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 e r
 
 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF 
 SCIENCE.
 
 r
 
 JAMES WATT INVENTING THE STEAM-ENGINE.
 
 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK 
 OF SCIENCE 
 
 WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 STRAHAN AND COMPANY LIMITED 
 
 34 PATERNOSTER ROW LONDON 
 1881
 
 ADDRESS TO BOYS AND GIRLS. 
 
 1\ /T Y DEAR BOYS AND GIRLS, When I was your age there were no 
 such children's books as there are now. Those which we had were 
 few and dull, and the pictures in them ugly and mean, while you have 
 your choice of books without number, clever, amusing, and pretty, as well 
 as really instructive, on subjects which were only talked of fifty years ago 
 by a few learned men, and very little understood even by them. So if 
 mere reading of books would make wise men, you ought to grow up much 
 wiser than us old fellows. But mere reading of wise books will not make 
 you wise men ; you must use for yourselves the tools with which books 
 are made wise, and that is your eyes and ears and common sense. ' 
 
 Now, among those very stupid old-fashioned boys' books was one which 
 taught me that, and therefore I am more grateful to it than if it had been 
 as full of wonderful pictures as all the natural history books you ever saw. 
 Its name was " Evenings at Home," and in it was a story called " Eyes 
 and No Eyes," a regular old-fashioned, prim, sententious story ; and it 
 began thus : 
 
 " Well, Robert, where have you been walking this afternoon ? " said 
 Mr. Andrews to one of his pupils at the close of a holiday. 
 
 Oh, Robert had been to Broom Heath and round by Camp Mount, 
 and home through the meadows. But it was very dull. He hardly saw 
 a single person. He had much rather have gone by the turnpike road. 
 
 Presently in comes Master William, the other pupil, dressed, I suppose, 
 as wretched boys used to be dressed forty years ago, in a frill collar and 
 skeleton monkey-jacket, and tight trousers buttoned over it and hardly 
 coming down to his ankles, and low shoes which always came off in sticky 
 ground ; and terribly dirty and wet he is ; but he never, he says, had such 
 a pleasant walk in his life, and he has brought home his handkerchief (for 
 boys had no pockets in those days much bigger than keyholes) full of 
 curiosities. 
 
 He has got a piece of mistletoe, and wants to know what it is ; and he 
 
 2090812
 
 viii ADDRESS TO BOYS AND GIRLS. 
 
 has seen a woodpecker and a wheat-ear, and gathered strange flowers on 
 the heath, and hunted a peewit because he thought its wing was broken, 
 till, of course, it led him into a bog, and very wet he got. But he did not 
 mind it, because he fell in with an old man cutting turf, who told him all 
 about turf-cutting and gave him a dead adder. And then he went up a 
 hill and saw a grand prospect, and wanted to go again and make out the 
 geography of the country from Gary's old county maps, which were the 
 only maps in those days. And then, because the hill was called Camp 
 Mount, he looked for a Roman camp, and found one ; and then he went 
 down to the river and saw twenty things more, and so on, and so on, till 
 he had brought home curiosities enough and thoughts enough to last him 
 a week. 
 
 Whereon Mr. Andrews, who seems to have been a very sensible old 
 gentleman, tells him all about his curiosities. And then it comes out 
 if you will believe it that Master William has been over the very same 
 ground as Master Robert, who saw nothing at all ! 
 
 Whereon Mr. Andrews says, wisely enough, in his solemn, old-fashioned 
 way : 
 
 " So it is. One man walks through the world with his eyes open, 
 another with his eyes shut; and upon this difference depends all the 
 superiority of knowledge which one man acquires over another. I have 
 known sailors who had been in all the quarters of the world, and could 
 tell you nothing but the signs of the tippling-houses and the price and 
 quality of the liquor. On the other hand, Franklin could not cross the 
 Channel without making observations useful to mankind. While many 
 a vacant thoughtless youth is whirled through Europe without gaining a 
 single idea worth crossing the street for, the observing eye and inquiring 
 mind find matter of improvement and delight in every ramble. You 
 then, William, continue to use your eyes. And you, Robert, learn that 
 eyes were given to you to use." 
 
 So said Mr. Andrews; and so I say to you. Therefore I beg all 
 good boys and girls among you to think over this story, and settle in 
 their own minds whether they will be Eyes or No Eyes ; whether they 
 will, as they grow up, look, and see for themselves what happens ; or 
 whether they will let other people look for them, or pretend to look, and 
 dupe them, and lead them about the blind leading the blind, till both 
 fall into the ditch. 
 
 I say "good boys and girls;" not merely clever boys and girls, or 
 prudent boys and girls ; because using your eyes or not using them is a
 
 ADDRESS TO BOYS AND GIRLS. ix 
 
 question of doing right, or doing wrong. God has given you eyes, and 
 it is your duty to God to use them. If your parents tried to teach you 
 your lessons in the most agreeable way, by beautiful picture-books, would 
 it not be ungracious, ungrateful, and altogether naughty and wrong, to 
 shut your eyes to those pictures, and refuse to learn ? And is it not 
 altogether naughty and wrong to refuse to learn from your Father in 
 heaven, the Great God who made all things, when He offers to teach you 
 all day long by the most beautiful and most wonderful of all picture- 
 books, which is, simply all things which you can see, and hear, and touch, 
 from the suns and stars above your heads, to the mosses and insects at 
 your feet ? It is your duty to learn His lessons, and it is your interest 
 likewise. God's Book, which is the Universe, and the reading of God's 
 Book, which is Science, can do you nothing but good, and teach you 
 nothing but truth and wisdom. God did not put this wondrous world 
 about your young souls to tempt or to mislead them. If you ask Him 
 for a fish, He will not give you a serpent. If you ask Him for bread, 
 He will not give you a stone. 
 
 So use your eyes and your intellect, your senses and your brains, and 
 learn what God is trying to teach you continually by them. I do not 
 mean that you must stop there, and learn nothing more : anything but 
 that. There are things which neither your senses nor your brains can 
 tell you ; and they are not only more glorious, but actually more true 
 and more real, than many things which you can see or touch. But you 
 must begin at the beginning in order to end at the end ; and sow the 
 seed if you wish to gather the fruit. God has ordained that you, and 
 every child which comes into the world, should begin by learning some- 
 thing of the world about him by his senses and his brain ; and the 
 better you learn what they can teach you, the more fit will you be to 
 learn what they cannot teach you. The more you try now to understand 
 things, the more you will be able hereafter to understand men, and That 
 which is above men. You begin to find out that truly Divine mystery, 
 that you had a mother on earth, simply by lying soft and warm upon her 
 bosom ; and so (as our Lord told the Jews of old) it is by watching the 
 common natural things around you, and considering the lilies of the 
 field, how they grow, that you will begin at least to learn that far Diviner 
 mystery that you have a Father in heaven. And so you will be 
 delivered (if you will) out of the tyranny of darkness, and distrust, and 
 fear, into God's free kingdom of light, and faith, and love ; and will be 
 safe from the venom of that tree which is more deadly than the fabled
 
 x ADDRESS TO BOYS AND GIRLS. 
 
 Upas of the East. Who planted that tree I know not, it was planted so 
 long ago ; but surely it was none of God's planting, neither of the Son 
 of God : yet it grows in all lands, and in all climes, and sends its hidden 
 suckers far and wide even (unless we be watchful) into your hearts and 
 mine. And its name is the Tree of Unreason, whose roots are conceit 
 and ignorance, and its juices folly and death. It drops its venom into 
 the finest brains, and makes them call sense nonsense, and nonsense 
 sense ; fact fiction, and fiction fact. It drops its venom into the ten- 
 derest hearts, alas! and makes them call wrong right, and right wrong; 
 love cruelty, and cruelty love. Some say that the axe is laid to the root 
 of it just now, and that it is already tottering to its fall ; while others say 
 that it is growing stronger than ever, and ready to spread its upas-shade 
 over the whole earth. For my part, I know not, save that all shall be as 
 God wills. The tree has been cut down already, again and again, and 
 yet has always thrown out fresh shoots, and dropped fresh poison from 
 its boughs. But this at least I know, that any little child who will use 
 the faculties which God has given him, may find an antidote to all its 
 poison in the meanest herb beneath his feet. 
 
 There you do not understand me, my boys and girls ; and the best 
 prayer I can offer for you is, perhaps, that you should never need to 
 understand me; but if that sore need should come, and that poison 
 should begin to spread its mist over your brains and hearts, then you 
 will be proof against it, just in proportion as you have used the eyes and 
 the common sense which God has given you, and have considered the 
 lilies of the field, how they grow. 
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 ABOUT A FLY i 
 
 With 7 Illustrations. 
 
