 
 
 Dismissing therefore the fear of stings for even if 
 irritated, a humble-bee is so slow of wing that it 
 cannot make the tiger-like charge of the wasp or the 
 hornet, and can easily be captured or avoided get out 
 the long and strong bladed knife (which every observer 
 ought to have in his pocket, together with string, a 
 well-stocked pincushion, a supply of boxes, and a bottle 
 half full of proof spirits of wine), and lay open the 
 interior economy of the nest.
 
 86 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 The spot in which the combs, if they can be so 
 called, are placed, is always enlarged into a rudely 
 globular apartment, in which are found a number of 
 egg-shaped cells not waxen and brittle like those of 
 the hive bee, but brown in colour, and tough, soft, and 
 of a leathery consistence. Neither are they arranged 
 in a regular series, like the cells of the honey bee, 
 wasp, or hornet, but are jumbled together without any 
 apparent order, compacted into masses, and adhering 
 to each other with tolerable firmness. Some of them 
 contain honey of the sweetest and most fragrant cha- 
 racter. Header, beware that honey, or prepare for a 
 headache and a giddiness for the next six or seven 
 hours. Why the honey should have this effect, or 
 whether it acts in the same manner upon all persons, I 
 cannot say. I know, however, that in my own case, 
 and in that of many others who have also had practical 
 experience of this wild honey, the results have been 
 almost identical. The remaining cells contain young 
 humble-bees in every stage of their existence. 
 
 Interesting though the subject may be, I cannot 
 within this limited space pursue it much further, 
 although I should greatly like to say something of the 
 economy of the sylvan home, and the wondrously modi- 
 fied structure of its inmates as they pass through their 
 several phases of existence. Let me, however, very 
 earnestly commend the humble-bee as an admirable 
 subject for those who desire to study this portion of 
 natural history for themselves. The creatures are of
 
 A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 87 
 
 large size, easily obtained ; and in a single nest 
 examples may be found of the various states of this 
 bee, from the little white grub to the perfect insect of 
 either sex. 
 
 One curious story must yet be told of this subter- 
 ranean home. Within the nest there are sometimes 
 found a few white grubs, clearly not those of the 
 humble-bee, as they are larger, straighter, and have a 
 row of spikes set around the larger end. If you manage 
 to remove the nest and put it into a box, so as to keep 
 its inmates prisoners, the mystery will be solved, in 
 time, by the appearance of some flies exceedingly re- 
 sembling the humble-bee, but belonging to a different 
 order of insects having only two wings instead of 
 four. This is one of the beautiful hovering flies, scien- 
 tifically termed a volucella, the young of which finds 
 its food within the nests of these bees. The humble- 
 
 * 
 
 bees are quite aware of the injury to their community 
 which results from the intrusion of the volucella, and 
 are extremely vigilant in their watch to prevent its 
 intrusion. But the intruder is so like the insect into 
 whose house it hopes to make its way, that the two 
 can hardly be discerned from each other at a little dis- 
 tance ; and so the volucella contrives to take advantage 
 of an unguarded moment, slips by the sentries, and 
 deposits her eggs. Having once succeeded in perform- 
 ing this feat, she cares no longer for her own safety, 
 but walks boldly out of the nest as if she had a perfect
 
 88 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 right of passage. I have sometimes taken four or five 
 of these grubs out of a single nest. 
 
 A near relation of this dipterous Paul Pry may often 
 be found about the blackberries while they are in 
 blossom. It is remarkable for the curious fact that the 
 basal half of its abdomen is so transparent as to permit 
 the colour of the leaves or petals to be seen through it. 
 One of these flies, now before me, is so extremely trans- 
 parent that when I place it on the paper on which I am 
 writing the ink-marks can be seen through its substance, 
 though not so clearly as to be readable, owing probably 
 to the convexity of the abdomen. There are several 
 British flies whose bodies are only semi-opaque, but 
 there is none that can compare with the present example 
 in the almost crystalline pellucidity of its structure. In 
 consequence of this peculiarity it is called Volucella 
 translucens. 
 
 A few paragraphs are now due to those much-dreaded 
 insects, the wasp and the hornet, both of which may be 
 found within the compass of our English Lane. 
 
 There are several kinds of British wasps, all very 
 much alike in general appearance, but recognizable to 
 the entomological eye by sundry slight, but legible marks. 
 Some of these insects suspend their nests from trees, but 
 the commonest species follow the example of the humble- 
 bee, and choose a subterranean abode. Suppose now 
 that we lay siege to a wasp's nest, as we have lately done 
 to that of the humble-bee. 'Ware stings here, for there 
 is no creature more irritable than your wasp, and it is
 
 A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 89 
 
 by no means safe to go within hailing distance of a large 
 nest. Even the exterior of their habitation presents a 
 very different aspect to that of the humble-bee. 
 
 It is a busy scene. Around the entrance are crowd- 
 ing hundreds of yellow and black striped armed warriors, 
 like the Pontifical guard on a small scale some leaving 
 the nest, and others hovering around for a few moments 
 before entering, as if to inquire if all is well. You need 
 not listen at the door of the establishment, for the hum- 
 ming buzz is quite audible, and the waspish temper is 
 proverbial. I saw one nest whose inhabitants used to 
 worry passengers to a great degree, and even attacked 
 horses, and stung one poor animal so severely that it 
 died from the effects of its many wounds. Sometimes 
 a poor field-mouse, overtaken by a storm, runs into the 
 apparently empty hole for shelter, but soon comes 
 running out again, so covered with wasps that it looks 
 like a yellow ball as it rolls down the bank beset with 
 its angry foes. One of my friends, who saw a mouse 
 thus assailed, calculated that from twenty to thirty wasps 
 were at one time on the unfortunate mouse. 
 
 The nest of the wasp ought to be very carefully re- 
 moved, so that its structure may be studied. If the 
 nests of the hive-bee, the humble-bee, and the wasp be 
 compared, they will be found to be made after three 
 different fashions. 
 
 The combs of the hive-bee, are, as is well known, 
 made of wax, secreted in certain little pockets situate 
 in the abdomen. The edges of the cells are strengthened
 
 90 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 with a kind of cement obtained from various trees, and 
 their shape is that of hexagonal or six-sided tubes, set 
 closely against each other, and practically carrying out 
 the interesting problem of giving the largest amount of 
 space with the smallest expenditure of material and 
 labour. On the other hand, the cells of the humble-bee 
 are oval, and without any attempt at regular arrange- 
 ment. The walls of the cell are tough and leathery ; 
 and, when subjected to the microscope, their structure is 
 resolvable into a number of regular silken fibres, cross- 
 ing each other in a kind of meshless network, and 
 agglutinated together by some other substance. But 
 the cell of the wasp is of a very different character from 
 both, and is composed of different substances. 
 
 The wasp makes his nest of veritable paper not 
 quite so white or so fine as that employed in the print- 
 ing of this book, but paper nevertheless, and made of 
 vegetable fibre, torn to shreds, pulped in water, and then 
 spread into sheets and dried. Any one may see the 
 insect hard at work at its natural paper-mill. Gro to any 
 old post or decaying tree, and there may be seen the 
 wasps in full energy employed most zealously upon their 
 work. Look at them closely for they will allow them- 
 selves to be watched while thus occupied and you will 
 soon see the process in its earlier stages. With its 
 strong jaws the wasp bites away fibre after fibre of the 
 decaying wood, and continues to select a sufficient num- 
 ber to make up into a little bundle. It is very 
 fastidious about the quality of the fibres, and rejects
 
 A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 91 
 
 almost as many as it retains. When it has obtained a 
 sufficient load, it begins to champ and gnaw the fibres 
 very diligently, moistening them at the same time with 
 a drop of fluid, and being evidently absorbed in its work. 
 Off it flies to its nest : but as we cannot see it there, we 
 must take up a bit of wasp comb and discover how it 
 builds up the cells. 
 
 On examination, we find that the walls of each cell 
 are composed of this woody pulp, laid in regular strata, 
 which are easily perceptible by the aid of a pocket 
 magnifier. The walls are very flimsy, and cannot hold 
 liquid ; but as the English wasps make no honey, and 
 store no food, this is of no consequence. The combs are 
 arranged in regular layers, one above the other, each layer 
 having all the open ends of the cells downward, and the 
 closed ends forming a floor on which the insects can 
 walk while traversing the space between the combs for 
 the purpose of feeding the young grubs. Each layer ia 
 supported by a number of little pillars, about a third of 
 an inch in length, made of the same papier mache sub- 
 stance as the cells, very much more solid and compact ; 
 and here and there a pillar is made very thick where 
 the comb requires to be strengthened. On examination 
 most of the cells will be found to be inhabited by white 
 grubs, in every stage of growth. Many of the cells will 
 be covered with white silken convex roofs, through 
 which the black eyes of the future wasps often appear. 
 The cells are not quite parallel with each other, but 
 radiate slightly from the centre of each comb towards
 
 92 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 the circumference. The whole nest, containing some 
 six or seven layers of comb, is enveloped in a kind of 
 outer case, composed of the same paper-like substance 
 as the cells, but of a much coarser consistence, and laid 
 
 * 
 
 on in large loose flakes, in which the semicircular sweep 
 of the wasp's head leaves its marks. 
 
 I have seen a very curious little wasp's nest taken 
 from the neighbourhood of Balaclava during the 
 Crimean war. All the stray wood was picked up and 
 used for fuel, so that the wasps were deprived of their 
 ordinary material. They soon, however, found a simple 
 substitute, and made their nests of the blue and white 
 cartridge-paper that is strewn in such quantities on a 
 battle-field. 
 
 The wasp, although it makes no honey, is very fond 
 of eating it, and is always allured towards any sweet 
 substances with the same instinctive force which attracts 
 the school-boy to the toffee-shop, or the infant to the 
 sugar-basin. Eipe fruits are a great banquet to this 
 marauder, who prefers the peaches, plums, and apricots 
 to any other diet, and always chooses the juiciest and 
 best flavoured upon the trees. But it is carnivorous 
 also, and is a sad enemy to flies, to whom it is as deadly 
 a foe as a winged spider would be. But here a poetical 
 justice often overtakes the spoiler, for the hornet, shaped 
 like himself, but just as much bigger, stronger, and 
 fiercer as a tiger excels a leopard in these qualities, is 
 particularly fond of wasps, and may be seen prowling 
 about their haunts, sweeping upon them with a rush
 
 A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 93 
 
 like that of the falcon, and carrying them off with ease, 
 despite their wings and stings. It is rather curious 
 that the hornet will not eat the head or the abdomen of 
 the wasp, but shears them off with its strong jaws, bites 
 off the wings and legs, and then crunches up the re- 
 mainder just as we eat a radish. Sometimes the hornet 
 flies to the branch of a neighbouring tree with the poor 
 wasp in his jaws, and there slinging himself by one foot, 
 he employs the remaining limbs in holding and arrang- 
 ing his victim to his satisfaction. 
 
 Here comes whirring along, rich in flashing green 
 and glittering wings, the great dragon-fly, acknow- 
 ledged tyrant of the air. He is arrowy-swift of wing, 
 and there are few insects that can escape him. He 
 cares little for birds, the general enemies of the insect 
 tribe, for even the swift or the swallow cannot catch him, 
 unless they come upon him unawares. See how he 
 darts here and there, sometimes backing, by suddenly 
 reversing the action of his wings with a sound like the 
 ruffling of a small silken flag, and ever and anon pounc- 
 ing upon some unfortunate insect as it flies along. Not 
 even the broad-winged butterfly, with its erratic flight, 
 can escape this dragon insect, although it gives him a 
 hard chase. I have seen the poor butterfly dodge about 
 like a startled snipe, or a coursed hare, in hope of 
 escaping its terrible enemy ; but all in vain. After two 
 or three turns the dragon-fly succeeded in closing with 
 its prey, and bore it unresisting through the air. As 
 he flew along, wing after wing of the butterfly dropped
 
 94 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 from his mouth, and fluttered slowly through the air. 
 For the dragon-fly was hungry, and was making the 
 most of his time by devouring one victim while looking 
 out for another. 
 
 If you want to observe him nearer, you can do so 
 easily enough. Wait until he flies in your direction, 
 and meet him with a firm sweep of the net. Down with 
 the net on the ground, and seize the fierce creature, for 
 he is biting his way through the gauze at a wonderful 
 rate. 
 
 Take him out by his wings, and don't be afraid ; for 
 he cannot sting, though he is popularly called * horse- 
 stinger ' by the rustics. Turn him on his back, and see 
 how quickly and deeply he breathes, and how wonder- 
 fully the body is formed to permit of respiration. Pray 
 do not think he is frightened. Not in the least ; and 
 we will prove it. Under the influence of terror, no 
 creature will eat. But just take that fly out of the 
 spider's web, and hold it to our dragon's mouth ! See ! 
 he crunches it up in a moment ; his mouth opens four 
 ways at once ; two pair of jaws and one pair of horny 
 lips close on the fly and he is gone, with a snap and a 
 bite, like a mutton chop down a Newfoundland dog's 
 throat. Then you may give him the spider, and he will 
 eat that too. He is very fond of spiders ; and from 
 certain observations, not yet published, I have a notion 
 that spiders are almost necessary to these creatures, 
 under certain circumstances. Try him with a beetle. 
 Down it goes, but not so rapidly, the hard wing-cases
 
 A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 95 
 
 having to be removed which is done very adroitly and 
 without pause. Will he eat a wasp ? Certainly he will ; 
 and though I never tried him with a hornet, they being 
 unchancy insects to hold while one hand is otherwise 
 engaged, I have little doubt but that the hornet would 
 soon disappear into the same receptacle with the other 
 insects. You may go on catching insects for him as 
 long as you like, and he will go on eating them, having 
 no apparent limit to capacity. I once gave a dragon- 
 fly thirty-seven large flies and four long-legged spiders, 
 and only ceased because I was tired of catching before 
 he was tired of eating. 
 
 Having admired him sufliciently, let him go. Off 
 he darts to a branch, sits down for a moment, shakes 
 his wings, as if to assure himself that they are fit for 
 service, and then flashes off, as cruel and as voracious 
 as if he had been fasting for a week. He does not 
 spend all his time after this fashion, though he was 
 always a predacious creature. His first few years were 
 passed in the water, where he lurked under the banks, 
 and chased the aquatic insects as fiercely as, when he 
 got his wings, he pursued the inhabitants of air. In 
 fact, the only change in him is that he was first a 
 crocodile and then a dragon. 
 
 What beautiful butterflies, too, flit through our 
 lane, varying with the time of day and the season of 
 the year. There is the magnificent peacock butterfly, 
 with its glorious ' eyes ' upon the wings, like the spots 
 on a peacock's train ; the atalanta, or scarlet admiral,
 
 96 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 with its black wings edged with azure and crossed with 
 a broad scarlet band; and possibly even the white 
 admiral, the elegant Camilla, may come flying along 
 with that easy sweep of wing and that exceeding grace 
 of movement which have earned for this insect the 
 name of her who could skim over the waves without 
 sinking, or over the ears of corn without bending their 
 heads. Let us catch the peacock, just to look at the 
 under-surface of the eyes. What a singular change. 
 Instead of the varied colours which bedeck the upper 
 surface, the whole of the under wing is deep brownish 
 black, mottled and streaked by darker hues. Why is 
 this ? For a very sufficient reason, i.e., to prevent the 
 brilliant insect from being betrayed by its bright 
 plumage. If alarmed, it instantly flies to some dark 
 object, such as a tree trunk, closes its wings over its back, 
 so that merely the dark under-surface is visible, and looks 
 just like a dead leaf, or a strip of loose bark. When it 
 was a caterpillar this was a curious creature, actually 
 living on the stinging-nettle, and being itself covered 
 with an array of handspikes curious to behold. I have 
 bred hundreds of them and other butterflies from their 
 earliest stages, and always found it to be the surest way 
 of obtaining perfect specimens. Only, they must be 
 liberally supplied with fresh food, or when they emerge 
 from the chrysalis they are small and stunted. 
 
 Euphrosyne shakes her dappled wings from yonder 
 thistle-top, the light sparkling from her silver jewelled 
 plumes as she gently waves them in the sunbeams ; over
 
 A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 97 
 
 the grass-tops flits the exquisite Azure Blue, looking 
 like a little bit of sky, bedropped with stars, that has 
 come down on earth to gladden our eyes with its deli- 
 cate beauty ; and the bright Copperwing glides before 
 us in glowing refulgence, as if its wings were veritably 
 made of burnished gold. Moths, too, are not wanting, 
 for the mottled Currant Moth flutters in and out of the 
 hedge, displaying the rich cream and chestnut of its 
 plumage. The Burnet Moth comes uneasily along with 
 errant flight, pausing now and then long enough to 
 show its green velvet coat, faced and trimmed with 
 scarlet ; and the swift Humming-bird Moth, agile as its 
 feathered prototype, darts through the branches, poises 
 itself on whirring wings before a flower, plunges its long 
 proboscis into the nectary, and, taking some sudden 
 alarm, is off like a lightning-flash. 
 
 Then there are the common but very beautiful 
 tortoiseshell butterflies ; the Janira, with its rich mottled 
 brown plumage, and a host of others. If I could only 
 be allowed the whole of this book for a description 
 of a single insect, I might hope to do partial justice 
 to the subject; but, under the present circumstances, 
 we can only take a casual glance at each creature. 
 White butterflies, of course, are flitting about every- 
 where. These may be destroyed mercilessly, or rather, 
 mercifully. For pretty and harmless as they look, 
 and as they indeed are, they are the parents of those 
 horrid black, yellow, and green caterpillars that de- 
 vastate our cabbage-gardens, and injure the temper 
 
 H
 
 98 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 of a hurried cook. I say mercifully killed because the 
 caterpillar must be killed before we can eat the plant ; 
 and it is surely more merciful to kill one butterfly than 
 some sixty or seventy of its future offspring. 
 
 The handsome Scarlet Hopper comes skipping and 
 jumping so actively about the leaves that to catch it is 
 no easy matter. This pretty creature, with its scarlet 
 and black clothing, is a near relative of the insect that 
 forms the ' cuckoo spit,' so destructive to our garden 
 plants. 
 
 Let us go a little farther down the Lane, towards 
 that patch of bare sandy ground, and find out something 
 about those bright blue flies that are dashing about it 
 so vigorously. See how they alight on the tawny soil, 
 and how fast they run over its surface ! Now we see 
 that they are not flies at all, but beetles, albeit they 
 take to flight as readily, and are as active on the wing, 
 as the blue-bottle flies, which they so closely resemble 
 while in the air. Catch one of them in the net as it 
 flies along, and examine it. What a pleasant perfume 
 issues from its body ! Surely it must have been feeding 
 on roses and verbenas. No, it is a totally carnivorous 
 insect, and rapacious to boot, and the agreeable scent is 
 part of the mystery of its nature. There is another 
 beetle, very much larger, being at least ten times its size, 
 called the Musk Beetle, which possesses a powerful rosy 
 perfume, and, curious enough, is coloured after the same 
 beautiful fashion. Our little lively friend is called the 
 Tiger Beetle ; and well does it deserve the name, for
 
 A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 99 
 
 a winged tiger would not be more destructive among 
 beasts than is the tiger-beetle among insects. What 
 enormous projecting eyes it has ('the better to see you 
 with, my dear,') and what long and powerful fangs 
 (' the better to eat you with '). How firmly it is clad 
 in bright and shining mail, deep, steely blue below, and 
 green bedropped with gold and crimson above. Just 
 look at its wing-cases through the pocket-magnifier, 
 and see what a wondrously magnificent creature it is. 
 Solomon was not robed half so gloriously as the lilies, 
 nor were the Nepaulese princes half so gorgeously be- 
 gemmed as this little beetle. Take it home; put it 
 under the inch-power of the microscope, concentrate 
 the light upon it with the condenser, and then say 
 whether the jewelled beauties of Aladdin's palace could 
 compare with the dazzling radiance of our little tiger- 
 beetle ! Fancy a few square yards of golden network 
 set closely with emeralds, sapphires, and rubies as large 
 as hazel nuts, and with diamonds as big and of more 
 fiery splendour than the Koh-i-noor ; illuminate them 
 with the electric light, and you will then have some idea 
 of the raiment with which God clothes even the smallest 
 of his creatures. None can have the least conception 
 of the hidden magnificence of the every-day objects 
 around them except those who have studied them with 
 a true and observant eye, and a sympathising and 
 loving heart ; and none but these can form so exalted 
 an idea of the glories of a future life, which the earthly 
 eye of man cannot see, nor his heart even conceive. 
 
 H 2
 
 100 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 Now let us turn a glance towards the little streamlet 
 caused by the drainage of the neighbouring fields, which 
 has been quietly wending through its rushy path by 
 our sides. Look steadily at every part of it, and the 
 water becomes as thickly peopled as the land and air. 
 On every side abundant living creatures are seen passing 
 through the waters, some slowly, others rapidly, while 
 many ascend from the bed of the stream, come for a 
 moment to the surface, and dive away out of sight. The 
 Water Boatman is very fond of that pursuit. A queer- 
 looking creature is he, as he lies on his back in the 
 water, his body shaped just like the hull of a ship, and 
 his two long legs extended like oars on each side, and 
 used after the same fashion. Catch him in the net, 
 and look at him nearer only take care of fingers ; for 
 although the boatman cannot bite, he has a strong and 
 sharp proboscis, and if carelessly held will startle his 
 captor by inflicting a rather painful wound. Under 
 his hard shelly wing-cases he has a beautiful pair of 
 large membranous wings ; and at nightfall he leaves the 
 water and takes to the air, mostly on some matrimonial 
 business. At dawn he returns to the water, letting 
 himself drop, with closed wings, from a great height. 
 Sometimes the poor boatman falls into a sad error, and, 
 mistaking glass for water, drops upon a greenhouse or 
 a skylight, and kills himself with the shock. 
 
 In the more rapid and clearer parts of the stream, 
 the Fresh- Water Shrimp may be seen driving itself 
 through the familiar element by a series of jerks ; now
 
 A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 101 
 
 letting itself be carried down the stream for a foot or 
 two, now recovering its position with a few strokes, and 
 now scuttling aside in a desperate fuss, and hiding 
 under a stone. 
 
 Perhaps, if we are very lucky, we may find one of 
 the "Water Spiders, and its wonderful nest, made 
 exactly on the same principle as the diving-bell. The 
 creature makes a silken bag under water, attached to 
 some plant to keep it in its place. She then comes to 
 the surface, gathers up a bubble of air, dives with it 
 into her nest, lets it loose there, and returns to the 
 surface for another supply. Each successive bubble 
 displaces an equal amount of water, and in a short 
 time the strange little architect has got a submerged 
 palace, in which she can live as safely as on land. But, 
 just now, we shall have to use our eyes very carefully 
 to see the spider in her house, for the present rage for 
 aquatic and marine vivaria has set a price on the head 
 of the water-spider, and the country is ransacked by 
 speculators to such an extent that where fifty such 
 spiders might have been found in a single stream 
 scarcely one can now be discovered. It is a cruel thing 
 to take the poor spider away from her natural home 
 and put her in an aquarium. She always dies soon ; 
 for although she may spin her wondrous house she can- 
 not find her proper food, and is sure, before long, to 
 succumb to her altered fortunes. 
 
 If we poke away the mud at the side of the stream, 
 we shall probably come on some of the curious larvae
 
 10 2 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 or grubs of the dragon-fly, which has already been 
 mentioned, and may observe the funny way in which 
 he propels himself forward by squirting water back- 
 ward, having within him a 4 direct action ' propeller. 
 Then his 'mask' is worthy of an examination. See 
 how cleverly it is jointed to fit over his face, and how 
 the formidable jaws at its extremity lie close to the 
 head, so as to excite no alarm. Then see him dart out 
 this mask to its full extent, snap up a passing insect 
 in his jaws, and carry it to his mouth as an elephant 
 picks up an apple and puts it into its mouth. If you 
 like, you may take him home and keep him in a vessel 
 of water, only he wants so much food that he is almost 
 more trouble than he is worth unless you have some 
 special reason for watching his habits. He will eat 
 little fish largely ; and if you stock your water-vessel 
 with young fry, this voracious creature will soon finish 
 them. 
 
 Here comes from the bed of the brooklet the 
 acknowledged tyrant of the waters, the great Water 
 Beetle. He is so big that no insect can overcome him 
 so securely mailed that no insect, except his own 
 kind, can hurt him so swift that no aquatic insect 
 can escape him ; and so voracious that no amount of 
 food seems to satisfy him. Even the dragon-fly grub 
 had better keep out of his way ; for he would soon be 
 treated with poetical justice, and surfer the same fate 
 he had so ofbeR inflicted upon others. Catch him, 
 and hold him safely taking care of your hands, for he
 
 A WALK. THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 103 
 
 can cut clean through the top of your finger if he gets 
 a fair bite at it and see how wonderfully he is made. 
 The two fore-feet are swollen into circular cushion-like 
 pads, which, if examined under the microscope, are seen 
 to be set close with suckers of various sizes. Then his 
 spiracles, or breathing-holes, are arranged under his 
 convex wing-covers, which fit so truly against each 
 other that they enclose a large quantity of air, which 
 the beetle respires while he is below the water. It is 
 to obtain a fresh supply of air that he comes to the 
 surface, cocks up his tail, and dives perpendicularly 
 downwards. 
 
 It will be of no use to take him home, for he must 
 be kept by himself, or he would kill all other inhabitants 
 of the aquarium in a few days ; and he is so voracious 
 that he requires nearly as much looking after as a young 
 nestling. He will not even endure the company of his 
 own species ; and if another water-beetle be introduced, 
 they will fight to the death. Even if you give him a 
 companion of the gentler sex, his character loses none 
 of its fierceness ; and the two not only begin matrimony 
 with a little aversion, but end it with the same the 
 conqueror always killing and eating the vanquished. 
 How often have I not warned recent possessors of aquaria 
 to beware the water-beetle ; and how often have I not 
 witnessed their despair at the death of all their stock, 
 and the escape of the murderer, who has just taken to 
 his wings and flown out of the window ! The grub of 
 the water-beetle is also aquatic, and one of the most
 
 10 2 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 or grubs of the dragon-fly, which has already been 
 mentioned, and may observe the funny way in which 
 he propels himself forward by squirting water back- 
 ward, having within him a ' direct action ' propeller. 
 Then his 'mask' is worthy of an examination. See 
 how cleverly it is jointed to fit over his face, and how 
 the formidable jaws at its extremity lie close to the 
 head, so as to excite no alarm. Then see him dart out 
 this mask to its full extent, snap up a passing insect 
 in his jaws, and carry it to his mouth as an elephant 
 picks up an apple and puts it into its mouth. If you 
 like, you may take him home and keep him in a vessel 
 of water, only he wants so much food that he is almost 
 more trouble than he is worth unless you have some 
 special reason for watching his habits. He will eat 
 little fish largely ; and if you stock your water-vessel 
 with young fry, this voracious creature will soon finish 
 them. 
 
 Here comes from the bed of the brooklet the 
 acknowledged tyrant of the waters, the great Water 
 Beetle. He is so big that no insect can overcome him 
 so securely mailed that no insect, except his own 
 kind, can hurt him so swift that no aquatic insect 
 can escape him ; and so voracious that no amount of 
 food seems to satisfy him. Even the dragon-fly grub 
 had better keep out of his way ; for he would soon be 
 treated with poetical justice, and suffer the same fate 
 he had so often inflicted upon others. Catch him, 
 and hold him safely taking care of your hands, for he
 
 A WALK. THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 103 
 
 can cut clean through the top of your finger if he gets 
 a fair bite at it and see how wonderfully he is made. 
 The two fore-feet are swollen into circular cushion-like 
 pads, which, if examined under the microscope, are seea 
 to be set close with suckers of various sizes. Then his 
 spiracles, or breathing-holes, are arranged under his 
 convex wing-covers, which fit so truly against each 
 other that they enclose a large quantity of air, which 
 the beetle respires while he is below the water. It is 
 to obtain a fresh supply of air that he comes to the 
 surface, cocks up his tail, and dives perpendicularly 
 downwards. 
 
 It will be of no use to take him home, for he must 
 be kept by himself, or he would kill all other inhabitants 
 of the aquarium in a few days ; and he is so voracious 
 that he requires nearly as much looking after as a young 
 nestling. He will not even endure the company of his 
 own species ; and if another water-beetle be introduced, 
 they will fight to the death. Even if you give him a 
 companion of the gentler sex, his character loses none 
 of its fierceness ; and the two not only begin matrimony 
 with a little aversion, but end it with the same the 
 conqueror always killing and eating the vanquished. 
 How often have I not warned recent possessors of aquaria 
 to beware the water-beetle ; and how often have I not 
 witnessed their despair at the death of all their stock, 
 and the escape of the murderer, who has just taken to 
 his wings and flown out of the window ! The grub of 
 the water-beetle is also aquatic, and one of the most
 
 104 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 repulsive and diabolical-looking creatures in existence. 
 It is a great, fat, brown grub, as long as your finger, 
 with a round, cruel-looking head, and a pair of huge 
 crooked jaws, like two sickle-blades set on the head. 
 Its voracity is wonderful. If you put one of these 
 grubs in a water-tank, and then a piece of meat into 
 the water, the grub seizes on it with its jaws, and keeps 
 its hold for hours at a time. Should two or three of 
 the water-beetle grubs be in the same vessel they will 
 seize upon the meat ; and if pushed with a stick will 
 revolve like a wheel, all their heads being fastened to 
 the meat, and all their tails radiating outwards. 
 
 Now let us walk on towards that shady pool through 
 which our streamlet flows, and which has been deepened 
 and embanked, and set round with trees, and guarded 
 with stakes, to make it a fit drinking-place for the 
 cattle. Nothing for a time is perceptible in the water, 
 except those multitudinous little beings which are just 
 large enough to be visible to the naked eye, and which 
 are always playing through the water like motes in a 
 sunbeam. Presently a small ' pop ' is heard, a bubble 
 is seen breaking, and just below the spot where the 
 rippling circles arise, an indistinct gleam of orange and 
 scarlet is seen through the disturbed water. "Watch 
 the spot carefully, and presently the same waving, 
 orange may be seen coming up from below, and assum- 
 ing the form of a lizard-like reptile, some five inches 
 long, with four legs, a well-developed tail, flattened at 
 the sides to aid the creature in swimming a beautiful
 
 A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 105 
 
 crimson-stained and undulating crest, extending from the 
 head along the back, and waving with every movement 
 in the most elegant and graceful manner. This is the 
 Triton, or common Water Newt, otherwise known by the 
 name of the Eft, Effet, and Evat. He mostly lives in the 
 water, and can exist for some minutes without needing 
 to take breath. Every now and then, however, he 
 must come to the surface to take a fresh supply of air, 
 and in so doing he makes that odd little popping sound 
 which we just now heard. He does not always wear 
 that beautiful coat, for, like many of the birds, he only 
 puts on his fine clothes during the matrimonial season, 
 and for the rest of the year is clad as soberly as his 
 mate. 
 
 Here he comes again ; so slip the net under him 
 quickly, and fish him out. Do not be afraid of him 
 he is one of the most harmless of beings, albeit he is 
 popularly reported by rustics to spit fire, and to kill 
 cows, and to bite pieces out of people's arms, and to 
 sting like a viper, together with various other ill 
 qualities ; just as if he combined in his innocent five 
 inches of dark tawny black and orange spotted belly 
 all the demerits of the Dragon of Wantley, the rattle- 
 snake, and the snapping turtle. Indeed, they could not 
 display more fear of either member of that redoubtable 
 trio than they exhibit when you pick up a newt and 
 bring it towards them. As for yourself, your impunity 
 will be set down, not to the harmlessness of the newt, 
 but to some unholy compact with the powers of dark-
 
 106 OUT Of DOORS. 
 
 ness. However, undeterred by such fears, let us ex- 
 .amine the pretty creature more closely. Being out of 
 the water, his beautiful crest is hardly visible, lying 
 loosely along the back like the folded wings of a bat. 
 See what lovely eyes the creature has, gleaming like 
 fiery topaz, and unrivalled except by the eye of the 
 toad. Put him down on the grass, and see how nimbly 
 he runs to the water, and how he darts off with a 
 powerful wriggle of his tail as soon as he finds himself 
 safe. You will not catch him again very easily, for he 
 has got a fright, and will take very good care of himself. 
 If you look very carefully upon the slender leaves of 
 the aquatic plant, you will probably find here and 
 there a delicate, translucent, oval-shaped object, shorter, 
 but thicker, than a grain of rice, but with the leaf 
 curiously knotted over it. This is the egg of the newt, 
 the tying of the leaf being performed by the forelegs 
 and a wonderful operation to see. There is much more 
 interesting history respecting this pretty reptile, but 
 other creatures are awaiting us, and we must pass on- 
 wards. I may just mention here that Mr. Knapp, in 
 his ' Journal of a Naturalist,' remarks that he has seen 
 the newts curiously encumbered with little bivalve 
 shells on which they have trodden, and which have 
 closed upon their unfortunate feet. 
 
 EVENING is now drawing on ; we retrace our steps 
 through the Lane, and a new set of beings have come 
 forth. The busy hum of insects has ceased, and the
 
 A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 107 
 
 air is almost silent, except for certain odd squeaking 
 noises that reach our ears. They cannot be made by 
 a mouse, for they are too shrill ; and besides, they come 
 from above, and not from the earth. True, I can 
 exactly imitate the sound by rubbing two keys together, 
 but as keys don't go flying through the air, it will be 
 safer to attribute the sound to the Bats, which are just 
 coming abroad to begin their evening's work of gnat- 
 hunting. Here they come ! One, two, three ten, 
 twenty of them, fluttering with erratic but rapid wing 
 like black butterflies against the darkening sky, and 
 filling the air with their tiny shrieks, that pierce the 
 ear like audible needles. You may catch a bat easily 
 enough by sweeping the net sharply across its course as 
 it flies down the Lane : only be chary of handling it, 
 for its coat is always full of parasites which are by no 
 means pleasant to look at. Put it on the ground, and 
 see how beautifully its long membranous ears are 
 formed, and into what graceful curves they are thrown, 
 as the creature shuffles over the ground with that 
 ludicrously awkward hobble which always reminds one 
 of jumping in sacks. See, it spreads its wings and 
 tries to fly, but only succeeds in tumbling on its nose. 
 At last it scrambles to the top of the path, flings itself 
 into the ditch and so obtains sufficient impulse for its 
 wings, and goes gladly off through the air. 
 
 Look under the hedge, and see how that leaf is 
 moving along the ground, as if by magic. Stoop very 
 gently, and you will see that a Worm has got hold of
 
 108 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 its point, and is dragging it towards his hole. I dare 
 say that many who read this account will have seen in 
 their gardens certain leaves sticking with their points 
 in the ground, without knowing how they came in 
 such a position. I did not know until last year, when 
 I saw the whole process. 
 
 At dusk the worms begin to crawl out of their 
 houses to hold friendly converse with their neighbours, 
 and to survey the country. They never come entirely 
 out of the hole, always leaving a joint or two within 
 the aperture, by means of which they can retreat in a 
 moment if alarmed. If you suddenly jerk a worm out 
 of its hole it is quite at a loss ; and even if you replace 
 it by the former habitation it cannot find its old home, 
 but is perforce obliged to make another. Watching 
 these creatures is by no means an easy task, as they 
 hate light, and seldom appear out of their holes except 
 in the dusk, so that it is necessary to come quite close 
 before they can be seen at all ; and a lantern cannot be 
 employed, as its glare would at once send them back 
 into the darkness of their homes. The head of the 
 worm is gently thrust into the air, the body follows, 
 and then the creature begins to peer about in various 
 directions, extending and contracting its body with 
 great ease and rapidity. Presently it comes across a 
 fallen leaf, pokes it about for a minute or two, seizes it 
 by the point, and draws it to its home, always managing 
 to hold it in such a way that when the leaf is dragged 
 into the ground it is partially curled up. The worms
 
 A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 109 
 
 will take almost any leaf, though they evince strong 
 partiality when they have a choice. Laurel, and other 
 evergreen leaves, they care little about, though, in de- 
 fault of others, they will use one of these. But if a 
 lilac leaf be laid on the ground, the worm is sure to 
 find it out, will reject the laurel in favour of the lilac, 
 and draw the latter homewards. The great favourite, 
 however, seems to be the primrose leaf, for which the 
 worm will desert any other plant. It is curious to see 
 how long worms can make themselves when they want 
 to reach a leaf at a distance, and how thread-like thej 
 then become. 
 
 In order to experiment upon them, I have laid 
 leaves with their stalks towards the hole, and always 
 found that in such cases the worm would feel its waj 
 along the edge of the leaf, get hold of the point, twist 
 it round so swiftly that the eye can hardly follow the 
 movement, and then whisk it off homewards as if it 
 were moved by a spring. No doubt, if we could dis- 
 cover some means of investigating them, we should find 
 the habits of the worms as interesting as those of the 
 insects. 
 
 Now the dew is collecting rapidly on the leaves, 
 and out come the Snail and Slug tribes from their 
 hiding-places. Evening is the time for shell collectors, 
 as the lantern beams penetrate the dark recesses of 
 foliage, and bring out in bright relief the polished shells 
 as they move among the herbage. Among the chief 
 favourites of the juvenile mind may be reckoned the
 
 -i!2 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 fringe of the purest white. Even the body is clothed 
 in snowy down ; and as the White Plume Moth flutters 
 from one spot to another for it never seems to take a 
 long flight it may easily be mistasen for a snow flake 
 floating on the wind. 
 
 The great Hawk Moths now come dashing along, 
 like the birds from whom they derive their name and 
 whom they resemble in no slight degree while on the 
 wing darting towards each flower and drinking its 
 sweet contents by inserting their long trunks into its 
 recesses, while they remain hovering in the air. You 
 need not try to catch them, for the simplest plan to 
 procure the most perfect specimens is by digging in 
 autumn under any tree, wall, private hedge or paling, 
 when you will find plenty of them in their chrysalis 
 state ; and may procure the moths in absolute perfection 
 by keeping them until the succeeding summer, when 
 they will burst from their shells and come forth in their 
 full beauty of unsullied plumage. 
 
 Now the Summer Chaffers and Dor Beetles come 
 out of their retreats, bump against our face, or cling to 
 our clothes, without seeming in the least discomposed 
 by their sudden arrest. The former insect is a dread- 
 fully destructive one, eating the grass-roots while it is 
 a grub, and the trees when it is a perfect insect, and 
 sometimes stripping tree after tree of its foliage. To 
 the meditative saunterer at the evening hour it is an 
 intolerable nuisance, irritating him with its buzzing 
 hum even at his ear, sticking in his hair, dashing across
 
 A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 113 
 
 his eyes, scratching his nose, and breaking up his train 
 of thought in a lamentable manner. The Dor, with its 
 beautiful purple-green body and helmeted head, is not 
 nearly so tiresome although it does occasionally thump 
 us as it < wheels its droning flight,' or startles us with its 
 deep, heavy drone at our ears. 
 
 There is another beetle to whom we are more lenient. 
 The Glowworm has just begun to light her blue-green 
 lamp a very Hero holding forth a torch to her Leander, 
 who is flying above, and anxiously looking out for the 
 welcome signal. See ! down he comes with a wheel and 
 furling of gauzy wings within their dark cases ; and you 
 may see Hero and Leander safely met. But how very 
 odd ! Hero is not one bit like Leander. She does not 
 seem to belong even to the same class of beings, much 
 less to the same species, as her lover. Leander is a 
 long-bodied, wide-headed, brisk-looking beetle, with 
 two ample pellucid wings enclosed in their protecting 
 shields; whereas Hero is a flattish, slow, crawling, 
 ordinary-looking, rather repulsive brown grub, with 
 never a vestige of wing and nothing to recommend her 
 to notice. Pick her up quietly, by gathering the leaf 
 on which she sits ; take her home ; lay her on a bit of 
 moist turf, and she will soon shine out for your gratifi- 
 cation. But if you want her to be particularly resplen- 
 dent, just pour a stream of oxygen gas through the 
 vessel in which she is placed, and you will then see a 
 blaze of natural illumination that can only be equalled 
 by the many fire-flies of tropical regions.
 
 114 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 Calm and quiet is the evening now, the sounds of 
 labour are hushed and the bright songs of happy birds 
 are stilled in sleep. But Nature has her vespers as 
 well as her orisons ; the shrill cry of the bat and the 
 deep humming of the circling beetle are psalms of praise 
 as intelligible to sympathetic hearts as the sweet melody 
 of feathered throats, or the pleasant sounds of busy 
 insect wings. We who enjoy the blessed privilege of 
 holding such sweet communion with Nature, and whose 
 spirits are made capable of perceiving the Creator 
 through the various forms in which He manifests His 
 love, cannot do less than add our own heartfelt praises 
 to those of all created things, with fervent thanks for 
 the past, and loving trust for the future.
 
 115 
 
 THE WOOD ANT. 
 
 WITHIN a reasonable walk of my house there is a small 
 wood which affords opportunities of watching the habits 
 of many creatures. It is planted upon more than one 
 kind of soil, so that a plentiful supply of plants is found 
 within its limits, and, as a necessary consequence, many 
 insects live upon the plants ; predacious insects come to 
 eat their harmless kinsfolk, and birds come to eat both 
 the cannibals and their victims. 
 
 This place is a favourite resort of the Wood Ants, 
 which have built their fragile but enduring nests in many 
 sheltered spots, and have driven their wonderful paths 
 through almost every part of the wood. For some 
 years I have passed many pleasant hours every summer 
 among the trees, and found the day only too short for 
 the many observations that came under my notice. 
 The best way to take advantage of a wood is to set out 
 with the intention of watching some particular creature, 
 and to give up one's time exclusively to that single 
 object ; not failing, of course, to mark any point of 
 interest that may present itself respecting other beings 
 that may come within ken, and to jot it down in a note- 
 book. 
 
 i 2
 
 ]13 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 This insect, which may be known by its large size 
 and reddish thorax, is one of the stingless ants, though 
 it is quite as formidable an antagonist as those species 
 which possess those sharp and envenomed darts. For 
 though the wood-ant has no sting, it -yet has a store of 
 poison, and can use its venomous powers effectively, 
 though in a more roundabout manner than is adopted 
 by the sting-bearers. 
 
 It is a most fierce and determined creature, the 
 sense of fear seeming to have been wholly omitted from 
 its composition. It will attack anything and anybody 
 without the least hesitation, and possesses all the courage 
 without the cunning exhibited by the Lilliputians in 
 their memorable attack on the Man Mountain. For a 
 man is to the wood-ant not only a moving mountain, 
 but a moving world ; and yet there is not a single ant 
 that will not attack a man, if it fancies him to be in too 
 close proximity to its residence. 
 