 EARTHQUAKES 14 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 FRUIT 26 
 
 With 3 Illustrations. 
 
 WASPS AND PAPER-MAKING 31 
 
 BESSIE'S CALENDAR 44 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 SILK AXD SILKWORMS 48 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 WHAT HAPPENS IN GARDENS - ... 59 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 A LUMP OF COAL ' 65 
 
 With 2 Illustrations. 
 
 THE SPIDER AND ITS WEBS .' ... 72 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 VOLCANOES 81 
 
 With 3 Illustrations. 
 
 BEAVERS AND BUILDING 9t 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 LIGHT 105 
 
 With 3 Illustrations. 
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES .' ... 8 
 
 With 13 Illustrations. 
 
 POND LIFE 185 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 INSECT PETS 195 
 
 With 16 Illustrations. 
 
 BEES AND BEEHIVES 231 
 
 With 12 Illustrations. 
 
 BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES ... 245
 
 xii CONTENTS. 
 
 Pagt 
 
 ANTS AND ANT-HILLS 257 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 ROOKS AND THEIR RELATIONS 270 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 THE LUNAR HALO ' 281 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 COALS AND COLLIERS 287 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 WILD FLOWERS 295 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 BEES AND THEIR BUSINESS 302 
 
 With 2 Illustrations. 
 
 STEAM AND THE STEAM-ENGINE ^ ... 309 
 
 With i Illustration-. 
 
 OUR IRONCLADS ... 319 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 BULBS 328 
 
 With 2 Illustrations. 
 
 CATS, DOGS, AND OTHER HOUSEHOLD PETS 333 
 
 With I Illustration. 
 
 SUMMER GRASS 340 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 ABOUT A CATERPILLAR 345 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 ' THE ACANTHUS .. 351 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 THE MICROSCOPE 353 
 
 WATERY WASTES ... ... ... 360 
 
 With i Illustration. 
 
 ANIMAL DEFENCES .. 366 
 
 With i Illustration.
 
 ABOUT A FLY. 
 
 " Little things on little wings 
 Bear little souls to heaven." 
 
 A ND this is more than can be said of many of the greatest, rather let 
 "^* us say the largest of things; for greatness true, genuine great- 
 ness is not a thing of bulk alone, save as its elasticity can be alike com- 
 pressed into the microscopic space of the quasi-invisible, or can fill a 
 space which our minds can never take in. So also do we find the largest 
 amount of utility in the smallest of creatures, while the hugest of beings 
 leaves us in admiring doubt as to the amount of benefit conferred by it 
 on the creation which it seems to crown if not to adorn. 
 
 But what shall we say of the Fly, poor little thing ? What use is it of 
 in that " economy of nature," whereof philosophy boasts the power of 
 explaining the hidden workings and intricate machinery ? To what ex- 
 tent does the buzzing creature, so ruthlessly poisoned, so suddenly dashed 
 to the ground, preserve that "balance of being," which if once interrupted, 
 as in the case of the eagles and the falcons, avenges itself; as by the 
 multiplication of the wild pigeons, rats, and other devourers of the 
 tanner's produce? 
 
 To crawl on the ceiling ; to buzz about our heads ; to torment us by 
 their numbers, and by their very littleness; to be guarded against by 
 every possible manoeuvre, avoided as pests, slaughtered by hundreds, or 
 poisoned by the thousand, such is their daily lot ; yet, when an incautious 
 straggler visits your breakfast-table, and, throwing itself on your chivalrous 
 hospitality for a sip from the cream-bowl, falls a victim to its temerity, 
 and you see it vainly struggling to escape from the white ocean of en- 
 tanglement, how carefully, how tenderly do you lift it thence, lay it in 
 the sunshine, and watch its heavy limbs regaining their vitality ! how do 
 
 i
 
 2 THE OyS> AND GILLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 you rejoice in its escape, and triumph in its flight, though so soon to re- 
 turn, ungrateful wretch ! to torment by its vagaries the fingers that erst 
 so daintily spared its life ; to haunt your gilded cornices and picture- 
 frames ; and, finally, to fall unpitied, unlamented, a victim to the sugared 
 snares which have proved fatal to the myriads of his brethren. Such is 
 the episode in the life of many a fly, bringing it into contact with the 
 tender humanities and inconsistent ruthlessness of mankind, and such 
 . the little wings that waken, or for the moment call into action, the dormant 
 charities of your soul. May these hereafter find a larger scope, worthier 
 objects, and less interrupted success ! 
 
 Help ever the helpless, be it a drowning fly, or a brother floundering 
 through the difficulties of life's first tasks ; and down the long vista of 
 life I see you, with little wings and slender strength, it may be, for it 
 needs not vastness of resources or extent of power to minister such heart- 
 help as the true-hearted can render, I see you the friend of the friend- 
 less, it may be of the ungrateful and ungracious ; the raiser of the fallen, 
 though, perchance, only perversely to fall again ; the cheerer of the 
 cheerless, though it may be they droop again when your bright presence 
 has passed away : but evermore, a little thing, perhaps, in all that men 
 deem great, on little wings of small assistance, bearing little souls and 
 ever on that track yourself heavenward, upward, and may it be to heaven 
 itself, where true greatness and true littleness are mirrored in their real 
 proportions. Yes, draw them upward, win them from the slough of de- 
 spond ; bring them, as best you may, to the sunshine of better days, and 
 see to it that heart and strength revive. for efforts in the right direction, 
 which to men, as to flies, are the only safeguards against the poisoned 
 footfalls that await the weak and unwary. 
 
 And what the return? Perhaps nought. In helping your helpless 
 fellow-man, woman, or child, you may meet with that rarest of graceful 
 things, a grateful heart, while yet expecting not ; you act out the energies 
 of a loving nature, as in saving the fly you simply gratify a benevolent 
 instinct ; for, in truth, no one loves a fly, nor may we suppose that, speak- 
 ing in the language of men, and especially of women, that the fly has a 
 heart at all. In aerial nature they are the million, the great untaught, 
 unwashed, democratic, self-willed ; destitute of the constructive, imitative, 
 or ornamental faculties for which other winged things are noted. They 
 congregate in myriads, when they please, where they please ; or, if they 
 please, they walk alone, defying our centres of gravity by a promenade 
 feet upwards on the ceiling, or up and down the glittering surface of the
 
 ABOUT A FLY. 3 
 
 window-pane, pursuing objects invisible to us, following behests unknown 
 to all besides, and apparently responsible to no authority for the fulfil- 
 ment of any of their duties in life. 
 
 To torment in various modes and degrees, from the gentle titillation 
 of the bluebottle, who presumes to take his exercise on your cheek, to 
 the maddening irritation caused by the fatal bite of the tropical Tzetze, 
 appears to be a law of their nature : they seem to be creatures eminently 
 unwelcome, and of whom in general a good riddance is the summum 
 bomnn of our wishes. 
 
 They are, in fact, very negative characters, and, like many human beings 
 of whom we are apt to think that their room is better to have than their 
 company, we have little idea what they save us from, these city Arabs 
 of the air, street-sweepers of the invisible atmosphere, scavengers ot 
 the ethereal poisons. 
 
 Cause and effect are so blundered over in all our hasty notions about 
 things in general, that we can be in no way surprised if a strange jumble 
 should often exist also in our judgments as to cause and cure, and if we 
 should sometimes blame for the very evils he removes the unfortunate 
 insect whose advent portends corruption, and especially our old friend 
 the bluebottle, if in his efforts to withdraw from use that food which is 
 becoming unfit for man, he calls to his aid the fecundity of his nature, 
 and takes possession of our viands after a fashion peculiar to himself, 
 and which we decline to dispute with him. The evil so abhorrent to our 
 feelings can only be laid at his door in a sense which involves its speedy 
 removal, and the conferring on ourselves a very real though a negative 
 blessing. 
 
 Treated much in the same manner as the pariah dogs of the East, these 
 and other flies are yet in their myriad-winged activities no less the sca- 
 vengers of the air than those despised quadrupeds are of the earth ; and 
 happy may it be for ourselves that we see not the reverse of the picture 
 at which we rail, nor find ourselves in some sad hour, when the spider 
 proves too many for the fly, surrounded by the odours, the miasma, and 
 the pestilences from which the presence of the fly relieves us. 
 
 We have heard of vast clouds of flies attending on the course taken 
 by certain epidemics ; and hence, say some, the flies have brought the 
 fever, the cholera, &c., &c. Nay, truly, camp-followers they are on these 
 fierce invaders, not predatory hordes themselves, gathering out from the 
 air all that could offend, relieving the earth from many of the death- 
 inviting miasmas which haunt its surface and prowl around the dwellings 
 
 I 2
 
 4 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 of careless men, inviting evermore the exterminating breath of the invader, 
 and hatching a camp for the dwelling of disease. 
 