 Urged by some wonderful instinct, it makes at once 
 for the nearest unprotected skin, bites fiercely with its 
 sharp and calliper-shaped jaws, and simultaneously bind- 
 ing its body so as to bring the tip of the abdomen to 
 bear upon the wound, squirts a small drop of its poison 
 into the cavity, producing for the time a sharp and 
 painful smarting sensation. The pain, however, is very 
 transient, although, at the moment it is inflicted, the 
 pang is quite as severe as that inflicted by the sting of 
 a wasp. Nor is this its only mode of attack. The wood- 
 ant is able to eject this poisonous substance to some dis-
 
 THE WOOD ANT. 117 
 
 tance, and if a nest be broken open, and a bare hand 
 placed within the aperture, it will be speedily covered 
 with a thousand little dots of pungent fluid ; and if the 
 skin be very sensitive it will smart as though it had 
 been plunged into a bunch of stinging nettles. The 
 scent of this fluid is strongly acid, like highly con- 
 centrated vinegar, and even at a distance of a yard from 
 the nest produces an unpleasant sensation in the throat 
 and nostrils. 
 
 One of my friends, desirous of testing personally 
 the peculiar scent, made a breach in the nest of the 
 wood-ant, and put his face to the hole. Scarcely had 
 he approached within three inches than he started 
 back, vowing that the ants had stung him all over his 
 chin, and could not for some time be convinced of his 
 error. 
 
 This pungent liquid is acid in its nature, and when 
 analysed is found to contain two kinds of acid, one pe- 
 culiar to these insects and called ' Formic ' acid, and 
 the other the substance called ' Malic ' acid, which gives 
 to the juice of apples its peculiar flavour. Not only has 
 it the scent of vinegar, but a very good substitute for 
 that useful article is often made by steeping successive 
 measures of the wood-ant in boiling water. The sub- 
 stance called chloroform owes its name to the similarity 
 between its constituent elements and those of Formic 
 acid. In chemical language, though not in chemical 
 formula, Formic acid consists of two atoms of carbon, 
 one atom of hydrogen, and two atoms of oxygen,
 
 U8 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 while the composition of chloroform is two atoms of 
 carbon, one atom of hydrogen, and three atoms of 
 chlorine. It may be casually remarked that Formic 
 acid can be produced by artificial means. 
 
 The nest of this insect is a wonderfully large struc- 
 ture, when the size of the tiny architects is taken 
 into consideration, and the regularity with which their 
 interior is parcelled out into chambers and galleries is 
 not less surprising. It is made of little pieces of stick, 
 dried leaves, broken stems of the dried fern, and always 
 contains the berries of the mountain ash, if any tree of 
 this kind should happen to be within a moderate dis- 
 tance. When I first observed the red berries amid the 
 heap of leaves and sticks, I thought that they had fallen 
 from a neighbouring tree and been accidentally blown 
 upon the nest, but I have since found that every nest in 
 the wood contains these berries, when a mountain ash 
 was within forty or fifty yards. Their use I cannot 
 imagine, as the ants do not carry them into the nest, but 
 merely mix them with the dried substance of the exterior. 
 
 The materials of which the nest is composed are 
 heaped quite loosely and apparently at random on each 
 other. But if the nest be carefully examined, a certain 
 order is to be detected, particularly in the entrances 
 and galleries, which are made of long sticks rudely 
 arranged across each other, so as to form a five-sided 
 aperture. If a twig be brought to the nest, its destina- 
 tion is nearly sure to be at one of the many openings. 
 Being desirous of ascertaining whether the ants would
 
 THE WOOD ANT. 110 
 
 accept extraneous assistance, I broke off a little dried 
 stick to the shape and size of those that were arranged 
 about the aperture and laid it upon the others, so as to 
 match them as nearly as possible. A posse of ants im- 
 mediately came to look at the new addition, took hold 
 of it with their jaws, and after making a trifling altera- 
 tion, for form's sake, I suppose, lest I should be too 
 conceited about my architectural skill, they allowed it 
 to remain. 
 
 It is most interesting to watch the ants bringing 
 materials for their home. If an ant finds a little piece 
 of broken fern stem that is suitable for the outer wall, 
 he picks it up by one end, holds it out straight before 
 him as if he were smoking a very large cigar, and sets 
 off briskly homewards. This mode of carrying his 
 burden is evidently adopted for the convenience of 
 steering it through the grass blades, fallen fern, and 
 other impediments, which, trifling as they appear to 
 human eyes, are by no means insignificant to the ants. 
 I have even seen an ant carrying off a grub three times 
 his own size, holding it in the same manner ; the 
 strength required for such a feat is truly enormous. 
 
 But when a heavier or a larger burden, such as a 
 piece of stick, has to be transported, a different plan is 
 adopted. Six or seven ants are detached for the work, 
 and they set about it with a nicety of purpose that is 
 really surprising. Grasping it with their jaws they 
 gradually edge it onward in the right direction, one of 
 their number always seeming to act as foreman, and
 
 120 OUT OF DOOR1S. 
 
 taking hold of the end which seems to be the post of 
 honour. As long as the ground is tolerably even the 
 stick is dragged along without difficulty, and the fore- 
 man or 'ganger' cannot be distinguished from his 
 fellows save by his position at the end of the stick. 
 But when they get among broken ground, or if the 
 stick should perchance fall into a crevice and carry its 
 leaves with it, the ganger seldom touches the stick ex- 
 cept to pull it into the proper direction, but runs ahead 
 to reconnoitre the locality, then returns to the gang, 
 and is all life and animation. I have seen the clever 
 little creatures make a mistake, and get the stick into 
 a labyrinth of broken ferns and twigs, through which 
 they could by no means steer it, and then seen them 
 carefully return by the same path until they were clear 
 of the thicket, and choose another and a smoother road. 
 On one occasion I watched a gang of ants, six in 
 number, that had jammed their burden so tightly under 
 a fern stem that they could proceed no further. They 
 immediately tried to extricate it, but were checked by 
 an angular bend in the stick, which had hitched itself 
 under the fern, and prevented it from being moved in 
 either direction. Being curious to know how the ants 
 would surmount the difficulty, and rather fancying that 
 they would leave the stick and fetch another, I watched 
 them for nearly two hours. They evidently had no in- 
 tention of relinquishing their task ; and after a vast 
 amount of excitement, the ganger getting on the top 
 of the stick and down again fifty times, they hauled the
 
 THE WOOD ANT. 121 
 
 projecting extremity down by main force of numbers, 
 dragged it from below the impediment, and, I suppose, 
 got it safely home. The stick was a trifle more than 
 two inches in length, about as thick as a stout crow- 
 quill, and at one end had a knot and a sharp bend up- 
 wards. An idea of the strength exerted in the trans- 
 portation of this burden may be formed by taking the 
 comparative sizes of men and ants, magnifying the 
 piece of stick into a tree trunk of corresponding dimen- 
 sions, and setting six men to carry that trunk through 
 a virgin forest, and over ravines and precipices, up 
 mountains and down valleys, and lastly to the top of 
 a building shaped something like the great pyramid, 
 but much more lofty, the sides of which are formed of 
 loose sticks and logs. 
 
 Nothing short of taking away the object of their 
 labours seems to divert these industrious creatures from 
 their work. I have laid large flies, little grubs, and 
 other attractive articles of diet in their way, but they 
 suffered them to remain unheeded, though, if un- 
 employed on serious business, they would carry off such 
 prey as soon as they saw it. 
 
 The wood ants seem to be acquainted with the 
 leading principles of civilisation, their nest being the 
 centre of a radiating system of roads, extending for a 
 wonderful distance, and as permanent in their way as 
 Watling Street, or any of the old Eoman roads which 
 now traverse our land. Mr. William Howitt tells rne 
 that he has watched one of these roads for more than
 
 122 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 twenty years, and found that on every fine day it was 
 crowded with ants going off for plunder, or returning 
 laden with spoils for the benefit of the community. 
 Even on wet and cold days, when the ants, who are 
 chilly beings, wisely stay at home, their roads are 
 plainly perceptible, and are marked out by their freedom 
 from bits of stick, leaves, etc., these having been re- 
 moved by the insects as materials for their nest. It is 
 always easy to find the nest by following up the road, 
 and the right direction can be at once learned by fol- 
 lowing the course adopted by the laden insects. 
 
 The difference in the demeanour of those that are 
 setting out in search of prey or materials and those that 
 are returning home is most notable ; the former bustling 
 along with a quick eager step, looking this way and that, 
 running first to one side of the path and then to the 
 other, interchanging rapid communications with their 
 comrades, and altogether brisk and busy. But when 
 they have succeeded in their object they march steadily 
 homeward with a preoccupied demeanour, taking no 
 notice of passing events, and being apparently absorbed 
 in the one task of depositing their burden in its proper 
 place. 
 
 The observer will do well while watching these 
 insects not to sit or stand upon or very near one of their 
 roads, for the ants have no idea of being pushed out of 
 the old paths, and are summary and fierce in their re- 
 venge upon intruders. 
 
 As the ants pass and repass on their paths they hold
 
 THE WOOD ANT. 123 
 
 rapid communications with each other, mostly by means 
 of their antennae, which pat and stroke those of their 
 gossip with surprising quickness, the whole transaction 
 irresistibly reminding the observer of the Oriental 
 method of conducting sales or barters by means of the 
 hands. The antennae, whose precise function is still 
 rather obscure, are employed not only for actual com- 
 munication with other ants, but to ascertain whether a 
 companion has passed over a certain spot. This 
 peculiar instinct is mostly exercised among trees. The 
 ant roads seem even to extend themselves to the summit 
 of trees, being generally confined to one side of the 
 trunk, and ramifying to the very tips of the leaves, as 
 may be seen by means of a good field-glass. Ants may 
 be seen passing and repassing upon the trees as briskly 
 as upon the ground, and it is notable that when they 
 get among the small branches an ant will not go where 
 another has preceded it, making itself aware of the cir- 
 cumstance by the tapping of the antennae upon the 
 bark. 
 
 The object of this tree-haunting habit is twofold , 
 firstly that the individual may obtain food for itself, 
 and secondly that it may bring in subsistence for the 
 community. Its own nourishment is chiefly obtained 
 from the aphides which swarm on many trees, and 
 which have the power of exuding a saccharine fluid 
 from a pair of minute tubes near the extremity of the 
 body. When the aphides are very plentiful the sweet 
 juice falls on the leaves, and is popularly known as the
 
 124 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 ' honey-dew.' Both bees and ants are fond of honey~ 
 dew, which the former insect licks from the leaves with 
 its brush-like tongue, the latter taking a more direct 
 course, and lapping it as it exudes from the tubes. 
 While on the leaves the ants are more than usually 
 combative, and if the hand be placed near them, will 
 tuck their tails under them, sit up like dogs begging, 
 and flourish their antennae in a manner which they 
 doubtless think well adapted to frighten the disturbers 
 of their peace. When, however, the angry insect finds 
 that menace is ineffectual, and that it cannot alarm the 
 foe, it settles the matter by dropping to the ground. If 
 an ant~infested tree be suddenly struck with a stick, the 
 ants tumble down in all directions, falling quite uncon- 
 cernedly from a height of fourteen or fifteen feet, and 
 rattling like hail upon the dried leaves at the foot of 
 the tree. When they reach the ground they lie motion- 
 less for a moment, and then pick themselves up and 
 run away as if nothing were the matter. 
 
 Though they instinctively spare the aphides (an 
 instinct which every gardener cannot but wish to be 
 suppressed), they are terrible foes to other insects, 
 seizing them and dragging them into their nests most 
 zealously. I once saw an unfortunate daddy long-legs 
 (Tipula) caught in a gust of wind and blown upon a 
 nest of the wood-ant. No sooner had the ill-fated 
 insect touched the nest than it was surrounded by a 
 host of ants, its legs seized by twenty pairs; of jaws, its 
 wings torn from their joints, and the still struggling
 
 THE WOOD ANT. 125 
 
 body pushed and dragged along until it was finally 
 pulled into the recesses of the nest. I have often tried 
 the experiment of putting a large fly in their path, and 
 always found their mode of procedure to be the same. 
 They cluster round the fallen insect like flies round a 
 lump of sugar, they seize upon its legs, they pull off 
 its wings in a moment, and run away with the severed 
 organs, four or five others following each fortunate 
 captor, just like a brood of chickens after the one that 
 has been lucky enough to pick up a piece of bread. 
 They then attack the wingless body with ruthless 
 violence, biting at it like a hungry cat at a slice of meat, 
 or perhaps more like a herd of wolves at their prey. 
 They soon deprive it of life, haul it to the nest, drag 
 it up the side, and literally tumble it into one of the 
 holes. 
 
 The interior of the wood-ant's nest, and the mode 
 by which a view of it was obtained by the insertion oi 
 a sheet of plate-glass, are described in my ' Homes 
 Without Hands.'
 
 326 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 TEE GREEN CRAB. 
 
 OF all the animated denizens of our sea-shores, there is 
 perhaps none more generally familiar than the common 
 green crab, or shore-crab as it is also popularly termed 
 the Carcinus Manas of naturalists. Whether at high 
 or low water, at ebb or flow, hiding under overshadow- 
 ing weeds or craftily sunk beneath the sand, this quaint, 
 waddling, green-backed crustacean is to be found, 
 equally active, and equally pugnacious. With the 
 exception of children, who are always delighted with the 
 odd manoeuvres of the creature, people mostly look upon 
 it with contempt, partly because it is too small to hurt 
 them much, and partly because it is not particularly 
 worth eating, having hardly anything inside its olive- 
 green shell, and the little that there is not being well- 
 flavoured. Yet beneath that unprepossessing exterior 
 is concealed a vast fund of interest, and the visitor to 
 the sea-side will find himself well repaid by watching 
 the habits of our olive-coloured friend. 
 
 The best time and place for observing the green 
 crab in ths fulness of its energies is just before high 
 tide. Just at the edge of the advancing waters, crabs 
 rise out of the sand in all directions, like the warriors 
 sprung from the dragon's teeth, and, as if to complete
 
 THE GREEN CRAB. 127 
 
 the analogy, each is supplied with defensive and offensive 
 armour, and each is at mortal enmity with its com- 
 panions. 
 
 As the waters roll towards the shore the crabs 
 advance with the waves, ever hovering on the extreme 
 verge, and hungrily watchful for their prey. The dash- 
 ing waves tumble them over in a most unceremonious 
 fashion, but without in the least disturbing their 
 equanimity, and it is amusing to see how cleverly they 
 guard themselves from being washed back into the sea 
 by sticking their hooked legs into the sand, like animated 
 grapnels. 
 
 Before watching the habits of the creature, just let 
 us catch one, and examine the marvellous manner in 
 which its form is adapted for the life which it leads. 
 
 The legs are so constructed that they permit their 
 owner to move backwards, forwards, or sideways with 
 equal ease, a capability which is of the greatest import- 
 ance in procuring food, as well as in escaping from 
 foes. The latter contingency is also beautifully provided 
 for by the shape of the body, which is so formed as to 
 enable the creature to burrow beneath the sand with 
 singular rapidity, leaving scarcely a trace of its presence. 
 
 To watch the animal thus employed is an interesting 
 sight. The crab half erects itself on its tail, and scoops 
 up the sand with the edge, just as a child digs a hole 
 with its wooden spade. If the sand is wet, three or four 
 vigorous movements are sufficient to sink the crab below 
 the surface, when the next wave washes a quantity of
 
 128 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 loose sand over the spot, and nearly obliterates the traces 
 of the creature that is lurking below. A practised eye 
 will, however, detect the concealed crab by means of the 
 bubbles that issue from the sand in consequence of the 
 air expressed from the system. 
 
 Here we may mention that the proper way to catch 
 a crab without being bitten is to press the forefinger 
 smartly on the middle of the back, and then to grasp 
 the two side edges with the thumb and middle finger. 
 The claws are thus forced to fold their joints, and their 
 painful bite need not be feared. 
 
 Holding the crab in this manner, turn it over, and 
 examine the wonderful manner in which the limbs are 
 packed, and how admirably they accommodate them- 
 selves to the habits of the animal. The claws, when 
 folded, exactly bring their extremities to the mouth, 
 so that any food can be carried to the right place, and 
 literally ' tucked in.' The mouth itself is an apparatus 
 so complicated that it cannot be described further than 
 as being a series of jaws and teeth, placed behind each 
 other in regular succession, and opening like horizontal 
 shears. 
 
 A creature that depends upon its own exertions to 
 capture the active prey on which it feeds must neces- 
 sarily be furnished with powerful eyes, which are capable 
 of extending the faculty of vision over a very large field. 
 These eyes are seen on the front margin of the crab, 
 placed on footstalks, and having a peculiar nacreous 
 lustre on their grey-brown surfaces. On examination
 
 THE GEEEN CRAB. 129 
 
 with a good pocket lens, the eyes are seen to be com* 
 pound, i.e. formed of a great number of facets, each 
 possessing the power of vision, and all communicating 
 with their common optic nerve. The delicate raised 
 lines caused by the serried ranks of these compound 
 eyes are the origin of the peculiar lustre just mentioned. 
 It will be seen, too, that the visual portion of these 
 organs passes partially round the footstalks, so that 
 when the creature protrudes its eyes it can see objects on 
 all sides with equal ease. 
 
 Now replace the crab in the water, and watch it as 
 it exhibits the instinct which has. been implanted in its 
 being by its divine Creator. 
 
 Advancing with the flowing tide, and ever remain- 
 ing within a foot or two of the edge, the crab keeps its 
 eager watch for food, and suffers few living things to 
 pass without capturing them. The whole nature of the 
 animal seems to be changed while it is seeking its prey. 
 The timid, fearful demeanour which it assumes when 
 taken at a disadvantage wholly vanishes, and the. appa- 
 rently ungainly crab becomes full of life and spirit, 
 active and fierce as the hungry leopard, and no less 
 destructive among the smaller beings that frequent the 
 same locality. 
 
 Now does it shew the ubiquitous advantages of its 
 singular mode of progression. Let a tiny fish, a smaller 
 crustacean or a soft mollusc, pass it within reasonable 
 distance, and the crab darts at it with a tiger-like 
 energy, and seldom fails to secure its prey. I have seen 
 
 K
 
 130 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 these crabs run after and catch the black flies that are so 
 common upon the sand, and once saw a burrowing wasp 
 (Odynerus) snapped up as it alighted on a bit of seaweed ; 
 and I have often seen bees thus caught as they were 
 drinking the salt water. Everyone who has walked 
 along a sandy shore at evening is familiar with the 
 shrimp-like sand-hoppers or sand-skippers (Talitrus) 
 that leap about with such untiring energy, and knows 
 the difficulty of capturing one of these active creatures. 
 Yet I have seen the green crabs give chase to the sand- 
 hoppers, and pounce on them as cats on mice. 
 
 The method employed in their capture of all active 
 animals is unique. As soon as the crab sees the intended 
 prey it sits up for a moment, darts at the doomed being, 
 and literally flings itself upon the victim, imprisoning 
 it beneath the body and hemming it in by means of the 
 legs, which make an impassable cage around it. One 
 of the claws is then inserted under the body, and the 
 prisoner picked daintily out as if by the thumb and 
 ringer. One claw then holds the prey, while the other 
 pulls it to pieces and puts the morsels deftly into the 
 mouth. The crab knows the value of time, and loses 
 not a moment in disposing of its prey, tucking it into 
 its voracious maw with amusing despatch, and looking 
 out the while for a fresh victim. Once I saw a very 
 large sand-hopper make its escape from its pursuer. It 
 gained nothing, however, but a temporary release, for 
 the crab instantly gave chase, secured, and ate it in a 
 few moments.
 
 THE GREEN CRAB. 131 
 
 Fierce and destructive as it may be, the green crab 
 is itself a frequent victim to more powerful foes, and is 
 often doomed, with poetical justice, to undergo the 
 sufferings which it has inflicted upon other beings. 1 
 None are more terrible enemies than those of its own 
 species, for the crab is an insatiate cannibal, devouring 
 its own kindred without the slightest compunction. In 
 all these cases, however, it is needful that the dimen- 
 sions of slain and slayer should be very disproportionate, 
 as the crab cares not to earn a meal through a fight. 
 
 I was lately witness to a very amusing episode, where 
 a large and powerful crab caught sight of a tender little 
 one, as it scuttled over the wet sand. Away started the 
 giant in full chase, and away ran the pigmy, as if know- 
 ing that life and death hung on the issue of the race. 
 In spite of the great disproportion in size, the superior 
 activity of the smaller crab prevented its pursuer from 
 gaining much ground, but at last its strength evidently 
 began to fail, and I thought it must inevitably succumb 
 to the terrible foe that pressed so fiercely on its foot- 
 steps. Suddenly, however, it darted under a stem of 
 laminaria that was lying on the shore, gathered all its 
 limbs under its shell, and there, lay motionless. The 
 pursuer was instantly baffled. It raised itself in the air, 
 and surveyed the shore in all directions. Then it 
 prowled about like a cat that has lost a mouse. It even 
 
 1 Mr. Rymer Jones mentions that he saw one crab, while eating an- 
 other, seized by a larger crab and eaten in his turn. He did not seem to 
 be sensible of the fact, but went on eating until he was entirely crushed. 
 
 K2
 
 132 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 then was cunning enough to turn over some bits of sea- 
 weed that were lying on the shore, but never thought 
 of searching under the thick stem of the laminaria. 
 At last it gave up the pursuit, returned disconsolately 
 to the sea, shovelled itself under the sand, and I saw 
 it no more. Its intended victim then cautiously looked 
 from its place of shelter, just protruded a claw, then 
 a leg, then looked again, and at last came boldly forth 
 and went off to catch something on its own account. 
 
 As a general rule, the larger the size of the crab the 
 more bellicose is its disposition. The smaller specimens 
 are usually discreet as well as valorous, and if surprised 
 either run away as fast as they can, or burrow into the 
 sand with all speed. But the great broad-shelled bully 
 of the rocks has had his own way so long that his first 
 impulse is always to show fight, and no sooner does he 
 catch sight of a foe than down goes his tail and up go 
 his claws, and there he sits, defiantly ready for instant 
 combat. It is as well to be cautious about handling 
 such a champion, for he can strike with his claws as 
 swiftly as a serpent darts its armed head, and should he 
 miss his aim the clash of the bony weapons is distinctly 
 audible. 
 
 Be it well understood that a bite from such a creature 
 is no trifle, for the claws are enormously powerful, their 
 tips are sharply toothed, and they hold like the jaws of 
 a bull-dog. 
 
 Even this belligerent animal is ofttimes fain to re-
 
 THE GREEN CRAB. 133 
 
 treat before a foe of greater powers, stronger weapons, 
 and harder shell namely, the edible crab, which figures 
 on our tables, and is known among the seaside popu- 
 lation as the punger. Fortunately, however, for our 
 green friend, the punger mostly inhabits a different 
 belt of water, being most commonly found among the 
 rocks at low-water mark, whereas the green crab lives 
 almost wholly above that elevation. 
 
 Many persons when walking along the shore have 
 observed a curious series of little marks on the sand, set 
 in rows of five or so in depth, and meandering in seem- 
 ingly purposeless irregularities. At first the marks 
 appear to be made without any order, but a little 
 examination will show that the same group of marks 
 is repeated at regular intervals. These are the foot- 
 tracks of the green crab, and the distance between the 
 parallel lines of marks denotes the size of the animal 
 that made them. 
 
 Guided by these tracks, an experienced shore-hunter 
 can often follow the crab to its place of concealment and 
 bring it to light, whether it be buried in the sand, or 
 lying under the shelter of pendent seaweeds. In 
 attempting this feat, however, it is as well to be quite 
 sure of the direction in which the crab has gone, so as not 
 to be led away from, instead of towards, the hidden 
 crustacean. This object can easily be attained by 
 examining the shape of the marks, which are always 
 larger at one end than the other, the larger extremities 
 always pointing in the direction the crab has taken.
 
 134 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 There is much more to be said of these creatures, 
 but failing space will not permit of further description. 
 Should, however, any reader of these lines suffer the 
 annoyance of a wet day at the sea-side, he is hereby 
 recommended to procure a waterproof garment, to 
 betake himself to the shore as the tide is rising, and 
 amuse himself by watching the crabs. 
 
 Since this article was printed, I have found that the 
 green crab supplies food to rats. Along the cliffs of 
 Margate great numbers of rats live, having taken up 
 their abode in the crevices, which are above the reach of 
 the waves. My attention was first called to them by 
 seeing their footprints in the thin coating of sand 
 which is to be found in such places, the sand having 
 been blown there by the wind. 
 
 A friend and myself then set to work at these marks, 
 and soon found that great numbers of rats inhabit the 
 cliffs, and that they live almost entirely on the green 
 crabs, whose broken shells lay plentifully in the crevices. 
 After watching for some time without success, we at 
 last managed to see the rats stealing out of their homes 
 at dusk, and carrying off the crabs. It was very diffi- 
 cult to see the animals, for they are scarcely visible 
 against the sand and seaweed, and are so wary that the 
 least movement sends them scuttling off to their homes. 
 Sometimes, when the crab happened to be a large one, 
 the rat had no easy task, for the crab was quite as 
 courageous and nearly as active as its foe, springing round
 
 THE GREEN CRAB. 135 
 
 so as to keep its front to the enemy, and guarding itself 
 with its claws just as a boxer holds his arms when on 
 guard. 
 
 I may mention that the popular idea of the green 
 crab being unfit for food is entirely wrong. The flesh 
 is nearly as good as that of the edible crab, but there is 
 so little of it that the creature would command no sale 
 in the market, and is therefore left undisturbed.
 
 136 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS. 
 
 ALONG the sandy shores at low water may be seen in 
 the summer months numbers of round, flattish, gela- 
 tinous-looking bodies, scientifically called Medusae,, 
 going popularly by the expressive though scarcely 
 euphemious titles of slobs, slobbers, stingers, and stan- 
 gers, and called jelly-fishes by the inland public, though 
 the creatures are not fishes at all, and have no jelly in 
 their composition. 
 
 As these medusae lie on the beach they present any- 
 thing but agreeable spectacles to the casual observer, 
 and, as a general fact, rather excite disgust than 
 admiration ; and it is not until they are swimming in 
 the free enjoyment of liberty that they are viewed 
 with any degree of complacency by an unpractised eye. 
 Yet even in their present helpless and apparently lifeless 
 condition, sunken partially in the sand, and without a 
 movement to show that animation still holds its place 
 in the tissues, there is something worthy of observation, 
 and is by no means devoid of interest. 
 
 In the first place be it noted that all the medusae 
 lie in their normal attitudes ; and in spite of their 
 apparently helpless nature, which causes them to be
 
 MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS. 137 
 
 carried about almost at random by the waves or 
 currents, they in so far bid defiance to the powers of 
 the sea that they are not tossed about in all sorts of 
 positions, as is usually the case with creatures that are 
 thrown upon the beach, but die, like Caesar, decently, 
 with their mantles wrapped round them. 
 
 Looking closer at the medusa, the observer will 
 find that the substance is by no means homogeneous, 
 but that it is traversed by numerous veinings, something 
 like the nervures of a leaf. These marks indicate the 
 almost inconceivably delicate tissues of which the real 
 animated portion of the creature is composed, and 
 which form a network of cells that enclose a vast pro- 
 portionate amount of sea-water. If, for example, a 
 medusa weighing some three or four pounds be laid in 
 the sun, the whole animal seems to evaporate, leaving 
 in its place nothing but a little gathering of dry fibres, 
 which hardly weigh as many grains as the original mass 
 weighed pounds. The enclosed water has been examined 
 by competent analysts, and has been found to differ in 
 no perceptible degree from the water of the sea whence 
 the animal was taken. 
 
 Though the cells appear at first sight to be disposed 
 almost at random, a closer investigation will show that 
 a regular arrangement prevails among them, and that 
 they can all be referred to a legitimate organisation. 
 So invariably is this the case that the shape and order 
 of these cells afford valuable characteristics in the 
 classification of these strange beings.
 
 1S8 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 Just below the upper and convex surface may be 
 seen four elliptical marks, arranged so as to form a 
 kind of Maltese cross, and differently coloured in the 
 various specimens, carmine, pink, or white. These 
 show the attachments of the curious organisation by 
 which food is taken into the system, and may be better 
 examined by taking up the creature and looking at its 
 under surface. 
 
 Now take one of the medusae, choosing a specimen 
 that lies near low-water mark, and place it in a tolerably 
 large rock pool where the water is clear, and where it 
 can be watched for some time without the interruption 
 of the advancing tide. 
 
 The apparently inanimate mass straightway becomes 
 instinc: with life, its disc contracts in places, and suc- 
 cessive undulations roll round its margin like the wind 
 waves on a cornfield. By degrees the movements be- 
 come more and more rhythmical, the creature begins 
 to pulsate throughout its whole substance, and before 
 very long it rights itself like a submerged life-boat, 
 and passes slowly and gracefully through the water, 
 throwing off a thousand iridescent tints from its surface, 
 and trailing after it the appendages which form the 
 Maltese cross above-mentioned, together with a vast 
 array of delicate fibres that take their origin from the 
 edge of the disc, or umbrella, as that wonderful organ 
 is popularly called. 
 
 Words cannot express the exceeding beauty and 
 grace of the medusa, as it slowly pulsates its way
 
 MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS. 139 
 
 through the water, rotating, revolving, rising and sink- 
 ing with slow and easy undulations, and its surface 
 radiant with rich and changeful hues, like fragments 
 of submarine rainbows. It is often possible, when 
 the water is particularly clear, to stand at the ex- 
 tremity of a pier or jetty and watch the medusae as 
 they float past in long processions, carried along by 
 the prevailing currents, but withal maintaining their 
 position by the exertion of their will. 
 
 The reader is doubtlessly aware that the title of 
 Medusa is given to these creatures on account of the 
 trailing fibres that surround the disc, just as the snaky 
 locks of the mythological heroine surrounded her 
 dreadful visage. Many species deserve the name by 
 reason of the exceeding venom of their tresses, which 
 are every whit as terrible to a human being as if they 
 were the veritable vipers of the ancient allegory. 
 
 Fortunately for ourselves, the generality of those 
 medusae which visit our shores are almost, if not wholly, 
 harmless ; but there are some species which are to be 
 avoided as carefully as if each animal were a mass of 
 angry wasps, and cannot safely be approached within a 
 considerable distance. The most common of these 
 venomous beings is the stinger or stanger, and it is 
 to put sea-bathers on their guard that this article is 
 written, with a sincere hope that none of its readers 
 may meet with the ill fate of its author. 
 
 If the bather or shore wanderer should happen to 
 see, either tossing upon the waves or thrown upon the
 
 140 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 beach, a loose, roundish mass of tawny membranes and 
 fibres, something like a very large handful of lion's 
 mane and silver paper, let him beware of the object, 
 and, sacrificing curiosity to discretion, give it as wide 
 a berth as possible. For this is the fearful stinger, 
 scientifically called Cyanea capillata, the most plenti- 
 ful and the most redoubtable of our venomous medusae. 
 
 My first introduction to this creature was a very 
 disastrous one, though I could but reflect afterwards 
 that it might have been even more so. It took place 
 as follows. 
 
 One morning towards the end of July, while swim- 
 ming off the Margate coast, I saw at a distance some- 
 thing that looked like a patch of sand, occasionally 
 visible, and occasionally covered, as it were, by the waves, 
 which were then running high in consequence of a 
 lengthened gale which had not long gone down. Know- 
 ing the coast pretty well, and thinking that no sand 
 ought to be in such a locality, I swam towards the 
 strange object, and had got within some eight or ten 
 yards of it before finding that it was composed of animal 
 substance. I naturally thought that it must be the 
 refuse of some animal that had been thrown overboard, 
 and swam away from it, not being anxious to come in 
 contact with so unpleasant a substance. 
 
 While still approaching it I had noticed a slight 
 tingling in the toes of the left foot, but as I invariably 
 suffer from cramp in those regions while swimming, I 
 took the ' pins-and-needles ' sensation for a symptom
 
 MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS. 143 
 
 of the accustomed cramp, and thought nothing of it. 
 As I swam on, however, the tingling extended further 
 and further, and began to feel very much like the sting 
 of a nettle. Suddenly the truth flashed across me, and 
 I made for shore as fast as I could. 
 
 On turning round for that purpose, I raised my 
 right arm out of the water, and found that dozens of 
 slender and transparent threads were hanging from it, 
 and evidently still attached to the medusa, now some 
 forty or fifty feet away. The filaments were slight and 
 delicate as those of a spider's web, but there the simili- 
 tude ceased, for each was armed with a myriad poisoned 
 darts that worked their way into the tissues, and affected 
 the nervous system like the stings of wasps. 
 
 Before I reached shore the pain had become fearfully 
 severe, and on quitting the cool waves it was absolute 
 torture. Wherever one of the multitudinous threads had 
 come in contact with the skin there appeared a light 
 scarlet line, which on closer examination was resolvable 
 into minute dots or pustules, and the sensation was 
 much as if each dot were charged with a red-hot needle 
 gradually making its way through the nerves. The 
 slightest touch of the clothes was agony, and as I had 
 to walk more than two miles before reaching my lodg- 
 ings, the sufferings endured may be better imagined 
 than described. 
 
 Severe, however, as was this pain, it was the least 
 part of the torture inflicted by these apparently insig- 
 nificant weapons. Both the respiration and the action of
 
 142 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 the heart became affected, while at short intervals 
 sharp pangs shot through the chest, as if a bullet had 
 passed through heart and lungs, causing me to fall as if 
 struck by a leaden missile. Then the pulsation of the 
 heart would cease for a time that seemed an age, and 
 then it would give six or seven leaps, as if it would 
 force its way through the chest. Then the lungs would 
 refuse to act, and I stood gasping in vain for breath, as 
 if the arm of a garotter were round my neck. Then 
 the sharp pang would shoot through my chest, and so 
 da capo. 
 
 After a journey lasting, so far as my feelings went, 
 about two years, I got to my lodgings, and instinctively 
 sought for the salad-oil flask. As always happens 
 under such circumstances it was empty, and I had to 
 wait while another could be purchased. A copious 
 friction with the oil had a sensible effect in alleviating 
 the suffering, though when I happened to catch a 
 glance at my own face in the mirror I hardly knew it 
 all white, wrinkled, and shrivelled, with cold perspi- 
 ration standing in large drops over the surface. 
 
 How much brandy was administered to me I almost 
 fear to mention, excepting to say that within half an 
 hour I drank as much alcohol as would have intoxicated 
 me over and over again, and yet was no more affected 
 by it than if it had been so much fair water. Several 
 days elapsed before I could walk with any degree of 
 comfort, and for more than three months afterwards
 
 MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS. 143 
 
 the shooting pang would occasionally dart through the 
 chest. 
 
 Yet, as before mentioned, the result might have 
 been more disastrous than was the case. Severe as were 
 the effects of the poisoned filaments, their range was 
 extremely limited, extending just above the knee of 
 one leg, the greater part of the right arm, and a few 
 lines on the face, where the water had been splashed 
 by the curling waves. If the injuries had extended to 
 the chest, or over the epigastrium, where so large a 
 mass of nervous matter is collected, I doubt whether I 
 should have been able to reach the shore, or, being 
 there, whether I should have been able to ascend the 
 cutting through the cliffs before the flowing tide had 
 lashed its waves against the white rocks. 
 
 It may be easily imagined that so severe a lesson 
 was not lost upon me, and that ever afterwards I looked 
 out very carefully for the tawny mass of fibre and 
 membrane that once had worked me such woe. 
 
 On one occasion, after just such a gale as had 
 brought the unwelcome visitant to our shores, I was in 
 a rowing boat with several companions, and came across 
 two more specimens of Cyanea capillata, quietly 
 floating along as if they were the most harmless beings 
 that the ocean ever produced. 
 
 My dearly-bought experience was then serviceable 
 to at least one of my companions, who was going to 
 pick up the medusa as it drifted past us, and was only
 
 144 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 deterred by a threat of having his wrist damaged by a 
 blow of the stroke oar. 
 
 Despite, however, all these precautions, I again fell 
 a victim to the Cyanea in the very next season. After 
 taking my usual half-mile swim I turned towards shore, 
 and in due course of time arrived within a reasonable 
 distance of soundings. As all swimmers are in the 
 habit of doing on such occasions, I dropped my feet to 
 feel for sand or rock, and at the same moment touched 
 something soft, and experienced the well-known tingling 
 sensation in the toes. Off I set to shore, and this time 
 escaped with a tolerably sharp nettling about one foot 
 and ankle, that rendered boots a torture, but had little 
 further effect. Even this slight attack, however, 
 brought back the spasmodic affection of the heart ; and 
 although nearly fourteen months have elapsed since the 
 last time the medusa shook her venomed locks at me, 
 the shooting pang now and then reminds me of my en- 
 tanglement with her direful tresses. 
 
 For the comfort of intending sea-bathers, it may be 
 remarked that although the effects of the Cyanea's 
 trailing filaments were so terrible in the present 
 instance, they might be greatly mitigated in those 
 individuals who are blessed with a stouter epi- 
 dermis and less sensitive nervous organisation than 
 have fallen to the lot of the afflicted narrator. How 
 different, for example, are the effects of a wasp or bee 
 sting on different individuals, being borne with com- 
 parative impunity by one, while another is laid up for
 
 MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS. 145 
 
 days by a similar injury. And it may perchance happen 
 that whereas the contact of the Cyanea's trailing fila- 
 ments may affect one person with almost unendurable 
 pangs, another may be entangled within their folds 
 with comparative impunity. 
 
 As, however, even the comparative degree is in this 
 case to be avoided with the utmost care, I repeat the 
 advice given in the earlier portion of this narrative, and 
 earnestly counsel the reader to look out carefully for 
 the stinger, and, above all things, never to swim across 
 its track, no matter how distant the animal may be, 
 for the creature can cast forth its envenomed filaments 
 to an almost interminable length, and even when 
 separated from the parent body, each filament, or each 
 fragment thereof, will sting just as fiercely as if still 
 attached to the creature whence it issued. It will be 
 seen, therefore, that the safest plan will always be to 
 keep well in front of any tawny mass that may be seen 
 floating on the waves, and to allow at least a hundred 
 yards before venturing to cross its course. Perhaps 
 this advice may be thought overstrained by the inex- 
 perienced. 
 
 ' Those jest at scars -who never felt a wound, 
 
 but he who has purchased a painful knowledge at the 
 cost of many wounds will deem his courage in no wise 
 diminished if he does his best to keep out of the way 
 of a foe who cares nothing for assaults, who may be cut 
 into a thousand pieces without losing one jot of his of- 
 fensive powers, and who never can be met on equal terms.
 
 146 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 MY TOADS. 
 
 1 THE toad,' observes an old and quaint writer, ' is 
 the most noble kind of frog, most venomous, and re- 
 markable for courage and strength,' such qualities being 
 evidently indicative of nobility in the mind of the 
 narrator. So among the Hindoos the cobra is honoured 
 as the creature of highest caste next to the Brahmin, 
 and an old and very vicious Hoonuman is deeply re- 
 spected as a very high caste monkey ; and so, throughout 
 all Oriental nations, the surest road to respect is to insult 
 their chiefs and thrash the people in general, giving no 
 reason for either proceeding. In the present case, how- 
 ever, there are but little grounds for the respect that 
 our author evidently entertained for the toad, as, after 
 a long and somewhat intimate acquaintance with this 
 batrachian, I have found his venom impotent, have 
 never witnessed any display of his courage, and think 
 his strength to be, bulk for bulk, inferior to that of a 
 frog. Still the toad is a respectable animal enough, 
 and to those who will wisely discard the prejudice 
 attached to its name, a very curious and interesting 
 animal. Ever since I used to potter up and down our
 
 MY TOADS. 147 
 
 garden, a small six-year-old naturalist, with a magnifying 
 glass always open in one hand, and an empty pill-box 
 in the other, the toad has been a great favourite with 
 me, though, perhaps, considering the rude handling to 
 which it was continually subjected, the feeling was 
 hardly reciprocated on the part of the reptile. 
 
 En passant, let me speak in the highest terms of 
 the benefit conferred on children by letting them run 
 about as they will in a rough and ready kind of garden, 
 where they may work their own sweet wills, dig, plant, 
 sow, build, and play just as they like, without being 
 subjected to the annoyance of being confined to the 
 gravel, and forbidden under severe penalties to place a 
 foot on the beds. It is an education in itself to them, 
 this wild freedom. They learn a thousand things that 
 books will never teach them ; the use of their limbs, the 
 use of their eyes, readiness of resource, and quick ap- 
 preciation. They are sure to realise in vivid action every 
 event of which they hear or read, and thus indelibly fix 
 their knowledge on their childish memory. 
 
 For my own part I know that there was not an 
 event in Robinson Crusoe, the Swiss Family Kobinson, 
 Persian Fables, or Arabian Nights, that we did not act 
 over and over again ; while the histories of England, 
 Greece, and Eome were delineated with equal force. 
 
 Not only were we wrecked on desert islands not 
 only did we rescue Men Fridays (darkening our faces 
 with black-lead, in order to represent the suave savage 
 in ' character ') not only did we build ' falcons' nests ' 
 
 L 2
 
 148 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 in the apple tree, and make rope-ladders out of clothes- 
 lines n ot only, in fine, did we reduce to practice any 
 practicable event in our favourite books, and 'make 
 believe ' fervently in all impracticable cases, but we 
 pursued the same system with severer studies, and 
 acted in turn every historical person of whom we read, 
 though the originals might have found some difficulty 
 in recognising their representatives, or the localities in 
 which the particular adventure occurred. For us, how- 
 ever, the result was perfectly satisfactory. If we pushed 
 each other out of the stable-loft window, the Tarpeian 
 rock was sufficiently indicated ; and if the representative 
 of the criminal happened to hurt himself by the fall it 
 only made things look more real. And so, whether we 
 gained our kingdoms by seeing flights of vultures, 
 killed our brothers for jumping over the wall, got killed 
 ourselves by an arrow in the eye at an imaginary Hast- 
 ings, or one through the heart in an equally imaginary 
 New Forest (the rocking-horse being of great service 
 in the latter catastrophe), we certainly contrived to 
 impress on our minds a tolerably vivid idea of the cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 Children thus learn at the earliest years to dis- 
 tinguish one plant from another, to know a flower from 
 a weed, and to learn something of their various pro- 
 perties; while, with regard to the animal kingdom, 
 they gain a fund of practical experience that is sure to 
 be valuable in after life. 
 
 It is no small matter for them to get rid of a fear,
 
 MY TOADS. 149 
 
 to distinguish between the harmless and hurtful beings, 
 and, by watching their interesting habits, to feel a sym- 
 pathy with their fellow creatures, and to appreciate too 
 keenly the infinite value of life to kill any living thing 
 without just cause. 
 
 We were never afraid of black-beetles, daddy long- 
 legs, or any of the insect tribe, except the few that wore 
 stings ; while the frogs and toads were our special pets, 
 lived in magnificent edifices made of bricks and flower- 
 pots, and each had its own name. Long before we read 
 about them in books, we knew all about their absorp- 
 tion of water through the skin, their sudden cry of fear 
 when alarmed, the equally sudden change of colour, and 
 the curious fact that a frog which lived in a dark hole 
 was always brown, and one that lived in the open air 
 was yellow ; while as to the venomous nature of the 
 toads, as energetically detailed by our nursery maids, 
 we treated the notion with supreme contempt, and 
 handled a toad as unconcerned as if it had been a ball. I 
 am sure that many persons young ladies especially 
 who cannot rid themselves of real terrors at the sight of 
 many a harmless and useful creature, would have been 
 much happier if their early lives had been spent in a 
 garden such as has been described. 
 