 Though to make friends with a fly were a vain attempt, we may yet 
 bring it to terms of very close acquaintance, and, under the friendly light 
 of the microscope, discover that it is, in its anatomy, one of the most 
 interesting objects of scientific research, and in such close analogy to the 
 larger animals, that a similarity, amounting almost to identity, has been 
 discovered between the foot of the fly and the hoof of the rhinoceros. 
 Adapted, doubtless, both these members are to the behests of their 
 owners, though so different : the one being suited for the slow terrestrial 
 locomotion of a heavy beast, the other to rambles in an inverted position 
 on the ceiling above our heads, where, under the the aspect of antics and 
 evolutions of the oddest description, it is engaged in the consumption 
 and carrying away of many a fly-load of accretions on those surfaces which 
 have met the ascending vapours of many noxious things. 
 
 Mnsca vomitoria (Blow Fly). Natural size. 
 
 The scavenger life of a fly, in that phase of its existence, is yet a very 
 short, though by us the most observed, period of its existence. We call 
 them torments, crush them, poison them, set traps for them, and exult 
 in their destruction, and then save the stragglers one by one, just when, 
 in old age, they come to claim our hospitality, and a shelter from the chill 
 winds of autumn, having deposited their eggs in the old crannies whence 
 erst they crawled themselves, and spent their early days among the fruit 
 and flowers, or (if they were bluebottles) among the animal decays which 
 nourished their youth. The changes they have undergone are not less 
 curious than those which attend the more interesting creatures whom we 
 watch, as caterpillars, cocoons, or moths, yet unobserved, save by the 
 most ardent students of nature, let them, say we, remain ; over the early 
 life of a fly let us draw a veil. A busy, active, useful life it is, like that 
 of all scavengers, from the pariah dog to the crossing-sweeper, and with 
 much more to laugh and grow fat upon than the latter, poor fellow, ever 
 enjoys ; yet its diet is uninviting, its form repulsive ; we shudder to think
 
 ABOUT A FLY. 5 
 
 of it, we name it not. Like some of the more despised, yet useful, 
 members of the human family, they far outnumber the more attractive 
 individuals, and that they are designed to fulfil no insignificant part in 
 nature may be gathered from the fact that from one mother not less than 
 twenty thousand living sons and daughters are known to have descended. 
 Between the early life of the fly in this caterpillar form and its subse- 
 quent aerial existence there seems to be less connection than between the 
 earlier and later life of any other insect. There is no point of resemblance 
 either in outward form or in inward structure between the white, soft, 
 pulpy, eyeless and legless body which has twisted and wriggled through 
 its blind career, and the restless, buzzing tormentor which dances merrily 
 in the sunshine. The one does not seem to grow out of the other, but 
 to be suddenly transformed, when the little creature leaps forth to its new 
 life. Its white skin becomes dark-coloured and hard as soon as it has 
 
 Larva of Musca domestica. Musca domestica ( House Fly). 
 
 Magnified one-half. Magnified one-half. 
 
 reached its full size, and forms a case, within which the unseen change 
 goes rapidly on. If we counted the rings of which the wriggling larva 
 is composed, we should find that they are always seventeen in number. 
 Now these rings or segments each go to make up some part of the per- 
 fect insect, but not always in the same order in which they are now 
 arranged. In fact, the fly, in becoming one, turns itself partly inside out, 
 after the fashion of the clever snake which the showman said could 
 swallow himself, beginning by putting his tail into his mouth. The first 
 three rings form the mouth, this important member taking up its fair 
 share of the whole ; the next two form the antennae or feelers by which 
 the fly exercises the sense of smell, and the eyes ; the sixth, seventh, and 
 eighth form the thorax or throat, by which it breathes, and to which are 
 attached the wings and the three pairs of legs ; while the nine last form 
 that most important part of the body, the stomach. 
 
 But in the fly, while the mouth is formed from the first segments, the
 
 6 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 head is formed behind from the fourth to the eighth. The brain (for the 
 fly really has a brain) is the only part that remains the same in substance 
 though quite changed in form, while all the other parts of the new animal 
 grow round it. 
 
 As soon as the perfect insect is ready to come forth, it splits the old 
 dried shell in front, doubles itself up, and so cracks it along its whole 
 length below, when it sallies forth with veiy stunted wings, which in a 
 few minutes, while the newly-exposed skin is becoming dry, quickly grow, 
 until after a little flapping and fanning the fly finds it can mount into air, 
 and starts on its new life. 
 
 And now, if we proceed to examine the transformed insect, we shall 
 
 Head of Musca domcstica 
 (House Fly). 
 
 Foot (under-side) of Musca 
 vomitoria (Blow Fly). 
 
 find wonders in its construction equal to any of those revealed to us in 
 the anatomy of the largest and most complex quadrupeds. We have often 
 seen a fly walking upon the ceiling, or upon any inverted surface, or 
 running up a smooth pane of glass, and we may have wondered how it 
 managed not only to hold on, but to run about so nimbly. An examina- 
 tion of that wonderful machine, a fly's foot, by a powerful microscope, 
 will explain the whole of the very simple contrivance by which it seems 
 to set the laws of gravitation at defiance. There have been several very 
 clever guesses. Some have fancied that the hairs on its foot could take 
 advantage of the slightest irregularity of surface ; others that the foot was 
 furnished with a natural air-pump, by which the air in its hollow was 
 exhausted, and that it thus clung like a cupping-glass when applied to the 
 flesh by the pressure of the atmosphere outside. 
 
 Now, if we examine the foot, we shall find it to be composed of a
 
 ABOUT A FLY. ^ 
 
 pair of pads with a pair of hooks above them, and the pads clothed with a 
 number of very fine short hairs. Each pad is hollow, with a little nipple 
 projecting into it. Behind the nipple is a bag connected with it, filled 
 with a very clear, transparent gum. This gum, which is quite liquid, 
 exudes from the nipple by the pressure of the insect in walking, and fills 
 the hollow. The hairs are also hollow, with trumpet-shaped mouths ; 
 and these are also thus filled with the gum. This gum becomes hard the 
 moment it is exposed to the air, and will not dissolve in water. Thus, 
 at every step, the fly glues itself to the surface ; and so tenacious is the 
 gum that one foot is quite sufficient to bear the weight of the whole 
 suspended body. If we examine the footprints of a fly on a window-pane 
 by a powerful magnifier, we shall find that each foot-mark consists ot 
 rows of dots corresponding to the hairs on the foot-pads ; in fact, the 
 footprint is merely the traces of the gum that have been left behind. 
 But how is it that the fly is not glued for life to the spot at the very first 
 step it takes? It might be so, if it tried to lift its foot directly in a per- 
 pendicular direction ; but it draws it up gently in a slanting direction, 
 detaching the hairs in single rows, just as we might remove a moist 
 postage-stamp, by beginning at one corner and gently drawing it back. 
 When, however, the insect is diseased, the gum is very apt to harden, and 
 at its death it at once becomes solid. Thus, we may often see a dead 
 fly firmly attached to the wall, or to a window-pane, with a dull-coloured 
 mark on the glass. This is caused by the fluid having glued the weak 
 or sickly insect to its last resting-place, and having then hardened, the 
 fly is cemented to the spot, till it decays away, leaving the legs behind. 
 So very small are these trumpet-shaped hairs, that there are more than 
 1,000 on each foot-pad. We may add that moths, beetles, and all other 
 insects have the same kind of gum secreted under their foot-pads. 
 
 Not less wonderful is the brain, or rather that which stands for it in 
 the fly. We have spoken of the brain of a fly, but it must not be thought 
 that insects have brains like the higher animals. In all these there is a 
 large mass of brain protected by the skull, from which the spinal cord or 
 marrow, which is a sort of continuation of the brain, extends to the 
 extremity of the back-bone. Insects have nothing like this, though they 
 have what answers the same purpose in their organization. They have 
 what are called the ganglions, or large clusters of nerves, from which fine 
 threads run in different directions. But instead of their being collected 
 into one centre, there are different groups of them in different parts of the 
 body; those of the head supplying the different organs of sense, the mouth
 
 8 THE BOYS* AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 the eyes, and the antennae by which they smell ; those of the thorax or 
 middle section of the insect supplying the place of the heart, and being 
 the nerve-centre of animal life, while another set supply the stomach or 
 abdomen. From this separation it happens that the life of the insect 
 chiefly depends on the thorax or middle part. If this is crushed the fly 
 is instantly killed, and there is not the slightest motion afterwards ; but 
 if the head be cut off, while this ceases to move or to show any sensi- 
 bility, the body will move for hours. If breathed upon or touched with 
 a needle, there will be an attempt to run or fly ; if dust or water be 
 dropped either on the legs or abdomen, the feet will at once begin to 
 rub it off. This seems to prove that these movements of the insect are 
 at all times not the result of intelligence, but simply involuntary natural 
 actions. 
 