 Having always felt an interest in these ungainly 
 but truly useful batrachians, I begged from a friend a 
 fine pair of Natterjack toads that had just been sent 
 from Jersey, and placed them in a glass fern-case. 
 
 Their first proceeding was to establish hiding-places,
 
 150 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 each choosing its own corner for that purpose. The 
 method in which a toad ensconces itself is rather 
 curious. Supposing, for example, that it wishes to 
 burrow into the base of a small mound, it begins by 
 finding some small part where the earth is tolerably 
 loose. It then plants the extremity of the back against 
 the mound, wriggles about in a position that reminds the 
 observer of the green crab shovelling itself under the 
 sand, and pushes the earth from beneath it with the 
 hind feet, passing it forwards under the body, where it 
 is taken up by the fore-feet and put out of the way. 
 Inadequate as the means may seem the soft, skinny 
 feet of the toad being apparently the worst spades that 
 could well be devised the creature will sink itself 
 below the ground in a wonderfully short space of time. 
 It is remarkable that a toad never enters its hole 
 except by backing into it at least, I have never seen 
 one do so, whether it be at liberty or in confinement. 
 
 Having fairly established themselves, they looked 
 out for food, although, with all of their kin, they were 
 capable of sustaining a very prolonged fast without any 
 apparent inconvenience. As at that time I was living 
 in the very heart of London, it was not easy to procure 
 the proper kind of food for the toads, who feed wholly 
 upon living creatures, and will touch nothing that does 
 not move. However, I contrived to bring home a 
 miscellaneous collection in several boxes, and tried ex- 
 periments with them. 
 
 They would eat earthworms, provided that they
 
 MY TOADS. 151 
 
 were clean and lively, so as to writhe about in that 
 manner which a toad cannot resist. They were cap- 
 tured after the usual custom namely, by a sudden 
 * flick ' of the curious tongue, which is so rapidly 
 moved that with the most careful attention the eye 
 can only distinguish a pink streak appear and as sud- 
 denly vanish. A slight slapping sound is heard as the 
 tongue is thrown towards the prey. 
 
 The fact has long been known, but the details have, 
 I believe, not yet been fully described. It is by no 
 means necessary, as has been repeatedly asserted, for the 
 toad to remain motionless, with its eyes intently fixed 
 on its victim. On the contrary, I have often seen the 
 toad catch beetles in spots where it could not see them, 
 and without even attempting to look for them. The 
 tongue can be flung in any direction, and always with 
 equal certainty of aim, at right angles to the head for 
 example, out of either corner of the mouth, or even 
 under the body. I have repeatedly seen the creature 
 aim at an insect that was crawling under its body, and 
 mostly with success ; if not so, a second shot was sure 
 to be effectual. 
 
 I used frequently to feed them with blue-bottle flies, 
 by the simple process of putting them into the fern- 
 case and closing the entrance. In spite of the wings 
 and activity of the insect, the toad was sure to have it 
 before long. At the first buzz the toad would come 
 all in a hurry out of his hole, tumbling over stones and 
 sticks in his eagerness, and evidently listening for the
 
 152 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 sound of the fly's wings. As soon as the insect settled 
 within reach of the tongue (and when the reptile stood 
 on its hind legs -it had a marvellous reach) the toad 
 used to raise its head with an oddly knowing air, and 
 looked as eager as a cat which hears a mouse behind 
 the door. It would then scramble hastily towards the 
 fly, when a red streak would be seen to flash from its 
 mouth, a slight slap was heard, and the fly had van- 
 ished. If the insect took alarm, the toad was quite 
 content to wait, and was certain to hunt it down at 
 last. 
 
 It may be here mentioned that the root of the 
 toad's tongue is set on the front of the lower jaw, the 
 point being directed backward, so that when an insect 
 is captured the mere return of the tongue flings it 
 down the throat. A few decided gulps are, however, 
 needful to complete the operation, and the aspect of 
 the toad while engaged in swallowing is most absurd, 
 the elevated eyes being closed, and disappearing en- 
 tirely by the exertion. The dimensions of the insect 
 make no difference in the magnitude of the gulp and 
 the disappearance of the eyes. 
 
 Few persons who have not watched a toad can form 
 any idea of the dexterous manner in which it uses its 
 fore-paws, these apparently clumsy members serving 
 the purpose of hands, and being frequently employed 
 in lieu of those important limbs. If, for example, the 
 toad has snapped up a tolerably long worm, it will 
 probably be incommoded by the natural objection
 
 J/F TOADS. 153 
 
 entertained by the annelid with respect to its lodge- 
 ment in its captor's stomach, and the struggle which it 
 makes to escape, its head and tail usually protruding 
 at opposite sides of the mouth. 
 
 Now the toad is strangely indifferent to wounds 
 and injuries, and even if nearly severed in two seems to 
 be as unconcerned as if it had no personal interest in the 
 calamity. But nothing appears to annoy the strange 
 creature so much as any object sticking in the sides of 
 the mouth, and it displays a vast amount of uneasiness 
 until it has removed the annoyance. In order to effect 
 this object the fore-paws are brought into play, the 
 creature grasping at the irritating object just as a 
 monkey would do under the circumstances, and either 
 pushing it down the throat or throwing it away, accord- 
 ing to its fitness or unfitness for food. I have known 
 the leg of a beetle, or even the wing of a fly, worry the 
 toad sadly, while a small blade of grass excited it to 
 such a degree that it very nearly looked angry. 
 
 There is one curious point connected with the toad 
 which I have never been able to comprehend. Sup- 
 posing it to be pursuing a fly, and the insect to have 
 settled out of reach, the toad sits watching it just as a 
 lion is said to watch a baboon or a human being who 
 takes refuge in a tree. While thus watching, the last 
 joint of the middle toe of the hind feet is continually 
 jerked with a convulsive kind of movement, twitching 
 in unison at regular intervals. The movement seems 
 to be quite involuntary, and I suppose is analogous to
 
 154 OUT OF DOORS, 
 
 the waving of the lion's tail while the animal is crouch- 
 ing in view of its intended prey. 
 
 Although the toad can endure a very long fast, 
 there seems to be no limit to its gormandising capaci- 
 ties when it meets with a plentiful supply of food. 
 The smaller of my specimens ate successively several 
 worms, a great ' woolly bear ' caterpillar (i.e., the larva 
 of the tiger moth, Arctia ccy'a), a large grub, apparently 
 the larval state of some beetle, a number of smaller 
 insects, and a large ground beetle (Carabus violaceus). 
 These various capabilities render it a most useful 
 animal, and one which should be carefully guarded by 
 every owner of a garden. For at night, when the 
 obnoxious slugs, flies, beetles, and other insects are on 
 the move, the toad comes out to prey on them, and 
 quietly performs very great service by the steady, 
 thorough-going manner in which it clears the plants of 
 every creature that moves. 
 
 Some entomologists, whose zeal for the enrichment 
 of their cabinets exceeds their humanity, are in the 
 habit of sallying out into the fields at early dawn, 
 killing all the toads that they can find, and opening 
 them for the purpose of getting the insects that have 
 been swallowed during the night. Some of the rarest 
 British specimens have been taken in this manner, 
 beetles being the usual denizens of the locality. Con- 
 chologists are accustomed to employ a similar mode of 
 collecting the objects of their research, and find some 
 of the best specimens in the stomachs of several deep 
 sea fishes ; and microscopists in like manner find a vast
 
 MY TOADS. 155 
 
 museum of beautiful objects within the digestive organs 
 of various molluscs. 
 
 The beautiful eye of the toad is proverbial, redeem- 
 ing the ungainliness of its general aspect, and having 
 in all probability given rise to the fabled jewel within 
 the head. Bright and richly coloured as is the eye, 
 with its glowing, bold, fiery chestnut hue, it is without 
 the least vestige of expression, and retains its full 
 brilliancy long after the animal is dead. As to the 
 venomous powers of the toad, they are not to be found 
 in the mouth, as is popularly imagined, but in two 
 rather large glands on the sides of the head, which pro- 
 ject boldly, and are plainly visible. If one of these 
 protuberances be squeezed between the fingers, a 
 whitish, creamy-looking liquid will be ejected, and 
 perhaps to some little distance. While performing this 
 operation it will be as well to hold the toad in such a 
 manner that the secretion may not be shot into the 
 eyes, as in that case it would probably cause severe pain, 
 and might probably produce violent inflammation. 
 Still it will not be ejected without the employment of 
 considerable force, and is never injurious to human 
 beings. 
 
 Briefly to sum up the character of the toad : it is 
 not pretty, is entirely harmless, extremely useful, easily 
 tamed, and worthy of being cherished by those who 
 prefer deeds to outward seeming ; it is a creature of 
 curious and interesting habits, and affords a rich field 
 to anyone with time and opportunity for clearing up 
 several important but disputed points in physiology.
 
 156 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 
 
 IT was a delicious summer evening, the fresh breeze 
 pouring new life into lungs choked with thick London 
 smoke, and the setting sun darting its last red rays 
 through the waving corn, when we issued from the 
 station door, wearied and cramped with long sitting in 
 a crowded carriage, and were heartily greeted by oui 
 host, whose domains we were about to invade. A few 
 minutes served to settle us on the vehicle in waiting, 
 and the train had hardly proceeded on its course when 
 we were merrily bowling along towards our home in the 
 New Forest. 
 
 Even the country drive was a luxury to those who 
 had for months been penned up in the very heart of the 
 metropolis, and, after a mile or so had been passed, 
 proved to be not without its excitement. The favourite 
 old horse hight Rufus, in honour of the second William, 
 and in allusion to his bay coat trotted off in great 
 spirits, knowing that every step took him nearer to his 
 stable. His owner, however, not wishing us to be taken 
 by surprise, mentioned casually that Eufus generally 
 fell down when descending a hill, and that he always
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 157 
 
 liked to have the vehicle pushed behind him whenever 
 he came to an ascent ; but that those who were used to 
 him knew what to expect, and did not object to these 
 trifling eccentricities. As, therefore, the road consisted, 
 on an average, of six miles of hills and two of level 
 ground, it may be imagined that mental excitement 
 was combined with physical exertion in a degree rarely 
 witnessed. However, we had started with the intention 
 of taking everything as it came, and therefore held up 
 Kufus carefully as he went down hill, and pushed behind 
 when he went up hill, until we arrived at our intended 
 domicile ; the vehicle having been very useful in holding 
 our baggage, but as far as ourselves were concerned, 
 rather an honourable appendage than a personal convey- 
 ance. 
 
 Evening had set in long before, and the glowworms 
 had started one by one into their full beauty, as they 
 lined the forest pathways like mundane stars shining in 
 imitative rivalry of the glittering points in the dark 
 dome above. One of them we placed on the splash- 
 board by way of a lantern, and on our safe arrival laid 
 it carefully among some herbage just outside the door, 
 a position which it held for three days and nights. 
 
 Such a lovely spot is the New Forest ; the soil so 
 various, the trees so magnificent, the flowers so perfumed 
 and luxuriant, and the birds so plentiful and musical. 
 May the Enclosure Act, that has turned many a mile of 
 grand forest into base turnip land, never lay its wither- 
 ing grasp on the New Forest ! and far be from our eyes
 
 158 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 the chilling sight of the splendid oaks, which we have 
 so long loved, lying like murdered corpses on the ground, 
 their white and gnarled limbs stretched out as if stiffened 
 in deadly agony, and their rugged bark, erst rich with 
 moss and lichen, stacked in heaps by their sides. 
 
 Some unimaginative persons talk of the dull uni- 
 formity of the forest you might as well talk of the 
 dull uniformity of the Strand or Eegent Street, and 
 with much more reason of the dull uniformity of Rotten 
 Row. The real deep, primitive forest is ever changing, 
 and in one day may pass through a thousand phases. 
 Putting aside the two great epochs of summer and 
 winter, of leafless branch and wealthy foliage, of green- 
 clad boughs and snowy shroud, together with the inter- 
 mediate state of spring's delicate green and autumn's 
 ruddy brown, there is hardly a day when the forest does 
 not assume a new aspect as each hour passes away, and 
 in which its threefold harmonies of sight, sound, and 
 scent are not woven into a thousand varied modulations, 
 like a fugued melody of some great master in music. 
 Mendelssohn always reminds me of a forest. No one 
 can appreciate a forest who has not passed whole days 
 in its solitary depths, and watched it from the early 
 morning hours to the deep, dark shades of night. 
 Different birds, insects, and flowers make their appear- 
 ance at their chosen hour, and there are many creatures 
 which emerge from their hiding-places only for a brit-f 
 space, and then return into darkness and solitude for 
 the remainder of the day. The sweet voices of the
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 159 
 
 song-birds have their appointed times, and the perfume 
 of flower and leaf changes with the march of the sun. 
 
 Full of pleasant memories, and gay with anticipa- 
 tions of the morrow, we two old foresters flung open 
 our window to the utmost, so as to be lulled to sleep by 
 the owl and the silence, and to be awakened by the 
 merry songs of the morning birds. We awoke at the 
 intended hour, but heard no birds, nothing but a rush- 
 ing sound as of rain on leaves. Horror ! the sky is of 
 one uniform leaden tinge, and the rain is pouring in 
 steady perpendicular torrents, as if a second deluge 
 were impending. What shall we do for the next few 
 hours, while the household is asleep within and the rain 
 pouring without? Let us brave the storm, accept a 
 thorough soaking as an inevitable fact, and sally boldly 
 into the forest just to see its aspect after a wet night 
 and during a heavy rain. 
 
 A few minutes served to encase ourselves in the 
 very oldest habiliments that our wardrobe could furnish, 
 and to see us on our way. Twenty yards sufficed to 
 drench our clothing as effectually as if we had just 
 emerged from the depths of a river, and from that 
 moment we became delightfully indifferent to the rain ; 
 having a kind of wild exultation in the feeling that we 
 could walk about in the midst of the watery torrent 
 without seeking shelter or needing an umbrella. I have 
 seldom enjoyed a walk more than that saunter in the 
 forest glades, with the noisy patter of the rain-drops on 
 the leaves overhead, the pleasant smell of the crushed
 
 160 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 fern, the primitive independence of being thoroughly 
 wet and caring nothing for it, and the plish -plash of 
 our feet as every step pumped water out of our boots. 
 Back to the house through the rude path, now some 
 six inches deep in red mud, a brief toilet, and a very 
 welcome breakfast. 
 
 Still rain, rain, more rain, and what shall we do ? 
 Cat's cradle afforded a little amusement, uniting the 
 advantages of adventurous combination, unexpected 
 results, and the least possible bodily exertion. Even 
 this recreation, however, is scarcely exciting enough to 
 be continued for any lengthened period, and after a 
 desperate but abortive attempt to play at fives in an 
 empty garret, we extemporised a game at bowls on the 
 floor, the 'jack ' being represented by a bradawl stuck 
 in the boards, and the bowls by two india-rubber balls, 
 one solid and small, and the other hollow and large. 
 
 The beauty of the game was enhanced by the 
 sloping nature of the floor causing the balls to roll 
 away until they were either checked by the wall or fell 
 down the staircase. This difficulty, however, was over- 
 come by the inventive genius of one player whom 
 modesty forbids me to particularise, and a few handfuls 
 of oats scattered over the floor served at once to arrest 
 the ball and to test the player's skill in guiding his 
 bowl neatly into the little hollows left here and there 
 by the grain. This absorbing pursuit carried us over 
 three or four hours, when its course was suddenly ar- 
 rested by a summons to dinner, the greater part of that
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 161 
 
 refection having been cooked in the solitary sitting- 
 room of the establishment. 
 
 Rain still heavy, if anything heavier than before, 
 and what shall we do ? Let us throw knives at a mark 
 like Ho Fi, the Chinese juggler, whose portrait we had 
 lately seen, represented as in the act of aiming a broad- 
 bladed knife at a fellow-countryman standing spread- 
 eagle-wise against a board, and whose outstretched 
 limbs and rigid head were encircled with similar wea- 
 pons. No sooner said than done. A target was rapidly 
 improvised, a stout board fetched from the shed, a 
 couple of ' rymers ' sharpened, and in a few minutes all 
 hands were deep in this most absorbing pursuit, which, 
 when afterwards imported into the metropolis, proved 
 of so fascinating a character that I have known the 
 whole male population of a drawing-room desert their 
 fair companions, and give themselves up an unresisting 
 prey to ' pegging.' Nothing is simpler than this game. 
 You take a sharp-pointed knife, chisel, or other imple- 
 ment, lay it flat along the hand, the point directed up 
 the arm, and the handle just projecting from the finger- 
 tips. You take a good aim at the target, fling the 
 knife so as to cause it to make one half-turn as it passes 
 through the air, and if you have performed all these 
 actions correctly, the knife darts into the target with 
 a heavy thud, and there sticks, quivering with the 
 violence of the blow. It is, in fact, a refinement 
 on ' Aunt Sally ; ' quite as exciting and not half so 
 fatiguing. 
 
 M
 
 162 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 Night again drops her dank, wet veil over the scene, 
 and our visit to the New Forest bids fair to be a total 
 failure. 
 
 Brightly shone the sunbeams on the following day ; 
 the dismal splash of rain had ceased ; the black, cloudy 
 sky had changed to deep blue ; the breeze was charged 
 with perfume, and the air filled with melody. A host 
 of chaffinches were congregated in front of the window, 
 pecking about amongst the grass, and twittering merrily 
 with their sweet little chatter. All nature seemed to 
 rejoice in the sunshine, and the deep glades of the 
 forest, broken by sundry gleams of golden light, invited 
 us to its presence. 
 
 The ground was still wet under our feet, the heavy 
 ferns dropped showers of moisture as we brushed against 
 their wide fronds ; and, as the wind stirred the branches 
 above, occasional shower baths came pattering on our 
 heads. But how changed was everything around. The 
 birds flitted from bush to bush, heedless of the rain- 
 drops scattered by their rapid movements ; the air was 
 filled with glittering insects, and the busy hum of many 
 wings gave light and brightness to the scene. The 
 long avenues of oak and beech produced effects of 
 brilliant many-coloured light and deepest shade that no 
 painter could hope to imitate ; the heavy masses of 
 holly that studded the forest gave a mysterious darkness 
 to many an inlet, while the wide clusters of foxgloves 
 reared their tall heads in the patches of sunshine, and 
 waved their lovely petals in the breeze. Foxgloves,
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 163 
 
 indeed, seem to be the leading characteristic of that 
 part of the forest, for it was impossible to look down 
 any avenue without seeing a cluster of these magnificent 
 flowers shining out against the dark masses of shadowy 
 verdure, and giving wondrous effects of colour just 
 where an artist would most want them 
 
 It was most beautiful, too, to watch the golden- 
 winged insects come darting against the sunbeams, 
 issuing like visions from the shrouded darkness, 
 glittering for a moment like living gems as they shot 
 through the narrow belt of light, and vanishing into 
 the mysterious gloom beyond, as if suddenly annihilated 
 by the wave of a magician's wand. More pleasant 
 to the sight than to the touch, particularly for persons 
 endowed with a delicate skin. I never thoroughly 
 appreciated the exceeding torture that the plague of 
 flies must have inflicted upon the Egyptians until I had 
 passed a few hot summer days in the New Forest. 
 
 Flies of all sorts, sizes, and colours surround the 
 hapless victim, and render existence a burden and a 
 torment. Great buzzing, wide-winged, large-eyed flies 
 charge at him with a trumpet of defiance, and in spite 
 of clothes find some weak point through which they 
 may insert their poisoned dart. Tiny flies, too small 
 for audible murmur of wings, and too gentle of move- 
 ment to be noticed, run nimbly about his person, creep 
 up his sleeves, slip down his neck, get into his eyes and 
 nostrils, and leave memorials of their presence in a 
 series of little angry red pustules like those of nettle- 
 
 if 2
 
 164 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 rash, and quite as annoying. Others, again, will set to 
 work in a calmly composed and business-like style, 
 alight on his hand or wrist, produce a case of lancets 
 from their mouths, and bleed him with the practised 
 skill of an old surgeon. 
 
 Besides all these foes, the forest is haunted by 
 myriads of horrid ticks flat-bodied active little crea- 
 tures, with legs that cling like burrs, and heads barbed 
 like the point of a harpoon. These insidious animals 
 swarm upon the passenger, and are sure to discover 
 some method by which they may creep through the 
 clothes and operate on their victim. Imperceptibly 
 the barbed head is thrust under the skin, and the crea- 
 ture begins to suck the blood of its human prey with 
 such voracity that before many minutes have passed, its 
 flat and almost invisible body swells into a blood-dis- 
 tended bag, and the tick looks more like a ripe black 
 currant than an insect. If it should be discovered 
 it must in no wise be torn away by violence, or its 
 barbed head would remain in the wound and be the cause 
 of painful inflammation. 
 
 There are two modes of ridding oneself of ticks. 
 One method is by lighting a large fire, taking off all 
 clothing, and rotating before the blaze as if attempting 
 suicide by roasting. The ticks cannot endure the heat, 
 and soon fall off, but as this process is hardly feasible 
 in an English forest, it is better to have recourse to 
 the second method, which is simply to brush them with 
 a feather dipped in oil.
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 165 
 
 As for myself, in spite of wearing large gauntleted 
 leather gloves, and tying the wrists and ankles with 
 string, the insects led me such a life that I hardly dared 
 enter the forest. At last a bright idea struck me, I 
 rubbed my hands, ankles, face, and neck with naphtha, 
 and kept a little bottle in my pocket for renewal when- 
 ever the odour seemed to become faint and ineffectual. 
 After taking this precaution I enjoyed a delightful 
 immunity from insects, which more than compensated 
 for the very unpleasant smell of the naphtha. Even in 
 the course of a long day's sojourn in the forest depths 
 not a fly dared meddle with so potent an odour, and it 
 was amusing to see a great loud-winged insect come 
 charging along, ready for action and thirsting for blood, 
 and then to see it pause in full career, balance itself for 
 a moment on quivering wings, and dart off at an angle 
 from the hateful scent. 
 
 Upon many a tree were the nests or ' cages ' of the 
 squirrel, denoting the abundance of these pretty little 
 animals in the neighbourhood. Before very long a 
 reddish dot was seen moving among the grass, and we 
 immediately determined to stalk up to the creature 
 and to watch its habits. Being accustomed to wood- 
 craft, and knowing how to take advantage of every 
 cover, to pass among branches without noise, and to 
 avoid snapping dried sticks with the feet, we crept to a 
 tree-trunk within six yards of the squirrel, and there 
 gat quietly looking at him. 
 
 There he was, blithe and joyous, totally ignorant of
 
 166 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 our presence, but still watchful, raising himself occa- 
 sionally so as to look over the tops of the grass-blades, 
 but never seeing us on account of our rigid stillness. 
 It was most interesting to watch the pretty little 
 animal as he went skipping over the ground in little hop- 
 ping steps, now stooping to feed, now picking up some- 
 thing in his paws, holding it to his mouth in a dainty 
 and well-bred fashion, tasting it, and then throwing it 
 down in disdain. Then he would disappear entirely 
 below the grass, and next moment he would be sitting 
 upright, his bushy tail curled over his head, and his 
 bright eyes gleaming as he looked around. 
 
 Suddenly a lad came running towards us, making 
 much more noise in crashing through the fern than a 
 dozen full-grown elephants would have produced. Up 
 jumped the squirrel, glanced hastily towards the spot 
 whence the unwelcome sounds proceeded, and dashed 
 off for the nearest tree, looking wonderfully like a 
 miniature fox as he scudded over the ground, his body 
 stretched to its full length, and his bushy tail trailing 
 behind him. A long leap, and he had jumped on the 
 trunk of the tree towards which he was running, and, 
 according to the usual fashion of squirrels, skipped 
 round it, so as to interpose the trunk between himself 
 and the supposed foe. But this manoeuvre exactly 
 brought him face to face with us, and at the distance 
 of only a yard or two, and I never saw a squirrel look 
 more bewildered than he appeared on making this 
 terrible discovery. He never stopped for a moment,
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 167 
 
 however, but fairly galloped up the tree, ran along a 
 projecting branch, made a great leap into another tree, 
 traversed that also, and in two minutes was fairly out 
 of sight. 
 
 Here let me offer an indignant protest against two 
 subterfuges under which the destroying nature of man 
 hides its ugliness. 
 
 There are some persons in whom the destructive 
 element is acknowledgedly developed in all its fulness, 
 who live but to hunt, and to shoot, and to fish, and 
 who really seem to have gradually drilled themselves 
 into a heartfelt belief that to destroy the furred, 
 feathered, and scaled inhabitants of the earth is the 
 noblest aim of man, and one to which every other 
 object must necessarily become subservient. As a 
 natural corollary of this proposition, follows the extir- 
 pation of every living creature that can interfere, 
 either actively or passively, with their sport, the result 
 being to depopulate the country of every being in 
 which is the breath of life. 
 
 All the beautiful, and truly beautiful, weasel tribe 
 are to be killed because they will eat hares, rabbits, 
 and feathered game ; all the hawk tribe fall under the 
 ban ; the ravens, crows, and magpies are to be killed 
 because they are apt to rob the nests of partridges and 
 pheasants ; the little birds because they eat the corn 
 on which the pheasants might feed ; and even the 
 squirrel is now reckoned amongst the vermin because 
 it is known to regale itself occasionally on young birds,
 
 168 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 and possibly on their eggs. The keeper who destroys 
 the greatest number of these ' vermin ' earns the 
 highest praise from his master; and, to all appear- 
 ances, the very perfection of a forest in the eyes of a 
 sportsman would be this it should not harbour a 
 single creature except those which are dignified by the 
 title of game, and thought worthy of death from the 
 hand of their owner. 
 
 It is a pitiful sight in this grand forest to view the 
 handiwork of the keepers in the shape of noble hawks, 
 ravens, martens, squirrels, and other wild denizens of 
 the woods, nailed on the trunks of trees, or hung in 
 withered clusters from their boughs. I do not believe 
 that a true sportsman would find his amusement cur- 
 tailed by their life, feeling sure that nature can gene- 
 rally keep her own balance, as is exemplified in coun- 
 tries where the Game Laws were never heard of, where 
 game preservation has never been dreamed of, and 
 where the game abounds in spite of the swarming ver- 
 min far more numerous and powerful than those of our 
 own country. 
 
 Another and more noxious kind of destroyer is 
 found in those pseudo-zoologists who hypocritically 
 conceal their love of slaughter under the guise of 
 science, and, necrologists as they are, never can watch 
 an animal without wanting to kill it. The daily 
 papers afford abundant instances of such mock science, 
 and it is well known that even a parrot cannot escape 
 from its domicile without running the most imminent
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 169 
 
 risk of being shot. Not a rare bird has a chance of 
 escape if it once shows itself within the limit of the 
 British Isles ; and I can but think with exultation of 
 those deluded individuals who lately spent much powder 
 and shot, and more patience, upon some rare sea-bird 
 which had settled in a lake, and which afterwards proved 
 to be nothing but a stuffed skin ingeniously anchored by 
 a long line. Such persons never think of watching the 
 living being in order to learn the wonderful instincts 
 with which its Maker has gifted it, and the interesting 
 habits and customs belonging to the individual or the 
 species. Should they come across a rare bird, their 
 first regret is that they have no gun with them ; and 
 instead of feeling delighted at the opportunity of gain- 
 ing further knowledge, they only lament that they 
 cannot take away from the bright being that life which 
 it is so evidently created to enjoy, and the causeless 
 deprivation of which is literally a robbery of its birth- 
 right. 
 
 One of the principal objects of our expedition was 
 to ascertain the mode in which the snipe produces the 
 remarkable sound called ' drumming,' from its fancied 
 resemblance to the distant roll of the military drum. 
 To my ears, however, the mingled whizz and hum of a 
 slackened harp-string give the best idea of this re- 
 markable sound. 
 
 It must be premised that during the breeding 
 season the male snipe, like many other creatures, 
 assumes new habits, and utters new sounds. Generally
 
 170 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 the flight of this bird is short and fitful, as is well 
 known to all sportsmen, and seldom lasts more than a 
 few minutes. But during the breeding season the 
 snipe becomes an altered being. Towards evening it 
 leaves its marshy couch, and rises to a great height in 
 the air, where it continues to wheel in circuitous flight 
 for a considerable period, mostly confining itself within 
 the limits of a large circle, and uttering almost con- 
 tinually a loud, sharp, unmusical, and monosyllabic 
 cry, which may be roughly imitated by the words 
 c chic ! chic ! chick-a chick-a, chic ! chic ! ' &c. At 
 varying intervals it sweeps downwards, making a stoop 
 not unlike that of a hawk, and producing the sound 
 called drumming during the stoop. 
 
 How the bird drums has long been a matter of 
 doubt, some naturalists attributing it to the organs of 
 voice, others to the wings, and others to the tail. To 
 set this question at rest was therefore an interesting 
 pursuit, and to that purpose several successive evenings 
 were devoted. 
 
 As soon as the snipes began to drum we set out for 
 the marshy ground over which they flew, and by dint 
 of cautious management succeeded in ensconcing our- 
 selves in a dense thicket of thorn and blackberry where 
 we were perfectly concealed, but whence we had a 
 thorough command of the sky. Not choosing to trust 
 to my single observation, I had two friends with me ; 
 one of them a well-known bush huntsman of Africa,
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 171 
 
 and the other an old and observant inhabitant of the 
 forest. We were all supplied with powerful glasses. 
 
 Before we had lain very long in ambush the desired 
 sound struck our ears, proceeding from a snipe that 
 was circling high above us. We watched the bird for 
 a long time, but he never came near enough to give a 
 good view. Several others afforded us much disap- 
 pointment, but at last all our trouble was fully repaid. 
 A fine snipe arose at no great distance, and just as if he 
 had known our object, and intended to give us his best 
 aid, began to cry and drum just over our heads, and at 
 so small a height that as he wheeled in airy circles his 
 long beak and bright eye were clearly seen even by the 
 unaided vision, while the double field-glasses with 
 which we were supplied gave us as excellent a view of 
 the bird as if it were within two yards. 
 
 It was, then, quite clear that the drumming sound 
 was not produced by the voice, as the bird repeatedly 
 uttered the sound of * chic ! chic ! chick-a ! ' simulta- 
 neously with the drumming. Without offering any 
 opinion we repeatedly watched the bird, and then com- 
 pared our observations. They were unanimous, and to 
 the effect that the sound was produced by the quill 
 feathers of the wings. The bird never drummed ex- 
 cept when on the stoop, and whenever it performed 
 this manoeuvre the quill feathers of the wings were 
 always expanded to their utmost width, so that the 
 light could be seen between them, and quivered with a 
 rapid tremulous motion that quite blurred their out-
 
 172 OUT OF DOOJKA. 
 
 lines. Our observations were repeated during several 
 successive evenings, and always with the same result. 
 
 There is perhaps no locality in the whole of this 
 country so well adapted to the natural historian as the 
 New Forest, the conditions of soil, elevation, and 
 foliage being so prodigally varied that almost any 
 creature can find a refuge in some portion of its limits. 
 Take, for example, the spot on which we resided, but 
 which I do not intend to particularise, lest its sacred 
 recesses should be profaned by the step of outer bar- 
 barians, and its wild glades polluted by empty porter 
 bottles, broken crockery, and greasy sandwich papers. 
 
 The cultivated ground in front of the house reached 
 a narrow and rapid brook. Beyond the brook was a 
 large expanse of marsh and shaking bog, harbouring 
 multitudes of snipes. In the middle of this swamp 
 our drumming observations were made. The ground 
 suddenly rose beyond this bog into a wide but not very 
 high hill, covered densely with heather, and giving 
 shelter to grouse and pheasants. About four miles 
 further the heath was abruptly ended by a large fir- 
 wood, in which the deer loved to couch. We once 
 devoted a whole morning to tracking a deer by its 
 footsteps or ' spoor,' and after some three hours' careful 
 chase found the creature lying couched among the 
 fern. Ravens were often seen heavily napping their 
 way over the heather, and on one or two occasions our 
 eyes were gratified with the grand sweeping flight of 
 the buzzard, as it soared on steady wing, inclining from
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 173 
 
 side to side like an accomplished skater on the outside 
 edge, but appearing to make its way through the air as 
 if by simple volition. Bright-plumaged woodpeckers 
 fled screaming through the forest depths, and many a 
 tree-trunk bore witness of their persevering labours. 
 
 The human population of the forest have, in course 
 of time, become deeply saturated with the wild uncul- 
 tivated air of the region in which they reside, and many 
 an aged man has never seen a town in his life, or 
 ventured beyond the limits of the familiar forest lands. 
 A practised eye can mostly detect a forester at a glance, 
 a strange family likeness being observable in all who 
 have passed their existence in this place probably 
 owing to the continual intermarriages which necessarily 
 occur among them. Even the tone of voice is of a 
 peculiar nature, and the drawling, high-pitched chant 
 of the thorough-bred forester is not likely to be forgotten 
 if once heard. In fact, the forest is to its aborigines 
 what the desert is to its nomad Arabs ; and the wild 
 Bedouin can hardly feel more terror at the idea of 
 entering the habitations of civilised man than does 
 the forester at the notion of exchanging the trees for 
 houses. 
 
 I remember that on one occasion, after the hay had 
 been got in, a cartload was destined for some stables at 
 Southampton. The fragrant trusses were placed on 
 the waggon, the horses harnessed, and all was ready for 
 the journey, when an unexpected difficulty arose in the 
 person of the carter, a fine young fellow of six-and-
 
 174 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 twenty, one of the first in the field and all the rustic 
 sports. After a vast amount of prevarication he flatly 
 refused to leave the forest, and when peremptorily 
 ordered to do so he sat down on the road-side, and 
 sobbed like a child with sheer terror of the unknown 
 regions beyond his ken. An exact parallel to his de- 
 spairing fears maybe often seen in the crowded thorough- 
 fares of London, where a child has lost its way, and 
 stands weeping in the depths of its misery, beset on 
 all sides by vague fears, and as hopelessly bewildered 
 as if it had been suddenly transplanted to a new planet. 
 Take such a man out of the forest, run him off by 
 express train to London, put him down at London 
 Bridge or Charing Cross, and he would become a maniac 
 from the rush of ideas to the brain, like that Kaffir 
 chief whose head was turned by the sights on board of 
 a steamer, and who deliberately hauled himself to the 
 bottom of the sea by means of the chain cable. 
 
 There is also a strange race of beings called the 
 woodmen, who possess certain prescriptive rights from 
 time immemorial. They are the most independent set 
 imaginable, and laugh at law or justice. Their carts 
 are at least two feet wider than is allowed by legal 
 authority, and while driving along the road they are 
 totally regardless of the right and wrong side. Those 
 who meet them may turn aside if they like, but they 
 proceed on their course without paying the least respect 
 to the tacit regulations of the road. One Saturday, 
 while driving on the high road, we met a long string
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 175 
 
 of woodcarts all on the wrong side, all straggling in 
 such a manner that we were fain to draw our vehicle 
 into the ditch, and on every cart were one or two wood- 
 men lying in a state of senseless intoxication, and 
 leaving their horses to find their own way home a task 
 which they certainly performed with an accuracy that 
 warranted the confidence reposed in them. 
 
 Many of these men would not be sober until the 
 Tuesday, they would sleep off their headaches on Wed- 
 nesday, on Thursday and Friday they would earn a 
 week's wages, and on Saturday they would set off to 
 the public-house and renew the last week's scenes. This 
 kind of life suits their lawless natures, and they would 
 rather lead this wild and reckless existence than be- 
 come honoured and useful members of society, as they 
 might easily do, considering the wages which they can 
 earn. Perhaps their wives and children might hold a 
 different opinion, especially from Saturday evening to 
 Wednesday morning. 
 
 Vipers are delightfully plentiful in the New Forest, 
 and during our limited sojourn I saw three distinct 
 varieties, the common, the light grey, and the yellow, 
 the last-mentioned being the largest living viper I 
 ever saw. Apropos of vipers, it so happened that some 
 farmers were paying a passing call when a labourer 
 brought me a moderate- sized viper suspended to a string, 
 and hung it on a post. Acting on the impulse of the 
 moment I flung my knife at the reptile, and by a 
 wondrously fortunate shot drove the blade fairly through
 
 176 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 the spine, just behind the head. My friend followed 
 suit, and transfixed the snake about the middle of its 
 body. The farmers were quite aghast at our skill, and 
 it may be imagined we did not disabuse them of their 
 good opinion by attempting a repetition of the feat. 
 
 After a number of experiments on the living viper 
 I found that the reptiles could never be induced to bite 
 at a stick, however great the provocation might be, but 
 that as soon as any living creature came within reach 
 they were sure to strike. The foresters were actuated 
 by a wholesome dread of the viper, but feared the 
 harmless blind worm far more than the really venomous 
 reptile. One of the labourers brought to me the upper 
 half of a blind worm squeezed tightly in his cap (the 
 creature having thrown off its tail according to custom), 
 and was almost pale with horror when I took it from 
 the cap with bare hands. Mr. Waterton's feat of 
 carrying twenty-seven living rattlesnakes from one 
 room to another afforded a sufficiently terrifying spec- 
 tacle, but in the eye of a genuine forester could not 
 compare with the prowess displayed in seizing a blind 
 worm with the bare hands. 
 
 Perhaps the night walks in the forest afforded the 
 most pleasant reminiscences of our visit. At nightfall 
 we used to put a compass and some matches in our 
 pockets, and start for the depths of the forest, taking 
 care to step very gently so as to give no audible alarm, 
 and to keep ourselves well in the shade so as to avoid 
 detection by sight. It was most delightful to wander
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 177 
 
 thus into the heart of the primeval forest, among the 
 great oaks and beeches, to seat ourselves face to face 
 on the soft moss at the foot of some tree, and listen to 
 the weird-like sounds alternating with the solemn still- 
 ness of the woods. At times the silence became 
 almost audible, so profound was the hushed calm of 
 night ; while at intervals the sharp yapping bark of a 
 fox might be heard in the distance, the drowsy hum of 
 the watchman beetle came vaguely through the air, 
 and the locust-like cry of the goat- sucker resounded 
 from the trees. These curious birds were very common 
 and quite familiar, allowing us to approach within 
 twenty yards of the branch on which they crouched, or 
 sometimes sweeping with their noiseless flight to the 
 ground in front of us, and then pecking merrily away 
 at the various insects which traversed the grass. There 
 is, by the way, a curious superstition about these birds. 
 If they come close to a house and sing three times, 
 they prophesy a death in the family ; if five times, a 
 birth, and if seven times a wedding. It is strange 
 that man and animals should fall so readily into the 
 primitive life, and allow the instincts to regain their 
 original and legitimate sway over the habits. Even 
 the very cows learn the customs of the bush in a mar- 
 vellously short time, and walk with the same lifted 
 step as the antelope that has spent all its life in the 
 forest. One night, as we were concealed under the 
 shade of a tree, a light crackling of dry sticks was 
 heard. We drew deeper into the shadows, assured our- 
 
 N
 
 178 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 selves that nothing white was visible in our dress, and 
 that our sticks were well grasped, for a night walk in 
 the New Forest is not without its perils, the poachers 
 being perhaps the most crafty and desperate set in 
 England. Man or beast, however, the creature passed 
 by, but kept so closely in the shade that we could not 
 even catch a glimpse of its form. Stealing gently to 
 the spot we felt the ground carefully, and soon found 
 the fresh spoor of a cow, which had got into the forest, 
 and instinctively moved as if it were liable to be hunted 
 as soon as seen. 
 
 After a number of experiments we found that 
 nothing is so utterly invisible in a forest at night as 
 darkish grey, but not too dark. Black is seen with 
 comparative ease, red is nearly invisible, and so is 
 brown, but with dark grey the only visible portions are 
 the hands and face, so that a pair of dark gloves and a 
 dark mask would render a human being quite undistin- 
 guishable at two yards, provided he remained in the 
 shade, and did not allow his form to be defined against 
 the sky. 
 
 One night was truly memorable. We had started 
 as usual, when we saw an odd kind of light among the 
 trees for which we could not account. First we thought 
 it was a paper lamp hung up by way of a trick, but 
 soon found that it was far beyond the trees. Surely it 
 must be Capella shining dimly through a fog, but on 
 looking more carefully Capella was discovered without 
 any fogginess about it. Suddenly my companion gave
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 179 
 
 a hideous shriek, executed a pas de seul expressive of 
 astonishment, and employing, as is his custom when 
 excited, language more remarkable for energy than 
 for elegance, cried out l that it was a thundering big 
 comet, as safe as the bank ! ' And so it proved to be. 
 No more forest for us that night ; but out came the 
 telescope, the sextants, and the note-book, and the whole 
 evening was passed in taking observations and running 
 into the house to record them. As the comet 
 stretched its mighty train over the zenith, great was 
 the excitement as its vast proportions expanded with 
 the darkness of night. * I'll get its angles with the 
 stars,' cried my friend, ' and you measure its length.' 
 Off to the house at full run. 
 
 ' How many degrees ? ' 
 
 ' Eighty-two and a half.' 
 
 1 Humbug ! I don't believe it.' 
 
 4 Look for yourself then.' 
 
 ' Must have been wrongly handled ; I'll measure it 
 myself.' 
 
 Off rushes the excited astronomer, sextant in hand, 
 and in five minutes is back again. 
 
 ' How many degrees is it now ? ' 
 
 4 Eighty-six I make it.' 
 
 And in this manner we spent the greater part of 
 that night, the comet seeming to lengthen with every 
 hour. It was certainly a most startling occurrence. 
 No one expects to walk out of a house according to 
 usual custom, and to meet a full-blown comet in the 
 
 N 2
 
 180 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 face. But here was the stranger, waving its flaming 
 sword over our heads, and stretching its vast length 
 over a greater space of sky than was occupied by the 
 great comet of 1858, which had spent so many weeks in 
 attaining its full size. 
 
 Much more is there to say of the New Forest, of 
 the many-tinted flowers, its wealth of insect life, its 
 wild and piquantly-flavoured fruits, and its wonderful 
 depth of foliage, its grand old trees, among which the 
 ' king beech ' raises its royal head in token of supe- 
 riority. It is indeed almost a new world, and to a 
 Londoner affords a fresh current of ideas that regene- 
 rates the mind like fresh blood to the heart. Here all 
 conventionalities cease. Mrs. Grundy could not live for 
 five minutes in the forest depths ; there are no neigh- 
 bours to criticise the appearance, no gossips to decry 
 the character. Man lives for a while the real unsophis- 
 ticated life of Nature, and, it may be, will learn many a 
 lesson for which he will be the better until his dving 
 day, and perhaps after it. And those privileges may 
 be gained by just taking a railway ticket for the nearest 
 station to the Forest (say Southampton), where the 
 traveller will be deposited in less time than is often 
 occupied in getting to an awkward suburb of London. 
 But our space is at an end, and we must reluctantly bid 
 a farewell to that valued spot, hoping soon to visit it 
 again.
 
 181 
 
 A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 
 
 SOME years ago an Australian settler was on a journey, 
 and, as he travelled, he saw what he took for the 
 moment to be a blackberry bush. Of course it was 
 not a blackberry bush, but the very semblance of the 
 familiar bramble, with its well-remembered berries, so 
 stirred his recollections of childhood, that he could not 
 rest until he was on his way back to the old country. 
 I can fully sympathise with his feelings, for I confess 
 to a very strong affection for the blackberry, which I 
 always visit whenever there is an opportunity, though 
 I care not for its fruit. 
 
 Within a few yards of my house there is one black- 
 berry bush for which I have the strongest admiration, 
 and there are few days when I do not visit it. It 
 stands by itself in a pasture field, of which it forms 
 one of the most conspicuous features. 
 
 There are plenty of trees in the field. Nearest to 
 the blackberry is a clump of horse-chestnuts, one of 
 which is rapidly dying, having evidently been attacked 
 by the great white grub of the stag-beetle, an insect 
 which absolutely swarms in this part of the country,
 
 182 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 and which, as it passes several years in the larval state, 
 and feeds all the while upon the tree, makes no small 
 damage in the neighbourhood. 
 
 It is easy to detect the trees that are afflicted with 
 this destroyer. They first show signs of decay in the 
 upper branches, and the tree gradually dies down to 
 the root. If it be cut down, and the stump opened, 
 the cause of the disease will at once be evident in the 
 shape of large soft, grey, white, shining grubs, with 
 very large and lumpy bodies, and a pair of horny, 
 powerful jaws, between which anyone who gets a finger 
 will repent it, and so obese that like Basil Hall's fat 
 pig ' Jean,' the creatures cannot stand on their little 
 legs, but are obliged to lie perpetually on their sides. 
 
 At some distance is a row of silver birches, their 
 shining stems glistening against the background of 
 brackens which stretch beyond them ; a tall, weeping 
 birch waves its feathery plumage in the breeze, and 
 around is a fringe of elms, oaks, and poplars, with one 
 or two fine cedars spreading their ' dark layers of 
 ehade ' in the middle distance. 
 
 It might seem that a simple blackberry bush would 
 look quite insignificant in the midst of such surround- 
 ings ; but, in reality, they only serve to set forth its 
 beauty, there being no similarity, and therefore no 
 rivalry between the forest trees and the blackberry 
 bush. 
 
 It is not, however, an ordinary blackberry, but the 
 very king of blackberries. It forms a round clump,
 
 A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 183 
 
 some ten feet in height, and fifty in circumference, 
 looking in the distance more like a haystack than a 
 blackberry bush. It owes its form entirely to nature, 
 and not to art ; the long, flexible stems having sprung 
 up, and, when they became too heavy to bear their own 
 weight, having drooped over until they touched the 
 ground. This has gone on year by year, each season 
 adding to the size of the clump, and therefore to the 
 length of the new stems. One stem of this year's 
 growth is at least twenty feet in length, and at its 
 base about as thick as a man's thumb. It has sprung 
 from the middle of the clump, forced its way to the 
 light, and then continued to grow so rapidly, when it 
 could put forth its leaves, that it has overhung the 
 whole of the clump, and its end lies trailing over the 
 ground. Just in the same way, and for the same 
 reason, the ferns in the New Forest run up to consider- 
 able heights, often exceeding eleven feet from the 
 ground to their tips. 
 
 If the long trailing branches be drawn aside, the 
 whole clump is seen to be constituted in a most curious 
 manner. A mere shell of foliage and living shoots 
 envelopes it, while the centre is composed of a thick 
 tangled mass of dead, dry, and shrivelled branches, 
 through which a few powerful shoots, such as that 
 which has just been mentioned, have forced their way. 
 Such a spot as this is just the place which rabbits love. 
 All round the clump their resting places are at once 
 discernible by a practised eye, the grass being pressed
 
 184 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 downwards in a sort of partial spiral, caused by the 
 way in which the animals turn round and round before 
 they lie down a relic of wild life which has survived 
 even in our domestic dogs. Many birds, by the way, 
 make the foundation of their nests after a similar 
 fashion, arranging a quantity of grass in the required 
 place, sitting on it, and spinning round and round 
 until they have worked a suitable hollow in it. Some 
 thirty or so of these resting places are plainly seen, 
 and while I was looking at the clump the other day, 
 out popped a rabbit, without noticing me, as I was 
 standing perfectly still. Suddenly the little animal 
 detected a strange presence, and scuttled back again 
 very much faster than it had come out. 
 
 As to position, this splendid blackberry bush is 
 most favourably situated, being sheltered by trees on 
 nearly every side, and only exposed towards the south. 
 So much for the bush itself ; now let us note its aspect 
 in two periods of the autumn namely, the beginning 
 and towards the end. 
 
 It is a fine, warm, but not sultry day at the begin- 
 ning of autumn, with a rather smart breeze, which is 
 very pleasant in one respect, but rather disagreeable in 
 another, inasmuch as it keeps at home so many insects 
 which would otherwise be abroad. 
 
 As far as flowers and leaves go the bush is in its 
 prime. Its whole surface is covered with flowers in 
 various stages of progress. Some of them have nearly 
 run their course ; their petals are bent backwards, so
 
 A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 185 
 
 as to show their numerous yellow stamens, and the 
 nascent berry beneath them rough, small, and giving 
 little promise of its future excellence. On the same 
 branches are very pale green, sharply-pointed buds, 
 that are yet unopened, while others have just broken 
 the green calyx, so as to show the pinky petals as they 
 lie folded within. Except the way in which the ample 
 gauzy wings of the earwig are folded under its tiny 
 wing-case, I know no natural packing so wonderful as 
 that of a flower while yet in its bud state. Even with 
 the small petals of the blackberry the arrangement of 
 the folds is worthy of attention ; but in large-petaled 
 flowers, which are often enclosed in comparatively 
 small buds, the complicated and yet simple disposition 
 of the folded petal is almost beyond the power of de- 
 scription entirely beyond it without the aid of ex- 
 planatory diagrams. 
 
 The leaves are all of the brightest green, with two 
 exceptions. On many of them are the tortuous tracks 
 of the tiny leaf-miner caterpillar, creatures so small 
 that they pass the whole of their lives between the 
 upper and under surfaces of the leaves, feeding on the 
 soft substance, called parenchyma, that lies between 
 them. Often they light on the toothed edge of the 
 leaf, and whenever they do so they seem unable to quit 
 the edge, though we think they would find more nutri- 
 ment by following the example of many of their fellows, 
 and eating- their way boldly into the middle of the leaf. 
 But like the mariners of old, who were always obliged
 
 186 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 to keep near the shore, they were afraid to trust them 
 selves in the open leaf, and followed every little pro 
 jection with conscientious regularity. 
 
 Anyone who wants to know how gorgeous a British 
 insect can be, let him tie a piece of gauze over some 
 of these mined leaves, and watch them until a tiny 
 moth appears in the gauze, the perfect state of the 
 little caterpillar that made the zigzag track. It will 
 be so small that it hardly looks like a moth at all, its 
 outspread wings together not being as large as the 
 letter 0. Take the little creature to the microscope, 
 concentrate a beam of light on it, and then, if you can, 
 find words to describe its glories. It is useless to do 
 so by comparing it with diamonds, sapphires, rubies, 
 emeralds, gold, or so forth, because the moth infinitely 
 surpasses the gems, and if we say that some imperial 
 suite of jewels approaches the splendour of the leaf- 
 mining moth, we should almost appear to be dis- 
 paraging the insect. There are plenty of these won- 
 drous little moths, every species having its own special 
 beauties. 
 
 Some of the leaves are seen to be rolled up in 
 little cylinders, while others are merely doubled, their 
 edges being brought together and fastened. The dif- 
 ference of behaviour exhibited by the inhabitants of 
 the rolled and folded leaves is very remarkable. If we 
 pick one of the rolled leaves, out tumbles a little cater- 
 pillar, and drops to the ground, letting itself down by 
 means of a silken thread, upon which it means to re-
 
 A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 187 
 
 turn to its dwelling when the danger is over. Pick 
 one of the folded leaves, and the inhabitant gives no 
 sign of alarm. Open it carefully, and there is the 
 caterpillar inside, bright green, stretched out quite 
 straight, and pressed so tightly against the central leaf- 
 rib that at first sight it is not easy to discriminate 
 between the insect and the leaf. 
 
 I noticed, on the same bush, two other curious in- 
 stances of protective resemblance. One was that of a 
 large tipula, one of those insects we collectively know 
 as daddy long-legs. Whenever these flies settled on 
 the bush, they invariably chose the flower-stalk as their 
 resting-place, so that their legs, wings, and bodies 
 became mixed up with the diverging lines of the 
 flower-stalks ; and if the eye were once taken from 
 them they could hardly be detected. 
 
 The second instance was a much more singular one. 
 Great numbers of the common garden-spiders had hung 
 their wheel-shaped webs among the branches of the 
 bush. One was a very beautiful spider, with a bright 
 green body, so conspicuous, indeed, that I wondered 
 how it could ever escape observation. 1 So I gave the 
 net a jerk, in order to alarm the spider. As soon as 
 she felt the jerk she left the web, ran along a plant to 
 the spot where two leaves sprang from the stem, 
 plunged into the angle formed by their junction, and 
 tucked away her legs under her. In this attitude her 
 green body looked so exactly like a small leaf-bud that 
 
 1 Epeira cucurbitina.
 
 188 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 it was hardly possible to persuade myself that the crea- 
 ture was not a veritable bud. And the similitude was 
 increased by a little red spot at the end of the tail, which 
 exactly represented the red top of an unopened bud. 
 
 On the particular day which I have mentioned there 
 was too much wind to please the insects, very few of 
 whom, therefore, made their appearance on the black- 
 berry bush. The hive-bees were tolerably busy among 
 the flowers ; as, indeed, they always are whenever they 
 have a chance. Humble bees also came with their 
 heavy hum, and accordingly, when a hive-bee and a 
 humble-bee wanted to take to the same flower, there 
 was a difference of opinion, which, however, never came 
 even to the semblance of a fight. Several species of 
 solitary bees also came, more apparently for the pollen 
 than for honey. 
 
 Many ichneumon flies were fussing about among 
 the foliage, but I have not yet been able to discover 
 the object of their search. I suspect, however, that 
 some of them at least may have come after the leaf- 
 rolling and leaf-folding caterpillars. We know that 
 there are some ichneumon flies which can even get at 
 larvae that are buried in the trunks of trees, boring 
 through the solid wood with the long hair-like ovi- 
 positor, and contriving, by some wonderful instinct, to 
 hit upon the very spot in which the larva lies hidden, 
 and to pass an egg into its body along the ovipositor. 
 So I thought that these ichneumons, especially those 
 which had tolerably long ovipositors, might be on a
 
 A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 189 
 
 similar errand, endeavouring to pierce the caterpillars 
 within their leafy houses. I could not however detect 
 one ichneumon so engaged, though I watched very 
 carefully. 
 
 Several species of hoverer-fly were about the bush, 
 settling occasionally on the flowers. These beautiful 
 and strong-winged insects care little for wind, and may 
 be seen enjoying their brilliant life on the wing when 
 even the bees scarcely like to venture out of their hives. 
 Some of them bear a curious resemblance to wasps, and 
 others to bees, so closely imitating those insects, not 
 only in shape and colour, but in action, that no one 
 who is not a practical entomologist will venture to take 
 one in his hand. 
 
 Of beetles there were but very few. Some of the 
 tiny pear-shaped weevils were crawling slowly over the 
 leaves, clinging to them very firmly, considering that 
 they were sharply agitated by the wind. Some of the 
 long-bodied, soft-skinned beetles, known as soldiers and 
 sailors, according to their red or blue colour, were 
 paying their respects to the blossoms. They are 
 usually to be found on umbelliferous flowers, but there 
 are few plants on which they may not be seen. They 
 are rather quick on foot, and have a fashion of quivering 
 their long antennae in a manner exactly resembling 
 that of the ichneumon flies. 
 
 There is a peculiar trait of character among these 
 beetles. Being so soft-bodied, they seem little fit for 
 combat, and yet there are no insects more apt to fight,
 
 J90 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 or more ferocious in their battles. They are as fierce 
 and quarrelsome as game-cocks, and, like them, will 
 fight to the very death. But the game-cock when he 
 has vanquished his opponent merely proclaims his 
 victory aloud and leaves his antagonist, whether he be 
 dead or disabled. The soldier and sailor beetles, how- 
 ever, are not satisfied with the death of their adver- 
 saries, but must need consummate their victory by 
 eating their conquered foes. Vce victis is their motto, 
 and thoroughly is it carried out. If the doctrine of 
 development be true, the Fijians must have been 
 soldier beetles at some early stage of their progress 
 towards humanity, and retained their custom of devour- 
 ing their slain foes, though they have sadly deteriorated 
 in point of courage. 
 
 TOWARDS THE END OF AUTUMN. The Blackberry 
 bush now assumes a new aspect. 
 
 It is different in itself, its surroundings are different, 
 and its visitants are different. The clump of distant 
 trees on its western side gives many a sign that the 
 fob' age has passed its prime and has taken the first step 
 towards decay. The leaves have darkened, and many 
 of them show the brown tint of fading life round their 
 edges, while the whole tree is studded with the green 
 balls of the prickly fruit, some of which have burst and 
 shed their richly coloured contents, while others hang 
 unbroken on the boughs. The birch trees show bright
 
 A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 191 
 
 yellow spots here and there among their foliage, the 
 elms are dropping their leaves and are visibly more 
 bare than they were a fortnight ago, while the back- 
 ground of bracken has lost its beautiful green, and is 
 little more than a mass of yellow and brown, flecked 
 sparely with green where a few of the younger plants 
 still preserve their colour. Only the oaks remain 
 apparently unchanged, but then they are always late, 
 both in getting their foliage and losing it. Indeed, so 
 tenacious are the leaves of their hold, that they cling 
 to their branches throughout the winter, and only fall 
 when the new leaves of the ensuing spring force them 
 from their place. 
 
 But the greatest change of all has fallen on our 
 blackberry bush. All its bright freshness has gone, 
 and there is little to remind us of its vanished beauties. 
 The leaves are dull, harsh, and brittle, and most of them 
 are dimmed with many a spot and patch of black, 
 yellow, or brown, while in many cases all three colours 
 are to be found on the same leaf, a few straggling and 
 uncertain dashes of the original green being left between 
 them. 
 
 In fact, the leaves have now almost fulfilled their 
 mission both to the plant and its visitants. The 
 winter's repose is at hand, the plant will no more 
 extend its growth ; the rootlets which supply it with 
 nourishment have served their office, and the leaves, 
 which are its lungs, need no longer supply it with air. 
 There is a wonderful and very close analogy between a
 
 192 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 hibernating animal and a tree in winter time. Indeed, 
 the latter is truly a living creature, though on a lower 
 plane than the lowest of the animals, and, as a partaker 
 of life, it accepts the two conditions of life nutriment 
 and respiration. Let the creature, whether plant or 
 animal, be able to exist for a time without the former 
 of these conditions or, rather, to exist for a time on 
 a store of nutriment already laid up and the latter 
 condition may be almost in abeyance. 
 
 Take, for example, any of our hibernating animals, 
 from the mammal to the insect, and see how slight and 
 almost imperceptible is the respiration during the time 
 that nourishment ceases. We need not take into con- 
 sideration those insects which, in a perfect state, consume 
 no nourishment whatever, and yet act and respire 
 vigorously. Every one of them lives but a very short 
 life. They are burning away the stores of fuel already 
 laid up, and a few days at most are the utmost limit of 
 their existence. They have just sufficient vital power to 
 seek their mates and deposit their eggs, and straightway 
 die. But the plant has a comparatively long life before 
 it, and so has the hibernating animal ; and therefore 
 during the winter time there is vitality enough to 
 enable the creature to revive itself when the season of 
 spring comes round in its annual course. Specially is 
 this the case with the tree. Battered, withered, 
 pierced, torn, and half-eaten, the leaves of one year 
 could never act as efficient respiratory organs for the 
 increased needs of the tree in the ensuing season. So
 
 A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 193 
 
 the old leaves fall in the autumn of the fading year, 
 only to be replaced by fresh and vigorous foliage in the 
 coming spring, their multitudinous air passages un- 
 choked and undamaged, and their myriad mouths wide 
 open to receive the breath of life. 
 
 Look, for example, at those leaves of our blackberry 
 bush, and see how utterly unfit they are for their 
 proper work. There is scarcely one of them that is not 
 in some way injured by causes external to it itself. 
 The slime track over some gnawed and scalloped leaves 
 tells that snail or slug, or both, has passed that way. 
 On others the now transparent tracks of the leaf- 
 miner caterpillar show that the respiratory value of 
 that particular leaf is a thing of the past. Next comes 
 one of the rolled or doubled leaves, abandoned long ago 
 by its original maker, but never tenantless. Open one 
 of these deserted habitations, and out scuttles a spider, 
 or perhaps three or four earwigs, -and now and then a 
 woodlouse. If you wish to take a lesson in the art of 
 packing, catch one of the earwigs, kill it by dashing it 
 into boiling water, take it out at once, and unfold one 
 of its wings. When every crease is laid open try to 
 re-fold the wing, and put it back in its place. "With 
 two hands, a microscope, and unlimited instruments, 
 you "will scarcely achieve in two hours the task which 
 the insect completes in two seconds, with nothing but 
 its tail pincers by way of tools. 
 
 So much for the leaves at the end of autumn. As 
 for the flowers, they are nearly all gone. A few a 
 
 o
 
 194 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 very few still remain, to which assiduous attention is 
 being paid by sundry bees and hoverer flies, and all 
 these are on the sheltered side of the bush. Over the 
 whole of the clump the berries have taken the place of 
 the flowers. There is a curious lack of berries through 
 the lower parts of the bush, scarcely a respectable berry 
 being visible within four feet of the ground. This 
 phenomenon is soon explained, for I meet a couple of 
 fair golden-haired children, taking turns at driving a 
 wheelbarrow half full of blackberries, every one of which 
 has been picked from this special bush, and to every 
 one of which they are heartily welcome. 
 
 All the northern side of the bush is flecked with 
 large tufts of thistledown. The thistles themselves 
 are a long way off, growing on some neglected ground, 
 and the sharp north wind has stripped them of their 
 down, and whirled it along until it has been intercepted 
 by the prickly branches of the blackberry bush. That 
 the whole land is not overrun with thistles we are 
 indebted to the finches, the principal of which in use 
 and beauty is the goldfinch, flocks of which may be 
 seen flitting along the hedges or over the ground, 
 picking up the thistledown as it is whirled lightly 
 along by the wind. 
 
 There is still too much wind for insects. In this 
 part of the country at least, which is perched on the 
 top of a hill, the present season has not been favourable 
 for insects. When the weather has been fine and the 
 sun hot, there has been a smart breeze blowing ; and
 
 A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 195 
 
 when the wind has fallen the sky has been cloudy, 
 often raining, and the barometer has fallen. However, 
 the very fact of the windy weather has brought out 
 some insect faculties in a way that could not have been 
 observed during a calm. 
 
 For example, the splendid peacock and red admiral 
 butterflies whirl by us, making a circle or two round 
 the bush as if tempted by its flowers or fruit most 
 likely the latter, and are then carried off by the breeze 
 as if any number of blackberries were not worth the 
 trouble of fighting the wind. 
 
 A deep ominous hum and a yellow streak in the 
 air. Another hum and another yellow streak. These 
 are hornets, the last survivors of their community. 
 They have a nest somewhere in the grounds and are 
 going straight to it. In a week or two more not a 
 hornet will be found in the nest, though some females 
 will survive in the winter, hung up somewhere, in bat 
 fashion, by the claws of their hind legs, eating nothing, 
 and scarcely breathing at all until the succeeding 
 spring-tide releases them to a brief period of activity. 
 Never a male hornet lives through the winter. He is 
 not wanted and therefore does not exist in a world 
 which tolerates no idlers. 
 
 Still the ichneumon flies are prowling about, and 
 chief among them is that large, pale yellow species, 
 with its long antennse and sickle-shaped body, which 
 is called, scientifically, Ophion luteum. Looking to 
 the usual habits of ichneumons, it is rather a night flier 
 
 o 2
 
 196 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 than a denizen of day, and has a habit of getting into 
 rooms after the lamps are lighted, flying into the flame, 
 scorching itself, and falling on the table, where it spins 
 about until some one mercifully puts it out of pain. 
 It is rather a formidable insect to handle, behaving 
 exactly as if it had a sting, and if touched, it brings the 
 end of its body against the fingers just as a wasp or bee 
 would do. 
 
 Presently there is a quick ruffling sound, and some 
 large insect swoops past. It is a dragon-fly, which is 
 out on a marauding excursion, taking the blackberry 
 bush as its base of operations. It is curious to see how 
 the movements of a dragon-fly in search of prey re- 
 semble those of a flycatcher. The bird takes a stand 
 on some elevated spot, and then makes short flights 
 into the air, catching an insect, and returning to its 
 post. So does the dragon-fly. It picks out some suit- 
 able resting-place, and makes that the spot whence it 
 issues in search of prey. It settles, waits for a moment, 
 and then, as if a hidden spring were touched, down go 
 all its wings with a jerk, and the creature remains 
 motionless except its head, which is twisted from side 
 to side in a way that is almost comical, while its great 
 round eyes glow in the sunshine like a pair of opals. 
 Suddenly, and without any previous preparation, off it 
 darts into the air, makes a bold swoop or two, and then 
 returns to the spot whence it started. 
 
 I noticed two peculiarities in its habits. In the first 
 place, like the daddy long-legs, which has already been
 
 A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 197 
 
 mentioned, the dragon-fly always contrived to make 
 itself look exactly like the object on which it was 
 settled. Its favourite post was a dried twig, from 
 which projected a few withered leaf-stalks and parts of 
 leaves. On this twig the insect took its station, sitting 
 longitudinally, so that its slender body coincided with 
 the outline of the twig, and its motionless wings looked 
 wonderfully like the withered leaves. Not even its legs 
 betrayed it, as they were not spread out, the tip of each 
 foot taking a separate hold, as is generally the case with 
 insects, but were all gathered closely together, like those 
 of a goat when the animal is standing upon a narrow 
 ledge. 
 
 In the next place it invariably darted into the air 
 whenever there came a sharper gust of wind than usual. 
 At first I thought that the insect had simply been blown 
 from its hold, but then reflected that a dragon-fly is a 
 powerful and tight-clinging insect, and not likely to 
 allow itself to be blown from its foothold. Moreover, 
 its station was on the sheltered side of the bush, where 
 the effect of the gusty breeze was very trifling. After 
 watching it for a time I found out the motive of its 
 actions a motive which points rather to reason than to 
 instinct on the part of the dragon-fly. 
 
 As a rule, the insects which were on the wing were 
 at such times unable to resist the sudden gusts of wind, 
 and were whirled away with out much power of directing 
 their course. The firm, large, and powerful wings of 
 the dragon-fly, however, were nearly independent of the
 
 198 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 wind, so that the insect of feeble flight was completely 
 in its power I was going to say, at its mercy, only 
 that it has none. In fact, the dragon-fly has at such 
 times an advantage over most other flying insects, much 
 like that which is enjoyed by a steamer over a sailing 
 vessel when both are making their way against contrary 
 winds. 
 
 In this way insect after insect was captured, various 
 species of frog-hoppers, by the way, appearing to form 
 the staple of the dragon-fly's food. Their two white, 
 milky, slight wings had no chance against the four 
 swift wings of the dragon-fly, which swooped at them 
 as they were blown along helplessly by the wind, caught 
 them with unerring certainty, settled on its resting- 
 place, gobbled them up with a couple of bites, just as 
 a mastiff disposes of a mutton chop, and then looked 
 hungrily round for more prey. 
 
 Let everyone who values the balance of Nature pro- 
 tect and encourage the dragon-flies as much as possible. 
 They do no harm in any way, and they do an infinity 
 of good by feeding upon insects, many of which are 
 destructive either to the field, the garden, or the 
 orchard.
 
 199 
 
 THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 
 
 Six months have passed since my readers took with me 
 a * Summer's Walk through a Country Lane.' The 
 earth has since then accomplished nearly one half of its 
 aerial course ; and reader, author, and lane have tra- 
 versed a space of some two hundred and seventy million 
 miles, passed through the seasons of genial Summer, 
 fruitful Autumn, and have commenced the cold Winter 
 time, the season of the earth's repose. Our beautiful 
 trees, with their heavy masses of varied green, have 
 changed gradually from bright emerald to dark olive, 
 and passed through successive phases of redundant 
 colouring that defy the artist's brush to imitate, until 
 they have finally settled down into ruddy brown and 
 sombre grey. The leaves have fluttered one by one to 
 the earth, which lies below waiting to receive their 
 withered forms into her bosom. She waits to transmute 
 these effete particles into new forms of life and beauty, 
 and to cause a future progeny of young and vigorous 
 leafage to spring Phoenix-like from the funeral pyre of 
 their ancestors, spontaneously raised under the shadow 
 of their parental tree, fired by the hot beams of the 
 summer sun, fanned by the breezes of spring, and
 
 200 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 quenched by the rains of autumn and the snows of 
 winter. 
 
 Our hedges are bare and scanty, with the bright 
 light shining through their denuded gaplets that so 
 recently were veiled with rich verdure and blossoming 
 flowers ; our path is hard, sharp, and treacherous, and 
 our feet likely to slip from the frozen pebbles and 
 deposit us in the ditch, lately so full of flowers, but 
 now containing a mixture of snow, water, dead thorn- 
 branches at the bottom, and a few thistle-stems and 
 nettle-leaves on the sides, that render such a locality a 
 singularly unpleasant sojourn. Even our dear little 
 pond is covered with ice, except where a few persevering 
 ducks have swum so continually round a tiny circle that 
 the water still bubbles through the icy covering, and 
 where the cattle have still managed to break away the 
 frozen surface in order to drink, thereby kneading the 
 water into a kind of muddy paste, and covering the 
 neighbouring ice with most unsightly brown splashes. 
 Our little streamlet is dry, and the many creatures 
 that disport themselves in its rippling waves have dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 Gone are the insect tribes, whose busy bum gave 
 such life to the scene ; not even a beetle is to be seen 
 taking a short stroll from one tree-root to another; 
 hardly a bird has enough spirit to utter its lively 
 chirrup, and the very robin himself, with his brown 
 coat and red waistcoat, has gone off to the farmyards 
 and houses, trusting to his insinuating ways, his sly
 
 THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 201 
 
 boldness, and the irresistible compassion excited by his 
 pitiful aspect as he sits outside the windows, with 
 ruffled feathers, sunken head, and bright eye gleaming 
 from the downy plumes. The cunning little fellow 
 seems to feel that no one sitting in a warm room, at an 
 abundantly spread table, can resist opening the window 
 and giving a hearty welcome to the ' ittle baird with 
 boothom wed,' as one of my child-friends is accustomed 
 to call him. So the window is raised, and in comes 
 the feathered mendicant, at first shy and fearful, keeping 
 at a respectful distance, and picking up the crumbs 
 that are thrown to him, with many a sidelong hop and 
 great flirting of the wings. 
 
 Compassionate reader, if your premises should be 
 invaded by a poor, cold, half-starved robin, do not feed 
 him with bread-crumbs, but give him some little bits 
 of fat meat cut in long and thin strips like small 
 worms. Of course he will eat the crumbs provided he 
 can get nothing better, but he requires the meat to 
 supply his glowing frame with the capability of resist- 
 ing the chilling frost. He will not forget your kind- 
 ness, but day by day will make his appearance at your 
 window, hop about your table, eat out of your hand, 
 and repay you with one of his own bright songs, which 
 to my ears have the most charming mixture of mirth 
 and melody. 
 
 There is, however, one drawback in his character. 
 He is dreadfully jealous, and will not permit another 
 bird to avail itself of the hospitality to which he has
 
 202 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 been indebted for his life, and has been known to kill 
 in succession a whole series of unfortunate redbreasts 
 that happened to trespass on the ground which he con- 
 sidered as his peculiar property. 
 
 Perhaps our lane is knee-deep in snow, and path, 
 ditch, hedge, tree, and field are alike clothed with one 
 uniform mantle of shining white, glittering here and 
 there as the cold sunbeams sparkle on the sharp snow- 
 crystals that gleam like microscopic jewellery from every 
 spray. 
 
 Where are all the busy, merry creatures that flitted 
 among the branches, traversed the soil, or urged their 
 course through the waters? Some, such as certain 
 migratory birds, have flown to warmer regions, many 
 have perished with the first frosts, having completed 
 their earthly mission, while myriad others are still 
 living in some recess, quiescent to all external appear- 
 ance, but full of life and activity within, either sunk in 
 that marvellous state of existence which seems really to 
 be half-way between sleep and death, or undergoing a 
 total change of being, in readiness for the ensuing 
 spring. 
 
 We miss our little friend, the squirrel, from his 
 accustomed haunts. No longer is he to be seen scud- 
 ding about the grass in his own odd fashion, squatting 
 upright with his feathery tail curled parasol-wise over 
 his head, picking up a beech-nut with his fore-paws, 
 nibbling at it critically, and then throwing it away and 
 hopping after another. No longer can we amuse our-
 
 THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 203 
 
 selves by rushing at him suddenly, and seeing him go 
 leaping over the ground with his brush trailing behind 
 him, and his body looking double its real length; 
 watch him jump at the trunk of a tree, slip round the 
 stem, scud up the branches, and then sit coolly on the 
 topmost bough, and look down at us with benignant 
 disdain. 
 
 Our little friend has gone to sleep for the winter, 
 and if you know where to find his ' cage,' you may 
 catch him asleep without much difficulty. Be it re- 
 membered that he has two homes, a summer and a 
 winter house ; the former being lodged in the fork of 
 some lofty branch, often near the end of a slight bough, 
 and very conspicuous from below, and the latter warmly 
 established close to the trunk of a goodly tree, sheltered 
 from chilling winds by the large limbs against which it 
 is placed, and defended from rain and storm by the 
 well-thatched roof and warm lining. 
 
 Snugly coiled in this warm recess the squirrel passes 
 his winter, spending very many consecutive hours in 
 that strange sleep which is called hibernation ; awaking 
 at intervals, when a gleam of warmer sunshine than 
 usual rests upon his cage, running to his hidden trea- 
 sury, taking a little refreshment, and then returning to 
 his house to fall asleep again. He has an excellent 
 memory, this little squirrel, and his faculties are not at 
 all beclouded by the long hours of sleep ; for as soon as 
 lie wakes he comes quietly out of his warm cottage, 
 scrambles down the tree, runs to one of the spots
 
 204 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 where he has laid up a store of food, scratches away 
 until he has disclosed his treasure of nuts, takes as much 
 as he needs, and returns to his home. Even when the 
 snow lies thickly on the ground he is at no loss, but, 
 guided by some intuitive power, proceeds to the spot 
 with unerring certainty, scrapes away the snow, and 
 secures his meal. 
 
 The squirrel has a distant relation, a kind of third 
 cousin once removed, well known under the title dor- 
 mouse, and often seen in cages, but not very frequently 
 in a wild state. This little creature is also one of the 
 hibernators, and has its warm nest in a thick bush, 
 much as the squirrel has its domicile in a tree, where it 
 sleeps its time away throughout the winter. Like the 
 squirrel, too, it has its store of food, not gathered into 
 the earth, but tucked away into sundry nooks and 
 crannies in the neighbourhood. The amount of food 
 which the dormouse takes during the winter, and the 
 frequency of its awakening, depend almost entirely on 
 the severity or mildness of the season. In a very sharp 
 winter the drowsy creature wakes but seldom, and very 
 little of its store is consumed, and indeed, even should 
 the season be mild, the inroads on the larder are but 
 few. The provisions are not gathered so much for the 
 winter as for the first few weeks of spring, when the 
 animal has at last shaken off its long wintry sleep, 
 and returns to its own lively habits, nature not yet 
 having supplied it with a sufficiency of food whereon to 
 live.
 
 THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 205 
 
 The hedgehog, too, is another of our hibernating 
 animals, coiling itself up in a warm nest in some hollow 
 tree, or under the gnarled and projecting roots, and 
 occasionally seeking a domicile in a deserted rabbit- 
 burrow or disused fox-hole. All these three creatures 
 may be found sleeping in their homes, and are thus 
 easily captured. 
 
 As all these animals awake at intervals during the 
 winter, and partake of nourishment, they are said to be 
 partial hibernators, the best British examples of perfect 
 hibernation being exhibited by those singular winged 
 quadrupeds which we call bats. 
 
 If in winter we explore the recesses of almost any 
 hollow tree, any dark crevice in the rocks, or any old 
 deserted building, there we shall find, hanging by their 
 hind legs or gathered closely into thick clusters, some 
 bats, sunk in the deepest lethargy, and giving but 
 slight indications of life. All through the winter hang 
 the bats, with scarcely a movement of head or limb, 
 and, unlike the preceding animals, they never awake to 
 seek nourishment, as there would be none for them. 
 
 There seems to be no creature which spends so much 
 of its time in sleep as the bat. Not only does it lie 
 dormant throughout the winter, but it passes daily into 
 that strange state of drowsiness which is more than 
 sleep, though not quite so deep as in winter. 
 
 It is a popular but very erroneous notion, that this 
 torpor is caused by cold. Now, if this were the case, 
 the hibernating animals would place themselves in some
 
 206 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 cold and exposed spot, where they would be influenced 
 by the increasing chill of the weather. But it is found, 
 after a long course of experiments, including a most 
 valuable series by Dr. Marshall Hall, that the effect of 
 cold upon a hibernating animal is twofold; it first 
 awakes the creature from slumber, and then kills it. 
 
 During the time of its slumbers the extreme torpidity 
 of the vital organs is most curious, while the external 
 portions seem to acquire a proportionate irritability, a 
 phenomenon which is partially seen even in ourselves 
 during ordinary sleep. If, for example, a hedgehog 
 while in the torpid state be touched, it partially uncoils, 
 gives a peculiar deep grunt, and again curls itself up. 
 The bat, if touched while in this strange sleep, will 
 wriggle about like an injured worm, while the very 
 same touch would have no perceptible effect upon it 
 when awake. Indeed, the hibernating creature seems 
 to pass, for a time, into a lower state of being, as far as 
 its mere animal characteristics are concerned ; and the 
 bat, the highest of our British mammals, becomes 
 scarcely higher in its organisation than a toad or a 
 frog. 
 
 Instead of keeping up a high temperature, as is the 
 case while it is awake, it actually becomes colder than 
 many cold-blooded animals; the temperature of the 
 body exactly following that of the surrounding atmo- 
 sphere, the heat of the surface being about half a degree 
 higher, and that of the vital organs about three degrees ; 
 so that when a thermometer hanging beside the animal
 
 THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 207 
 
 marked a temperature of thirty-six degrees, one whose 
 bulb was within the stomach only marked thirty-nine. 
 A similar phenomenon was observed by Dr. Jenner with 
 a hedgehog, when the internal temperature was a little 
 over three degrees above that of the air. 
 
 The reader must bear in mind that experiments of 
 this nature require the very greatest care, for the hiber- 
 nating state is of so delicate a nature, and so easily 
 disturbed, that a heedless footstep on the floor will 
 awaken the creature, set it breathing, and increase the 
 temperature some twenty degrees in a minute or two. 
 
 During the true hibernation the breath is almost 
 entirely suspended. Bats while sleeping have been 
 gently immersed in water kept carefully at the same 
 temperature as their bodies, have been sunk below the 
 surface for a space of sixteen minutes, and found to be 
 none the worse for their bath. A hedgehog has been 
 subjected to the same test for more than twenty minutes, 
 and although it moved slightly under water, and expelled 
 a little air from his lungs, it was not at all injured by 
 the experiment. 
 
 Hibernating animals have also been placed in car- 
 bonic acid gas for a space of several hours, without suf- 
 fering from its effects, while rats and sparrows placed in 
 the same gas fell lifeless to the bottom of the vessel and 
 did not recover. 
 
 In order to ascertain with accuracy the rate of re- 
 spiration and pulsation during this curious state, a hiber- 
 nating bat was placed in an ingenious instrument which
 
 y08 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 measures the quantity of air consumed by the creature 
 contained within it. After remaining twenty-four hours 
 in this machine, scientifically termed a pneumatometer, 
 the index gave no sign. The animal was then slightly 
 disturbed, and in the space of nearly three hours con- 
 sumed about one cubic inch of oxygen. But when more 
 disturbed, and forced to move briskly, it consumed five 
 cubic inches in one hour. 
 
 Although the respiration is thus checked, and the 
 lungs cease their labours, the heart continues to pulsate, 
 though slowly, making less than thirty beats in a 
 minute. So we have a most curious phenomenon, i.e., 
 blood constantly circulating through the system without 
 any respiration to renew its vitality, and without even 
 the reservoirs of air which are possessed by the reptiles. 
 
 The reason of the long hibernation of the bats is 
 evident. They feed wholly on insects, which likewise dis- 
 appear during the winter months ; and if there were no 
 means of reducing the bodily functions to the lowest 
 ebb compatible with the retention of life within the 
 frame, the whole race of insect-eating bats would be 
 swept off the earth in a single winter. 
 
 It is sufficiently remarkable that the animals which 
 hibernate on account of the absence of food should 
 belong to the two extremes of the vertebrate kingdom. 
 The squirrel and dormouse might lay up a store so 
 large as to afford an abundant supply throughout the 
 whole winter ; but the bat, feeding only on animal sub- 
 stances, could not do so, and would starve but for the
 
 THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 209 
 
 merciful torpor in which it is sunk for so long a time. 
 For precisely the same reason our British reptiles retire 
 during the cold months of the year into some deep 
 recess, and there remain torpid until the succeeding 
 spring brings with it the needful warmth and food. 
 
 Take, for example, two of our best-known reptiles, 
 the frog and the snake, both of which disappear during 
 winter for much the same reason. The frog lives chiefly 
 on insects, which all vanish in the winter months for 
 want of their vegetable food ; and the snake also retires 
 to winter quarters because it lives mostly on frogs, 
 which have hidden themselves until the spring. Both 
 these creatures, in common with many other reptiles, 
 burrow deeply in the earth or seek some snug recess as 
 soon as the autumn draws to a close, and, safe in their 
 homes, sink to sleep until the sunbeams recover their 
 warmth, again enliven the earth with verdure, and the 
 annual resurrection of the vegetable world has been 
 accomplished. 
 
 Then the renewal of that process takes place. The 
 plants put forth their tender shoots, the leaf-eating 
 insects come from their winter quarters to eat the 
 leaves, the frogs emerge from the ground to eat the 
 insects, and the snakes glide out to eat the frogs. Such 
 reptiles as the blind-worm, which feed not upon frogs, 
 but live on insects, slugs, and such-like creatures, are 
 earlier than the snakes, because they find their food 
 ready for them. Truly is it said, ' The eyes of all wait 
 upon Thee, Lord, and Thou givest them their meat 
 
 p
 
 210 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 in due season. Thou openest Thine hand, and fillest all 
 things living with plenteousness.' 
 
 Strange discoveries are sometimes made in the 
 course of gardening operations, if people will only use 
 their eyes. A few years ago, while some workmen were 
 pecking up the gravel in a playground belonging to a 
 school at Oxford, preparatory to making certain altera- 
 tions, they came on a little colony of frogs, about seven 
 or eight inches below the surface, all sitting packed 
 closely together, and all with their noses pointing to 
 the surface. How long they had been in that situation 
 I could not discover ; but by comparing one circum- 
 stance with another, I came to the conclusion that the 
 frogs had settled themselves down for their winter's 
 slumber about two years previous to their disinterment, 
 been covered with gravel when the playground was laid 
 down, and had remained there perforce ever since. 
 They were so firmly imbedded in the earth that they 
 could not stir a limb, and must have depended wholly 
 for respiration and subsistence on the small modicum 
 of atmosphere and the very few insects that might 
 make their way through the minute crevices which 
 exist in all soil. In general the winter's retreat of the 
 frog is in the muddy soil at the bottom of some pool or 
 ditch, where they congregate closely together in masses, 
 and remain without need of food or respiration until 
 the spring. 
 
 In 1857 I was walking in the grounds of a gentle- 
 man living near Oxford, who was making considerable
 
 THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 211 
 
 alterations in his domains. Observing a cavity rather 
 curiously hollowed in a bank that was evidently being 
 broken down for removal, I asked a man who was 
 working near at hand if he knew the cause of so odd a 
 piece of work. He told me that on the previous day 
 he was cutting down the bank, when he came upon 
 several large stones, and on removing them, he found a 
 whole mass of snakes, tightly coiled up together, and 
 closely filling the cavity in which they lay. 
 
 The hollow was about three feet from the surface of 
 the ground, and, as far as I could make out from the 
 aspect of the spot and the debris left by the workman, 
 must have been about four or five feet from the face of 
 the bank. I could not ascertain whether any aperture 
 was visible, or any channel of communication between 
 the hole where the snakes were found and the open air. 
 The man, of course, thought they were vipers, agree- 
 ably to the invariable tendency of the rustic mind, 
 which dreads the newt and the lizard, which are totally 
 harmless, more than the viper, which really possesses a 
 terrible store of poisoned weapons, and attributes to 
 the bright and innocuous dragon-flies a sting worse 
 than that of the wasp and hornet. 
 
 It has been already mentioned that a very great 
 proportion of the insect tribes which buzzed and 
 hummed so merrily during our summer walk have 
 died after providing for a numerous progeny. Such is 
 indeed the case ; but there are many insects which are 
 in full life, though at present in a state of partial tor-
 
 212 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 pidity, as is needful while the frozen ground and 
 withered foliage afford them no sustenance. 
 
 There are the bees, for example, all snugly asleep 
 in their hive, having contrived to keep up a sufficient 
 warmth for their winter's needs, and laid up a sufficient 
 store of honey for the little nourishment which they 
 require. If you could look into their hives you would 
 see the bees closely clustered together, and every un- 
 sealed cell containing a bee that has crept half-way 
 into it, and there lies comfortably sleeping. That 
 cold is injurious you can easily prove by gently tapping 
 the hive, when a little commotion is heard within, a 
 bee comes out to see what is the matter, and immedi- 
 ately falls dead from the frosty atmosphere. Only do 
 not repeat this process, unless you desire to lose all the 
 bees for when these insects awake they must eat, and 
 unless they are kept perfectly quiet they will rapidly 
 consume their store, and then die miserably of cold and 
 hunger. 
 
 A few wasps, too, and other insects, may be found 
 in banks or similar localities, there awaiting the spring, 
 which will set them at liberty to initiate now house- 
 holds and multiply their species in a marvellously rapid 
 manner. The ant tribe too are patiently resting in 
 their subterranean beds, and will be amongst the first 
 ho arise in the Spring. 
 