 But yet there may be some intelligence even in a fly. Its substitutes 
 for a brain, called the cephalic ganglia, are far larger than those of any 
 other insect except the bees and ants, and are thirty times larger than 
 the corresponding organs in a beetle of the same size. In bees, wasps, 
 ants, and flies have been discovered, what have not yet been found in 
 other insects, a pair of nerve-centres on the top of the cephalic (or head) 
 ganglia, which anatomists suppose to answer to the brain lobes in higher 
 animals. Perhaps this is the reason why the fly seems to show some in- 
 telligence, at least memory, in avoiding any one who has been chasing 
 it. At any rate, from these centres proceed the nerves which run to its 
 lips and enable it to taste, and to its eyes and antenna; and enable it to 
 see and smell All the senses are very highly developed in insects, more 
 so than in higher creatures ; and this renders it the more probable that 
 their acts are for the most part caused by impressions from without, just 
 as we shut our eyes when anything approaches them, or suddenly with- 
 draw our hands from a burning substance. 
 
 Of all the organs of sense in the fly, the eye is the one most like the 
 corresponding organ in other animals, and it is far more powerful than 
 in any of them. To see as well as the fly, which can observe everything 
 in four-fifths of the circle round it, we should require two more pair of 
 eyes, in the side and at the back of our head. In the fly, no two facets 
 or eye-discs look towards the same spot ; and we must remember that 
 the insect's eye is not a simple eye, but a vast collection of eyes in one 
 head looking in all directions at the same time. There are between 
 4,000 and 5,000 of these little lenses, each of them the thousandth part 
 of an inch in diameter, and set in a six-sided flat frame ; and behind
 
 ABOUT A FLY. 9 
 
 every facet or lens is a transparent cone, with a nerve from its point to 
 the ganglion or brain. 
 
 We cannot be quite sure that flies smell by means of their antennae, 
 but if they are cut off the insect seems quite helpless, and from its uses 
 of these feelers, it seems likely they are the organs of this sense. That 
 they can hear we may conclude from their power of emitting sounds, 
 and from the way in which they will disappear if one of their companions 
 is caught and makes the sharp piteous drumming cry they send forth 
 when in pain or fright. But no one has yet discerned the outward ear 
 or organ of hearing in this insect, though it has been believed that their 
 ears are just behind their wings, in the thorax instead of the head. These 
 are what are called the halteres, and are in the place where the second 
 pair of wings are fixed in bees, ants, and other hymenopterous insects. 
 
 We might go on page after page to describe the wonderful anatomy of 
 the fly, as the microscope has revealed it to us. In fact, there is as much 
 to be said about it as about the body of man, and perhaps more, for its 
 organs are more numerous and more complex. Not only has it 4,000 
 eyes, instead of two; three sets of brain or nerve-centres, instead of one ; 
 1,000 hairs and two claws instead of toes on its foot; it has also wings, 
 which we have not ; three pairs of legs, instead of one ; a mouth which 
 would bewilder any dentist ; and a proboscis as far beyond that of an 
 elephant in complexity of structure as a railway engine is beyond a wheel- 
 barrow. But we hope we have said enough to excite your curiosity and 
 your admiration of the works of God, which are as perfect and sublime 
 in the tiniest thing that creeps as in the great worlds that whirl through 
 space. 
 
 Of one thing we may be quite sure, that even flies were not made for 
 nothing, and that a great many much larger beings would do very badly 
 without them. They are often very troublesome, they may be, and have 
 been, literally plagues, and certainly in many hot countries they are true 
 plagues at some times of the year. But it is just when they are the 
 greatest plagues that they at the same time are most useful. Of course 
 if every fly mother reared 20,000 offspring, and every daughter of hers 
 reared as many, there would soon be no room for anything else in the 
 world but flies, and then the flies must die out of starvation. But it is 
 not so intended. Living and dying the fly has its uses. Dying, it sup- 
 plies the food not only of the spiders, who must live like other things, 
 and would fare badly if no incautious fly glued its feet in their web ; but 
 it is the direct support and dependence of thousands of our special
 
 10 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS* BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 favourites. How dull would be our lanes and fields without the swallow 
 and the martin skimming over them, or our hedgerows without the little 
 song-birds which come back with the spring to refresh themselves and 
 rear their young in our northern home after a winter's sojourn in the 
 deserts or forests or marshes of Africa ! Yet these feed almost entirely 
 on flies. The swallow, whose appetite is as large as its mouth, needs 
 myriads for its sustenance, and darts through the air for hours without a 
 pause, snapping up the flies in its course. The little willow-wren darts 
 up into the air, and as it hovers for a few minutes, snap ! snap ! goes its 
 beak, while one fly after another is secured, till the swarm that buzzed 
 over the hedgerow is scattered, and the little sportsman alights again, till 
 very soon the incautious cloud is dancing over the fatal spot again, and 
 invites him from his retreat to collect another savoury mouthful. The 
 pretty graceful flycatcher of our gardens and shrubberies adopts a more 
 dignified mode, and sits motionless on its perch at the end of a branch, 
 or on the top of a pea-stick, its keen eye keeping an eager watch, till it 
 sees an unsuspicious fly approach, when with a dart it shoots forth and 
 seizes him, but always returns to its perch to swallow each morsel, as 
 though it disdained to gobble up its food without due consideration. 
 
 Chameleons and many other of the innumerable lizards that swarm in 
 all hot countries secure an ample sustenance with even less exertion 
 than this, for they sit contentedly on a bough, and only shoot out their 
 gummy tongue at the fly that buzzes near them. The toad, too, is fain 
 to content himself with what he can catch on the tip of his tongue. But 
 as he is not fond of bright sunny situations, it is well for him that his 
 appetite is not very voracious, for he has to practise as much patience as 
 an angler, before he can induce a curious incautious fly to come and 
 examine his nose. Wasps, too, feed largely on flies, as we may see by 
 the heaps of flies' wings strewn round a wasp's nest. And if the trout 
 had not discovered what a savoury morsel is the fly that dances on the 
 stream, what a very dull stupid amusement would fishing be ! There 
 would never have been the ingenuity which humbugs the fish by covering 
 the hook with the feathers so neatly fastened together to imitate the 
 living fly, and the skill that makes the little cheat dance so lively on the 
 water, that the trout must come to look at it, and is very soon safely 
 landed on the grassy bank. How many a schoolboy would lose the 
 greatest treat of a summer's holiday, if there were no flies, and no trout 
 that appreciated them ! 
 
 If it were not for the bluebottle and other flies whose larvae feed on
 
 ABOUT A FLY. II 
 
 decaying flesh, the carcases of animals might often create pestilence and 
 disease. There are other flies whose larvae are equally partial to decaying 
 vegetable refuse. In fact, every substance that ought to be out of the 
 way, and is a nuisance, is the object of the fly's research ; and soon they 
 can clear them off. They will make skeletons of a mouse or a little bird, 
 very cleanly picked out for the student of anatomy, in a very few days. 
 
 But this habit of searching out and feeding on putrid matter causes 
 one of the most serious injuries of which the fly is guilty in hot climates. 
 Its taste or smell leads it to settle on any sore, and to feed on it. This 
 would be all very well ; but, unhappily for many, the fly, as we have 
 seen, has a very gummy foot. One of the most common diseases in 
 Egypt and other Oriental countries is ophthalmia, or running sores of the 
 eyes, which often produce blindness when neglected. This complaint is 
 highly contagious, but only by inoculation. If it were not for the flies, 
 there would not be much danger in this, as people are not in the habit 
 of kissing with their eyelids. But the fly perseveringly attacks the sufferer, 
 and perches on the moist eyelid. Soon chased away, off he goes, and 
 if with his wet feet he makes his next settlement on the eyelid of a 
 healthy person, which too often happens, the result is certain to be an 
 attack of ophthalmia. This is a kind of infection which no care or clean- 
 liness can obviate. 
 