 Few persons have any idea, as they walk in the 
 country on a winter day, how the ground beneath their 
 feet is teeming with life. Putting aside the earth-
 
 THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 213 
 
 worms, and such creatures as have their normal exist- 
 ence below the soil, we will just look for ourselves, and 
 try to discover a few of the hidden wonders of this 
 most wonderful earth. 
 
 Let jis come to the feet of these elm and oak trees 
 that are planted on the bank of our lane, clear away 
 the snow, and begin to dig. In this sharp frosty 
 weather, we shall need the aid of a pickaxe or some 
 such weapon to pierce the frozen soil, but after the 
 first few strokes a trowel, or even a pocket-knife, will 
 answer tolerably well. 
 
 The best way to dig for insects is to peck up a 
 circular patch about eighteen inches in diameter, throw 
 aside the frozen clods, and then to work carefully down- 
 wards, so as to form a conical depression in the soil. 
 We shall hardly have dug four or five inches in depth 
 when we shall come to our hidden friends. A big 
 cocktail beetle is suddenly dislodged, rolls black and 
 bewildered to the bottom of the hole, picks himself up 
 again, runs at the supposed foe with open jaws, and 
 defiant tail curled scorpionwise over his sooty back 
 falters, stops, runs on again, but slowly, as if paralysed 
 stops again, staggers, falls over and rolls back dead. 
 He has been killed by the frost, because he was roused 
 suddenly from his torpor. 
 
 Two or three more beetles of different species come 
 tumbling out, and all meet the same fate, though not 
 so dauntlessly as the cocktail. Presently we toss out, 
 together with the mould, a brown spindle-shaped ob-
 
 214 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 ject, blunt at one end, sharply pointed at the other, 
 and boldly ringed for half its length. This is the 
 pupa, or chrysalis, of some large moth, and while re- 
 moving it we lay our hands on one of the great mys- 
 teries of this world a mystery, which, if rightly ex- 
 plained, would give the clue to many a bright truth 
 now hidden within labyrinthian doubts and hazy 
 theories. 
 
 At the very outset we are met with a paradox. 
 The frost killed the beetle that came from precisely 
 the same locality, and, of course, we might argue that 
 this creature would also die from sudden exposure to 
 the cold atmosphere, Nothing of the kind. Provided 
 we do not handle it roughly, we may take it home, 
 put it in a box, and in due time be rewarded by seeing 
 a grand wide-winged moth emerge from the dull case 
 in which it had so long lain, having suffered no injury 
 from its unexpected change of residence. The more 
 we dig, the greater number of living insects and pupae 
 shall we find, the former soon dying from the sudden 
 cold, and the latter suffering no apparent inconveni- 
 ence. 
 
 Here we have a totally different branch of the sub- 
 ject. What manner of state is this in which the 
 chrysalis apparently reposes ? It is not sleep, neither 
 is it hibernation, but something quite distinct from 
 both, and yet having a certain analogy to both. It is 
 not death, for the creature still lives, and yet it is a 
 kind of death to the caterpillar, which lately traversed
 
 THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 215 
 
 the branches and fed on the green leaves, before it 
 descended to a grave beneath the tree on which it had 
 lived. It is not repose, for the vital powers are acting 
 with wondrous force, vehemence, and rapidity, trans- 
 muting the heavy green caterpillar into the airy-winged 
 moth, or rather evolving the one from the other, 
 through the intermediate form which now lies dull, 
 helpless, and apparently dead in our hands. Mystery 
 of mysteries, all is mystery unexplained, though 
 perhaps not inexplicable fraught, let us be sure, with 
 wondrous meanings, and waiting until He who poured 
 them from His all-creative being shall interpret their 
 hidden prophecies ! 
 
 I have called this article the Eepose of Nature, 
 for want of a better word ; but, in truth, there is no 
 absolute repose in nature. All nature rebels against it, 
 and the powers of nature never cease from their labours. 
 ' My Father works,' said the Lord, ' and I work ; ' and 
 this is the law of the universe, operating on all created 
 things alike. I fancy that there is nothing so abhor- 
 rent to the Great Worker as idleness the pioneer of 
 all picking and stealing, evil speaking, lying, and 
 slandering. There is something within us which forces 
 us to acknowledge the majesty of work ; and the idlest 
 man living can but feel an involuntary respect for the 
 poorest industrious labourer who has died at his work, 
 and a pang of remorse at the contrast to his own useless 
 life. 
 
 All workers know that the truest rest is a change
 
 216 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 of occTipation, and that to be condemned to utter idle- 
 ness would be the most terrible punishment that could 
 be inflicted upon a human being. Why, even the poor 
 fashionable idler really works, in his way, as hard as 
 any of us, because getting amusement is much more 
 laborious than getting a living, becomes more difficult 
 every day, and leaves nothing but disappointment be- 
 hind it. Idle people are fond of talking as if they had 
 exhausted the world, and found it to be hollow and 
 empty like that poor silly man, of whom we read the 
 other day in the papers, who shot himself because he 
 had been all over this world and thought it was time 
 for him to try another. Why, there is a sliver of a 
 cedar-pencil lying on my paper, and I will answer for 
 it that any ' used up ' personage who thinks that he 
 has exhausted the world and will just try to find out all 
 about that little slip of juniper wood will find life too 
 short for the task. 
 
 Look, for example, at the amount of work which is 
 achieved within this chrysalis lying before us, and just 
 think of the millions upon millions of similar beings at 
 this moment undergoing as complete a transformation, 
 from a terrestrial to an aerial state of existence ; their 
 form, constitution, organisation, wants, and habits so 
 totally changed that the one is wholly unrecognisable 
 from the other. Even to go back for a moment to our old 
 friend, the frog, what a wonderful law it is which takes 
 possession of the no-limbed, long-tailed, gill-breathing
 
 THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 217 
 
 tadpole, and changes it into a four-legged, leaping, air- 
 breathing animal, without even a vestige of tail ! 
 
 I know few pursuits more absorbingly interesting 
 than tracing the gradual change of a larva or cater- 
 pillar while passing through its various states until it 
 attains its perfected form, from which it never after 
 varies. It is an easy task enough, and may be accom- 
 plished by anyone who has, or who chooses to acquire, 
 a steady hand and a tolerable eye. Take any common 
 caterpillars of rather large size silkworms will answer 
 the purpose well, and can easily be obtained put two 
 or three into proof spirits, and let the others change 
 into their pupal form. Note the day that they change, 
 and put a few into spirits within an hour after their 
 casting off their caterpillar skin. Keep the rest, and 
 every two days put a couple into spirits until the moths 
 appear from the survivors, and then treat them after 
 the same fashion. You will then have a really valuable 
 series of objects, which by careful dissection under 
 water or spirits will unveil some great mysteries. It is 
 needful that the very early pupae should be kept in the 
 spirits for some weeks before dissection, as their in- 
 terior is so soft as to be little but a milky fluid, and 
 requires hardening with the spirits before it can safely 
 be touched. 
 
 It is most wonderful to see the gradual develop- 
 ment of the process by which a moth or butterfly is 
 evolved from the caterpillar; the leaf- eating creature 
 with its powerful jaws and huge stomach becoming a
 
 218 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 honey-sucker, with the most delicate digestive organ* 
 imaginable ; the creeping thing changed into a winged 
 being ; the nearly blind grub into a creature with eyes 
 of wonderful complexity ; and the whole form of body, 
 muscular system, nerves, and internal structure, being 
 totally changed to suit the altered condition in which 
 the remainder of its life will be spent. 
 
 Take, for example, the chrysalis which we have just 
 dug out of the ground, and suppose the brown outer 
 skin to be transparent while the process of evolvement 
 is going on. During its caterpillar state nearly the 
 whole of its body is filled with a huge stomach, extend- 
 ing throughout the greater part of its length, and 
 tightly filled with food, as is likely in a creature that 
 is always eating. The skin, which to the mass of spec- 
 tators seems to contain nothing but a soft pulp, ia 
 lined with an array of flat and white muscles, and the 
 whole space between these muscles and the stomach is 
 filled up with fat, formed into rather hard lumps of 
 variable dimensions, and penetrated with the breathing 
 tubes, and some very slight nerves. Along the abdo- 
 men, and just below the skin, runs a chain of little 
 knots of nerve-like substance, connected together with 
 double cords of similar material ; and along the back 
 lies a chain of valves, which is analogous to the heart 
 of the higher animals. 
 
 Throughout the transformation, the digestive, ner- 
 vous, and circulating systems retain their relative 
 positions, but are greatly altered in relative size and
 
 THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 219 
 
 importance. The digestive organs are reduced to a 
 tithe of their former volume, the masses of loose fat 
 gradually shrink, while new members begin to make 
 their appearance, and increase imperceptibly from day 
 to day, gaining form and substance by the slow but 
 Divine and irresistible power which is equally exerted 
 in creating an universe or moulding a moth's plumage. 
 
 Mine ancient and constant enemy, lack of space, 
 here warns me that we shall not be able to examine the 
 whole structure of the future moth, and we will there- 
 fore restrict ourselves to the most obvious points of 
 difference between the caterpillar and the perfect insect, 
 namely, the wings. Under the skin of the back (and 
 these can be seen even in the caterpillar) are two little 
 projections, white, soft, and in shape not unlike the 
 two halves of a pea, but rather flatter. On raising 
 them with a needle it is found that each separates into 
 two portions; and, on further examination, we find 
 they are the latent wings in their unformed condition. 
 
 It seems incredible that within this little space 
 should be packed the beautiful wings which, when 
 spread, will contain several square inches of firm and 
 strong membrane, penetrated by air-cells, strengthened 
 by nervures, and clothed with myriads upon myriads of 
 delicately carved scales. Yet it is the fact ; and, when 
 the creature emerges from its case, we shall see how the 
 wings attain their full size. 
 
 When the moth leaves the chrysalis state, it crawls 
 up some perpendicular object, generally the native tree
 
 220 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 on which it has lived, and at whose foot it has burrowed. 
 It then takes several long and deep inspirations, which 
 have a perceptible effect in shaking out, as it were, the 
 hair- like plumage of the body, and causing it to assume 
 a brighter tint. It next slightly opens the wings, which 
 are still thick and solid, and totally useless for flight, 
 and communicates to them a rapid tremulous motion, 
 every now and then pausing to take a few deep breaths. 
 As it proceeds with this task, fold after fold is gently 
 shaken and smoothed out, each breath driving the air 
 through the tubes, which permeate every part of the 
 wings, and so strengthening these members by regular 
 degrees, until at last they stand out in all their beauty 
 firm, strong, and pointed, and covered with a 
 blazonry more gorgeous than ever herald (except the 
 herald moth) endued. 
 
 Touch with a camel's-hair brush any part of the 
 wing so as to remove a few scales, dab the brush on a 
 slip of glass, put it under the microscope, and then see 
 how each particle of the almost imperceptible and im- 
 palpable coloured dust which clothes the wings becomes 
 manifest as an elegantly formed scale, sculptured with 
 designs of singular beauty and regularity, formed of at 
 least two, if not three, separate membranes, and waved, 
 toothed, or fringed at the extremity, according to its 
 position on the wing. Just consider how many hun- 
 dreds of thousands of these scales are needed to cover a 
 surface so great, and the inconceivable care which is 
 required, not only in making them, but in setting them
 
 THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 221 
 
 in rows more regular than the slates on a house-top, 
 each over-lapping the other, and arranged so as to 
 defend the delicate membrane of the wing from mois- 
 ture. You cannot wet a moth's wing with water, for it 
 runs off in drops as if the wings were covered with 
 oil. 
 
 When were these scales made, and how were they 
 fashioned? No naturalist can give an answer, save 
 that they exist by the will of the Divine author. Truly 
 it is worth while to reflect upon the constant and 
 elaborate providential care which is required to form 
 the wing of a moth in so short a time, and to think 
 what laborious tasks are being elaborated in the earth 
 beneath our feet, while we superficially think that 
 nature is reposing. JS"ot even the trees are reposing, 
 although their branches wave, black and deathlike, 
 against the sky. They are silently but laboriously 
 concentrating their forces, settling the spots whence 
 new leaves and new branches are to spring, driving 
 fresh rootlets through the soil, in order to gather from 
 its various elements those particles which will be 
 needed to carry on the work of increase, and preparing 
 themselves with the instinctive foresight of the vege- 
 table kingdom for the labours of the ensuing year. 
 
 Even in so-called inorganic particles there is no 
 absolute repose ; for the chemist can detect in each 
 grain of sand below our feet, in each tiny mite that 
 dances and sparkles in the sunbeams, an array of 
 mighty forces acting together, and uniting for the
 
 222 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 time to preserve the object in the form which it at 
 present holds, but liable to be set free in a thousand 
 different ways, and then diverging upon their various 
 missions to do the will of the All- Worker. 
 
 He never slumbers nor sleeps ; and hence it follows 
 that as all existences proceed from Him, as all created 
 things begin and end in Him, all things must neces- 
 sarily be imbued with the spirit of eternal and cease- 
 less labour; and, though they may for a while rest 
 from their labours and "their works do follow them" 
 can never suffer stagnation, and much less be annihi- 
 lated. Each material particle which assists in the 
 constitution or the functions of our mortal bodies 
 brooks not stagnation for an instant, but with a 
 curious and evident analogy passes from death to life, 
 and becomes etherealised into its most rarefied and 
 gaseous forms, another being, and yet the same !
 
 223 
 
 TURRET AND OYSTERS. 
 
 MANY affinities lie dormant in Nature. 
 
 How incredulous would have been the ancient 
 Briton in his light costume of woad, and the aboriginal 
 American in his war paint, had a Druid or a medicine- 
 man foretold that their far distant countries would 
 be linked together in gastronomic bonds, and that 
 the turkey and the oyster would be ever associated 
 in the minds of a future posterity! How their real 
 affinity was discovered is a problem as yet unsolved, 
 and too closely interwoven with the progress of 
 the human race to be examined in any work of less 
 dimensions than a folio. But the fact is patent, and 
 henceforth the turkey and the oyster are wedded 
 together as indissolubly as the bacon and beans of the 
 rustic, the whitebait and lemon-juice of the cabinet 
 minister, and the chops and tomato sauce of Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 I may be justified in supposing that in every house- 
 hold where this essay will be read that is to say, in 
 every respectable household throughout the kingdom 
 a hamper containing a turkey and a barrel of oysters 
 has either been received or sent as a present elsewhere
 
 224 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 at Christmas. Sometimes both events occur simul- 
 taneously, and the same P. D. C. cart which takes away 
 a hamper containing a turkey and a barrel of oysters, 
 deposits another hamper containing another turkey and 
 another barrel of oysters. An enquiring mind cannot 
 but be struck with the enormous multitudes of birds and 
 molluscs that must be bred in order to supply even 
 the vast annual demand for Christmas, taking no ac- 
 count of those that are consumed during the other 
 seasons of the year. 
 
 To begin at the beginning. For the first knowledge 
 of the turkey we are indebted to Columbus, inasmuch 
 as the bird is indigenous to America, and is by no 
 means a native of Turkey, as is the general but mistaken 
 idea. The popular name was given to the bird in allu- 
 sion to its proud and haughty strut, its unconscionably 
 large harem, and its irascible temper. For at the 
 time when the bird was first brought into notice the 
 Turks were a dominant nation, with rather more than 
 the usual intolerant arrogance which is likely to cha- 
 racterise a people at once powerful, bigoted, ignorant, 
 and exclusive. Even at the present day, when the 
 once all-powerful nation has sunk into the position of 
 a mere province, whose very existence is only main- 
 tained by the common consent of surrounding countries, 
 the regular orthodox Turk is as supremely contemptuous 
 towards an infidel as in the days of his ascendancy, 
 though he dares not express his feelings except by low 
 and muttered curses. As it is, he will seize every
 
 TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 225 
 
 favourable opportunity of applying the epithets of dog 
 and pig to casual unbelievers, and express the very 
 lowest opinion of their female relatives, so that in the 
 time of his power his arrogance must have been just 
 unbearable. 
 
 In our farm-yards, where the turkey knows his 
 place, and is subdued unto domesticity, he behaves in 
 a very different manner from the free wild bird in his 
 native woods, who lowers his crested head for none, who 
 rules with undisputed sway over his female train, and 
 has won his way to eminence by successive victories. 
 He is a grand bird and a proud one, as he stalks ma- 
 jestically through the woods followed by his obedient 
 troop, like a patriarch of old with his wives and chil- 
 dren ; ruffles his feathers and spreads his tail in sheer 
 exuberance of pride, and ever and anon gives vent to 
 that extraordinary sound which we call gobbling, and 
 which Arabs have mistaken for a dialect of their own 
 guttural language. 
 
 At the present day the turkey is a potent ally to 
 those far-seeing enquirers who are giving their best 
 endeavours to enrich this country by acclimatising the 
 useful denizens of other lands. There are many most 
 valuable creatures beasts, birds, and fishes which 
 are gradually being ' improved ' off the face of the 
 earth, and which, unless we grant them a resting-place, 
 will in a few years be as extinct as the mammoth, the 
 dodo, or the iguanodon. 
 
 The progress of civilisation is rapidly producing its 
 Q
 
 226 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 effect even upon the turkey. In former days the wild 
 turkey wandered in vast multitudes throughout the 
 northern parts of the United States, suffering but 
 little harm from the American Indian, and fearful 
 only of the natural enemies to which every wild being 
 is subject. Now, however, all is changed. First the 
 pioneers pushed their way into the interior; then 
 the squatters raised their log huts and made their 
 ' tomahawk improvements ; ' next came the settlers, 
 each house forming the centre of an ever-enlarging 
 circle, within which no beast could venture without 
 imminent risk of death. Villages sprang from settle- 
 ments, cities grew out of villages, and man took undis- 
 puted possession of the territory that was no longer a 
 home for game. 
 
 A recent writer on American sports states that the 
 wild turkey is slowly but surely perishing. Few or 
 none are now to be seen north or east of Pennsylvania, 
 and only a very few in some of the remotest parts of 
 that State. In the wildest parts of Virginia a few 
 families yet linger, but they increase in number to- 
 wards Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Kentucky. Those 
 who wish to see this noble bird in perfection must go 
 to Arkansas, Louisiana, Alabama, Mississippi, and Ten- 
 nessee and even then, they will have to be well skilled 
 in the hunter's craft before they will come within 
 sight of the wary bird. Fortunately the turkey has 
 been acclimatised in many countries, so that there is 
 little real danger of its entire extinction. But though
 
 TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 227 
 
 captivity does not destroy the race, it sadly dims their 
 colours, and in the third generation at the farthest 
 the brilliant purple lustre and glossy metallic bronze 
 of the back and wings, and the rich green, bright 
 chestnut, and velvety black of many feathers have 
 sobered into brown ochre, and dull sooty black. 
 
 Of course there are plenty of opponents who deny 
 the whole scheme as an impossibility. Some assert 
 that no animal will prosper except in its own land, and 
 that all imported specimens will die out unless re- 
 cruited by fresh arrivals. Now the turkey happens to 
 be one of the very beings whose existence is thus 
 denied. \Ve want no importation of wild turkeys from 
 America in order to add vigour to our domesticated 
 specimens, and the possibility of acclimatisation is thus 
 triumphantly proved. On the contrary, their habits 
 are already too wild ; they are terrible rovers, require 
 to be watched as carefully as a sentinel watches his 
 prisoners, and employ every device in order to escape 
 from constraint. A hen turkey, for example, always 
 tries to steal away just before laying, and establishes her 
 nest in some spot so well concealed that it frequently 
 escapes all the sharp eyes that have been searching for 
 it. It is by no means a rare occurrence for a hen turkey 
 to be suddenly missed from the farm-yard, and after 
 some weeks have elapsed to return with perfect com- 
 posure, leading a whole train of young chicks behind her. 
 
 The turkey has a great objection to confinement, 
 and is a very gipsy in its love for open air. If pos- 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 sible, it always roosts in a tree, and prefers to sit on 
 the branches during the coldest night, rather than rest 
 warmly in a comfortable shed. It is a charming bird 
 on the table, whether roast or boiled, but it gives great 
 trouble in the field. It loves to roam about and pick 
 up the insects, seeds, and other food that it may light 
 upon in the course of its rambles. It has a special 
 liking for traversing hedge-rows, and will spend hour 
 after hour in this pursuit, never seeming to weary, and 
 pecking away as smartly at the end as at the beginning 
 of its run. The only method of securing the return of 
 the turkey is to make a practice of feeding it well in 
 the evening, choosing some diet of which it is especially 
 fond. It is then sure to come home and partake of 
 the food, and can be quietly shut up while discussing 
 the viands. 
 
 Though a native of Northern America, and subject 
 therefore to extreme cold, it does not seem to bear our 
 comparatively mild winter when young, and is especially 
 sensitive to water, being apt to die if wetted. After 
 they have passed through their chickenhood the young 
 birds are much more hardy, and require less care. In 
 mere point of hardihood they are equal to any of our 
 indigenous birds, provided that they have fairly attained 
 their maturity. They can endure a severe frosty night, 
 spent in the open air, without apparent inconvenience, 
 even though their feet should be frozen to the branches 
 on which they have perched. But they are always 
 perilous creatures to manage, and will not repay their
 
 TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 229 
 
 owner for his trouble, unless he takes pains to acquaint 
 himself with their habits. 
 
 One of the most dangerous periods is that wherein 
 the distinctive marks of the two sexes begin to appear. 
 The chicks require plenty of nourishing food during 
 the day, and must be carefully housed at night. As 
 soon, however, as the wattle on the forehead and the 
 wrinkled skin of the neck show themselves the danger 
 is considered as past. Then they will roost on the 
 topmost branches of trees, if they can manage to escape 
 from the watchful eyes of their keeper, a habit inherited 
 from their ancestors, who always perched in trees at 
 night in order to escape from the lynx and other rapa- 
 cious animals that prey upon these delicate-flavoured 
 birds. A whole flock will sometimes fly into a tree, 
 and when once among the branches will not come down 
 again. Altogether, they are restless, wandering birds, 
 and unless they are watched with the greatest care 
 they are sure to fail. Care, however, is the one great 
 essential in rearing these magnificent poultry, and even 
 in the most unfavourable parts of England flocks of 
 turkeys have been bred which will bear comparison 
 with the best specimens produced in Norfolk, the chief 
 county for these birds. 
 
 Now let us change our theme and pass to the oyster, 
 the natural companion of the turkey. 
 
 Even in the remote ages of the world, when Rome 
 was in the ascendant, the mistress of the globe, when
 
 230 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 our isles were deemed to be the extremest boundary of 
 the habitable world, and the fit home for pestilence and 
 disease, that had been driven by the power of the gods 
 from the City of the Seven Hills, Britain was yet of some 
 importance to the civilised world. She produced the 
 oyster. ' Natives ' are no modern delicacy. Lucullus 
 always had them on his table. They were set before 
 emperors, and devoured by certain imperial gluttons in 
 vast quantities that even surpassed the feats of their 
 modern imitator, whose name was, at the beginning of 
 the present century, as familiar in all men's mouths as 
 the oyster was in his own. If, too, we may judge by the 
 confessions of Christopher North, oysters were consumed 
 in the ' Noctes Ambrosianse ' with as much fervour as in 
 the ancient times, inasmuch as each member of the 
 famous trio seemed to consider himself hardly used if 
 he only had two hundred oysters by way of getting an 
 appetite for the supper that was to follow. 
 
 There is certainly something about a barrel of 
 oysters that wears a most fascinating aspect. For my 
 own part, I can hardly conceive a more luxurious enter- 
 tainment than to have a whole long winter's evening to 
 myself, with the unwonted feeling of nothing to do, 
 slippers, a bright fire, which will not smoke on any 
 provocation, unlimited Cobb's ale, a fresh barrel of na- 
 tives, and a vision of egg-flip to follow. 
 
 As to such heresies as pepper and vinegar, let them 
 be banished from the table whilst oysters are upon it. 
 These charming molluscs should always be taken un-
 
 TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 231 
 
 mitigated, without losing the delicacy of their flavour 
 by a mixture with any condiment whatever, except their 
 native juice. Alas ! there are but few who know how 
 to appreciate and make use of these natural advantages. 
 Scarcely one man in a thousand knows how to open an 
 oyster, and less how to eat it. The ordinary system 
 which is employed at the oyster shops is radically false, 
 for all the juice is lost, and the oyster is left to become 
 dry and insipid upon the flat shell, which effectually 
 answers as a drain to convey off the liquid, which is to 
 the oyster what the ' milk ' is to the cocoa-nut. 
 
 Those who wish to eat oysters as they should be 
 eaten should act as follows : 
 
 Hold the mollusc firmly in a cloth, insert the point 
 of the knife neatly just before the edge of the upper 
 shell, give a quick, decided pressure until the point is 
 felt to glide along the polished inner surface of the 
 under shell. Force it sharply to the hinge, give a 
 smart wrench rather towards the right hand, and off 
 comes the shell. Then pass the knife quickly under 
 the oyster, separate it from its attachment, let it fall 
 into the lower shell, floating in the juice, lift it quickly 
 to the lips, and eat it before the delicate aroma has 
 been dissipated into the atmosphere. There is as much 
 difference between an oyster thus opened and eaten, as 
 between champagne frothing and leaping out of the 
 silver-necked bottle, and the same wine after it has 
 been allowed to stand for six hours with the cork re- 
 moved.
 
 232 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 There is another method of eating oysters, wherein 
 no knife is required and not the least skill in opening 
 is needed, the only instrument being a pair of tongs, 
 and the only requisite being a bright fire. You pick 
 out a glowing spot in the fire, where there are no flames 
 and no black pieces of coal to dart jets of smoke exactly 
 in the place where they are not wanted, as always takes 
 place during the operation of making toast. You then 
 insert a row of oysters into the glowing coals, taking 
 care to keep their mouths outwards, and within an easy 
 grasp of the tongs, and their convexity downwards. 
 Presently a spitting and hissing sound is heard, which 
 gradually increases until the shells begin to open, and 
 the juice is seen boiling merrily within, the mollusc 
 itself becoming whiter and more opaque as the operation 
 continues. There is no rule for ascertaining the precise 
 point at which the cooking is completed, for everyone 
 has his own taste, and must learn by personal ex- 
 perience. A little practice soon makes perfect, and 
 the expert operator will be able to keep up a continual 
 supply as fast as he can manage to eat them. When 
 they are thoroughly cooked they should be taken from 
 the fire, a second batch inserted, and the still hissing 
 and sputtering molluscs be eaten ' screeching ' hot. 
 
 A true ostreophilist will never eat oysters in any 
 but one of these two methods, and holds that in oyster 
 sauce, oyster patties, scalloped oysters, and the many 
 other dishes in which these bivalves are employed, the 
 oyster is wasted, and the accessories might have been
 
 TURKEY AND OYSTERS. * 238 
 
 turned to better account. No one who has not eaten 
 oysters dressed in this primitive mode has the least idea 
 of the piquant flavour of which they are capable. Stewed 
 in their own juice, the action of tire only brings out the 
 full flavour, and as the juice is consumed as well as the 
 oyster there is no waste, and no dissipation of the in- 
 describable but potent aroma. 
 
 The immediate contact of fire, the great purifying 
 and vivifying influence of the material world, has a 
 wondrous effect upon the objects submitted to its in- 
 fluence. There should be as few intervening substances 
 as possible between the fire and the food. Are not 
 chops and steaks broiled over glowing charcoal infinitely 
 superior to the very same viands fried through the 
 intervention of sheet iron and melted grease? The 
 nearer the fire the better the food. Take, for example, 
 a slice of bacon, dress it in any complicated way you 
 like, and I will engage to surpass the most intricate 
 efforts of cookery by merely laying the bacon on the 
 glowing and smokeless coals. It will not burn. It will 
 curl, and coil, and twist, and splutter, as if in extremest 
 agony ; it will be lapped in fierce flames, ' like the pale 
 martyr in his shirt of fire,' and it will pass from the 
 flames to the table in supreme condition, without a 
 particle of cinder upon it, with all the flavour retained, 
 and all the superabundant grease and salt burnt out. 
 Expertissimo credo Roberto. 
 
 Should any of my readers indulge in such a supper 
 as has been described, I can predict two events but not
 
 234 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 a third. I can foretell that the supper will be a most 
 luxurious one, and that the barrel will weigh sensibly 
 lighter after the banquet, but I cannot predict the 
 dreams that are likely to follow. One never knows 
 where to stop in eating oysters. They are as insidious 
 as walnuts or chocolate bon-bons, and the more you 
 take the more you seem to want. ' Only just one," 1 more 
 is said over and over again, until, like the little girl in 
 the story of the ' Three Bears,' the fascinated reveller 
 empties the dish. 
 
 The foregoing remarks will show that the present 
 writer is not insensible to the merits of the oyster, 
 considered in a gastronomical point of view. Not only, 
 however, is the oyster good to eat, but it is curious to 
 look at, and a philosopher will not fail to afford to the 
 mollusc a double appreciation. 
 
 See what a strange life the creature leads, fixed in 
 some definite spot, unable to stir an inch, and enclosed 
 between two large shelly cases. What does it eat? 
 how does it obtain its food ? and, above all, how does 
 it convey the nourishment into its interior ? Take, for 
 example, a periwinkle, a whelk, or any similar mollusc, 
 place it in the sea, fasten its shell firmly to some object, 
 and in a certain time the creature will die of starvation. 
 But place an oyster in precisely the same locality and 
 it will thrive admirably. The secret of its life lies 
 locked within its shells, and, if we open this two-leaved 
 volume we shall find the whole history written within. 
 
 Granting the barrel of natives, of which we have
 
 TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 235 
 
 already spoken, let the inquiring- reader exercise great 
 self-denial, and lay aside one oyster for the purpose of 
 examining its curious structure. We will now plunge 
 the mollusc into boiling water for a few seconds, which 
 will have the effect of killing it without materially 
 injuring any of the delicate organs with which we shall 
 be concerned. Insert the tip of the oyster-knife be- 
 tween the edges of the shells, force them slightly apart, 
 and then look inside. The mass of the body will be 
 seen in the centre, and pressed against the shell are 
 two flat dark-edged flaps, popularly called the ' beard.' 
 Now this so-called beard is in fact the breathing appa- 
 ratus of the oyster, and has other functions besides 
 those of respiration, as we shall presently see. 
 
 Now open the shell entirely, remove the convex 
 valve, taking care to cut through the thick muscular 
 attachment close to the shell, and with the point of a 
 knife lift up these beautifully delicate membranes. They 
 are seen to be double, like the two shells, and on 
 tracing them round they will prove to end in the 
 mouth, which is close to the hinge of the shell, and 
 can be recognised by a double pair of white and pointed 
 lips. For some unknown reason the oyster has no 
 throat, but the mouth opens at once into the stomach, 
 just as the outer door of a cottage opens into the 
 sitting-room instead of the passage. 
 
 And if the curiosity of the investigator be not 
 quite satisfied, he can easily pursue his inquiries 
 further, and see what the oyster had for dinner, a most
 
 236 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 useful piece of knowledge to those who make their 
 living by breeding this agreeable mollusc. Still, 
 though we have found the mouth and ascertained the 
 food, we have not yet discovered the method by which 
 the food gets into the mouth. 
 
 It is found by investigation of the substances which 
 are taken from the interior of the oyster that its food 
 consists of the minute animal and vegetable organisms 
 with which the water of the sea is thickly charged. 
 
 If a living oyster be placed in water, and watched 
 while its valves are open, a continuous current is seen 
 to run through the shells, always passing in the same 
 direction, i.e. from right to left (taking the flat shell 
 as the upper one), and running between the gill mem- 
 branes. On examining the dark edges of the beard, or 
 gill membranes, we shall find that they are divided 
 into tiny filaments, and that each of these filaments is 
 covered with a myriad of the minutest imaginable 
 fibres, each of which is continually whirling with a 
 partially spiral movement, and producing an effect to 
 the eye as if successive waves were rolling along the 
 surface. A similar effect may be seen when the wind 
 rushes over a corn-field, and produces successive waves 
 which seem to advance rapidly, though each corn-blade 
 remains in its place. 
 
 By the united action of the countless hosts of these 
 fibres, technically called ' cilia,' the water is forced to 
 sweep along in one uniform direction, and, being driven 
 between the two gill membranes, is obliged to pass
 
 TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 237 
 
 over the mouth, carrying with it the invisible objects 
 on which the oyster feeds. So powerful, indeed, is the 
 action of these wondrous little appendages, that if a 
 small portion of the gill be snipped off and placed in 
 the water it will swim away as if it were living, urged 
 by the invisible fibres, which work as briskly as ever, 
 though severed from the body. At the mouth the lips 
 take cognizance of the supplies, and evidently possess 
 the power of accepting the good articles and rejecting 
 the bad, just as the editor of a magazine decides upon 
 the articles which daily inundate his desk. 
 
 There is yet another office performed by the gill 
 membranes. Everyone is acquainted with that little 
 memoria technica which connects oysters with the 
 letter K, and tells us that they are out of season in the 
 months which do not possess this delightful letter. In 
 May, June, July, and August the oysters are not only 
 out of legal season, but are so in literal fact, being 
 thin, and quite unfit for food. Practically, however, 
 the oyster season is anticipated by a month, and on 
 August 1 the costermongers ply their busy trade 
 through the streets ; at every corner the itinerant fish- 
 monger invites his customers to the gritty board, the 
 great coarse molluscs, and the bottle of suspicious 
 vinegar; while the children erect little edifices with 
 the shells, call them grottoes, put an inch of lighted 
 candle into them at night, and vex the souls of pas- 
 sengers with iterated requests for halfpence, which,
 
 238 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 by some strange logic are supposed to be applied 
 towards the repairs of the grotto. 
 
 It would be a most injurious act to catch the 
 oysters during these months, as they are then engaged 
 in laying their eggs, if this strange operation can 
 deserve the name. If, for example, a barn-door hen, 
 instead of laying her eggs in her straw nest, were to 
 transfer them into her lungs, there to be hatched and 
 half fledged, we should be perplexed to find a name for 
 the proceeding. Yet this is just what is done with the 
 oyster. The eggs are very minute when first produced, 
 and are kept by the parent between the shell and the 
 gill membranes; where they remain until they are 
 furnished with shells of their own, and able to cope 
 with the watery world into which they are about to be 
 launched. I well recollect, when I was a very little 
 boy, bringing home some fresh-water mussels, and being 
 completely astonished at finding a number of the 
 tiniest little mussels floating in the liquid contained 
 in the shell. So, when an oyster is out of season, and 
 a thoughtless person ventures to eat it, he will find 
 that a number of little shells will have an unpleasant 
 grating effect upon his teeth, and will learn practically 
 the effect of the ' fence ' months. 
 
 It may be said that if the female oysters were per- 
 mitted to rest during the fence months, and the males 
 brought to table, we should still ensure our present 
 supply for the table without risking the future crops for 
 ensuing years. But there is a difficulty here. No one
 
 TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 239 
 
 knows which are the females. They all lay eggs after 
 the queer fashion already mentioned, they all dismiss 
 abundance of young oysters from their shells, and no 
 one even knows how they do it. Hundreds of oysters 
 have been examined by our keenest anatomists, and 
 the only conclusion that they have decided upon is 
 that an oyster cannot be crossed in love because there 
 is no other sex to fall in love with, unless, Narcissus- 
 like, the creature should suffer from disappointed 
 affection for itself. In fact, the oyster carries out prac- 
 tically, with a trifling variation, the suggestion of the 
 well-known song, and the husband and the wife can 
 safely say that 
 
 They are saved so much bother, 
 For they are both one another, 
 And not themselves at all. 
 
 And yet the oyster is a large-hearted being, though 
 with little brain, from which we might infer that its 
 affections were strong and its intelligence weak, did 
 not the previous observations prove there is no place 
 for love. As to intellect, the creature needs but little, 
 and has but little. It knows when to open and when 
 to shut its shell, which articles of food to accept and 
 which to reject, and considering the stationary life 
 which it leads, a solitary being among thousands, like 
 prisoners in close confinement and contiguous cells, it 
 has quite as much intellect as it requires. 
 
 Here I find I must pause. While describing the 
 oyster, its curious structures and habits, I recognise
 
 240 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 the same feeling which induces even abstemious men 
 to empty a barrel of natives under the plea of ' only 
 just one more.' The whole history and economy of 
 this mollusc is, to me at least, so full of interest that 
 I find myself saying, ' I will only mention just this one 
 point,' and now discover that my paper is well-nigh at an 
 end. Taking leave, therefore, of the individual oyster, 
 we will give a cursory glance to the life led by these 
 bivalves from the egg to the table. In their very 
 early stages we meet with the young oysters within 
 the shells of the parent, enveloped in a gelatinous sub- 
 stance, and partly nourished by the stream of sea- water, 
 which washes them as it is driven along by the fringed 
 edges of the gills. In this condition the young are 
 called the ' spat,' and are soon dismissed from the pro- 
 tecting shell. When set loose from the shell the 
 young molluscs attach themselves in vast quantities to 
 the objects on which they happen to fall, so that the 
 nature of the bed has great influence on the perennial 
 produce. When once fixed they increase rapidly in 
 size, attaining the size of a florin in their first twelve- 
 month, and are thought fit for the table when they 
 have completed their third year. The oysters brought 
 to market are mostly obtained by means of the dredge, 
 which scrapes along the bed of the sea, and tears the 
 molluscs from their attachments. This plan, however, 
 is rather a clumsy one, involving the destruction of many 
 young oysters, and being by no means a certain one. 
 Efforts are now being made in many places to learn
 
 TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 241 
 
 the economy of this useful bivalve, and to breed it 
 regularly for market. During the last few years, 
 the practical knowledge of the oyster and its habits 
 has greatly increased, and vast artificial beds are being 
 laid for its accommodation throughout its life. Seve- 
 ral oyster-beds have already existed for many years, 
 some in England, and others on the Continent. At 
 Dieppe, for example the only series of beds which I 
 have examined the oysters are managed with great 
 care, being bred in a series of large shallow pools, and 
 fed regularly as if they were chickens. They are all 
 arranged in regular rows, slightly overlapping each 
 other, like the tiles of a house-top. The green oysters, 
 which are held in such favour, are nothing more than 
 the ordinary species, fed for a time in ponds where the 
 green confervoid growths are plentiful. 
 
 Without describing at length the various oyster 
 parks which are now being established, and which, 
 especially on the Continent, are assuming very impor- 
 tant dimensions, a few particulars of their structure 
 may be mentioned. Some of these parks are so exten- 
 sive that they are measured by miles, and are capable 
 of breeding many millions of oysters annually. It is 
 found that the best substance for the reception of the 
 spat is brushwood made into bundles, sunk under water 
 and kept down by stones. If these fascines be removed, 
 the young oysters are found clinging to them like grapes 
 upon the vine, and when they are full-grown their 
 aggregate weight is by no means trifling.
 
 242 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 This circumstance explains the travellers' tale so 
 long discredited, that in some places the oysters grew 
 on trees. It is now a well-known fact that if trees 
 growing near oyster-beds dip their branches into the 
 water, the young molluscs are sure to settle on the 
 immersed twigs, and by their increasing weight drag 
 the bough still deeper. The newly-sunken branches 
 are in their turn covered by fresh colonies, until at last 
 the bough is fairly loaded with its strange fruit. 
 
 As far as is yet known the experiments have 
 answered admirably, and it is sincerely to be hoped 
 that the ingenious projectors may make their fortunes 
 as they deserve. For it is no less meritorious to render 
 fertile mile after mile of barren coast, to produce in 
 countless myriads an esculent so nourishing and so 
 palatable as the oyster, than to perform the much-lauded 
 and laudable feat of making two blades of grass grow 
 where only one grew before. We hope soon to sow an 
 annual oyster crop as we now sow an annual crop of 
 grain, for the operation bids fair to be as easy in one 
 case as in the other, the hopes of success are equal, and 
 the profit, if anything, rather inclines to the mollusc 
 than to the cereal. 
 
 There are even pearls to be found in the common 
 oyster, though they are never large enough or pure 
 enough to be of any commercial value. I have many 
 specimens of such pearls all procured by myself, and it 
 is rather a curious fact that I have always found them 
 periodically. On one occasion, out of a poor half-
 
 TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 243 
 
 dozen of oysters I procured as many pearls, most of 
 them about the size and shape of mustard seeds, but 
 one of a pear-like form, and nearly three times as large 
 as any of the others. We make no use of them in 
 Europe, but in some eastern countries all the little 
 bad-coloured pearls are burned and converted into a 
 very delicately pure lime, for the purpose of being 
 chewed together with the betel-nut. 
 
 I have already expressed my opinion that a con- 
 noisseur in oysters will only eat them pure and un- 
 adulterated, simply cooked in their own shells, or, more 
 simply, without any cooking at all. But as I cannot 
 expect all my readers to have the same refined taste, I 
 will here present them with a receipt whereby turkey 
 and oysters are brought into close and grateful conjunc- 
 tion. 
 
 Prepare the bird for boiling, open a number of 
 oysters, varying according to the size of the turkey, and 
 use them instead of stuffing. Put the stuffed bird into 
 a deep jar, fill it up with milk and the juice of the 
 oysters, and cover it over with flour paste. Boil it for 
 four or five hours, until thoroughly cooked, serve it up 
 very hot and with melted butter, and your guests will 
 for ever cherish a kindly remembrance of ' Turkey and 
 Oysters.' 
 
 R 2
 
 244 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 DE MONSTRIS. 
 
 HAVE any of my readers made themselves acquainted 
 with the ' Nurenberg Chronicle ' ? If not, they should 
 do so. The book is very pretty reading, though its 
 beauties are hard to see. It is a big book an elephant 
 of a book a book that would have delighted the very 
 soul of Dominie Sampson. It is printed in black 
 letter, the language is Latin, and its subject is a 
 chronicle of the world's history, from the time of the 
 creation to the date of the book. It is one of the 
 quaintest, raciest, and most delightful of books not 
 very easy to read, but perhaps owing some of its charm 
 to that very fact. 
 
 It is a nut with a very hard and tough shell, but a 
 marvellously sweet and mellow kernel. The shell is 
 the language, or rather the mode in which that 
 language is placed before the reader. The Latinity of 
 the book is anything but Ciceronian, but it is couched 
 in bold, vigorous terms, interspersed occasionally with 
 strange words, which, on investigation, prove to be 
 German words Latinised, the writer being unable to 
 find any pure Latin equivalents. Punctuation seems
 
 DE MONSTRIS. 245 
 
 to have been a matter of accident rather than of inten- 
 tion, and the printers have thought fit to employ every 
 form of abbreviation that has been invented for the 
 bewilderment of readers. Mostly they have had the 
 grace to add the abbreviatory line, so indicating that a 
 vowel or two, or the letters ' m ' and ' n,' are omitted, 
 and may be supplied at discretion ; so that the reader 
 can see without much difficulty that ' aid ' means anima. 
 In many cases, however, they have even dispensed with 
 this slight aid to the reader, and left him to conjecture 
 that ' sex mans hntes ' stands for sex manus habentes, 
 and that, throughout the book, 'hoies' signifies ho- 
 mines. 
 