 There are other flies, very nearly akin to the house fly and the blue- 
 bottle, of which it is very hard to discover the use, except it be to act as 
 scourges to man and beast. Who can ever say a good word for that 
 thirsty little bloodsucker, the mosquito, as the large gnat is called, which 
 
 Culex (Mosquito). 
 
 murders sleep in Lapland and Labrador as much as in India or South 
 America ? Happily in England we know very little about them, excepting 
 from the painful recollections of travellers. There is only one safeguard 
 against them, and that is to be miles away from any water, for water is 
 indispensable to the early life of the mosquito. The female lays her 
 eggs, from 250 to 350 in number, always close together in the shape of
 
 12 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 a boat, on the edge of some leaf or substance floating on the water. The 
 little raft sails away, and in two or three days the eggs are hatched, and 
 the larvae swarm by millions in every pool and stagnant ditch, and even 
 in water-jugs or basins that have been allowed to stand a day or two. 
 Like the larvae of flies, they have no legs, and when not disturbed float 
 on the top of the water with their head downwards, for they breathe air 
 through the ends of their tails, which are shaped like a funnel. If the 
 water is in the least degree disturbed, they dive or swim most rapidly, 
 but they feed only while motionless. They do this by means of a circular 
 fringe of hair round the mouth : the little creature twirls these hairs about, 
 so as to cause tiny currents, which bring microscopic substances within 
 their reach, which are thus drawn in. In another week or two it moults, 
 and in a few days a second, and then a third time splitting up its old 
 skin, and coming out with a fresh dress, when it changes to its third state, 
 like the chrysalis of a butterfly, only that it still moves about, sometimes 
 at the top, sometimes at the bottom of the water, but never eats. In eight 
 or ten days more it comes to the surface, lies on its back, and after a few 
 struggles splits its hard skin into the shape of a boat, in which it sits. It 
 raises its head and then its body, till it stands upright like a mast in the 
 floating boat ; then it gets its feet clear of their shell ; and when it has 
 freed its third and hindmost pair of feet, it leans to one side, rests its 
 fore feet on the water, waits a few instants while its body, which was quite 
 white at first, becomes first greenish and then black with white rings ; it 
 unfolds, fans, and dries its wings, which were snugly folded very close 
 within its old skin ; and then off it darts, to disport for a day or two in 
 the air, and, unless picked off by some passing swallow, to torment any 
 human or other beings within reach. 
 
 It would be some excuse for these bloodthirsty little creatures, if it 
 were a necessity of their existence to draw the blood of the giants they 
 torment ; but there are millions of them who lead innocent and happy 
 lives, without ever having used their proboscis. It is only a bad habit, 
 a mischievous luxury, in which they indulge when they have a chance. 
 When they do find a victim, nothing but leather will keep them out ; and 
 besides their sting, their sharp stridulous note is so tormenting, that many 
 sufferers find it worse than their bite. Their proboscis is a sort of hollow 
 pipe, with a very sharp point ; this tube they thrust into the skin, and as 
 soon as it has penetrated to the veins, they shoot down through it several 
 lancets with barbed points, notched like a saw, and then suck up the 
 blood from the wounds. Not content with this, they eject a powerful
 
 ABOUT A PLY. 13 
 
 acid at the same time, which causes swellings and intolerable irritation 
 sometimes for several days and often serious sores. 
 
 Sometimes they have appeared in such numbers that their clouds, at 
 a distance, looked like volumes of smoke rising from a fire. We are told 
 that Sapor, the King of Persia, was once compelled by them to raise the 
 siege of a city ; and that not only his soldiers were attacked, but his 
 elephants and beasts of burden, till they became perfectly maddened and 
 unmanageable. In some parts of South America the inhabitants have 
 been compelled to sleep on the ground, buried in the sand, with only 
 their heads out, and these covered with handkerchiefs, to secure rest. 
 This was both witnessed and experienced by Humboldt. The traveller, 
 Dr. Clarke, tells us that once in the Crimea he was attacked by a swarm 
 at night, when not a breath of air was stirring. Driven from his quarters, 
 he vainly took to the carriage outside for refuge. Almost suffocated with 
 heat, he dared not venture to open the windows : still the torturing 
 little creatures contrived to find their way in. He wrapped his head in 
 a handkerchief in vain ; they filled his mouth, nostrils, and ears. At 
 length he succeeded in lighting a lamp; but it was extinguished in a 
 moment by such a prodigious number of mosquitoes, that their carcases 
 choked up the glass chimney, and formed a heap over the burner. 
 
 Slossina morsitans (the Tzetze). 
 Tabanus bovinis (Gadfly). Natural size. 
 
 There is another fly which is, if possible, a yet greater torment of cattle 
 than the mosquito is of man the gadfly. When its tormenting buzz is 
 recognized, we may see a whole herd of cattle rushing wildly about, with 
 tails outstretched, in abject terror. The gadfly is far worse than the gnat, 
 for it actually buries its eggs in the skin of the animal, and leaves them 
 there to hatch, when they live upon the flesh for days, and often destroy 
 the poor animal by the sores they create. The most terrible of the gad- 
 flies is the Tzetze of Abyssinia and other parts of Eastern Africa. It 
 sometimes renders whole districts desolate for miles, by destroying all
 
 14 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 the animals, and thus reducing the poor inhabitants to a state of starva- 
 tion ; and Dr. Livingstone tells us of regions where for a part of the year 
 no one is able either to live or travel, until the wet season destroys these 
 terrific scourges. 
 
 This is indeed the dark side of fly life, so far as we are concerned ; but 
 we have said enough, we hope, to let our readers see that even flies have 
 their uses, and that, whether we examine their history or their structure, 
 they are not the least wonderful of the many wonderful things with which 
 God has stored this prolific earth of ours. 
 
 EARTHQUAKES. 
 
 TV /T ANY of you boys and girls have doubtless seen pictures represent- 
 *** ing the ruins of South American towns destroyed by earthquakes, 
 and it has puzzled you and made you sad. You want to know why God 
 killed all those people mothers among them, too, and little children ? 
 
 Alas ! my dear children ! who am I that I should answer you that ? 
 
 Have you done wrong in asking me ? No, my dear children ; no. You 
 have asked me because you are human beings and children of God, and 
 not merely a cleverer sort of animal, an ape who can read and write 
 and cast accounts. Therefore it is that you cannot be content, and 
 ought not to be content, with asking how things happen, but must go on 
 to ask why. You cannot be content with knowing the causes of things ; 
 and if you knew all the natural science that ever was or ever will be 
 known to men, that would not satisfy you ; for it would only tell you the 
 causes of things, while your souls want to know the reason of things 
 besides; and though I cannot tell you the reasons of things, yet I be- 
 lieve that somehow, somewhen, somewhere, you will learn something of 
 the reason of things. For that thirst to know why was put into the hearts 
 of little children by God Himself; and I believe that God would never 
 have given them that thirst, if He had not meant to satisfy it. 
 
 There you do not understand me. I trust that you will understand 
 me some day. Meanwhile, I think I only say I think that we may 
 guess at something like a good reason for the terrible earthquakes in
 
 EARTHQUAKES. 15 
 
 South America. I do not wish to be hard upon poor people in great 
 affliction; but I cannot help thinking that they have been doing for 
 hundreds of years past something very like what the Bible calls " tempt- 
 ing God" staking their property and their lives upon the chances of 
 no earthquakes coming, while they ought to have known that an earth- 
 quake might come any day. They have fulfilled the parable of the 
 nation of the Do-as-you-likes, who lived careless and happy at the foot 
 of the burning mountain, and would not be warned by the smoke that 
 came out of the top, or by the slag and the cinders which lay all about 
 them ; till the mountain blew up, and destroyed them miserably. 
 Then I think that they ought to have expected an earthquake ? 
 Well, it is not for us to judge any one, especially if they live in a part 
 of the world in which we have not been ourselves. But I think that 
 we know, and that they ought to have known, enough about earthquakes 
 to have been more prudent than they have been for many a year. At 
 least we will hope that, though they would not learn their lesson before, 
 they will learn it now, and will listen to the message, spoken in a voice of 
 thunder, and written in letters of flame. 
 And what is that ? 
 
 My dear children, if the landlord of our house was in the habit of pulling 
 the roof down upon our heads, and putting gunpowder under the foun- 
 dations to blow us up, do you not think we should know what he meant, 
 even though he never spoke a word ? He would be very wrong in be- 
 having so, of course ; but one thing would be certain, that he did not 
 intend us to live in his house any longer if he could help it, and was 
 giving us, in a very rough fashion, notice to quit. And so it seems to 
 me that these poor Spanish Americans have received from the Landlord 
 of all landlords, who can do no wrong, such a notice to quit as perhaps 
 no people ever had before ; which says to them in unmistakable words, 
 "You must leave this country, or perish." And I believe that that 
 message is at heart a merciful and loving one ; that if these Spaniards 
 would leave the western coast of Peru, and cross the Andes into the green 
 forests of the eastern side of their own land, they might not only live free 
 from earthquakes, but (if they would only be good and industrious) be- 
 come a great, rich, and happy nation, instead of the idle, and useless, 
 and I am afraid not over-good, people which they have been. For in 
 that eastern part of their own land God's gifts are waiting for them, in a 
 Paradise such as I can neither describe nor you conceive; precious woods, 
 fruits, drugs, and what not boundless wealth, in one word, waiting for
 
 EARTHQUAKES. 17 
 
 them to send it all down the waters of the mighty River Amazon, enrich- 
 ing us here in the Old World, and enriching themselves there in the New. 
 If they would only go and use these gifts of God, instead of neglecting 
 them, as they have been doing for now three hundred years, they would 
 be a blessing to the earth, instead of being that which they have been. 
 
 God grant, my dear children, that these poor people may take the warn- 
 ing that has been sent to them " The voice of God revealed in facts," 
 as the great Lord Bacon would have called it, and see not only that God 
 has bidden them leave the place where they are now, but has prepared 
 for them, i their own land, a home a thousand times better than that in 
 which they now live. 
 
 But you ask, How ought they to have known that an earthquake would 
 come? 
 
 Well, to make you understand that, we must talk a little about earth- 
 quakes, and what makes them ; and, in order to find out that, let us try 
 the very simplest cause of which we can think. That is the wise and 
 scientific plan. 
 
 Now, whatever makes these earthquakes must be enormously strong ; 
 that is certain. And what is the strongest thing you know of in the 
 world? Think 
 
 Gunpowder ? 
 
 Well, gunpowder is strong sometimes, but not always. You may carry 
 it in a flask, or in your hand, and then it is weak enough. It only be- 
 comes strong by being turned into gas and steam. But steam is always 
 strong. And if you look at a railway engine, still more if you had ever 
 seen which God forbid you should a boiler explosion, you would agree 
 with me that the strongest thing we know of in the world is steam. 
 
 Now I think that we can explain almost, if not quite, all that we know 
 about earthquakes, if we believe that on the whole they are caused by 
 steam and other gases expanding, that is, spreading out, with wonderful 
 quickness and strength. Of course, there must be something to make 
 them expand, and that is heat. But we will not talk of that yet. 
 
 Now, you may have heard this riddle ? "What had the rattling of the 
 lid of the kettle to do with Hartford Bridge Flat being lifted out of the 
 ancient sea ? " 
 
 The answer to the riddle, I believe, is Steam has done both. The 
 lid of the kettle rattles, because the expanding steam escapes in little jets, 
 and so causes a lid-quake. Now suppose that there was steam under the 
 earth trying to escape, and the earth in one place was loose and yet hard, 
 
 2
 
 i8 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 as the lid of the kettle is loose and yet hard, with cracks in it, it may be, 
 like the crack between the edge of the lid and the edge of the kettle 
 itself; might not the steam try to escape through the cracks, and rattle 
 the surface of the earth, and so cause an earth-quake 1 
 
 So the steam would escape generally easily, and would only make a 
 passing rattle, like the earthquake ot which the famous jester Charles 
 Selwyn said, that it was quite a young one, so tame that you might have 
 stroked it; like that which I myself once felt in the Pyrenees, which 
 gave me very solemn thoughts after a while, though at first I did nothing 
 but laugh at it ; and I will tell you why. 
 
 I was travelling in the Pyrenees, and I came one evening to the love- 
 liest spot ; a glen, or rather a vast crack, in the mountains, so narrow 
 that there was no room for anything at the bottom of it, save a torrent 
 roaring between walls of polished rock. High above the torrent the road 
 was cut out among the cliffs, and above the road rose more cliffs, with 
 great black cavern-mouths, hundreds of feet above our heads, out of 
 each of which poured in foaming waterfalls streams large enough to turn 
 a mill, and above them mountains piled on mountains, all covered with 
 woods of box, which smelt rich and hot and musky in the warm summer 
 air. Among the box-trees and fallen boulders grew hepaticas, blue and 
 white and red, such as you see in the garden ; and little stars of gentian, 
 more azure than the azure sky. But out of the box woods above rose 
 giant silver firs, clothing the cliffs and glens with tall black spires, till 
 they stood out at last in a jagged saw-edge against the purple evening 
 sky, along the mountain ranges, thousands of feet aloft ; and beyond 
 them again, at the head of the valley, rose vast cones of virgin snow, miles 
 away in reality, but looking so brilliant and so near that one fancied at 
 the first moment that one could have touched them with one's hand. 
 Snow-white they stood, the glorious things, 7,000 feet into the air ; and 
 I watched their beautiful white sides turn rose-colour in the evening 
 sun, and when he set fade into dull cold grey, till the bright moon came 
 out to light them up once more. When I was tired of wondering and 
 admiring, I went into bed ; and there I had a dream such a dream as 
 Alice had when she went into Wonderland such a dream as I daresay 
 you may have had ere now. Some noise or stir puts into your fancy as 
 you sleep a whole long dream to account for it ; and yet that dream, 
 which seems to you to be hours long, has not taken up a second of time; 
 for the very same noise which begins the dream wakes you at the end 
 of it : and so it was with me. I dreamed that some English people had
 
 EARTHQUAKES. 19 
 
 come into the hotel where I was, and were sleeping in the room under- 
 neath me; and that they had quarrelled and fought, and broke their bed 
 down with a tremendous crash, and that I must get up, and stop the 
 fight; and at that moment I woke, and heard coming up the valley from 
 the north such a roar as I never heard before or since ; as if a hundred 
 railway trains were rolling underground; and just as it passed under my 
 bed there was a tremendous thump, and I jumped out of bed quicker 
 than I ever did in my life, and heard the roaring sound die away as it 
 rolled up the valley towards the peaks of snow. Still I had in my head 
 this notion of the Englishmen fighting in the room below. But then I 
 recollected that no Englishmen had come in the night before, and that 
 I had been in the room below, and that there was no bed in it. Then 
 I opened my window a woman screamed, a dog barked, some cocks 
 and hens cackled in a very disturbed humour, and then I could hear 
 nothing but the roaring of the torrent a hundred feet below. And then it 
 flashed across me what all the noise was about ; and I burst out laugh- 
 ing, and said, "It is only an earthquake;" and went to bed again. 
 
 Next morning I inquired whether any one had heard a noise. No, 
 nobody had heard anything. And the driver who had brought me up 
 the valley only winked, but did not choose to speak. At last at break- 
 fast I asked the pretty little maid who waited what was the meaning of 
 the noise I heard in the night, and she answered, to my intense amuse- 
 ment, " Ah ! bah ! ce rietait qu'un tremblement de terre; il y en a id toutes 
 les six semaines" And now the secret was out. The little maid, I found, 
 came from the lowland far away, and did not mind telling the truth ; but 
 the good people of the place were afraid to let out that they had earth- 
 quakes every six weeks, for fear of frightening visitors away ; and because 
 they were really very good people, and very kind to me, I shall not tell 
 you what the name of the place is. 
 
 Of course after that I could do no less than ask Nature, very civilly, 
 how she made earthquakes in that particular place, hundreds of miles 
 away from any burning mountain ? And this was the answer I thought 
 she gave, though I am not so conceited as to say I am sure. 
 
 As I had come up the valley I had seen that the cliffs were all beau- 
 tiful grey limestone marble ; but just at this place they were replaced by 
 granite, such as you may see in London Bridge or at Aberdeen. I do 
 not mean that the limestone changed to granite, but that the granite had 
 risen up out of the bottom of the valley, and had carried the limestone 
 (I suppose) up on its back hundreds of feet into the air. Those caves 
 
 2 2
 
 20 THE OYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 with the waterfalls pouring from their mouths were all on one level, at 
 the top of the granite and the bottom of the limestone. That was to be 
 expected ; for, as I will explain to you some day, water can make caves 
 easily in limestone, but never, I think, in granite. But I knew that beside 
 these cold springs which came out of the caves, there were hot springs 
 also, full of curious chemical salts, just below the very house where I was 
 in. And when I went to look at them, I found that they came out of the 
 rock just where the limestone and the granite joined. "Ah, ah !" I said, 
 "now I think I have Nature's answer. The lid of one of her great 
 steam boilers is rather shaky and cracked just here, because the granite 
 has broken and torn the limestone as it lifted it up ; and here is the hot 
 water out of the boiler actually oozing out of the crack ; and the earth- 
 quake I heard last night was simply the steam rumbling and thumping 
 inside, and trying to get out" 
 
 And then, my dear children, I fell into a more serious mood I said to 
 myself, " If that steam had been a little only a little stronger ; or the 
 rock above it only a little lighter or weaker, it would have been no laugh- 
 ing matter then ; the village might have been shaken to the ground ; the 
 rocks hurled into the torrent ; jets of steam and of hot water, mixed, it 
 may be, with deadly gases, have roared out of the riven ground : that 
 might have happened here, in short, which has happened and happens 
 still in a hundred places in the world, whenever the rocks are too weak 
 to stand the pressure of the steam below, and the solid earth bursts, as 
 an engine boiler bursts when the steam within is too strong." And when 
 those thoughts came into my mind, I was in no humour to jest any more 
 about " young earthquakes," but rather to say with the wise men of old, 
 " It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed." 
 