 The eye, however, soon becomes accustomed to these 
 little abbreviations (which are wonderfully like the 
 dress of that period cut very short just where one 
 might expect length), and can employ itself with 
 the chief glory of the book, namely, its illustrations. 
 These are really wonderful productions of ancient art,. 
 Wood engraving was then in its earliest infancy, and 
 the engraver could only produce hard, bold lines, of 
 nearly uniform thickness. Of perspective there was 
 little of aerial perspective, none ; while the art of 
 * cross-hatching,' so easy on metal and so difficult on 
 wood, had only just been discovered. Yet, notwith- 
 standing all these difficulties, the illustrations possess, 
 like the letterpress, a wonderful amount of quaint, 
 stiff, homely power. The designs are attributed to 
 Wolgemuth ; but, whoever may have been the artist,
 
 246 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 there is no doubt that true art-power lay within him, 
 and that he did as much as could be done with the very 
 limited means at his command. They are worthy of a 
 city which produced such men as Durer, Bebem, Hele, 
 and Lobsinger, and are full of marvellous vigour, 
 4 cross-hatched ' here and there, but absolutely destitute 
 of grace, delicacy, softness, perspective, or expression. 
 There is not a face in the whole book which has the 
 least indication of human feeling or passion. If a 
 murder be represented, the murderer and his victim 
 are equally impassive of countenance ; so that if the 
 two heads were transposed the design would suffer no 
 injury. Facial expression was, in those days, beyond 
 the wood-engraver's powers, and scarcely anything 
 could be achieved except a hard, thick outline. Yet, 
 spite of these drawbacks any one of which seems 
 capable of ruining an illustration the vigorous power 
 of the woodcuts is deserving all praise. The lines are 
 hard and coarse, and the execution rough ; but, never- 
 theless, every line has its purpose, and tells its own 
 story, much unlike the inane prettiness produced by 
 the facile execution of our own day. 
 
 Like the letterpress, the woodcuts treat of the 
 world's chronicle; and by way of beginning at the 
 beginning, the first woodcut represents the Song of the 
 Morning Stars before the creation of the world. This 
 rather difficult subject is represented by a circular 
 space, quite blank, around which are tightly packed a 
 vast multitude of heads, each crowned, with a sort of
 
 DE MONSTRIS. 247 
 
 tiara, and all having their mouths tightly shut, so that 
 if they are singing at all, they must be singing through 
 their noses. The creation of the world is ingeniously, 
 if simply, represented, by the disappearance of the 
 heads, and the appearance of successive concentric 
 circles within the open space, one circle being added 
 for each day. 
 
 The earth being made, and the fishes, birds, and 
 beasts duly placed in it, we come to a delightful 
 Garden of Eden, walled and castellated, and its arched 
 entrance guarded by a portcullis, through which 
 trickle four diverging gutters representing the four 
 rivers of Paradise. As for Adam, he is certainly not 
 handsome, but he is very far superior to the Adam 
 represented in the frontispiece of a Family Bible now 
 before me. Wolgemuth's Adam, rudely though he be 
 drawn, is at least represented as the first man might 
 have been ; whereas the modern Adam has had his hair 
 nicely cut, parted, and curled has been shaved that 
 morning, and wears a pair of neatly shaped whiskers. 
 In fact, he looks as if he ought to wear clothes ; where- 
 as Wolgemuth's Adam looks as if clothing were no 
 more needed by him than by a Greek statue. Then we 
 have the creation of Eve, who is represented as being 
 pulled bodily out of a large circular hole in Adam's 
 side ; and so we proceed with the history of the world 
 until we come to the building of the ark. 
 
 This woodcut has a strange fascination for me, in 
 its mingled truth and absurdity, strength and weakness*
 
 248 OUT OF BOOHS. 
 
 and the under-current of earnestness that runs through 
 the whole design. The ark is about half the size of a 
 Thames lighter, and, small as it is, the artist has par- 
 titioned it off with scrupulous fidelity into its various 
 compartments, and affixed to each division an explana- 
 tory label. There is an ' apotheca herboruinj 1 and an 
 4 apotheca specierum.' The clean animals are separated 
 by the whole length of the vessel from the unclean 
 beasts, and in the middle is the * habitas hominurifij 
 about as large as a Skye terrier's kennel. All Noah's 
 sons are dressed in the exceedingly abbreviated jerkin, 
 the tight hose, and the pointed shoes of the period. 
 One of them is chopping vigorously at a prostrate 
 beam, making the splinters fly bravely ; another is 
 apparently splitting the skull of one of his brothers ; 
 while a third is seated on a raft, dubbing down with 
 his adze the sides of the ark, which is at least a hundred 
 yards distant from him. I have always thought that 
 Hogarth must have seen this wood-cut before he drew 
 his well-known ' Perspective.' 
 
 Then every place that is mentioned, whether it be 
 city, country, or continent, is illustrated by an engraving, 
 more remarkable for its ingenuity than its accuracy. 
 Why ' Provincia Britannia ' should be represented by 
 thirty or forty castellated towers, crushed together 
 within a circular wall, and let neatly into the sea, is a 
 mystery not easily to be penetrated. Supplying Nineveh 
 with a cathedral inside the walls, and a quintain out- 
 side them, is a venial error in chronology, as are the
 
 DE MONSTRIS. 249 
 
 soldiers in plate armour by whom Abraham is accom- 
 panied, and the clock in the parish church of Damascus. 
 
 Then there is a charming audacity in the way in 
 which the same woodcut does duty for several subjects. 
 Take, for example, the two woodcuts which have just 
 been mentioned. Nineveh, which is figured in page 
 20, becomes Corinth in page 33. Then the same cut 
 which represents Damascus at an early period of the 
 History, becomes successively, Macedonia, Verona, 
 Ferraria, and the Province of Germany. The portraits 
 are just as versatile. There is one, for example, which 
 so irritated me by its persistent reappearance, that I 
 took the trouble to hunt it through the book. It re- 
 presents a close-shaven, wizen-faced, vulture-nosed, 
 under-jawed old gentleman, wearing a kind of fez cap, 
 and reading a book without looking at it. On page 
 59 he is Solon ; on page 80 he is Demetrius, and only 
 two pages further he is metamorphosed into Paretius. 
 On page 111 he is Suetonius, and on page 158 the 
 Venerable Bede. On page 200 he is St. Hugo (natione 
 Gallus}) on page 213 he does duty for Barnardus of 
 Compostello, doctor ; and on the very next page he is 
 labelled as Alexander, doctor irrefragabilis. Page 227 
 reveals him as ' Johannes de Monte Villa, eq. aur not 
 anglic ; ' and we finally take leave of him on page 240 
 as ' Johannes Grherson, cancellarius Parisiensis.' 
 
 I have already mentioned that facial expression is 
 absolutely wanting in these various portraits, so that, 
 judging by the expression of the countenance, no one
 
 260 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 can tell whether the face is that of a hero or coward, an 
 honest man or a thief, a saint or a scoundrel. The 
 artist, however, is at no loss for means by which to 
 indicate the moral condition of his subjects, especially 
 those of the female sex. Drapery invariably represents 
 piety, and moral excellence may be measured by the 
 amount of folds in which the various personages are 
 enveloped. Sanctity is always clad in flowing robes, 
 while a curtal frock is a sure sign of a guilty conscience. 
 Lot's wife, Mrs. Potiphar, and other doubtful or ob- 
 jectionable characters, are clothed in short and scanty 
 raiment ; while all the female saints (with the excep- 
 tion of Mary Magdalene, who wears nothing but her 
 own hair, and plenty of it) are endowed with trailing 
 skirts, proportionate in length and volume to the 
 sanctity of the wearer. The culmination of drapery, 
 however, is to be seen in the wonderful print represent- 
 ing the Adoration of the Magi. In this print the most 
 conspicuous object is the drapery with which the prin- 
 cipal figure is clad. Her mantle is large enough for 
 a tent, and all in waves, like a sea, over the foreground. 
 It is carefully gathered into a thousand angular folds, 
 as if made of the stiffest fabric, and has more than 
 enough material to clothe fully all the scantily-dressed 
 sinners in the book. 
 
 As may be imagined from the character of the 
 book, both author and artist revel in the various 
 monsters which were fully believed to inhabit the 
 world. Two whole pages are given up to these crea-
 
 DE MOXSTRIS. 251 
 
 tions of the brain, and very odd beings they are. Some 
 are supplied with explanatory descriptions, but others 
 are left to the discrimination of the reader. Enor- 
 mous development of some part of the human body is 
 the usual method in which the various monsters assert 
 themselves. There are the Pannothi of Scythia, whose 
 ears are so large that they cover the shoulders. There 
 are men with enormous under lips, which fall over 
 their breasts. There are the Unipeds, men with only 
 one leg, but then the foot makes ample amends for the 
 absence of a second limb. It is about as large as an 
 ordinary umbrella, and is used for the same purpose 
 the Unipeds being in the habit of lying on their backs, 
 and sheltering themselves from sun or rain by the 
 enormous foot. These men can of course only hop, 
 but they do so with such prodigious, celerity that they 
 chase and catch stags by hopping after them. 
 
 Sometimes the monsters enjoy a superfluity of 
 members. There are men with two heads, like the 
 Welsh giant who was ignominiously worsted by Tom 
 Thumb. There are men with four eyes, men with four 
 arms, and men with four legs, balanced by Monoculi, 
 or men who have only one eye which is set in 
 the middle of the forehead and men who wear no 
 particular head, but have their eyes, noses, and mouths 
 placed in their breasts. 
 
 Of course there are dwarfs, and a single combat 
 between a pigmy and a crane is drawn with some 
 vigour. The crane seems likely to get the better of the
 
 252 OUT OF DOOE8. 
 
 pigmy, for his beak is long enough to spit the little 
 man through and through. Then come the monsters 
 of the composite order, i.e., which are made up of beast, 
 bird, and man. There is a very fine Centaur ; there is 
 a man with a human head perched at the end of an 
 ostrich's neck; and there is a man whose head is 
 adorned with a large pair of ibex horns ' quales in 
 solitudine S. Antonius Abbas viditS Then there is a 
 nation of women who have beards flowing over their 
 breasts; and there is a whole nation of Hermaphro- 
 dites, of which remarkable beings the artist gives an 
 authentic portrait. The portrait represents a human 
 being, man on the right side and woman on the 
 left, divided accurately by a perpendicular line down 
 the middle of the body, much like the well-known 
 portrait of the Chevalier D'Eon, or the older and 
 wider known print of 'Death and the Lady.' The 
 head has a most absurd appearance, being furnished 
 with short hair and half a long beard on the right 
 side, while the left has a smooth face and long straight 
 hair. And after being gratified by the sight of these 
 wonderful beings, the reader is confidingly told that 
 there are yet many more monsters in the world ' quos 
 commemorare perlongum est? There is an evident 
 good faith in all these queer drawings, and the equally 
 queer descriptions ; and it is quite delightful to read a 
 book in which these absurdities are gravely treated as 
 true. 
 
 On examination of the series of monsters, there is
 
 DE MONSTRIS. 25* 
 
 one point which can hardly fail to strike anyone who 
 has some smattering of physiology, and has taken some 
 interest in ethnology. They are all very odd, not to 
 say ludicrous ; but there is very little invention about 
 them. Nothing is simpler than the notion of enlarging, 
 multiplying, or curtailing the various members of the 
 body ; so that the headless men, the two-headed men, 
 the one-eyed men, and many-eyed men, the six-handed 
 men, the big-footed men, the long-necked men, the large- 
 eared men, and the flap-lipped men, are all off-shoots 
 of a single idea. Then all the composite monsters are but 
 off-shoots of the one single idea of grafting parts of other 
 animals upon the human form, and there is really but 
 little invention required in carrying it out. You may 
 boldly join two bodies together, as the Centaur, the 
 harpy, and the mermaid ; or you may tack parts of one 
 body to another, as the satyr, with his goat's legs, the 
 faun, with his pointed ears and little tuft of a tail, or 
 the man with ibex horns on his head. Again, several 
 of these monsters are nothing but exaggerations of 
 actual fact. It has long been suspected that the 
 ancients knew more of the world than has generally 
 been supposed, and this idea is strengthened by ex- 
 amining the monsters of the Nurenberg Chronicle. 
 Take, for example, the men with the enormous under- 
 lip. It is highly probable that the idea was taken 
 from the narration of some traveller, who had seen one 
 of the many savage tribes which distend their lips, 
 either upper or lower, by the insertion of circular 
 pieces of wood in them. The long-eared men can be
 
 254 OUT OF DOOES. 
 
 accounted for in a similar manner. All ethnologists 
 know that there are many tribes which measure their 
 gentility by the length of their ears ; and by cutting 
 holes in their lobes, and hanging weights to them, suc- 
 ceed at last in getting them to hang down on the 
 shoulders, just as is represented in the Pannothi. As 
 to the nation of pigmies, we all know of several tribes 
 or nations that may very fairly be called by that name ; 
 and although they are not so very small as is repre- 
 sented in the woodcut, they are yet so small that when 
 standing by the side of an European of middle stature 
 the grown men and women seem scarcely bigger than 
 our children of nine or ten. The many-armed monster 
 is evidently borrowed from the Indian temples, which 
 are covered with statues of various deities, scarcely any 
 of which condescend to have less than eight arms. 
 The two-headed monster is due to the same source. 
 
 There is another point which is worthy of notice. 
 Putting aside the centaur, harpy, and mermaid, there 
 is scarcely any of these monsters which is not a real 
 fact. Take, for example, the horned man. Such 
 beings really have existed, as is well known to physio- 
 logists. There is now in the museum at Oxford a 
 portrait of a woman who was remarkable for possessing 
 several horns on her head, and by the portrait is de- 
 posited one of the horns in question. After all, there 
 is nothing so very much out of the way in this curious 
 development. For all the hollow horns, such as were 
 these, are nothing but modifications of hair, and it is
 
 DE MONSTRIS. 266 
 
 not an uncommon phenomenon to find a different mode 
 of development of the same material. In the museum 
 of the late and regretted Mr. Waterton there is the 
 head of a sheep, with a horn growing at the end of its 
 ear, and not on its forehead the hair having been 
 modified into horn, just as was the case with the horned 
 woman. The feathers of birds frequently undergo a 
 similar modification; and there is a well-known in- 
 stance of a whole family of human beings popularly 
 called the ' Porcupine Family ' many of whom had 
 the whole body covered with small horny growths. 
 
 Then the two-headed man is evidently a reminis- 
 cence of one of the many known instances where twins 
 have been partially fused together. In the present 
 day we have the long-known ' Siamese Twins,' the 
 ' Two-headed Nightingale,' and the < Ohio Twins,' the 
 latter being united from the back of the head down 
 the entire spine. Plenty of similar instances have been 
 known. There were, for example, the 'Biddenden 
 Maids,' whose memory is still cherished in the neigh- 
 bourhood where they lived ; and I have before me a 
 collection of drawings illustrative of similar strange 
 developments. 
 
 So with various other forms. The headless man 
 only represents a fact well known to every physiologist ; 
 while the very bold stroke of the artist in putting the 
 eyes, nose, and mouth into the breast, is not without 
 its parallel in nature. Multiplication or curtailment 
 of limbs is very common, and often runs in families ;
 
 256 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 so that the artist of the Nurenberg Chronicle really 
 needed no great power of invention in many of his 
 representations. As for * women with beards descend- 
 ing on their breasts,' there is nothing very remarkable 
 about them, and plenty of instances have been known. 
 Perhaps some of my readers may have seen the late 
 * bearded lady,' Julia Pastrana, whose preternatural 
 ugliness, quick intelligence, proficiency in modern 
 languages, and agility in dancing, were, some years 
 ago, quite familiar to the British public. Her beard, 
 though it did not quite descend to her breast, was 
 stiffer, thicker, and longer than that of many a man ; 
 and yet her hair, a lock of which lies before me, was 
 not coarser than that of an ordinary Spanish woman. 
 And there was a lady, very well known in a certain 
 cathedral city a few years ago, who possessed a mous- 
 tache as thick and full as that of a life-guardsman, and 
 a beard of very fair dimensions. 
 
 Bearded women naturally lead us to the hermaphro- 
 dites above-mentioned. I fancy that the idea was 
 originally taken from travellers' accounts of certain 
 divisions of the Malay race, in which the two sexes can 
 scarcely be distinguished from each other, except by 
 the fact that the women look much more masculine 
 than the men. Naturalists all know that, although 
 among the human race such a man-woman has never 
 been known, there are many creatures in which such a 
 phenomenon does take place. There is, for example, 
 scarcely any large collection of insects, whether public
 
 DE MONSTRIS. 267 
 
 or private, which does not contain specimens of insects 
 generally butterflies which are male on one side 
 and female on the other : the division being along the 
 centre of the body, exactly as is represented in the en- 
 graving of the Nurenberg Chronicle. 
 
 Indeed, in actual nature are to be found almost 
 every instance of monstrosity which the mediaeval mind 
 could invent, and plenty besides, which would throw 
 these mediaeval monsters entirely into the shade. For 
 example, the Monoculi, or one-eyed men, are repre- 
 sented by a wonderful number of the tiny Crustacea 
 called Entomostraca, many of which are remarkable 
 for having a single eye placed in the midst of that 
 part of the body which does duty for a head, and which 
 are in consequence called by the appropriate names of 
 Cyclops, Polyphemus, and so on. As to the many- 
 eyed men, they are entirely outdone by the insects, 
 some of which have more than thirty thousand eyes a 
 fact which infinitely exceeds the imagination of the old 
 writers or artists. The men with their faces in their 
 breasts are represented by the crabs, lobsters, shrimps, 
 and their kin, all of which have their mouths set 
 exactly in the situation in which the old artist has 
 placed the mouth of his headless man. 
 
 Then the unipeds are far outdone by many of the 
 molluscs, whose structure may be characterised as a large 
 foot, carrying a comparatively small body on it. In 
 the Nurenberg Chronicle the uniped is figured as 
 using his foot as an umbrella ; but neither artist nor 
 
 s
 
 258 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 author would have dared to describe him as using 
 it in the light of a boat. Yet this is actually done 
 by many river snails, whole fleets of which may be seen 
 floating leisurely down the stream, the large foot being 
 hollowed along the centre, and acting as a boat. There 
 is no need to multiply instances, but we may receive it 
 as an axiom that there exist in nature monsters far 
 more wonderful than any exaggeration or combination 
 that has been invented by man. 
 
 I cannot leave the subject of monsters without a 
 short reference to the Japanese ' mermaids,' which are 
 now and then brought before the public. These are 
 nearly all made to represent the conventional idea of 
 mermaids, except that the upper half is formed in 
 semblance of a monkey, and not of a human being. 
 They are quite common, and are manufactured by 
 dozens, most of the makers adhering to the same type, 
 only one or two striking out original ideas of their 
 own. I have seen one specimen in which the maker 
 had the audacity to add a pair of large wings formed 
 like those of the bat. 
 
 They are well made, but not so well as is generally 
 thought. The late Mr. Waterton, whose skill in taxi- 
 dermy was supreme, had an entire contempt for Japa- 
 nese mermaids, which he stigmatised as clumsy fabri- 
 cations, saying that he could make better work with 
 his left hand. Certainly the amusing monstrosities 
 which he made, and with which he delighted to delude 
 visitors to his collection, were much superior to the
 
 DE MONSTRIS. 259 
 
 best Japanese mermaid that I have seen. Some years 
 ago, a fishmonger in the old Hungerford market showed 
 me one of these mermaids, and was quite angry with 
 me when I praised the excellence of its manufacture. 
 He really believed that it was a genuine inhabitant of 
 the water, framing his belief on the fact that there was 
 no junction between the fish and the * maid.' Neither 
 was there. The Japanese taxidermist knew his busi- 
 ness too well to have any junction at all, the seeming 
 skin being nothing but papier mache, worked over 
 a model, and having fins, scales, teeth, and nails in- 
 serted in the proper places. 
 
 82
 
 260 OUT OF DOORS 
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS* 
 
 MAN can endure many things. Incredible as the asser- 
 tion may appear, civilised man is capable of maintain- 
 ing existence, though deprived of a town and country 
 house, a box at the opera, three or four gigantic foot- 
 men, and a velvet-footed valet. Follow him down- 
 wards through all the phases of terrestrial conditions, 
 and under all varieties of climate, and you shall find 
 him by degrees casting off one garment after another, 
 and one want after another, until the primitive savage 
 stands before you, wholly without clothing, and almost 
 without wants. 
 
 He needs no tailor to shelter him from the cold, 
 for his body is ' all face ; ' and in particularly severe 
 weather he clothes himself by the simple process of 
 stripping the skin off some newly-slain animal and 
 flinging it over his shoulders. He needs no architect 
 nor builder, no carpenter and no plumber to aid him in 
 erecting his house ; for the cleft of a rock, or a hole 
 
 1 The following article, which was written in 1862, is here given in 
 order to show the science of Fish-hatching as it was in its earliest 
 infancy. Many improvements have been made, and several of the 
 abuses which are mentioned have been corrected.
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 261 
 
 mdely scraped in a bank, is all the home that hk 
 imagination can conceive or his needs require. 
 
 But however widely different may be the polished 
 exquisite of London society, and the rude savage of the 
 antipodes, they both agree in one absolute want 
 
 HATCHEKQ-TUOUGHS IX GREEXH00SES. 
 
 namely, that they must eat or die ; and if we trace 
 effects to their causes, we shall find that our lamented 
 friend Soyer was not very far wrong in considering the 
 culinary art to be the mother of civilisation. 
 
 As with individuals, so with nations, which, after
 
 262 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 all, are but the aggregates of individuals. As a general 
 rule, a hungry man becomes uncivilised in proportion 
 to his hunger, and his diminished powers of argument 
 are proverbial. Even the compulsory postponement of 
 dinner for an hour or two has a mightily injurious effect 
 on the best-tempered of Britons ; and it may easily be 
 imagined that in the primitive ages of society, where 
 no one ever has any dinner, and is always waiting for 
 his food, the general character will be wolfish, snappish, 
 tetchy, and selfish. Food and civilisation are connected 
 together by indissoluble bonds, and the first necessity 
 of a civilised country is that its food shall be plentiful 
 in quantity, good in quality, and readily procurable, so 
 as to insure the periodical recurrence of nutritious 
 meals. 
 
 There can be no true civilisation where every man has 
 to hunt for, kill, carry home, and cook his meals, inas- 
 much as he thereby lowers himself to the grade of a 
 mere animal of chase, and is forced to give up all his 
 finer faculties to the one task of seeking and eating his 
 prey. 
 
 The prosperity of every country depends chiefly 
 upon its supply of food, and a nation advances and re- 
 cedes exactly in proportion to the quantity and cheap- 
 ness of provisions. 
 
 It is true that the present state of commerce enables 
 nations to interchange their commodities, and to supply 
 the non-harvesting lands with the food which they need 
 but cannot raise. But there are many turns in the
 
 OUR RIVXX HARVESTS. 2t>3 
 
 wheel of fortune which may cut off the supply, and 
 which might deprive one nation of food just as another 
 nation is deprived of cotton. Beyond all, value, there- 
 fore, is the power of being independent with regard to 
 food ; and the nation which can discover a fresh 
 indigenous supply has made no small step in her 
 prosperity. 
 
 We have long ago realised the value of the land as 
 a food producer. The ancient forests are falling before 
 the enclosure acts, like grass before the mower's scythe ; 
 the wide commons are gradually changing into meadows 
 and farm-yards ; and their gold-blossomed furze bushes 
 and purple heather are forced to make way for the less 
 picturesque, but more valuable, corn and turnips ; and 
 even the very banks of railway cuttings are economised 
 by thrifty workmen, and yield their crops to the strong 
 hand and skilful brain. Chemical agriculture has now 
 advanced to the rank of an acknowledged science, and 
 the most unpromising soil is rendered fertile by the 
 judicious addition of certain elements which the desired 
 crop demands, but which the ground does not possess. 
 
 We have partially realised the value of the sea 
 which surrounds our island, and have learned that the 
 edible treasures of the ocean are priceless as inexhaustible. 
 Let the fisheries of herring, sprat, flat fish, cod, mackerel, 
 and pilchard be destroyed, and the shock to English 
 prosperity would be severe as the shattered credit of a 
 bank to a trader who has entrusted a great part of hia 
 capital to its keeping.
 
 264 OUT OF DOORS, 
 
 We have still, however, another source of national 
 greatness a very gold mine of wealth requiring little 
 outlay and less trouble. Our rivers bring riches to our 
 very feet ; and the golden sands of the Pactolus may be 
 outshone in true value by the pebbly gravel, stony 
 rocks, or shadowy banks of our English streams. The 
 treasures of California and Australia lay hidden in the 
 rocks and sands for ages, trodden under foot by the 
 heedless and ignorant, and only revealing themselves to 
 those who would work and think. In like manner the 
 treasures of our own streams sweep daily past our un- 
 suspecting eyes, and will be given only to those who 
 will take the trouble to learn about them and search 
 for them. 
 
 It is but lately that we have begun to think that 
 good fish are really valuable articles, and to discover 
 that the supply is annually decreasing. For this dis- 
 covery we are chiefly indebted to sportsmen, whose 
 observant habits and watchful acuteness are invaluable 
 aids to the cause of which we are about to treat. And, 
 although in the few pages which can be given to an 
 important subject we shall treat of the rivers and their 
 living treasures without any reference to mere sporting 
 interests, the reader will of course understand that the 
 interests of the nation and the sportsman are identical, 
 and that, in speaking of the one, we necessarily include 
 the other. 
 
 For the last few years our river fisheries have been 
 failing. There is no doubt of it. The sporting papers
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 265 
 
 are full of complaints respecting the decrease in size 
 and quality of the river fish, those of the salmon tribe 
 being most conspicuous in this respect. The complaints 
 have waxed louder and more frequent, until they have 
 ceased to belong to the mere sportsman, have found 
 their way into the general press, and become a question 
 belonging to the nation at large. Even the leviathan 
 of the press has more than once taken up the subject, 
 and drawn the public attention to the dismal fact. 
 
 It is no light matter that all the best fish should be 
 gradually extirpated from our rivers ; and the decreasing 
 numbers of the salmon alone afford grounds for just 
 fears. The salmon ought to be as cheap as the herring, 
 if not actually cheaper. It needs not to be brought 
 from the sea at a vast expense of fishing-boats, nets, and 
 all kinds of auxiliary apparatus, but, if properly managed, 
 will bring itself to many an inland town, and need only 
 the trouble of catching. 
 
 There never was a more obliging creature than the 
 salmon. It will provide for itself entirely. It wants no 
 shepherd, no hurdles, no folds, and no food. Its habits are 
 regular as clockwork. Given the young salmon, and you 
 will know exactly where he is, and what he is doing, on 
 any day of the year. He grows out of his baby-clothes 
 in the river, never stirring very far from his cradle ; and 
 then somewhere about his second May he puts on his 
 first suit of silvery scales, and makes for the ocean. He 
 remains in the sea for a certain period, feeding vora- 
 ciously on the rich banquet which the salt waters pro-
 
 266 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 duce ; he gets himself into admirable condition, becomes 
 as fat as a pig and as firm as a turkey ; and when he is 
 quite fit to be eaten, back he swims to his native river, 
 and comes to be killed with the proverbial docility of 
 Mrs. Bond's ducks, weighing as many pounds on his 
 return as he weighed ounces on his departure. 
 
 His flesh is very digestible, wonderfully nutritious, 
 more so indeed than that of most fish, and its only fault 
 is its luscious richness. It can be eaten fresh, pickled, 
 or dried ; and in the last-mentioned case can be pre- 
 served for years in perfectly good condition. And, as 
 the salmon feeds himself, the cost of his maintenance is 
 nil, and the only expenses connected with the culture 
 of this noble fish are the salaries which must be paid to 
 the water police. 
 
 The salmon ought never to have occupied the posi- 
 tion which it now holds, namely, a dainty upon the 
 tables of the affluent. The poor man ought to have his 
 salmon as well as the rich ; and if the newly-born 
 science of pisciculture should prosper, a few years will 
 see the labourer or the mechanic purchasing his salmon 
 as freely as he now purchases his herring or periwinkles. 
 There was once a time when this splendid fish was so 
 plentiful in the British rivers that apprentices were 
 accustomed to stipulate with their masters not to be fed 
 on salmon more than four days in the week ; and though 
 we cannot hope to restore the fish in such plenty as is 
 indicated by that arrangement, there is every hope of 
 bringing them back to the rivers which they have
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 267 
 
 deserted, and retaining them in those out of which they 
 are now rapidly disappearing. 
 
 The first step is evidently to find out the causes 
 which drive them out of our streams, and try to rectify 
 them ; for it is clear that to stock a river with salmon 
 would be an useless expenditure of time and trouble, 
 when every fish is sure to be killed before it is as big 
 as a sprat. 
 
 Perhaps there is no fish so systematically persecuted 
 as the salmon; and when all the circumstances are 
 reviewed, it is really a wonder that a single salmon ever 
 attains its full size. From the time when the unhatched 
 egg is deposited in the river, to the time when the fish 
 returns to fulfil its great office, every yard of water 
 contains a foe, and every mile of river conceals a trap. 
 The eggs are surreptitiously taken by poaching anglers, 
 and used as bait for other fishes, and the young fry 
 when hatched, and just able to move, are gobbled up 
 in thousands by various finny depredators and water fowl 
 of different kinds. 
 
 But, putting aside these natural enemies, which, 
 after all, only preserve the due balance of nature, the 
 artificial impediments with which the fish meet are 
 numerous and fatal to a degree. These impediments 
 may be divided into two classes the fixed and the 
 moveable. The latter term includes spears, or leisters 
 terrible instruments, like Neptune's trident, on whose 
 barbed prongs the salmon is impaled as it lies on the 
 bed of the river and nets of all kinds, ingeniously
 
 268 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 made so as to sweep the whole breadth of the stream, 
 and to entangle even fishes of a few inches in length. 
 
 As to the fixed impediments, their name and struc- 
 ture is legion. ' Weirs,' or barriers, are made of timber, 
 or even faggots, and so constructed as to intercept 
 almost every fish as it tries to make its way along the 
 stream. ' A Devonshire faggot weir,' writes a corres- 
 pondent of the ' Field ' newspaper, ' for thorough im- 
 passability, in some ninety-five days out of every 
 hundred, almost baffles description : extending the 
 whole breadth of the river, staked, ruddled, stumped, 
 and twisted, leaving out long bushy ends down stream, 
 partially filled up with large stones, often some ten 
 or fifteen feet wide at the top is so admirably con- 
 structed for stopping even a minnow, that the whole 
 stream drains and percolates through this mass of 
 bushes. In many places a London lady could, with 
 little trouble, walk over dry shod.' The same writer, 
 after dilating on the many impediments placed in the 
 way of these migratory fish, proceeds to remark that in 
 hot weather, and after a dry spring, the young salmon 
 perish in vast quantities while trying to force their way 
 through the mazes of the brushwood, and taint the air 
 around with their decaying bodies. 
 
 Water-mills are notoriously employed for the illegal 
 capture and destruction of the salmon, both in its early 
 stages and during the fence months ; and the destruc- 
 tion of ' foul ' fish, as they are then called, is almost 
 beyond belief.
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 269 
 
 It is true that the fish when foul acquire a peculiarly 
 unpleasant taste, the flesh loses all its firmness, becomes 
 loose and flabby, and gives forth a very unpleasant 
 odour. A Scotch peasant will have nothing to do with 
 the foul fish, as far as eating it goes ; but the French 
 have an idea that it is a great dainty, and accordingly 
 pay high prices for the worthless article. The natural 
 consequence is that many tons weight of foul salmon 
 are illegally captured and sent to France, where they 
 appear on the tables of the bons vivants, and are lauded 
 to the skies by the guests, their chief value consisting 
 in the fact that they are brought all the way over the 
 sea, and cost much money. 
 
 It is true that a penalty is attached to the act 
 of killing foul or unseasonable fish, and now that an 
 Act on the subject has passed through Parliament, the 
 fish may stand a better chance of attaining their full 
 growth. But it is useless to affix a small or even a 
 moderate penalty to the transgression of this law, as its 
 infraction is so profitable that the offender will com- 
 pound for a dozen detections, provided that he succeeds 
 once in capturing and selling the illegal booty. If a 
 man can make between three and four hundred pounds 
 by one capture, he cares little for a few fines of a pound 
 or two each. 
 
 Mutual jealousies of neighbouring proprietors cause 
 the destruction of young salmon in vast quantities, each 
 owner being anxious to secure the fish while he has the 
 chance of doing so, and being unwilling to allow his
 
 270 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 neighbour the benefit of the fish which pass through hig 
 waters. Each goes upon the argument that if he, Mr. 
 A., does not catch the young salmon, Mr. B. or Mr. C. 
 will be sure to do so, and as the little fish are better 
 eating than trout, he may as well obtain the benefit of 
 them while he can. It will be seen, therefore, that 
 supposing the stream to belong to twenty proprietors, 
 and that nineteen of them agree to permit the salmon 
 a free passage through their domains, the recalcitrant 
 twentieth may neutralise all their efforts, and, by fixing 
 weirs and using nets, may intercept every fish as it 
 passes. 
 
 There is another reason why the salmon is driven 
 away from many rivers in which it was formerly plen- 
 tiful, namely, the polluted state of the water. The 
 Thames enjoys an unenviable pre-eminence in foulness ; 
 and though the last two or three years have seen a 
 slight improvement in its condition, it is quite im- 
 possible to predict that a recurrence of the pestilential 
 odours of 18578 may not happen in any summer. 
 Even the famed waters of Marseilles harbour, which 
 are said to be extremely valuable to mariners because 
 they kill even the barnacles that adhere to ships, and 
 the molluscs that bore into timber, can hardly be more 
 detestable than the once silver Thames on one of its bad 
 days. No fish can be expected to live under such 
 horrid conditions ; and though a salmon will endure 
 much in its instinctive desire to ascend the stream, it 
 cannot pass through such a torrible element in safety.
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 271 
 
 There are, it is true, some rivers where the water is 
 quite as nauseous as that of the Thames, which are yet 
 ascended by the salmon. But in these cases the 
 extent of foul water is comparatively small, and the fish 
 is enabled to pass through it at a single run, whereas 
 the length of polluted water in the Thames is so great 
 that the salmon would be forced to endure a day or two 
 of foul water before it could gain the comparatively 
 sweet waters of the upper river. 
 
 Eecent improvements in the drainage may, how- 
 ever, have a beneficial effect upon the Thames ; and if 
 the waters can be rendered sweet enough for the salmon 
 to live in, and kept clear of nets and weirs, we may 
 look forward with some hope of success to the reappear- 
 ance of this noble fish in our noble river. 
 
 Now let us glance at the means by which it is hoped 
 to restore the salmon and other fish to the waters 
 whence they have been extirpated. 
 
 The early life of all fish is most precarious, and 
 from the time that the eggs are first deposited in the 
 river to the time when the little creature is sufficiently 
 strong of fin to take care of itself, a host of enemies 
 surround it, and its chance of life is scarcely more 
 promising than that of a tender little lamb among a 
 flock of wolves. "What with creatures that eat the 
 spawn, creatures that devour the fry, and infernal 
 engines that destroy the growing fish, not one-hundredth 
 part attain even to their white smolt robes, and not a 
 thousandth part reach maturity.
 
 272 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 Many persons, even those who themselves have taken 
 an interest in the advancement of this new science, 
 have an idea that the object of a pisciculturist is similar 
 to that of a game preserver, namely, to furnish anglers 
 with sport in rivers whence the fish had been driven, or 
 in which they had never taken up their abode. It will, 
 however, be shown, in the course of the following 
 pages, that the question is one of national importance, 
 involving the supply of food to the masses, and not in- 
 tended only to furnish amusement to the few. 
 
 The first point in the rearing of fish is evidently to 
 shield the eggs and fry from all their preliminary 
 danger, and to keep them in some place of safety until 
 they are strong enough to take care of themselves. 
 The only method of accomplishing this purpose is 
 evidently that the place where the little creatures pass 
 through their first stages of development shall be 
 either wholly separated from the river, or so carefully 
 fenced off by close wires, that the predatory fish 
 and other foes shall not be able to gain admission. 
 
 Several modes of isolation have been invented and 
 worked with success; and the public are already 
 familiar with the names of Stormontfield and other 
 places where the breeding of fish has been tried. It is 
 not needful, however, to go so far from home for such 
 experiments, as an establishment which has lately been 
 mentioned in many of the daily papers is in full 
 operation near the banks of the Thames, under the 
 superintendence of S. Ponder, Esq., of Hampton, who
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 273 
 
 has erected and still maintains the greater part at his 
 own expense. This, although on a small ^ale, is 
 marvellously successful, and is capable of producing 
 nearly one hundred thousand fish annually. 
 
 The process is as follows : 
 
 Within a moderately-sized green-house have been 
 erected a series of troughs formed of slate, and 
 arranged one above the other like so many stairs. Each 
 trough is three feet in length, seven inches in width, 
 and five in depth. It is found, however, that the 
 depth need not exceed four inches. In these troughs 
 is placed a layer of moderately fine gravel, about two 
 inches in depth, and larger stones are stuck into the 
 gravel at intervals of an inch or two. The gravel and 
 stones have been previously boiled and washed, in order 
 to destroy all traces of decaying animal matter which 
 might taint the water, all aquatic creatures which 
 might injure the eggs or fry, and all confervoid 
 growths which might choke up the stream and inter- 
 fere with the wellbeing of the young fishes. 
 
 Above these troughs is placed a large tank holding 
 about two hundred gallons of water, which is conducted 
 to the upper trough by means of a pipe and stopcock. 
 At alternate ends of each trough is placed a short pipe, 
 which conveys the water from one to the other, and in 
 consequence of their alternate arrangement compels the 
 water to traverse the entire surface of the gravel. 
 
 The eggs are carefully laid upon the gravel so as to 
 lodge in its interstices, each trough containing three 
 
 T
 
 274 
 
 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 thousand ova. As, therefore, the percentage of un- 
 hatched eggs is extremely trifling when they are in 
 proper condition, this single set of troughs can turn out 
 about thirty thousand young fish at a single hatching. 
 
 
 
 HATCHING-PLATE. 
 
 An experiment has been successfully tried to sub- 
 stitute slabs of slate for the gravel, the plates being 
 exactly one foot long and seven inches wide, so that 
 three will precisely fit into each trough. The plates 
 
 EGG, FRY, AND PARR. 
 
 are covered with cup-like hollows, much resembling the 
 little pits in a ' solitaire ' board : a small hole is pierced 
 quite through the centre of each, so as to permit water 
 to pass freely. Each plate contains one thousand of
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 275 
 
 these cups, and each is intended to hold one egg, so 
 that the tedious process of counting the ova is no longer 
 required. 
 
 When the eggs are properly arranged the water is 
 permitted to flow very gently over them, and its force 
 is gradually increased until it imitates as nearly as 
 possible the shallow rippling part of the stream where 
 the fish generally lays its eggs, and the motion of which 
 seems to be essential to the hatching of the egg. The 
 stream is about one inch in depth. 
 
 One great advantage of this plan is that the eggs 
 and young are always kept in view, and are at a con- 
 venient height from the ground, so that they can be 
 watched with a lens through the crystalline water, and 
 their changes noted from day to day. 
 
 Another establishment is placed in the open air, not 
 very far from the banks of the Thames. This consists 
 of a series of flat troughs made of elm, and measuring 
 four feet in length, fifteen inches in width, and eight in 
 depth. These troughs or boxes are furnished with 
 gravel and stones, as has already been mentioned ; they 
 are set end to end, and water flows continually through 
 them from a little spring which has been ingeniously 
 diverted in the proper direction. 
 
 The eggs are placed in the upper boxes, covered 
 with coarse gravel, and the water suffered to flow 
 gently over them until they are hatched, an event 
 which usually takes place in sixty or seventy days. The 
 temperature of the ' water has, however, much to do 
 
 T 2
 
 276 
 
 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 with the time occupied in hatching. In this establish- 
 ment, where the water is kept at a tolerably uniform 
 temperature of 45 Fahr., the commencement of the 
 process is visible in fifty-five days, the action of the heart 
 
 OPEN-AIR TROUGHS, 
 
 being perceptible even to the naked eye, and a sin- 
 gularly beautiful object under the microscope. 
 
 When first hatched the young fish is a most 
 curious little object, having a thin, long, transparent 
 body, hardly visible when immersed, and bearing the
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 277 
 
 yolk of the egg attached to its abdomen. This egg 
 vesicle is of a bright reddish orange colour, traversed 
 by the minutest imaginable vessels of bright scarlet, and 
 remains visible for about seven weeks. As long as the 
 little creature retains this vesicle it needs no food, 
 and takes no trouble about feeding until it has lived 
 for seven or eight weeks, when the supporting vesicle 
 is absorbed into the body, and the fish is then thrown 
 on its own energies for subsistence. 
 
 Now comes a critical time in the life of a fish, and 
 one where many pisciculturists have failed. What is 
 the little creature to eat, and how is it to obtain its 
 food ? Liver, dried and reduced to powder, is held in 
 some estimation, and so are little worms and caddis 
 chopped very fine. Stale bread grated into a fine pow- 
 der is another useful kind of food. But it often hap- 
 pens that the little fishes are so delighted with the un- 
 accustomed gratification that they continue to gorge 
 themselves until they die of very repletion. Some- 
 times the pisciculturist who has succeeded in hatching 
 the eggs under cover forgets that his little favourites 
 must needs eat, furnishes them with no food, and so lets 
 them perish of slow starvation after the supporting 
 vesicle has been completely absorbed. 
 
 Practically it has been found that the combination 
 of the slate troughs within the house, and the wooden 
 boxes in the open air, afford the best chance of 
 success, the young fish being removed from the former 
 to the latter after they have assumed the perfect shape
 
 278 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 and begin to feel the want of food. This food they will 
 then find for themselves. The sharp-eyed little 
 creatures can see and capture the myriad tiny inhabi- 
 tants of the water which are too minute to be detected 
 by the human eye, and when they get a little stronger 
 may be seen jumping at midges with wonderful bold- 
 ness and activity. 
 
 Their peculiar habits are a sufficient guide to their 
 owner as to the time when they are fit to enter the 
 river and be turned loose on existence, for they drop 
 down from box to box according to their development, 
 and those that are found in the lowest box are always 
 strong enough to be removed. 
 
 It should be mentioned that gratings of perforated 
 zinc form an impassable obstacle to the escape of the 
 young fish or the entrance of obnoxious intruders, while 
 covers of the same substance are fastened over them at 
 night, and are replaced in the daytime by strong 
 netting. The object of this change is twofold : firstly, 
 that the midges and other little insects on which the 
 fish feed should have free admission to the surface of 
 the water ; and, secondly, that the inmates should be 
 guarded from various predatory birds, kingfishers 
 especially, who would hold high revel over so plentiful 
 and delicate a banquet. 
 