 Most strange, but most terrible also, are the tricks which this under- 
 ground steam plays. It will make the ground, which seems to us so 
 hard and firm, roll and rock in waves, till people are sea-sick, as on board 
 a ship ; and that rocking motion (which is the most common) will often, 
 when it is but slight, set the bells ringing in the steeples, or make the 
 furniture and things on shelves jump about quaintly enough. It will 
 make trees bend to and fro, as if a wind was blowing through them ; 
 open doors suddenly, and shut them again with a slam ; make the timbers 
 of the floors and roofs creak, as they do in a ship at sea ; or give men 
 such frights as one of the dock-keepers at Liverpool got, in the earth- 
 quake of 1863, when his watch-box rocked so that he thought some one 
 was going to pitch him over into the dock. But these are only little
 
 EARTHQUAKES. 21 
 
 hints and warnings of what it can do. When it is strong enough, it will 
 rock down houses and churches into heaps of ruins, or, if it leaves them 
 standing, crack them from top to bottom, so that they must be pulled 
 down and rebuilt. 
 
 You see that picture of the ruins of Arica, and from it you can 
 guess well enough for yourselves what a town looks like which has been 
 ruined by an earthquake. Of the misery and the horror which follow 
 such a ruin I will not talk to you, nor darken your young spirits with 
 sad thoughts which grown people must face, and ought to face. But 
 the strangeness of some of the tricks which the earthquake-shocks play 
 is hardly to be explained, even by scientific men. Sometimes, it would 
 seem, the force runs round, making the solid ground eddy, as water 
 eddies in a brook. For it will make straight rows of trees crooked; 
 it will twist whole walls round or rather the ground on which the 
 walls stand without throwing them down it will shift the stones of a 
 pillar one on the other sideways, as if a giant had been trying to spin it 
 like a teetotum, and so screwed it half in pieces. There is a story told 
 by a wise man, who saw the place himself, of the whole furniture of one 
 house being hurled away by the earthquake, and buried under the ruins 
 of another house ; and of things carried hundreds of yards off, so that 
 the neighbours went to law to settle who was the true owner of them ! 
 Sometimes, again, the shock seems to come neither horizontally in waves, 
 nor circularly in eddies, but vertically, that is, straight up from below ; 
 and then things and people, alas ! sometimes are thrown up off the 
 earth high into the air, just as things spring up off the table, if you 
 strike it smartly enough underneath. By that same law (for there is a 
 law for every sort of motion) it is that the earthquake-shock sometimes 
 hurls great rocks off a cliff into the valley below. The shock runs through 
 the mountain till it comes to the cliff at the end of it : and then the face 
 of the cliff, if it be at all loose, flies off into the air. You may see the 
 very same thing happen, if you will put marbles or billiard-balls in a row 
 touching each other, and strike the one nearest you smartly in the line 
 of the row. All the balls stand still, except the last one ; and that flies 
 off. The shock, like the earthquake-shock, has run through them all ; 
 but only the end one, which had nothing beyond it but soft air, has been 
 moved ; and when you grow older, and learn mathematics, you will know 
 the law of motion according to which that happens, and learn to apply 
 what the billiard-balls have taught you, to explain the wonders of an 
 earthquake. For in this case, as in so many more, you must watch
 
 22 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 Nature at work on little and common things, to find out how she 
 works in great and rare ones. That is why Solomon says that " a fool's 
 eyes are in the ends of the earth," because he is always looking out for 
 strange things which he has not seen, and which he could not understand 
 if he saw, instead of looking at the petty commonplace matters which are 
 about his feet all day long, and getting from them sound knowledge, and 
 the art of getting more sound knowledge still. 
 
 Another terrible destruction which the earthquake brings, when it is 
 close to the seaside, is the wash of a great sea-wave, such as swept in 
 some years ago upon the island of St. Thomas, in the West Indies ; 
 and also upon the coast of Peru. The sea moans and sinks back, 
 leaving the dry shore; and then comes in from the offing a mighty 
 wall of water, as high as, or higher than, many a tall house; sweeps far 
 inland, washing away quays and houses, and carrying great ships in with 
 it ; and then sweeps back again, leaving the ships high and dry. 
 
 Now, how is that wave made ? Let us think. Perhaps in many ways. 
 But two of them I will tell you as simply as I can, because they seem 
 the most likely, and probably the most common. 
 
 Suppose, as the earthquake-shock ran on, making the earth under the 
 sea heave and fall in long earth-waves, the sea-bottom sank down. Then 
 the water on it would sink down too, and leave the shore dry ; till the 
 sea-bottom rose again, and hurled the water up again against the land. 
 This is one way of explaining it, and it may be true. For certain it is 
 that earthquakes do move the bottom of the sea ; and certain too that 
 they move the water of the sea also, and with tremendous force. For 
 ships at sea during an earthquake feel such a blow from it (though it 
 does them no harm) that the sailors often rush upon deck, fancying that 
 they have struck upon a rock ; and the force which could give a ship 
 floating in water such a blow as that, would be strong enough to hurl 
 thousands of tons of water up the beach and on to the land. 
 
 But there is another way of accounting for this great sea-wave, which 
 I fancy comes true sometimes. Suppose you put an empty india-rubber 
 ball into water, and then blew into it through a pipe. Of course, you 
 know, as the ball filled, the upper side of it would rise out of the water. 
 Now, suppose there were a party of little ants moving about upon that 
 ball, and fancying it a great island, or perhaps the whole world what 
 would they think of the ball's filling and growing bigger ? 
 
 If they could see the sides of the basin or tub in which the ball was, 
 and were sure that they did not move, then they would soon judge by
 
 EARTHQUAKES. 23 
 
 them that they themselves were moving, and that the ball was rising out 
 of the water. But if the ants were so short-sighted that they could not 
 see the sides of the basin, they would be apt to make a mistake, because 
 they would then be like men on an island out of sight of any other land. 
 Then it would be impossible further to tell whether they were moving up, 
 or whether the water was moving down ; whether their ball was rising 
 out of the water, or the water was sinking away from the ball. They 
 would probably say, " The water is sinking, and leaving the ball dry." 
 
 Do you understand that? Then think what would happen if you 
 pricked a hole in the ball. The air inside would come hissing out, and 
 the ball would sink again into the water. But the ants would probably 
 fancy the very opposite. Their little heads would be full of the notion 
 that the ball was solid, and could not move, just as our heads are full of 
 the notion that the earth is solid, and cannot move ; and they would say, 
 " Ah ! here is the water rising again." Just so, I believe, when the sea 
 seems to ebb away during the earthquake, the land is really being raised 
 out of the sea, hundreds of miles of coast, perhaps, or a whole island, at 
 once, by the force of the steam and gas imprisoned under the ground. 
 That steam stretches and strains the solid rocks below, till they can bear 
 no more, and snap, and crack with frightful roar and clang ; then out of 
 holes and chasms in the ground rush steam, gases often foul and poi- 
 sonous ones hot water, mud, flame, strange stones all signs that the 
 great boiler down below has burst at last. 
 
 Then the strain is eased. The earth sinks together again, as the ball 
 did when it was pricked ; and sinks lower, perhaps, than it was before ; 
 and back rushes the sea, which the earth had thrust away while it rose, 
 and sweeps in, destroying all before it. 
 
 Of course, there is a great deal more to be said about all this ; but you 
 you are too young to understand it. You will read it, I hope, for your- 
 selves when you grow up, in the writings of far wiser men than I. Or 
 perhaps you may feel for yourselves in foreign lands the actual shock of 
 a great earthquake, or see its work fresh done around you. And if ever 
 that happens, and you be preserved during the danger, you will learn for 
 yourself, I trust, more about earthquakes than I can teach you, if you 
 will only bear in mind the simple general rules for understanding the' 
 " how " of them which I have given you here. 
 
 But you do not seem satisfied yet ? What is it that you want to know ? 
 
 Oh ! There was an earthquake here in England one night, while 
 you were asleep ; and that seems to you too near to be pleasant. Will
 
 24 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 there ever be earthquakes in England which will throw houses down, and 
 bury people in the ruins ? 
 