 When the fry have attained a moderate size they 
 are removed from the lowest box, placed in a proper 
 water vessel, and transferred to a boat. The owner 
 rows gently about the river, and wherever he sees a
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS, 279 
 
 favourable-looking spot he puts a hundred or so young 
 fish into the water. No sooner are they in the river 
 than they act as freely and boldly as if they had passed 
 all their little lives in its stream, dive down at once, 
 and ensconce themselves among the pebbles. This 
 instinct is most valuable, as the fish know by its 
 wondrous power how to separate from each other, and 
 take up their abode in little nooks and crannies, where 
 not even the voracious perch can get at them at all 
 events, not without an expenditure of labour which that 
 fish is not at all likely to employ. 
 
 The plan of putting them into the river in little 
 detachments is followed because it is found that when- 
 ever the little fish are thrown into the water wholesale, 
 the larger river fish make a great feast on their little 
 visitors, charge fiercely at the crowd, and more than 
 decimate .their ranks before they can conceal them- 
 selves, their very numbers preventing them from find- 
 ing the shelter which their instinct urges them to 
 seek. 
 
 They are very pretty, these little fish, and even in 
 their very young days possess sufficient individuality to 
 mark each species. The young salmon fry, for example, 
 are rather long and slender in proportion to their 
 width, and their hue is ruddy brown, barred with dark 
 patches on the sides. The young trout are shorter, 
 thick and dark, and the barred surface is perfectly 
 conspicuous even when the little creatures do not 
 measure one inch in length. The char are light grey
 
 280 OUT OF DOOES. 
 
 above and silvery white beneath, and have a peculiar 
 darting action, flashing through the water like a 
 miniature rocket, and j ust turning on the side so as to 
 suffer a silvery gleam to appear for a moment and then 
 vanish. 
 
 The eggs are delicate globular bodies, varying in 
 size according to the species of fish from which they 
 come. Those of the salmon are about the size of sweet 
 peas, and the perfect, healthy, and vivified egg has a 
 peculiar translucency, with pink or ruddy reflections as 
 the light passes through its substance. 
 
 As the eggs approach maturity the blood-red hue 
 deepens, and when the little fish makes its escape from 
 the imprisoning envelope the egg vesicle retains its 
 warm hue. Indeed, it is only by this vesicle that the 
 presence of the very young fish can be detected as they 
 lie among the stones, the delicate bodies being of such 
 glassy transparency that they would escape observation 
 but for the ruddy hue of the egg vesicle which is 
 attached to them. 
 
 Should the egg be unfortunate, and its vital prin- 
 ciple escape, the fatal result may be at once known by 
 the change of aspect, a gradually increasing opacity 
 spreading through the whole substance and the egg 
 looking exactly like a boy's ' alley taw ' seen through 
 the wrong end of a telescope. By degrees a kind of 
 flocculent excrescence begins to grow upon the egg, and 
 it is soon surrounded with this growth to such an 
 extent that it becomes as large as a moderately-sized
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 281 
 
 gooseberry. All such eggs must be removed from the 
 water, or they would otherwise taint its purity ; and as 
 the increased bulk renders them lighter than the 
 element in which they lie, they float to the surface and 
 are readily detected. 
 
 Whether the eggs are hatched sooner in the arti- 
 ficially made gravel beds of the troughs than in the 
 natural gravel of the river is not very clear, but it is 
 certain that even in the open-air boxes, where all con- 
 ditions are apparently identical, the salmon eggs are 
 hatched in little more than half the time which the 
 generality of books mention as necessary for that opera- 
 tion. It is hardly needful to say that the rapidity of 
 hatching is an important element in pisciculture, and 
 that the breeding apparatus is rendered more valuable 
 in proportion to the number of hatchings of different 
 fish it can turn out in a season. After each hatching it 
 is as well to remove the gravel, wash the troughs 
 thoroughly, and not to replace the stones and gravel 
 until they have again been submitted to the ordeal of 
 boiling water. 
 
 The question of mixed or hybrid breeds is now 
 attracting considerable attention, and many thoughtful 
 inquirers are endeavouring to produce mixed breeds of 
 fish just as enterprising agriculturists produce breeds of 
 cattle. It seems to have been tolerably well proved 
 that with trout the surest method of obtaining the 
 heaviest and finest fish is to introduce continual addi- 
 tions of new blood into the establishment, so that the
 
 282 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 dwindling process which generally happens when the 
 ' in and in ' system is adopted may be obviated, and a 
 fine and healthy offspring be the result. 
 
 Some experimentalists have mooted another ques- 
 tion, namely, the possibility of crossing the salmon with 
 some other fish, so that the offspring may retain the 
 size, flavour, and beauty of the salmon, while the 
 migrating instinct may be eradicated. I do not think, 
 however, that any such attempt can be successful. In 
 all the history of cross breeding the results prove that 
 it is always possible to introduce an instinct, but that 
 to eradicate one is a task almost if not quite impossible.. 
 The outward form may be alterable to any extent, but 
 the inward character will remain. 
 
 In the greyhound, for example, when the breed was 
 found to gain speed at the expense of courage and 
 endurance, relinquishing the quarry at the first check, 
 a cross of the bulldog was introduced. In a few gene- 
 rations the clumsy head and short limbs of the bulldog" 
 were eradicated, but the indomitable courage and tire- 
 less perseverance have remained, and the result is the 
 present breed of greyhounds, which will not only run 
 like the wind, but are marvellously enduring, and when 
 they have once been set on the track will continue the 
 chase until they drop from fatigue, or even die on the 
 spot. Taking these and other similar examples into 
 consideration, I cannot but think that the result of 
 crossing the migratory salmon with some stationary 
 species would have precisely the opposite effect to the
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 283 
 
 intentions of the pisciculturist, and that, instead of 
 making the migrator stay at home, the cross would only 
 send the non-migrator off to sea. 
 
 Moreover, to obtain a hybrid by means of crossing 
 two distinct species of fish is a very different business 
 from getting a mixed breed of varieties belonging to 
 the same species of cattle. And although it is true 
 that even in the wide seas specimens are now and then 
 caught which possess the characteristics of two separate 
 species in such equal proportions that they cannot be 
 referred with certainty to either, yet these exceptional 
 cases prove little but a fact already known ; and though 
 they show that hybrid or mule fishes can be obtained, 
 they fail to demonstrate any advantages to be gained 
 by them. 
 
 We have said nothing as yet with respect to the 
 means by which the eggs are obtained by the piscicul- 
 turist. It is, of course, necessary to be perfectly sure 
 of their genuineness, and the only method by which 
 this question can be decided with absolute certainty is 
 to procure them from the parent fish. 
 
 Nothing is simpler than this process. At the 
 spawning time, just when she is about to deposit her 
 eggs, the female fish is put into a tub with water, and 
 by a little artificial aid the whole of the eggs, or ' hard 
 roe,' are soon laid in the tub. The fish is then released, 
 and suffered to return to her native river. A male fish 
 of the same species is then put into the same vessel, and 
 some of the milt, or ' soft roe,' is deposited in a similar
 
 284 OUT OF DOOMS. 
 
 manner. He is then set at liberty, and the water 
 stirred about for a few minutes, when it becomes cloudy, 
 as if milk had been poured in it, but soon regains its 
 former clearness. The eggs are then rinsed with fresh 
 water, and are fit to be put into the trough. 
 
 Indeed, the whole process of hatching the fish is so 
 simple and easy that it may be achieved with a flower- 
 pot and a watering-can, and conducted on a drawing- 
 room table. Anyone can do it, and it is really so 
 elegant and interesting a process that it may possibly 
 become as fashionable as the ferneries and aquaria of 
 the present day. 
 
 Vivified eggs can now be readily procured from 
 many parts of England and some portions of the Con- 
 tinent. For the little establishment already mentioned 
 the eggs of trout have been brought from the Teste and 
 Bourne in Hampshire, from the Colne in Herts, and the 
 Wandle in Surrey. Salmon ova have been obtained 
 from several parts of Ireland, as well as from the Ehine, 
 the char have come from Geneva, and the grayling been 
 taken from several British rivers where this delicate 
 and beautiful fish survives. Eggs can be safely con- 
 veyed, if packed carefully in wet moss and placed in 
 wooden boxes. 
 
 It will always be found advisable to make provision 
 in various parts of the river which is intended to be the 
 future residence of the young fish, not only for the 
 youthful, but their adult state. Several fish, such as 
 trout, pass solitary lives, each choosing some particular
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 286 
 
 haunt, and only changing its residence when it has out- 
 grown its home or can oust a weaker fish from some 
 comfortable nook. 
 
 The trout loves to lie under the shelter of large 
 stones, and if a good artificial place of refuge can be 
 made, the best fish are sure to come and take possession 
 of it. Perhaps the very best substance for this purpose 
 is the semi-vitrified brick which is found in kilns after 
 the burning, and which goes by the name of brick-burrs. 
 This substance is in rather large masses, very irregular, 
 and not only affords a home which no sensible trout 
 will despise, but is an effectual barrier to the use of the 
 net, serving the same purpose in the river as ' bushing ' 
 in the open fields. 
 
 Feeding the trout is also useful, for it teaches the 
 fish to remain near the same spot, and has a marvellous 
 effect towards increasing its growth. Scarcely any 
 creature, and certainly no fish, repays care and good 
 feeding better than the trout, two pounds having been 
 added to the weight of a fish during a single summer. 
 When the trout attains a moderate size it will eat all 
 kinds of animal substance, though it has a predilection 
 for the great dew-worms that are found at night on the 
 grass or gravel walks. 
 
 These great, fat, and wary creatures can be caught 
 plentifully by searching for them at night by the aid of 
 a bull's-eye lantern ; only the step of the hunter must 
 be very quiet, as they are apt to slip back into their 
 holes if alarmed. Should they not come readily to the
 
 286 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 surface, they may usually be induced to do so by 
 driving the prongs of a garden-fork into the ground 
 and working it about so as to shake the earth around ; 
 and, if they still should be obdurate, they may be 
 brought to light by pouring over the ground some water 
 in which a very little ammonia has been dissolved. 
 
 Not only the river fishes, but those of the salt water 
 can be reared from the earliest stages, and kept in 
 ponds and fattened just like chickens, only with much 
 less trouble and expense. Even the flat fishes are 
 capable of being thus fattened, and become wonderfully 
 thick in body and firm in flesh, so that their weight is 
 really astonishing when it is compared with their length. 
 The food which they require is of the cheapest kind, 
 and the fattened fish can be sold for so high a price as 
 to render the speculation extremely remunerative. 
 
 A few lines must be given to the machine in which 
 fish can be conveyed for great distances without suffer- 
 ing damage or perishing for want of air. It consists, 
 as may be seen from the accompanying illustration, of 
 a square metal box closed above with a cover of per- 
 forated zinc. The box is not nearly filled with water, 
 so that there is little fear of the contents being splashed 
 out by the shaking incident to all travelling. The fish 
 congregate at the bottom, and would soon exhaust the 
 air contained in the water were it not renewed by 
 artificial means. 
 
 In one corner of the box is placed a forcing-pump, 
 neatly fitted ip with appropriate valves, and communi-
 
 287 
 
 eating with a tube which passes down the corner and 
 crosses the bottom. The lower portion of the tube is 
 pierced with holes like those of a watering-cart, and 
 the pump is so arranged that at each stroke atmospheric 
 air is driven through the tube and bubbles upwards 
 through the water, vivifying the exhausted liquid in its 
 progress. Little trouble is expended on the process, as 
 
 TRAXSPOTtTIXG BOX. 
 
 half a dozen strokes only are needed at a time, and the 
 pump is so lightly constructed that a child can work it. 
 The reader will observe that there is not the least 
 mystery or even difficulty about the process, and that 
 anyone who can obtain a supply of water is able to 
 hatch and rear young fish until they are old enough to 
 put into a river. Should the fish be of the non-migra- 
 tory kind they may be placed in a pond, where they 
 will grow with great rapidity, and are always at hand 
 when needed. In one pond which had been thus
 
 288 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 stocked, and was netted three years after the tiny 
 inmates were admitted, no less than eight thousand 
 pounds weight of fish were captured by a single sweep 
 of the net. This pond was near Montmirail, in the 
 department of the Marne, and is now unfortunately 
 cleared of fish, the proprietor having determined on 
 filling it up and using the ground for agricultural pur- 
 poses. 
 
 It is rather remarkable that the Chinese, who seem 
 from time immemorial to have known the rudiments of 
 almost every science, and never to have advanced 
 beyond them, are well acquainted with the principles 
 of pisciculture, and have carried out the science to a 
 greater extent than is usual with that thrifty and omni- 
 vorous nation, except when a supply of food is in ques- 
 tion. They have even discovered that when the little 
 fishes have absorbed the egg vesicles, and are beginning 
 to need food which cannot be supplied in the natural 
 manner by casual insects and aquatic animalcules, the 
 best way to feed them is to beat up the yolk of an egg 
 and pour it into the water ; thus furnishing them with 
 a kind of diet that requires no trouble to procure, being 
 carried into their tiny mouths by the mere action of 
 the water ; and which is analogous to the nutriment 
 contained in the vesicle from which they had previously 
 drawn their support. 
 
 It is of course impossible, in the limited space 
 which can be allotted to a single subject in these pages, 
 to give more than a superficial sketch of the processes
 
 OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 289 
 
 employed in pisciculture, and a brief notice of the 
 benefits which are likely to accrue to a nation which 
 rightly practises the art. 
 
 In this country, where so much is left to individual 
 enterprise, and so little is intrusted to centralisation, it 
 is scarcely to be expected that the Government will 
 take up the question. Therefore, although the subject 
 is really one of national importance, it must rest on its 
 own money-producing merits, like any other kind of 
 merchandise ; and all that can be at present done by 
 the press is to show the ease with which a fish-hatching 
 apparatus can be established, the very little capital 
 which is sunk in its erection and management, and the 
 very large return which is made in proportion to the 
 sums invested therein. 
 
 IT
 
 290 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 1 
 
 THERE are naturalists and naturalists. Certain dread- 
 fully scientific persons who call themselves by that 
 name seem to consider zoology and comparative 
 anatomy as convertible terms. When they see a 
 creature new to them they are seized with a burning 
 desire to cut it up, to analyse it, to get it under the 
 microscope, to publish a learned work about it, which 
 no one can read without an expensive Greek Lexicon, 
 and to ' put up ' its remains in cells and bottles. They 
 delight in an abnormal hsemopophysis ; they pin their 
 faith on a pterygoid process, they stake their reputa- 
 tion on the number of tubercles in a second molar 
 tooth, and they quarrel with each other about a notch 
 on the basisphenoid bone. 
 
 Then there are the ' field naturalists,' who delight 
 in penetrating to the homes and haunts of the creatures 
 which they love, and spend whole days and nights in 
 watching their habits. Sometimes a field naturalist 
 remains at home, and immortalises an obscure village 
 by the simple process of using his eyes and telling his 
 
 1 The proof sheets of this article, which was written in 1862, were 
 corrected by Mr. Waterton.
 
 THE HOME OF A NATUEALIST. 291 
 
 friends what lie has seen. Another wanders far abroad 
 in quest of new wonders, and, if he faithfully narrates the 
 marvels he has witnessed, may calculate on being put 
 down by newspaper critics as a skilful archer with the 
 long-bow. Such a man was Le Vaillant, and such his 
 reception by the critical world. 
 
 ' Giraffe ? Humbug ! ' was the general criticism. 
 
 ' Contrary to the laws of nature,' said the scientific. 
 
 * Would be liable to nine feet of sore throat,' wrote 
 the witty. 
 
 And so the critics and the public enjoyed them- 
 selves amazingly at the traveller's expense, until the 
 Pacha of Egypt sent two living giraffes to Europe, and 
 turned the laugh in the other direction. 
 
 Such a man was Bruce, and such his reception. 
 Peter Pindar showered most pungent epigrams upon 
 his devoted head, and assailed him with most unsavoury 
 comparisons. Perhaps there has been no statement of 
 any traveller that raised such a storm of ridicule as 
 Brace's perfectly true account of eating beef cut from 
 the living ox : 
 
 Nor have I been where men (what loss, alas !) 
 Kill half a cow and turn the rest to grass, 
 
 writes the poet, who wisely kept out of the redoubtable 
 traveller's way, unwilling to share the fate of a contem- 
 porary caviller, who avowed that to devour raw beef 
 was impossible, and was compelled, at the point of the 
 sword, to eat his own words, together with a raw and 
 freshly cut steak. Solvitur edendo. 
 
 u 2
 
 292 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 Such a man was Charles Waterton, and such his re- 
 ception ; the ride on the cayman's back being treated 
 by the press after the same fashion as Le Vaillant's 
 giraffe and Bruce's ox. Time, however, is the true 
 critic ; giraffes are now as familiar as donkeys ; eating 
 flesh ' in the blood ' is now known to be a custom 
 existing in many nations from time immemorial ; and 
 the ride on the cayman has long been deprived of all 
 marvel, except as a bold and dashing method of 
 securing a powerful animal without damaging the 
 skin. 1 
 
 The discoveries of Mr. Waterton in Guiana are 
 too well known to need even a passing reference ; but, 
 though better known to fame, are quite equalled in im- 
 portance by the perpetual labours of half a century em- 
 ployed in observing the habits of living beings of our 
 own land, and restoring to the dead skin the energetic 
 contours of the living form. 
 
 There is perhaps no place in England where the 
 greatest natural advantages have been so promptly 
 seized and so largely improved as at Walton Hall, and 
 it really seems almost impossible for such a combina- 
 tion of favourable conditions to be elsewhere achieved. 
 There are many devoted naturalists who would exult in 
 
 1 A clergyman of my acquaintance had in his employ, while he was 
 resident in Guiana many years ago, one of the men who were with Mr. 
 Waterton when he captured the alligator. The singular four-pointed 
 hook with which the reptile was caught was at Walton Hall, coyered 
 with the marks of the alligator's teeth, and within a few feet hung the 
 skin of the creature itself.
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 293 
 
 laying out their little domains in a manner calculated 
 to attract the creatures which they love, but it can 
 hardly be expected that another naturalist would 
 possess the enormous natural advantages to be found at 
 Walton Hall, and be blessed with health to manage his 
 hobby for fifty years. As a general rule, the sapling 
 which a young man plants is inherited as a tree by his 
 grandson, and it is very seldom found that the same 
 eye which designed the original plan is permitted to 
 see the results in their full perfection. Such, however, 
 is the case in this present instance, and it may easily 
 be imagined that where an extensive domain is laid out 
 expressly for one purpose, which has been perseveringly 
 carried out through half a century, and ever directed 
 by the same mind which planned the design, a success- 
 ful result is almost a matter of course. 
 
 The object which Mr. Waterton proposed to him- 
 self in 1813, the year after he had returned from the 
 wilds of Guiana, whither he had gone in 1812 in quest 
 of wourali poison, was to offer a hearty welcome to 
 every bird and beast that chose to avail itself of his 
 hospitality, and by affording them abundant food and 
 a quiet retreat to induce them to frequent a spot where 
 they would feel themselves secure from all enemies, 
 save those which have been appointed to preserve the 
 balance of nature. Food is always procurable, and the 
 quiet retreat has been obtained by watching the habits 
 of the various creatures, and providing them with such 
 accommodations as they would seek in the wild state.
 
 294 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 Mead, hill and dale, have been laid out to suit the 
 idiosyncrasies of various species ; and trees of different 
 kinds have been planted in clumps, rows, or in solitary 
 state, to attract the birds that love such localities. 
 
 A large lake studded with islands and surrounded 
 by simple meadow land, drooping willows, or thick 
 woods, has been given up to the aquatic members of 
 the feathered tribes, and rapid babbling brooks are 
 at the service of those birds which need the running 
 stream. An ancient ivy-covered gateway upon the 
 borders of the lake has been altered for the benefit 
 of the feathered race, and in a single season seven 
 pairs of jackdaws, twenty-four pair of starlings, four 
 pairs of ringdoves, a pair of owls, together 'with smaller 
 birds, such as blackbirds, redbreasts, redstarts, sparrows, 
 and chaffinches, have built their nests in the same old 
 tower, within a few feet of each other, and without 
 attempting to quarrel. 
 
 In order to exclude human and quadrupedal 
 enemies, a lofty wall has been built in the manner of 
 a ring fence, surrounding about 260 acres of ground, 
 having the lake in the centre and the house upon an 
 island in the lake. A large telescope is mounted in a 
 room which commands the whole lake and a consider- 
 able portion of the grounds, so that the most distant 
 birds can be watched as perfectly as if they were close 
 at hand. The wall was finished in 1826, and imme- 
 diately upon its completion the herons came and built in 
 the park. These beautiful birds absolutely swarm in the
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 295 
 
 domain, and may be seen standing on one leg through 
 the greater portion of the day, steady and impassible as 
 if carved in wood. In order to suit the habits of these 
 birds a channel has been cut on the side of a slight hill, 
 which directs the waters of a little spring into the lake, 
 and along this rivulet the herons love to stand. 
 
 To wander in the precincts of this domain seems a 
 return to the primitive ages of the world, when man, 
 beast, and bird had no dread of each other, and moved 
 peacefully in the same happy grounds. The shyest 
 birds are so well aware of their security that they care 
 no more for spectators than the London sparrows for 
 passengers, and will almost suffer themselves to be 
 touched before they take the trouble to fly away for a 
 few yards. 
 
 No sooner does the owner show himself than there 
 is a general rush in his direction, and great is the 
 flapping of wings and welcome of eager voices. Birds 
 crowd round him on all sides to snatch the expected 
 morsel from his hand ; and I have seen him walk up to 
 a bull that was sleepily reposing, coolly sit on his ribs, 
 and feed the great beast with bread out of his pocket. 
 
 All the birds that inhabit this spot are perfectly free 
 to come and go as they like, but the feeling of absolute 
 safety is so great an attraction that no precautions are 
 needed to keep them within the walls. Even the mal- 
 lards those shy and wary birds, that test all the 
 sportsman's craft to approach come in great flocks to 
 the lake. They swim in large companies on its smooth
 
 296 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 waters, they edge the banks as far as the eye can reach, 
 and behave altogether as if they were ordinary tame 
 ducks. In the evening they take wing for the Lincoln- 
 shire fens, feed during the night, and return to the 
 lake by day-dawn. The first point that struck me 
 on my arrival at the house was the wild cry and loud 
 wing-clatter of vigilant water-birds, invisible in the 
 darkness, but quick enough of sight and ear to detect 
 the presence of a stranger. 
 
 The whole place literally teems with life. Sweep 
 the meadows, the trees, and the waters with the tele- 
 scope at any season of the year, and each spot toward 
 which the glass is directed is as busy as a disturbed 
 ant-hill. On the lake may be seen Egyptian and 
 Canadian geese, mallards, teal, wigeons, pochards, 
 golden-eyes, tufted ducks, geese, and shovellers ; and 
 the only regret in the mind of the owner is that there 
 is no inlet of sea-water. Still the marine birds often 
 pay a visit to the lake, and the black-coated cormorant 
 has made quite a long stay in its precincts, fishing 
 boldly in front of the house, and gobbling eels with the 
 astonishing voracity of its race. 
 
 The water-hens and coots run about under the very 
 windows of the house, and sundry other birds would 
 follow their example were it not for the jealousy of a 
 fine pair of Egyptian geese, who choose to consider the 
 .whole island, together with the house, as their especial 
 property, and drive away all other birds as soon as they 
 dare to set a foot within the sacred precincts. The
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 297 
 
 magpies and jackdaws, however, are too cunning for 
 the geese, and as soon as a mess of potatoes is thrown 
 down for the legitimate owners, a jackdaw is sure to 
 come sweeping in one direction and a magpie in another, 
 and to snap up the choicest morsels in spite of all the 
 hoarse threats and angry gesticulations of the geese. 
 
 One of the most curious results of these investiga- 
 tions is the absolute certainty with which any bird can 
 be attracted to a given locality by providing it with a 
 suitable spot for its nest. 
 
 For example, in the hope of inducing the starlings 
 to build in the grounds, twenty-four holes were bored 
 in the old gateway tower. The result was that twenty- 
 four pairs of starlings took possession of the holes, made 
 their nests, and hatched their young therein. En- 
 couraged by this success, and being desirous of giving 
 the handsome and useful starling a home, the kind 
 naturalist built two towers for the especial accommoda- 
 tion of these birds. Each tower is set on a pedestal of 
 solid stone, so made that it cannot be climbed by cats 
 or rats, the bane of all nestlings, and is absolutely filled 
 with. chambers. 
 
 There is a specially ingenious arrangement about 
 these towers, which enables the bird to gain access to 
 her nest through an aperture only just large enough to 
 admit her body, and at the same time permits the 
 observer to examine the nest and eggs at his leisure. 
 The entrance to each chamber is closed by a cube of 
 stone, having one of the corners squared away. When
 
 1'98 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 the stone is in its place the starling gets to her nest 
 through the channel left by the missing corner ; but as 
 the entire stone is moveable it can be pulled out at 
 will, and thereby exposes the whole interior. The 
 starlings are now so tame that they have no objection 
 to being watched, and even after the stone is removed 
 the bird sits calmly serene on her eggs, following the 
 intruder with a fearless gaze. 
 
 Even the jackdaw builds in a hole within five feet 
 of the ground, and close to the path which forms the 
 back entrance to the house. The servants generally 
 peep at the jackdaw's nest as they pass to and fro on 
 their avocations, but the bird cares nothing for them, and 
 treats them with supreme unconcern. Owls, again, were 
 desired near the house, and a chamber was prepared for 
 them in the gateway tower already mentioned. The 
 apartment was hardly completed when a pair of barn 
 owls took possession of it, and the spot has ever since 
 been tenanted by these birds. Similarly, the brown 
 owl was attracted by a large hole cut in a decaying tree, 
 and by means of these semi-domestic guests, many 
 disputed points in their habits have been cleared up, 
 and their characters freed from the reproaches to which 
 they had been subjected by all previous writers on 
 natural history. 
 
 Herons, again, as has already been mentioned, took 
 up their abode as soon as the park wall was completed, 
 exhibiting thereby a marvellous instinct, which made 
 the birds who build on the tops of the loftiest trees to
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 299 
 
 feel that their homes were securely guarded by a wall 
 not one fourth so high as their trees, and which they 
 could overpass without the least difficulty The azure- 
 backed and ruddy-breasted kingfisher finds a congenial 
 home on the banks, though driven from the surround- 
 ing country by the cruel gun, and lays its pearl-like 
 eggs in their bony nest, or flashes like a blue meteor 
 along the shore in happy immunity from the dread tube 
 that awaits it without the protecting wall. Feeling 
 themselves perfectly secure, the birds act with the full 
 freedom of their natures, and, unaffected by the presence 
 of an observer, perform all the duties of life, play their 
 pretty pranks, and exhibit their individuality as uncon- 
 cernedly as if they were in a desert island where the 
 foot of man had never trod. 
 
 The opportunities of gaining knowledge on such 
 subjects are therefore unequalled, and great benefits 
 have been conferred on the world by the information 
 that has been obtained. Putting aside the interesting 
 character of the pursuit, and the gratification which it 
 affords to the observer, its results have been of practical 
 utility. By a long series of useful observations the 
 imputations under which many birds laboured have 
 been entirely disproved, and in many cases a bird which 
 was systematically persecuted and slain by the farmer 
 has been shown to be a positive friend to its ignorant 
 murderer. Such birds, for example, as the rook and 
 crow have been proved to confer immense benefits on 
 the agriculturist by devouring the subterranean larvae,
 
 300 OUT Of DOORS. 
 
 which stealthily consume the roots of the various crops, 
 and are all the more formidable from the invisible 
 nature of their assaults. The woodpecker, fiercely ex- 
 ecrated as a destroyer of the trees, has been a right 
 good friend to the landowner, feeding itself on the 
 minute insects that burrow into the bark or into the 
 decaying wood, and never chipping out its curious 
 tunnel except in a spot where corruption has begun and 
 is the sure precursor of death. 
 
 The kestrel, again, that was once thought to rival 
 the kite in its raids upon the poultry-yard, is now 
 known to do good service by day as does the owl by 
 night, feeding either on the larger and more destructive 
 insects, or on the little field-mice that swarm in all 
 cultivated ground, and, if allowed to increase, make a 
 woful diminution in the harvest. All the tribe of small 
 birds, again, have been proved as benefactors to ten 
 times the value of their depredations. In this domain 
 is no restriction. Any bird is welcome to establish 
 itself wherever it can find a suitable spot, may go 
 wherever it chooses, and may eat whatever it likes. 
 Field, orchard, and garden are equally at its service, 
 and it may peck off buds from the trees, eat the cherries 
 and currants, steal the peas, or revel in the corn just as 
 its inclination may direct. 
 
 To distinguish friends from enemies is one of the 
 first maxims in warfare, and is of primary importance 
 in our daily struggles with the soil. All nature is in 
 arms on one side or the other, and every being, whether
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 301 
 
 animate or inanimate, is fighting against mankind, 
 unless with Jasonic skill he compels them to turn their 
 weapons against each other, and by mutual battles to 
 consummate his peaceful victories. 
 
 In our own country, where individual energies are 
 permitted to develop themselves without any restric- 
 tions of the ruling powers, no particular results have 
 happened from the prevalent misapprehension respect- 
 ing the friends or foes of husbandry ; but in a neigh- 
 bouring land, famous for its logical precision of thought, 
 its pitiless deduction of conclusions from premises, and 
 the all-pervading influence of the supreme authorities, 
 the little birds being known to eat seeds, strip the 
 spring branches of their buds, and rob the autumnal 
 trees of their produce, were condemned as destructive 
 to the tenants, and, by the inexorable logic of facts, 
 doomed to death. Eewards were offered throughout 
 the land for the heads of small birds, just as in olden 
 and foolish times the British churchwardens offered 
 twopence per dozen for the heads of sparrows, and the 
 juvenile population that was too young, and the adult 
 population that was too idle to work, soon gathered a 
 o-oodly number of heads and duly received their reward. 
 
 The results, however, were different, owing to two 
 causes : the one being the universality of the measure 
 in the one country, and its partial enforcement in the 
 other ; and the second being that whereas the judicial 
 authorities abroad, after paying for the birds' heads, 
 took care to destroy them, the parochial authorities at
 
 302 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 home, after paying for the same, threw them out of the 
 vestry window into the road, whence they were thriftily 
 picked up by the expectant pensioners, and sold three 
 or four times over. The consequence has been that on 
 the Continent the insects have increased to such a fear- 
 ful extent that societies have been lately formed for the 
 express purpose of reintroducing the small birds that 
 were extirpated at such an expenditure of time and 
 money ; and guarding against their slaughter by cruel 
 little boys who take them out of their nests and murder 
 the fledglings with the refined barbarity of juvenile 
 civilisation, or by betasseled, green-clad, game-bag 
 carrying gunners, who ' pot ' them in the hedges and 
 consider themselves sportsmen. Yet the question has 
 been definitely settled more than twenty years ago, and 
 in the ' Home of a Naturalist ' sundry birds that have 
 long laboured under causeless obloquy have not only 
 been acquitted of all evil doings, but unexpectedly 
 received into the number of our friends. 
 
 It will be at once seen that if any bird be attracted 
 by food and a quiet retreat it may be expelled by an 
 opposite mode of treatment, so that a knowledge of 
 habit enables us to attract or expel those birds which 
 we know by repeated observation to be our friends or 
 foes. The same maxim applies to quadrupeds, and is 
 often beyond all value. 
 
 For example, the farmer is almost invariably keen 
 in hunting down and killing every weasel, stoat, or 
 polecat in the neighbourhood, and his barn walls are
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 303 
 
 generally defiled with numerous carcases nailed upon 
 them as trophies of their slayer's vigilance. Yet every 
 weasel is worth an annual sack of corn to the farmer, 
 even after deducting the value of the few chickens and 
 ducklings which it may destroy. Marauding cats are 
 far more destructive than weasels, and if a farmer could 
 succeed in clearing the neighbourhood of kestrels, rats, 
 and the weasel tribe, his harvests would make but a 
 poor show. There is no more determined enemy of the 
 rat than the weasel and all its tribe. A thousand barn 
 rats are calculated to devour two hundred pounds' worth 
 of produce per annum ; and taking into consideration 
 the extraordinary powers of multiplication possessed by 
 this insatiate devourer, who eats with equal voracity 
 com, cheese, bread," and meat of all kinds, whether raw 
 or cooked, clambers into the pigeon-houses, murders 
 the young, and destroys the unhatched eggs nibbles 
 its way into the hen-roosts by night, and kills the 
 poultry as they quietly sleep on their perches finds 
 the ducks' nests and depopulates them it is evident 
 that any creature which gives its services in the destruc- 
 tion of this prolific and expensive animal is cheaply 
 repaid at the cost of two or three chickens per annum. 
 Some of the metropolitan hotel-keepers pay a tolerable 
 annual wage to professional ratcatchers, and find them- 
 selves well remunerated for their outlay, even though 
 the price which they pay is at least a hundred times as 
 much as a weasel asks for his unceasing work. 
 
 Here, then, is another case proving the absolute
 
 ,304 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 money value of practical zoology. The armed men rise 
 from the furrows, fierce, hungry, and destructive, dis- 
 puting its possession with the new-comer ; but we fling 
 among them the stone placed in our hand by science, 
 they turn their arms against each other, and those 
 which survive the contest become our willing slaves. 
 
 Still taking the rat as our text, see how a practical 
 knowledge of its habits enables us to expel it from any 
 place where it may have injudiciously taken up its abode. 
 I say ' injudiciously,' because rats are useful enough in 
 their right place, and by devouring all kinds of garbage 
 save us from many pestilential diseases. Granting, 
 however, that they have established themselves in some 
 spot where their company is undesirable, how are we to 
 expel them? Simply enough. Make their quarters 
 unpleasant, and let them find nothing to eat. This 
 was the method observed at Walton Hall, where the 
 rats had triumphantly revelled for many a year, while 
 the legitimate owner of the house was battling with 
 snakes and fever in the distant forests of Gruiana. 
 Finding their haunts liable to continual raids, and their 
 supplies of food cut off, they left the inhospitable house 
 in disgust, and when fairly out of it were debarred from 
 re-entrance by the judicious application of stone and 
 iron. Fifteen years were occupied in learning the 
 habits of the rat with sufficient accuracy to attain this 
 successful result, but, considering the benefit conferred 
 by this knowledge, the time was by no means wasted. 
 
 As a general fact, the result of the half century's
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 305 
 
 observation tends to prove that Nature will, in all ordi- 
 nary cases, preserve her own balance ; but that when 
 man alters the conditions he must ever be watchful of 
 his experiment, or run a risk of ignominious failure. In 
 the present instance the wall affords no bar to the in- 
 grees or egress of the feathered race, who are thereby 
 restored as nearly as possible to their original state of 
 freedom, and are enabled to build their nests and 
 forage for their young without the interruptions which 
 would check them in any other part of England. The 
 result is that although a vast number of species con- 
 gregate within the domain enough, according to the 
 popular prejudices, to devastate the gardens, destroy 
 the crops, and kill all the game there are few places 
 where crops, fruit, and flowers are so luxuriantly abun- 
 dant, or where the game is more plentiful. 
 
 Not so, however, with the wingless creatures that 
 are enclosed within its limits. Being unable to pass 
 the wall, they are in fact prisoners ; their conditions 
 have been altered, and they are no longer able to pre- 
 serve the rightful balance of Nature, so that man, who 
 has interfered with the regular course of events and 
 deprived the creatures of their liberty, is forced to 
 accommodate himself to the altered circumstances, or 
 take the consequences of his intrusion, 
 
 For example, of all laws to be observed in this little 
 kingdom, the most stringent was that no fire-arms 
 should be discharged within the walls a needful and 
 thoughtful regulation, as nothing alarms birds so
 
 306 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 thoroughly as the report of a gun, or is so likely to 
 deprive them of the secure retreat so necessary for their 
 well-being. Now it so happened that a number of 
 rabbits were enclosed within the wall on its completion, 
 and, for a time, they did little damage. But rabbits 
 are nearly as prolific as rats ; and, in spite of those that 
 were killed by weasels, stoats, and polecats, their 
 numbers increased in arithmetical progression, and 
 they became scarcely less hurtful to the crops than the 
 rats themselves, the turnips being almost destroyed by 
 their busy teeth. At last the mandate was issued for 
 their extirpation, and for the first time for many years 
 guns were fired and dogs roamed at large within the 
 sacred precincts. Curiously enough the result of the 
 firing was rather contrary to expectation. Confident 
 through long immunity, the birds troubled themselves 
 very little about the guns. At first they were much 
 disturbed at the unwonted sounds, but soon appeared 
 to discover that they stood in no danger, and sat look- 
 ing at the keepers and dogs with amusing composure. 
 Even the herons only moved away to the tree tops, and 
 the mallards contented themselves with leaving the 
 banks as the dogs approached, and swimming towards 
 the middle of the lake, where they paddled about in 
 conscious security. 
 
 We have now to pass to a collateral branch of the 
 same subject, and to call attention to the wonderful 
 museum of stuffed animals which adorns the ' Home of 
 a Naturalist,' and which is prepared on a principle
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 307 
 
 equally remarkable for boldness of conception, origi- 
 nality of design, the Promethean fire which it enables 
 a skilful operator to infuse into lifeless and flaccid 
 remains, and the marvellous success with which it 
 handles the two most troublesome departments of taxi- 
 dermy, namely, the extremities and the naked skin. By 
 this process the flowing undulations and softness of the 
 bare skin are reproduced as they existed during the life 
 of the subject; to the ears are given their original 
 expressive roundness without the least symptom of the 
 wrinkled outline which they usually assume in stuffed 
 animals ; the nose and muzzle retain their pouting ful- 
 ness without requiring to be amputated and replaced by 
 wax, gutta-percha, or other substances, and the paws or 
 feet present their natural form and expression. More- 
 over, there is no wire or woodwork within the skin, and 
 the weight of a prepared animal is so trifling that a 
 man could carry away a cow or two on his back, take a 
 tiger under each arm, sling half a dozen snakes round 
 his neck, and walk off with his load. 
 
 We are all familiar with stuffed birds and beasts. 
 Some of us may have had the misfortune to see some 
 special pet carried off by death, and to have sent it to 
 a ' naturalist,' to be stuffed. And those who have com- 
 mitted this affectionate error are sure to be dissatisfied 
 with the operator, and to appreciate the infinite 
 difference between the soft, graceful outlines, the 
 expressive attitudes, and the sleek glossy coat of their 
 former favourite, and the stiff, gaunt, distorted form of 
 
 x 2
 
 308 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 the stuffed skin, with its round staring eyes, its 
 withered ears, lips, and nostrils, and its mummified 
 feet, which bear no more resemblance to the extremi- 
 ties of the living creature than Yorick's skull to the 
 living face. Even in the best specimens that have 
 been stuffed in the ordinary manner, the feet, paws, and 
 tail are at least sure to be failures after a few years 
 have elapsed, while the ears and all parts of the body 
 where the skin is devoid of covering become more 
 and more shrivelled as time passes on. It is true that 
 defective taxidermy is not generally detected, simply 
 because those who look at a stuffed lion, eagle, snake, 
 or crocodile are not sufficiently familiar with the living 
 beings to appreciate the short-comings of the prepared 
 skin ; but if they were as thoroughly acquainted with 
 those creatures as with their own pet dog, cat, or bird, 
 they would be equally capable of comprehending the 
 effect which a badly prepared skin has on a naturalist, 
 grating on his mind like false harmonies on the ear of 
 a musician. 
 
 It is evident that the fault in defective taxidermy 
 is twofold firstly, ignorance on the part of the op- 
 erator, and, secondly, the insufficiency of the method 
 which he employs. Putting aside the former and more 
 obvious cause, let us see how it is that even a dog or 
 eat cannot be stuffed so that the prepared skin shall 
 look exactly like the creature while instinct with life. 
 The fact is that the present system, as generally em- 
 ployed, is radically false, and can but produce imperfect
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 309 
 
 results the skin being arranged while moist upon an 
 inner basis of yielding substance, such as tow, moss, 
 hay, &c., and suffered to dry almost at random, all 
 manipulation being confined to the exterior. Now it 
 is the property of moist skin to contract during the 
 process of desiccation, and should its thickness be in 
 the least unequal the contraction is unequal too, and 
 so drags itself out of shape, and the hair and feathers 
 out of their just l set.' The only method by which an 
 artist can ensure a successful result is to keep the skin 
 under his control during the whole period occupied in 
 drying, and to be able to reduce a wrinkle or produce a 
 protuberance at will. He can thus restore the precise 
 aspect of the being under his hands ; he can give the 
 external indications of swelling muscle or hidden joint, 
 and impart to a mere hollow shell of skin the energy 
 of a breathing creature. Such examples of true taxi- 
 dermy are now to be found in Mr. Waterton's museum, 
 and, unfortunately, in no other place. 
 
 There stands Chanticleer, proud and defiant, his 
 crested head flung aside as if listening to a rival's 
 challenge, his hackles bristling round his outstretched 
 neck, and his armed legs firmly planted, as if awaiting 
 the onset of his foe. There sits the pheasant, glorious 
 in the full richness of nuptial plumage, its soft sleek 
 outlines and undulating curves contrasting beautifully 
 with the fiery action displayed by the champion of the 
 poultry-yard. Here is a barn owl, fast asleep, not 
 sitting on a branch, as is the custom of most sleeping
 
 310 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 birds, nor tucking its head under its feathers, but 
 standing bolt upright, its legs stiff, as if two wooden 
 skewers had been thrust up them, and its whole aspect 
 irresistibly reminding the spectator of a dozing cat. 
 Now here is an example which shows the value of 
 understanding a bird's habits before undertaking to 
 stuff its skin. Few persons knew that the owl slept in 
 this odd position until Mr. Waterton found it out, and 
 having discovered this peculiar trait of character, he 
 has indelibly impressed it upon the preserved specimen. 
 In the museum are more than five hundred speci- 
 mens preserved by one hand, not including a vast 
 number of crabs, lobsters, insects, and various other 
 smaller creatures ; the great zoological value of the 
 collection being that every specimen is represented in 
 some natural and characteristic attitude in which it has 
 been observed by the operator. Thus we have the 
 toucans, sitting with their air of serious gravity, and 
 the pert little toucanets, balancing themselves on the 
 branches in the oddest manner, the bill and tail ap- 
 proaching each other beneath the bough. Numbers of 
 parrots and parakeets are displayed in all the attitudes 
 which those mercurial birds assume, spreading their 
 *autiful wings for flight, climbing up the boughs with 
 r hooked beaks, ruffling their feathers, and scolding 
 li other lustily, and, in fact, wanting nothing but 
 lovement to seem gifted with life. 
 
 There are the lovely humming-birds poised on 
 idy wmg, hovering about the flowers, or seated in
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 311 
 
 their wee nests, and looking up with their pretty air of 
 innocent audacity at the supposed intruder. Not a 
 feather is missing or out of place, not a speck of black 
 is to be seen on the burnished gorgets, which literally 
 blaze with ruby, emerald, and topaz, when the sunbeams 
 shine on them. The woodpeckers are hard at work on 
 their trees, the quail trips daintily over the grass, and 
 the warblers sit at rest on the branches, or flutter their 
 plumage as if filled with ecstasy at their own melodious 
 carols. 
 
 The great coulacounara snake lies coiled in dreadful 
 folds, his eyes dully gleaming under their brows, and 
 his head idly reposing on the pillow of his own body. 
 Venomous serpents are seen lurking amid the foliage, 
 one quietly sleeping, another drawing back the angry 
 head in readiness for the stroke, the forked tongue 
 quivering and the threatening fangs erect, while a third 
 is triumphantly bearing off a fluttering victim in its 
 jaws, the birds around fleeing in dismay. 
 
 Turning from the feathered to the furred races, the 
 specimens are quite as characteristic. A huge ant-bear 
 prowls along, his bushy tail curled over his back, and 
 enveloping him in a torrent of hair, and his long snout 
 held close to the ground, as if in search of his insect 
 prey. A sloth is seen ascending a branch, clinging 
 firmly with all its limbs, stretching out its neck, and 
 wearing that peculiar pitiful, wistful look so character- 
 istic of the creature. The weasel is seen, not stuffed, 
 as is the custom in the dealers' shops, straight and long-
 
 312 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 backed like a furred lizard, but with arched back, 
 recurved neck, and head drawn snake-like to the 
 shoulders, just as the little creature appears when sud- 
 denly alarmed and ready to jump in any direction at a 
 moment's notice. 
 
 Perhaps the apes are the most surprising examples 
 of successful preparation. Everyone knows how utterly 
 unsatisfactory is a stuffed monkey, with its face 
 shrivelled out of all shape and expression, and looking 
 as if punched out of an old shoe, its withered fingers 
 like knotted sticks covered with scorched parchment, 
 and the total want of ' set ' in its fur defects which 
 increase with time, and quite ruin the real value and 
 true object of the specimen. 
 
 But here is a young chimpanzee, sitting with a 
 negligently easy air on a cocoa-nut, and contemplating 
 the landscape with the air of profound wisdom and 
 grotesque melancholy so often seen in the few tail-less 
 apes that have been brought to this country in a living 
 state. The mouth and lips possess all the soft round- 
 ness of life ; the ears, nose, and forehead have regained 
 their wonted contour ; and even the bare palms are so 
 perfect that the little wrinkles caused by their half- 
 closed state, as they lie negligently on the lap, are 
 reproduced with marvellous fidelity. 
 
 (ret the creature between yourself and the window, 
 and you will see that it is perfectly hollow, so hollow, 
 indeed, that the hands and face are translucent as 
 letter-paper even to the very finger-nails. There ia
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 313 
 
 literally nothing in it but air, the skin "being hard and 
 elastic as if made of horn. A ' chuck ' under the chin, 
 and off tumbles its head, so as to allow a full view of 
 the interior. Lift the creature, and the hand flies up 
 with its lightness, as when one takes up an empty ewer 
 thinking it to be full of water. 
 
 Almost anything may be done with the skin when 
 once prepared after this fashion. Should it be stuffed 
 abroad, it may be cut in twenty pieces for the conve- 
 nience of package, and put together again without a 
 mark to betray the junctions. See, it can be crumpled 
 between the fingers and squeezed like a sponge, return- 
 ing to its original shape by the strange elastic firmness 
 which the skin has now attained. It can be picked up 
 by a pinch of hair and swung about without damage. 
 Its fur can be rumpled and pulled about until it sticks 
 out in all directions, and then replaced with a few 
 strokes of a brush. It may be kicked downstairs, or 
 flung from the top of the Monument, without showing 
 a sign of ill-usage. It may be squeezed flat as a pan- 
 cake, and, when the pressure is removed, will resume 
 its shape with the elasticity of a hollow india-rubber 
 ball. 
 
 But better still, it is totally impervious to insect 
 foes; it has no unpleasant smell such as is found in 
 skins stuffed after the ordinary fashion ; there is no 
 horrid arsenical soap to endanger the sight, impair the 
 appetite, and loosen the teeth of the operator; the 
 creature stands boldly in the open air, with a simple
 
 314 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 glass cover to keep the dust off, and there is no need of 
 camphor or turpentine, whose oppressive vapours per- 
 vade our museums, and give direful headaches to the 
 visitors. You may take at random any of the five 
 hundred specimens, say a bird, put it in a box, together 
 with moth-eaten furs, feathers, and blankets, with mite- 
 covered insects, and with a pint or two of the terrible 
 dermestes that scourge of museums prolific, sharp- 
 toothed, and voracious, capable of devouring a case-full 
 of birds in a marvellously short time, and leaving no 
 relics of the once beautiful inmates except some wires 
 and a little tow clinging to them. Put the chest aside 
 for twenty years, and when the accumulated dust has 
 been brushed off, the bird will be found bright and un- 
 injured as when it was first placed in the box. 
 
 In fact, the apparently frail and perishable skin has 
 been rendered so impregnable to all ordinary foes that 
 it can only be injured by main force, fire, or water, and 
 even in the latter case could be soon re-modelled into 
 its former shape. To all appearance, indeed, the light 
 and delicate fur and down are likely to outlast the 
 edifice of stone and iron in which they are sheltered, 
 and to be a more enduring memorial of their preserver 
 than monuments of brass or cenotaphs of marble. It 
 will be seen, too, that by the plan of employing the 
 mere skin the whole of the body is set free for the 
 purposes of the anatomist : no slight advantage in the 
 case of a rare or choice specimen. 
 
 Such are the results, but what of the means?
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 315 
 
 Simple in the extreme. The tools required hardly 
 deserve the name, for all these wondrous effects have 
 been produced with a penknife, a lump of wax, half-a- 
 dozen needles, and three or four wooden skewers. The 
 process is so cleanly that it can be conducted in a 
 drawing-room, without soiling the most delicate furni- 
 ture ; and we have had the pleasure of seeing the 
 inventor engaged in the manipulation of a pheasant, 
 just as a lady employs her fingers on the elaborate 
 entanglement of thread, called by courtesy her ' work.' 
 
 In simple fact the modus agendi is pure modelling, 
 the skin being used as the material, and reduced by art 
 to the plastic state of sculptor's clay, a temporary 
 stuffing being only placed within it to keep the skin 
 moderately distended during the progress of its drying. 
 The obedience of the material to the touch of the hand 
 is almost incredible ; and in the collection may be seen 
 several specimens that have purposely been distorted 
 into all kinds of strange shapes, in order to show the 
 value of the process in the hand of a master. Frogs, 
 toads, and lizards are grotesquely transmuted into 
 caricatures of the human form; extraneous joints, 
 limbs, claws, and horns sprout from unexpected places. 
 
 Perhaps the most striking of these transformations 
 is the well-known nondescript, wherein the natural 
 countenance of the Howler monkey has been changed 
 with such forcible and telling fidelity into the face of a 
 quaint and eccentric but genial-hearted old man, that 
 many of those who visit the museum leave it under the
 
 316 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 idea that they have been contemplating the prepared 
 skin of a * native,' and one gentleman, on seeing an 
 engraving of the object, took it for a portrait of the 
 operator, and thought that Mr. Waterton must be a 
 very odd- looking person. Less in dimensions, but not 
 less amusing, are the bizarre forms wittily ticketed as 
 Cancer zodiacus and Diabolus coeruleus, two ludicrous 
 combinations of heterogeneous parts, belonging to all 
 kinds of creatures ; and the various odd compositions 
 that meet the eye are made with a marvellous ingenuity 
 that surpasses even the far-famed Japanese mermaids 
 (of which, by the way, I have examined several j, and 
 bewilders the casual visitor to such an extent that he 
 is led to doubt whether the very staircase may not be a 
 deception. These objects are only manufactured for 
 the purpose of showing the perfection to which the art 
 of skin-modelling can be brought, and the plastic 
 nature of the material placed in the taxidermist's 
 hands. 
 
 It has been suggested that the time consumed in 
 completing one of these specimens namely, seven or 
 eight weeks for a creature as large as a leopard would 
 debar professional taxidermists from employing the 
 system. But each specimen only requires about half 
 an hour's work daily, so that, after the first start, an 
 industrious operator can turn out as many specimens as 
 under the present system. Mr. Waterton, for example, 
 always has several skins in hand, in different stages of 
 progress, and by giving a few minutes' labour to each
 
 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 317 
 
 specimen several times daily, keeps up a constant influx 
 of new objects into his museum. It is very interesting 
 to watch the advance of the skin through the operation, 
 and to see how it gradually grows from a wet and almost 
 shapeless mass into a form apparently instinct with 
 life and energy, like a lump of clay under the sculptor's 
 hand; and how the skin, at first loose and flaccid, 
 gradually acquires firmness and plasticity, until at 
 length it obeys the slightest touch of the operator's 
 hand, and permits each feather or hair to be arranged 
 according to his will. 
 
 There are one or two other modes of taxidermy 
 which deserve a passing notice. In one method, for 
 example, the operator removes the skin, takes a cast in 
 plaster-of-Paris of the ' ecorchee,' and stretches the 
 skin over the cast, thus ensuring for the time an exact 
 copy of the original. Yet even this plan, despite of its 
 ingenuity, is but partially and temporarily successful ; 
 for all skin will persist in contracting as it dries, and 
 the operator cannot possibly give the thousand little 
 elevations and depressions of the softer parts, on which 
 depends so much of the true expression. 
 
 Another most ingenious plan is that which has been 
 employed by Professor Sokolov, of the Imperial 
 University of Moscow. By this process, which consists 
 of injecting certain preservative fluids into the system, 
 the whole substance is rendered impervious to decay, 
 and even the expression of the features so perfectly re- 
 tained that the first impression of a spectator is that
 
 818 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 the form has been modelled in wax. Even the natural 
 elasticity of the flesh is partially preserved, and if it 
 be pinched it will give to the pressure and return to 
 the original form. Moreover, the whole organisation 
 remains so unchanged that it is still suitable for the 
 scalpel of the anatomist, and even the delicate fibres of 
 the muscles retain their organisation. Marvellous as is 
 this preparation, it is still faulty in the extremities, to 
 which the preserving fluid appears not always to find 
 free access, on account of the small diameter of the 
 capillaries. It is, however, a very great advance on all 
 former systems of embalming, and as its essential pro- 
 cesses are only the work of a few hours, it bids fair to be 
 invaluable to comparative anatomists, who can thus get 
 large and valuable specimens from distant lands 
 without the vast outlay in spirits and great con- 
 sumption of space that have hitherto been necessary. 
 
 Take it all in all, we have at present no process of 
 taxidermy which presents so many excellencies and so 
 few defects as that which is invented and practised by 
 Mr. Waterton ; and after a careful examination of 
 almost every interesting specimen of taxidermy in the 
 kingdom, we cannot but think that a judicious combi- 
 nation of the two systems (however opposite they may 
 seem) of Mr. Waterton and Professor Sokolov would be 
 of infinite value to science, inasmuch as the whole of 
 the creature would be made available for the museum 
 or the dissecting-room.
 
 319 
 
 LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE. 
 
 IT really must be a pleasant life in the clear salt sea, 
 at least if we may judge from the splendid aquarium at 
 the Crystal Palace, where we are, so to speak, let down 
 some ten or twelve feet from the surface, and are 
 brought face to face with its inhabitants. Imagine a 
 spacious corridor, more than two hundred feet in length, 
 having one side filled with large single-paned plate-glass 
 windows, and that corridor sunk bodily into the sea so 
 that through the windows we can watch the fishes, 
 crabs, lobsters, shrimps, and other denizens of the 
 shores, all busily engaged in their several vocations. 
 Such is the general idea presented to the visitor when 
 he enters the aquarium, and how that effect is produced 
 we shall presently see. Besides their glass windows, 
 through which we look into the sea, there are a number 
 of comparatively shallow open tanks, so arranged that 
 the visitor is able to look down upon the inhabitants 
 and see them through the surface of the water. 
 
 Let us now take a walk round the corridors and 
 inspect the ocean as seen through the glass. Each open- 
 ing looks into a rocky cavern inhabited by various
 
 320 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 creatures, whose names are duly placarded in front of 
 the window. One of these caverns is tenanted by sea 
 cray-fish, lobsters, and certain most brilliant fish, 
 covered with zebra-like stripes of green and pink, and 
 called by the name of wrasse. These fishes possess a 
 splendour which is almost tropical, and it is really 
 hard to believe that they can be inhabitants of our com- 
 paratively dull coasts. The lobsters keep themselves 
 quiet, as a rule, and wedge themselves into crannies, 
 with their large claws hanging down like the paws of a 
 dancing-dog. The cray-fish, however, are very locomo- 
 tive, and it is astonishing how different they look in 
 the water, or in a fishmonger's shop. Generally, during 
 the day-time, they, like the lobsters, keep quiet in 
 their retreats ; from which, however, their long, straight, 
 stout antennae project like the bayonets of sentries. 
 And indeed this is one of the principal use of these 
 organs. The cray-fish does not possess the powerful 
 claws which form the lobster's weapons, but the 
 antennae serve a similar purpose, though in a different 
 way. They are covered with small sharp projections, 
 and are constructed much on the same principle as the 
 terrible shark-tooth spears of Mangaia. With these 
 spears the cray-fish fences, so to speak, and can drive 
 away the generality of its foes. Mr. Lloyd, the 
 designer and superintendent of the aquarium, informs 
 us that he has seen various fishes thus driven away, and 
 that even the conger-eel, with all its activity, is baffled 
 by these singular weapons.
 
 LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE. 321 
 
 Towards evening the cray-fish come out from their 
 caves and walk on the sand. It is astonishing how high 
 they stand on their legs, and how large they look. One 
 of the oddest things connected with them is that the 
 wrasses have taken a fancy to swim under the cray- 
 fish as they walk along, just like dogs under carts, 
 sometimes slipping away for a moment, but always 
 coming back again and resuming their places as if 
 performing an act of duty. It is worth while to look 
 carefully along the back of the cray-fish, on which are 
 sundry white filaments waving steadily to and fro. 
 These are in reality the ' cirrhi,' or bristle-legs of the 
 ocean barnacle, numbers of which have fixed them- 
 selves on the shell of the cray-fish, and there sweep the 
 waters with their net-like legs, so as to procure the tiny 
 morsels of nutriment which float unseen, and are 
 removed by the most efficient of Nature's scavengers. 
 
 Another grotto is chiefly inhabited by prawns, and 
 presents a most singular and beautiful picture of life 
 below the waves. Every projecting ledge of rock is 
 crowded with the semi-transparent bodies of prawns, 
 while the light flashes in bright sparklets from their 
 waving antennae, or is reflected from their mobile eyes, 
 which glare like living opals. Some are sitting or 
 crawling on the sand, while one or two hang suspended 
 in the water, as the kestrel hangs in air, surrounding 
 themselves with the tiny ripples caused by the cease- 
 less movement of the fan-legs, which drive the water 
 through their gills.
 
 322 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 Calm and peaceful as is the grotto, it can at once be 
 transformed into a scene of the wildest excitement. At 
 a sign from Mr. Lloyd an attendant disappears, and 
 presently a shadow is seen on the surface of the water, 
 and a small white object a morsel of whelk falls from 
 the shadow, and sinks slowly through the water. At 
 first no notice is taken, but in a second or two a prawn 
 leisurely crosses the track of the still sinking morsel. 
 Instantly it scents its food, starts into sudden activity, 
 and follows on the scent just as a hound follows a fox. 
 Another and another succeed, and it is remarkable that 
 while the prawns seem to let the food pass before their 
 eyes without taking any particular notice of it, no 
 sooner do they perceive the scent of the water through 
 which it has sunk than they are after it at once. Now 
 comes a whole shower of chopped whelk or mussel, and 
 in a few seconds the tank is filled with prawns, all in 
 busy excitement, some tucking up, or rather, down, 
 their food, and others carrying off the white morsels 
 to a quiet resting-place where they can eat in peace. 
 Much the same habit distinguishes the whelks them- 
 selves and other carnivorous molluscs, which can be 
 allured out of their retreats by trailing a morsel of 
 food near them. They do not see the food, but they 
 smell it, and forthwith set off in search of the expected 
 banquet. 
 
 The reader will have probably remarked that we have 
 only noticed a few of those marine animals who act as 
 food. There are plenty of others, including the
 
 LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE 323 
 
 oyster, the mussel, and the cockle, the latter remark- 
 able for its long coral-like feet, and its wonderful 
 powers of jumping. There are soles, plaice, skate, and 
 a variety of flat fish, all of which have their particular 
 ways. The sole, for example, has a specially wide-awake 
 air about it, as it lies on the sand with its head raised, 
 and its large eyes set on two projections so as to give it 
 a wide scope of vision. As it moves through the water 
 it glides in a succession of undulating curves of the 
 most graceful character, the glittering white under- 
 surface occasionally showing itself, as the creature 
 pursues its graceful course, every movement exemplify- 
 ing a line of beauty. A dead sole lying flat on a fish- 
 monger's slab and a living sole in motion seem almost 
 to be different beings, so utterly unlike are they. 
 
 Plaice and dabs act much like the sole ; but the 
 ray lies flat and motionless on the sand, from which it 
 can scarcely be distinguished. A touch, however, at 
 once rouses it, and sends it darting through the water 
 at wonderful speed. It soon slackens its pace, and 
 comes slowly floating back to its old quarters, in a man- 
 ner which irresistibly reminds the observer of Tom 
 Hood's humorous comparison of ' swimming a kite. 1 
 Then there are plenty of cod, and very pretty creatures 
 they are, with their large eyes, spotted bodies, and the 
 broad waved silver stripe along their sides. To see 
 them in perfection a few living shrimps should be 
 thrown into the water, when the fish dart at them, 
 making their glittering sides flash and sparkle in the 
 
 Y 2
 
 824 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 light. It really seems impossible to eat cod fish 
 after seeing the creatures alive. 
 
 As to the whiting, they look almost too beautiful to 
 live, far too beautiful to eat. Their bodies are as if 
 made of mother-of-pearl, over which an opaline lustre is 
 perpetually flitting, and they are so translucent that if 
 another fish passes behind one of them, its presence, 
 though not its outline, can be seen through the 
 whiting's body. There is ample store of mullet, which 
 are particularly valuable inhabitants of an aquarium, 
 because they clear away the vegetation which is always 
 liable to collect on the glass, and to render it so dim 
 that nothing can be seen behind it. Many of the fish 
 have become so familiar that when food is placed on 
 the end of a stick and offered to them they will come 
 and eat it, acting, as a bystander said, 'just like 
 Christians.' Tndeed, according to Mr. Lloyd, they are 
 a great deal better than the general run of Christians, 
 since they never quarrel for quarrelling's sake. It is 
 true that if one of them be sick its brethren will eat it, 
 but that is only in accordance with the conservative 
 laws of Nature. Or two gentlemen may quarrel over a 
 lady, and one combatant be killed, in which case he i& 
 sure to be eaten ; but that is only the struggle for ex- 
 istence. Or a large hermit crab, which is in a little 
 shell, may eject a little hermit crab who lives in a large 
 shell, and enforces a change of residence ; but that is 
 >nly carrying out the law of self-preservation. Spite 
 and malice, however, have no place in the dispositions
 
 LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE. 325 
 
 of these marine dwellers, and their natural tendency is 
 to peace and quiet. 
 
 As to the odd fish in the aquarium, they are without 
 number and we can only mention one or two. 
 
 The first of these is the butterfly gurnard, BO 
 called from the pectoral fins, which, when fully expan- 
 ded, look exactly like the wings of some gorgeous 
 butterfly. They are fan-shaped, and edged with the 
 most vivid light blue. The disc of the fin is soft 
 brown, powdered with light blue spots ; while nearly 
 in the centre is an oval patch of deep satiny blue, on 
 which are scattered a number of pearl-white spots. The 
 rest of the fish is plain brown, so that the contrast be- 
 tween the colour of the butterfly- like fins and the dull 
 brown of the body is absolutely startling. 
 
 Another odd fish is the lump-sucker, so called on 
 account of its lumpish form which many of the spec- 
 tators refuse to acknowledge to be that of a fish and 
 its peculiar sucking apparatus on the breast. With this 
 sticker it clings firmly to rock, glass, or any similar 
 substance, and has a quaint mode of always bending its 
 tail on one side, so as to shorten its body nearly one 
 half, and to take off the leverage which might affect 
 the holding powers of its sucker. In this attitude it 
 looks as little like a fish as may be, neither attitude, 
 form, nor colour being in the least fish-like according 
 to the ordinary ideas of fish. We must not pass over 
 the long-bodied marine sticklebacks, notable for their 
 habit of building nests under water. One of these fish,
 
 326 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 with more ingenuity than discretion, utilised the end of 
 an old rope that was hanging in the water, and wove the 
 ravelled fibres into its nest, not knowing that ropes 
 which are hanging in the water are likely to be pulled 
 up again. 
 
 Nor must we forget the smooth blenny, which can 
 crawl up rocks and remain out of water for a considerable 
 time, and can be so easily tamed that it can be fed 
 while lying in the hand. Nor its near relative, the 
 viviparous blenny, which, as its name imports, does not 
 lay eggs after the manner of fish generally, but saves 
 time by producing living young. Some little time ago 
 there was a great fuss made about some exotic fish that 
 had been shown to be viviparous, while all the while 
 we had on our own shores a perfectly familiar vivi- 
 parous fish, which no one seemed to think at all won- 
 derful. . Distance, as usual, had lent enchantment to 
 the view. 
 
 Perforce we must part with the fish and inspect the 
 molluscs. 
 
 At the head of them all come the cuttles, about 
 which so much sensational writing has been inflicted 
 on the public. There are several cuttles in the 
 aquarium, the largest of which is the octopus, which 
 the newspapers will call the devil fish, whereas it is, as 
 a general rule, a very harmless creature, the real devil 
 fish being a gigantic skate, one of which has been 
 known to measure twenty-eight feet in width and 
 twenty in length, and to weigh a ton. The octopus is
 
 LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE. 327 
 
 nothing but a big sea-slug, with a higher development 
 than the generality of molluscs. In fact, in the cuttles 
 we find the first approach to a brain and a skull, though 
 the former is insignificant, and the latter only gristle. 
 As to the eight arms of the creature, with their array of 
 suckers, they are easily to be accounted for. Most of 
 us have seen a snail crawling on glass, and noticed the 
 flat ' foot ' on which it glides. Now supposing this 
 foot to be cut into eight strips, and each strip to be 
 greatly elongated, it is evident that the holding power 
 of the foot would be gone, so in order to compensate 
 for this defect, each of the strips is furnished with 
 suckers, sometimes in a single, and sometimes in a 
 double row. All the stories that have been told about 
 its power of leaving the water and attacking men on shore 
 are as absurdly false as the old fable of the sailing 
 nautilus which, by the way, we lately saw reproduced 
 in two modern illustrated books. 
 
 The cuttles in the aquarium have a great dislike to 
 showing themselves, and generally spend their time in 
 the rock crannies, where they cannot be seen. The 
 large octopus had, on the occasion of our visit, been 
 (pace Mr. Lloyd) sulky for weeks, and never would 
 come out of his den, showing nothing but the tips of 
 one or two arms writhing about the entrance of his 
 home. However, as if conscious that he was going into 
 print, he gallantly came out and exhibited all his 
 points, just as if he had been a trained cuttle going 
 through all his performances. First he slowly emerged
 
 328 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 from his hole, and let himself sink gently on the sand. 
 Next he began to crawl, using his arms by way of legs, 
 and ending by standing on two of them, while with the 
 others he explored the rock he meant to scale. Then 
 he showed us his skill in climbing, stretching the arms 
 to their fullest length, fixing the suckers, and thus 
 drawing his body up. That done, he suddenly shot 
 through the water backwards, propelled partly by water 
 ejected from a tube called a siphon, and partly by the 
 contraction of the webbed base 01 the foot. 
 
 Finally he sank again to the sand, and went 
 through a number of movements, which we can literally 
 call evolutions, as they seemed to be intended for the 
 purpose of showing the mobility of the arms, and the 
 extraordinary and complicated curves and knots into 
 which they could be thrown. Whether induced by 
 example, or by the spirit of competition, we cannot say, 
 but two other cuttles came from their hiding-places, 
 and we had presented to us the unwonted spectacle of 
 three living cuttles all in view at the same time. This 
 was the more noticeable because an attendant had in 
 vain tried to dislodge them. No endeavour of his had 
 the least effect, but almost as soon as he had desisted 
 they came out of their own accord. Very human in- 
 deed. At last the octopus concluded his performance 
 by retiring to his old home, a hole into which he 
 gradually packed himself in a manner that irresistibly 
 reminded us of Baron Bradwardine insinuating himself 
 into his ' Patmos.' What more can we say ? We could
 
 LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE. 329 
 
 fill column after column with the ways and manners of 
 these curious beings how the sea-anemones are fed regu- 
 larly with bits of mussel, how the purple whelk persists in 
 congregating under the water inlets, and there deposit- 
 ing its strange foot-stalked eggs, each egg looking very 
 much like a ninepin set on end how many of the 
 lower beings, including our Darwinian ancestors the 
 Ascidians, seem to come of their own accord, and are 
 far better and cleaner for zoological purposes than 
 those which have been taken in the sea. But space 
 fails us, and we can but briefly describe how this vast 
 army of animated beings is kept in health. 
 
 The key to this problem is double, namely, cleanli- 
 ness and circulation. 
 
 The cleaning of the aquarium is attended to with 
 the most scrupulous fidelity. The water passes through 
 tubes of vulcanite, so that no metallic oxide can poison 
 it. The food which is given to the animals is absolutely 
 fresh, and that which has to be cut is chopped on a 
 large sloping slate, over which runs a stream of water. 
 No dead animal is allowed to remain in the tanks, and 
 every particle of uneaten food is removed. 
 
 Circulation is as carefully secured. There is a 
 double set of engines and pumps, by means of which 
 the water is kept perpetually flowing through the tanks. 
 By the courtesy of Mr. Lloyd we were taken behind the 
 scenes, and enabled to understand the enormous amount 
 of thought and labour which alone can maintain such 
 an establishment. As Mr. Lloyd well remarks, the
 
 330 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 engines are the heart of the aquarium, and the water is 
 the blood. Under the feet of the visitor is an enormous 
 tank, in which are eighty thousand gallons of sea water, 
 exclusive of the twenty thousand gallons contained in 
 the inhabited tanks. By means of the engine the 
 water is kept perpetually circulating through the upper 
 and lower tanks, while at the same time air is driven 
 forcibly into it, and it is exposed both to the fresh air 
 and to sunshine. Everything is carefully calculated, 
 and even the wooden bridge on which the attendants 
 walk has another use, serving also to keep off the light 
 from the water, and so to discourage the excessive- 
 growth of the green algae which are the plague of most 
 aquariums. The consequence of this constant care is 
 that the water is kept bright and clear as crystal, and, 
 though the visitor is surrounded with many thousands 
 of living beings, not the least evil odour is perceptible,, 
 the air being as fresh and pure as it is outside the 
 building. 
 
 Uniformity of temperature is also secured, and even 
 during the few broiling days of last year, when the 
 Green wich register showed 88 degrees in the shade, the 
 temperature of the aquarium was just 20 degrees lower. 
 After all that we have said, can the reader do better 
 than make a long visit to the aquarium, buy a hand- 
 book, and make himself thoroughly acquainted with the 
 world of wonders that lies unknown at our feet as we 
 wander on the seashore ?
 
 881 
 
 OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS. 
 
 THE poor little hippopotamus is dead. It was scarcely 
 expected to live ; but its death was nevertheless a severe 
 disappointment, especially after the trouble and per- 
 sonal risk that were involved in the attempt to save its 
 life. 
 
 About five o'clock in the morning the little 
 animal was born. The keeper knew that it was 
 there from the odd sounds made by its mother 
 sounds of angry jealousy against some foe unknown. 
 She slapped her vast jaws together, gnashed her 
 teeth, and snorted loud defiance ; though no one 
 was in the house except the keeper, who was watching 
 her from his unseen post of observation above. As day- 
 light broke the small hippopotamus was seen lying by 
 its mother ; and the two were anxiously watched in 
 order to find out whether the young one took nourish- 
 ment. This it was never seen to do. It followed its 
 mother about wherever she went, so that it was not de- 
 ficient in strength ; but it was never once seen to suck. 
 Still, though in the daytime it certainly took no 
 nourishment, it is impossible to say whether or not it
 
 382 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 may have done so at night ; for many of those animals 
 are exceedingly shy and wary, and will not even feed if 
 they think that they can be seen. 
 
 In the present case, however, there is scarcely any 
 doubt that the little hippopotamus took no nourish- 
 ment at all. Either it did not know where to seek 
 food, or its mother was too stupid to show it, for it did 
 attempt to extract milk from her ears, but naturally 
 failed. Two days having thus passed, it was evident 
 that unless the young one could be separated from its 
 mother and artificially fed it must inevitably die ; but 
 the difficulty lay in the mode of separation. To rob a 
 mother of her young is proverbially dangerous; and 
 when the mother is a savage, cross-grained beast, weigh- 
 ing some three tons, and capable of ' chawing up a 
 human' with the greatest ease, the task is peculiarly 
 perilous. 
 
 On Tuesday, the 9th, an attempt was made to get 
 the mother away from her child. The two were lying 
 on the ground, at some little distance from the water ; 
 and it was thought that if the mother could be decoyed 
 ' into the pond, it might be possible to abstract the young 
 calf before she could get out again. Now this creature 
 is emphatically a good hater. She hates all kinds of 
 things and persons. She hates workmen without their 
 coats. I once saw her charge at a workman, and bite 
 at the iron bars so savagely that she broke one of her 
 enormous teeth completely into the jaw. But if there 
 be one thing she hates beyond all it is the garden
 
 OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS. 333 
 
 engine. The very sight of it, or even the sound of its 
 wheels, sets her beside herself with rage, and whenever 
 she sees it she is sure to charge. Accordingly the 
 engine was run towards the water. In went the hippo- 
 potamus ; but unfortunately the little one plumped in 
 after its mother, so that the ruse failed of its effect. 
 The calf, in spite of its tender age, evidently enjoyed 
 the water very much, swam about, and finally went to 
 sleep, with its chin resting on the side of the pond a 
 favourite attitude with these animals. 
 
 Next day, when the mother walked about the house, 
 her child lay still, being evidently weaker ; so that Mr. 
 Bartlett, the superintendent of the Gardens, decided on 
 making another attempt to get the calf out of the 
 house. He got together a small but effective staff, and 
 laid out his plans. In order that the public might 
 realise the difficulty of the situation, the perilous 
 nature of the task, and the ingenuity of the device, I 
 must briefly describe the scene of operations. On the 
 right of the den is a small pond, shut off from the plat- 
 form at will by iron railings ; and on the extreme left 
 is a small door, barely thirty inches square. The 
 scheme was as follows. The garden engine was to be 
 again run into the building, and so soon as the hippo- 
 potamus charged into the water, one of the men was to 
 dash into the cage if possible, to shut the animal into 
 the pond, get out the young one, and make his escape 
 before the mother could reach him. 
 
 Accordingly Mr. Bartlett stood by the door, ready
 
 334 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 to open it at the right moment; his son, with 
 Thompson and Godfrey, *-wo of the keepers, was close at 
 hand with a stout cloth ; Prescott, the head keeper, 
 was in charge of the engine, and Scott, the elephant- 
 keeper a very active and daring man was selected 
 for the dangerous task of entering the den. Every- 
 thing was arranged, to use Mr. Bartlett's own expres- 
 sion, ' like a trick in a pantomime ; ' for the whole busi- 
 ness could not last more than a few seconds. 
 
 All being ready, Prescott ran the engine into the 
 house and began to pump into the pond, that being the 
 insult which the hippopotamus will least of all endure. 
 In she went, and, as she rose, Prescott pumped the 
 water in her face ; thus half blinding her, and gaining 
 just the time that was needed. Simultaneously Scott 
 ran into the den, picked up the young calf, which was 
 lying close to the water, and handed it through the 
 door to Mr. Bartlett and his assistants. The expectant 
 party took it in the cloth, and ran away with it. Mr. 
 Bartlett fastened the door, Prescott ran the engine out 
 of the house ; and, before she recovered from the sur- 
 prise of the water in her face, the enraged hippopota- 
 mus found herself alone, with nothing on which to 
 vent her fury. Of course she missed her calf, and 
 began to hunt for it, but her rage soon cooled down when 
 she could see no enemy ; and, except bearing a rather 
 deeper grudge than usual against Mr. Bartlett, she re- 
 gained her usual temper. Still when I paid her a visit 
 she looked ominously sulky ; and, as she lay half in and
 
 OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS. 336 
 
 half out of the water, her eye had a wicked glare in it 
 that was not pleasant to see. 
 
 Without a practical knowledge of the animal it is 
 scarcely possible to realise the difficulty and danger of 
 the task which was so successfully performed. Under 
 any circumstances it is not easy to pick up a hippopo- 
 tamus, however young. It weighs somewhere about 
 a hundred pounds, and its skin is as slippery as if it 
 had been dipped in oil. Add to this, that the floor of 
 the den is wet and smooth, offering scarcely any foot- 
 hold ; that the young captive kicks and yells with all 
 its power ; and that within a few feet is its infuriated 
 mother and some idea may be formed of the feat 
 which was achieved by those six men. Then no one 
 who has not seen the hippopotamus in one of her furies 
 can appreciate the risk that is run by any man who 
 goes into the den. She is quick and active beyond 
 conception, flies about like lightning, bellowing forth 
 roar after roar and making the building tremble. On 
 the present occasion her deafening roars did good 
 service ; for they completely drowned the cries of her 
 young one, and enabled the keepers to carry it off un- 
 heard as well as unseen. She can rear herself on her 
 hind legs in her attempts to get at a supposed enemy ; 
 and when her weight of three tons is brought to bear 
 upon railings which are not too strong, no small nerve 
 is required in treating such an animal. 
 
 Now let us follow the fortunes of the calf. It was 
 taken quite to the other end of the Gardens, that its
 
 880 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 mother should not be able to hear its cries. Had she 
 done so, she would have tried to force her way to its 
 rescue, and it is very doubtful whether, in that case, the 
 iron bars of the den, or even the wall of the building 
 itself, could have withstood the shock of her reckless 
 charges. When comfortably housed, the little animal 
 was found to be suffering severely from cold, and 
 means were at once devised to restore the proper tem- 
 perature. Blankets were dipped in boiling water, 
 wrung as dry as possible, and then rolled round the 
 sufferer. Over the blankets was laid a thick coat of 
 cotton wool, and before very long Mr. Bartlett had the 
 pleasure of finding the heat of the body fairly restored. 
 Nourishment was the next business. At first every 
 offer was refused, but by degrees the calf was induced to 
 suck at an ingenious apparatus of india-rubber and 
 canvas attached to the mouth of a bottle filled with warm 
 milk. It was found necessary to blind its eyes when 
 the bottle was placed to its lips, and to preserve abso- 
 lute silence, for the little creature was so sensitive that 
 it would take no nourishment so long as it could see a 
 human being or hear the sound of a human voice. Its 
 extreme shyness gave some colour to the belief that it 
 may have sucked in the night, when no one could see 
 it. The warm milk seemed to comfort the animal, and 
 it soon quieted down and slept. 
 
 The milk, by the way, was chiefly that of the ass, 
 for, in an early stage of life, cow's milk is found to be 
 too rich, and to be therefore fatal. This was shown by
 
 OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS. 337 
 
 the experience gained at Amsterdam. Five hippopo" 
 tamus calves have been born there, and nearly all have 
 died soon after birth. On dissection after death it was 
 found that the first two calves had died from indigestion, 
 the cow's milk with which they were fed having been 
 curdled into solid lumps. Afterwards ass's milk was 
 used, and with sufficient success to enable a young 
 hippopotamus to be reared. There seems to be an 
 adverse fate against the hippopotamus. This European 
 specimen was bought, when a few months old, by an 
 American firm. They gave 1,000 for it, and thought 
 partially to l recoup ' themselves by showing it in Eng- 
 land before it crossed the Atlantic. The speculation 
 was unfortunate, for the animal was burned to death in 
 the disastrous fire which destroyed the Tropical Depart- 
 ment of the Crystal Palace some years ago, so that there 
 is not a single specimen of a hippopotamus bred in 
 Europe. 1 
 
 To return to our calf. It took about three pints of 
 milk in six hours, once imbibing nearly a pint at a time. 
 Nothing, however, could save it, and about seven p.m. 
 of the same day it died. Should the reader wish to 
 know what a hippopotamus baby looks like, he has only 
 to go to the Zoological Gardens, where he may see the 
 stuffed skin of the older calf, and close to it a plaster 
 cast of the baby, taken by Mr. Frank Buckland. 
 
 There is a comic element in most human affairs ; 
 
 1 The reader is probably aware that since this article was written, the 
 rearing of the young Hippopotamus has been successfully accomplished.
 
 :i8 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 and this was furnished by the letters with which Mr. 
 Bartlett was inundated, all giving- advice as to the best 
 mode of feeding the young calf. One correspondent 
 proposed that milk should be squirted at its mouth 
 from a syringe. Several suggested that the mother 
 should be chloroformed, and the calf removed while she 
 was insensible. Now anyone with the least knowledge 
 >f chloroform is aware that to place an animal under 
 its influence is a matter of the greatest difficulty. For 
 example, some little time ago, when it was needful to 
 put a tapir under chloroform, the operation lasted for 
 an hour, and required the combined efforts of Mr. 
 Bartlett and six assistants, acting under the direction 
 of the surgeon, though they had an apparatus which 
 fitted on the animal's head. As to chloroforming an 
 hippopotamus, it would be quite as easy to chloroform 
 a whale. Yet the correspondents all anonymous 
 gave their advice as if nothing could be easier. 
 ' Chloroform the dam and take away the cub.' Perhaps 
 the drollest of all the suggestions was a scheme for 
 burning brimstone in the house until the mother should 
 be stupified, and then removing the calf. How the 
 calf was to be rendered sulphur-proof, or how the 
 keepers were to breathe in an atmosphere which stupi- 
 ftes an hippopotamus, were points which the writer did 
 not elucidate. 
 
 It is impossible to go behind the scenes, so to speak, 
 of such an establishment as the Zoological Gardens, and 
 to not admire the profound knowledge of beast nature
 
 OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS. 33E) 
 
 the careful forethought, dauntless courage, and promp- 
 titude of action which are shown by those who have to 
 keep within due bounds such ferocious and powerful 
 brutes. It is the triumph of man's intellect over the 
 instinct of the beast. Here we have one of the largest, 
 fiercest, worst-tempered, most powerful animals on the 
 face of the earth utterly conquered by a few men, all of 
 whom it could tear to pieces if it only knew how strong 
 it is and how weak they are. They employ no weapons 
 they use no terrorism ; and yet this dread beast is 
 absolutely powerless in their unarmed hands. So it is 
 throughout the whole system. 
 
 For example, just before the birth of the young 
 hippopotamus there was a very difficult business with 
 the polar bears. A young male quite a child had 
 been lately admitted. When he was allowed to join 
 the original inhabitant he behaved himself very 
 badly snarling, growling, and altogether making him- 
 self an abominable nuisance to an elderly and quiet 
 bear, who only wanted to be let alone. Presently he 
 got into the water and swam about merrily : but after 
 a little time he was evidently in difficulties. He 
 could not get out again. His hind legs were too 
 short to help him, and his forepaws could not hold the 
 smooth stone. Moreover, his fur coat was dragging 
 him down. When a polar bear's coat is clean, it throws 
 off water like a duck's back, and the beast has a per- 
 fectly dry skin, though he may have been in the water 
 for a long time ; but if it be dirty it sucks in water
 
 340 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 like a sponge, so that its weight is increased three or 
 four fold, and is extremely embarrassing when the 
 animal is trying to crawl from the water up a smooth 
 surface. Seeing that the bear was losing both strength 
 and confidence, Mr. Bartlett let the water out of the 
 pond, and then, by means of two poles which gently 
 kept pressing its neck and knees, coaxed him backwards 
 into the cage, in which he was shut. 
 
 Next day he was again admitted to the large den, 
 when an amusing scene took place. So soon as he 
 entered the old bear opened her mouth as widely as she 
 could, and walked up to him, without uttering a sound. 
 The action was expressive, and meant this : ' Look here, 
 young gentleman these are my teeth, and if you 
 behave to-day as you did yesterday you will get a taste 
 of their quality.' He took the advice, and demeaned 
 himself in a sober and respectful manner. Most animals 
 act in the same way. If, for example, a new monkey 
 is put into the great cage, there is a general showing of 
 teeth, accompanied by mutual comparison of strength 
 and consequent amity : 
 
 Marry, peace it bodes, and lore, and quiet life, 
 And awful rule, and right supremacy. 
 
 Here, as in the aquarium, there is no quarrelling for 
 mere malice, and, indeed, there is but little squabbling 
 on any account. The weaker acknowledge the power of 
 the stronger, and there is an end of the matter at once. 
 
 Another point that has to be kept in mind is the 
 extreme sensitiveness of the animals ; and it is a re-
 
 OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS. 341 
 
 markable fact that those creatures which have been born 
 in the Gardens are much more difficult to manage than 
 those which have been captured and imported. The 
 truth is that the latter have been inured to many 
 changes by reason of their travels ; whereas the former 
 have never seen anything but their own den or yard, 
 and are horribly frightened at the merest trifle to which 
 they are not accustomed. We believe that if one of 
 the lions which have been born in the Gardens were to 
 escape among the Sunday visitors, not a soul of them 
 would be half so much frightened as the lion. It is 
 really astonishing what a consternation is sometimes 
 aroused by the most trivial cause. Not long ago Mr. 
 Bartlett went as usual into the giraffe house. The 
 animals at once flew into a state of the most violent 
 excitement, dashed about the house, and seemed likely 
 to break their necks. Mr. Bartlett at once divined the 
 cause of their terror ; he was wearing slippers instead 
 of boots, and his noiseless movements struck them with 
 a sense of mysterious dread. They had always been 
 accustomed to hear as well as see a human footstep, and 
 the absence of noise rilled them with ungovernable 
 terror. So he stamped as loud as he could, spoke to 
 them, and they immediately calmed down. 
 
 Thus it is that the management of the Gardens is 
 conducted. The disposition of every animal is carefully 
 studied, and the keeper tries, so far as he can, to place 
 himself in the mental position of his charge, and to 
 anticipate its thoughts. Violence is never used. It
 
 342 OUT OF DOORS. 
 
 would not only be futile at the time, but it would 
 destroy all hope of obtaining future obedience. As it 
 is, the animals find that in some mysterious manner 
 they are continually obeying the will of their keeper, 
 and they get by degrees into a habit of obedience more 
 or less perfect, according to the nature of the particular 
 species and the disposition of the individual. Know- 
 ledge is power here. It is equally exercised over the 
 largest and the smallest animals in the place ; and 
 whether the keeper be in charge of a harvest-mouse 
 which will scarcely balance a halfpenny in the scales, of 
 an elephant nine feet high, or an hippopotamus weigh- 
 ing three tons, the human intellect equally asserts itself, 
 and all equally acknowledge its sway. 
 
 LONDON : PEISTBD BY 
 
 8POTTI8WOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 AMD PARLIAMENT STUKBT