 My dear children, I think you may set your heart at rest upon that point. 
 As far as the history of England goes back, which is more than a thou- 
 sand years, there is no account of any earthquake which has done any 
 serious damage, or killed, I believe, a single human being. The little 
 earthquakes which are sometimes felt in England run generally up one 
 line of country, from Devonshire through Wales, and up the Severn Valley 
 into Cheshire and Lancashire, and the south-west of Scotland ; and they 
 are felt more smartly there, I believe, because the rocks are harder there 
 than here, and more tossed about by earthquakes which happened ages 
 and ages ago, long before man lived on the earth. I will show you the 
 work of these earthquakes some day, in the tilting and twisting of the 
 layers of rock, and in the cracks (faults, as they are called) which run 
 through them in different directions. There are some of these cracks 
 to be seen in the chalk cliff at Ramsgate two sets of cracks, sloping 
 opposite ways, which were made by two separate sets of earthquakes, 
 long, long ago, perhaps while the chalk was still at the bottom of a 
 deep sea. But even in the rocky parts of England the earthquake- 
 force seems to have all but died out. Perhaps the crust of the earth has 
 become too thick and solid there to be much shaken by the gases and 
 steam below. In the eastern part of England, meanwhile, there is but 
 little chance that an earthquake will ever do much harm, because the 
 ground there, for thousands of feet down, is not hard and rocky, but soft 
 sands, clays, chalk, and sands again ; clays, soft limestones, and clays 
 again which all act as buffers to deaden the earthquake-shocks, and 
 deaden, too, the earthquake noise. 
 
 And how? 
 
 Put your ear to one end of a soft bolster, and let some one hit the 
 other end. You will hear hardly any noise, and will not feel the blow at 
 all. Put your ear to one end of a hard piece of wood, and let some one 
 hit the other. You will hear a smart tap, and perhaps feel a smart tap, 
 too. When you are older, and learn the laws of sound and of motion 
 among the particles of bodies, you will know why. Meanwhile you may 
 comfort yourself with the thought that there is prepared for this good 
 people of Britain a safe soft bed not that they may lie and sleep on it, 
 but work and till, plant and build and manufacture, and thrive in peace 
 and comfort, we will trust and pray, for many a hundred years to come. 
 All that the steam inside the earth is likely to do to us, is to raise parts
 
 EAR THQ UA KES. 25 
 
 of this island so slowly, probably, that no man can tell whether they are 
 rising or not. Or again, the steam power may be even now dying out 
 under our island, and letting parts of it sink slowly into the sea, as some 
 wise friends of mine think that the fens in Norfolk and Cambridgeshire 
 are sinking now. You can see where that kind of work has gone on in 
 Norfolk; how the brow of Sandringham Hill was once a sea-cliff, and 
 Dersingham Bog at its foot a shallow sea, and therefore that the land 
 has risen there. How, again, at Hunstanton Station there is a beach of 
 sea-shells twenty feet above high-water mark, showing that the land has 
 risen there likewise. And how, farther north again, at Brancaster, there 
 are forests of oak, and fir, and alder, with their roots still in the soil, far 
 below high-water mark, and only uncovered at low tide ; which is a plain 
 sign that there the land had sunk. In the sunken forest at Brancaster 
 beautiful shells may be picked up in the gullies, and there are millions 
 of live Pholases boring into the clay and peat which once was firm 
 dry land, fed over by the giant oxen, and giant stags likewise, and 
 perhaps by the mammoth himself, the great woolly elephant whose teeth 
 the fishermen dredge up in the sea outside ? Then remember that as 
 that Norfolk shore has changed, so slowly but surely is the whole world 
 changing around us. Hartford Bridge Flats, in Hampshire, for instance, 
 how has it changed ! Ages ago it was the gravelly bottom of a sea. Then 
 the steam power underground raised it up slowly, through long ages, till 
 it became dry land. And ages hence, perhaps, it will have become a 
 sea-bottom once more. Washed slowly away by the rain, or sunk by the 
 dying out of the steam power underground, it will go down again to the 
 place from whence it came. Seas will roll where we stand now, and new 
 lands will rise where seas now roll. For all things on this earth, from 
 the tiniest flower to the tallest mountain, change, and change all day long. 
 Every atom of matter moves perpetually, and nothing " continues in one 
 stay. The solid-seeming earth on which you stand is but a heaving 
 bubble, bursting ever and anon in this place and in that. Only above 
 all, and through all, and with all, is One who does not move nor change, 
 but is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. And on Him, my child, 
 and not on this bubble of an earth, do you and I, and all mankind, depend
 
 FRUIT. 
 
 r I^O be suddenly in a strange country, surrounded by trees and fruits 
 A unlike any I had ever seen, would puzzle me considerably. After 
 a time I should of course feel hungry or thirsty, and the simple thing to 
 do would be to gather the ripe fruit. This would hang temptingly from 
 the branches, or peep from under the creeping stems and glossy leaves, 
 in such a provokingly delicious fashion, that I am nearly certain that I 
 should at last eat some, quite forgetting that I might poison myself if by 
 any chance I plucked a dangerous kind. You see, this is the difficulty ; 
 for being placed, without any previous knowledge of Botany, in the posi- 
 tion of Robinson Crusoe, my adventures might come to a sudden con- 
 clusion, and would not make a story at all. For it is by no means a rule 
 that fruit is always good to eat ; indeed, there are many things in every 
 garden that are of no use for their fruit. Potatoes and asparagus are 
 illustrations of this, besides many wild berries that are extremely hurtful 
 to the little folks who gather them. Ah, you are thinking, But people 
 here always know which of the wild fruits are safe to eat, and there is 
 no fear that you will be killed or even made ill by taking the bad ones. 
 This is true, certainly, and is just the advantage of living in a country 
 that has been hundreds of years growing up and educating itself into a 
 nice convenient place for your benefit. But once upon a time things 
 were very different, and some awkward mistakes were made before the 
 various parts of either home or foreign plants found their present uses. 
 For instance, in these enlightened days no one could possibly make you 
 a tart of rhubarb-leaves instead of stalks, or send you the shells instead 
 of the peas for dinner. But somebody must have made the first tart and 
 the first tea. Puzzled enough they were with this last article, if all, or 
 even half, the stories are true. I heard once of an old lady whose sailor 
 son sent her a present of tea from China : she did not know what to do 
 with the dark dry-looking stuff, but at last decided that leaves were only 
 fit to eat when they were boiled. Boil them accordingly she did, and 
 patiently waited for them to come to what she considered would be an 
 eatable state. In spite of all her efforts, however, they remained tough, 
 and, quite tired out, the poor old lady threw them away. I imagine her
 
 FRUIT. 27 
 
 son must have been very angry when he found the precious leaves de- 
 stroyed, for money could not buy more, and even the great East India 
 Company considered they made the Queen of England a brilliant present 
 when they sent her two pounds of tea. 
 
 If you had lived three hundred years ago, no one could have given 
 you warm coffee for breakfast, or have called you from play to the 
 pleasant tea-table, and for the best of reasons, neither of these nice things 
 were then known to the people of England. It is almost impossible to 
 realize such an uncosy existence ; but it is even more difficult to believe 
 that after coffee was known to the Arabs, they should have had con- 
 scientious scruples about using it. The Mohammedans, however, de- 
 cided that the drinking of coffee was a wicked practice, and must not be 
 encouraged, because it enabled those who used it to keep awake during 
 their hours of prayer with less effort. That tea and coffee produce wake- 
 fulness, seems to have been discovered almost as soon as the use of the 
 plants, for the Chinese have made the following curious story about the 
 origin of the former. A pious hermit who was constantly overpowered 
 by sleep during his watchings and prayers, became so exasperated with 
 his eyelids that, in a fit of rage, he cut them off and threw them on the 
 ground. But a god caused a tea-shrub to grow out of them, and its 
 leaves resemble an eyelid bordered with lashes, and possess the gift of 
 hindering sleep. 
 
 But stories will not help us to find out how the fruit grows on the 
 trees, and it is quite time to think of this. 
 
 In the early spring, when the trees were full of blossom, you often 
 heard it said that there would be plenty of fruit in the autumn, and you 
 knew without telling that the people who prophesied about the fruit only 
 did so because they saw the flowers. How the marvellous change from 
 a pink blossom to a rosy apple was to come about no one explained ; 
 and even if you were curious enough to ask questions, I doubt if the 
 answers satisfied you. 
 
 But let us look again at the lilies. The flower-leaves (petals) and 
 stamens have fallen away, and only the green pistil remains. This is 
 already passing into fruit, and the ovules at its base are growing up into 
 true seed. Surrounding these are the walls of the ovary, whose business 
 it is to grow into a safe home for them. But the changes that occur in 
 the development of the seed-coverings cause the varieties of fruit that 
 are known to us, and it is curious to examine the different methods taken 
 by the plants for the same purpose. For of course, to protect the seed
 
 28 THE BOYS' AND GIKLS* BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 is the real reason fruit grows ; it is not very likely the trees take any 
 pains to make nice juicy currants and gooseberries only for our pleasure. 
 
 The pulpy mass that really represents our idea of fruit is generally like 
 the cells of the boiled rhubarb ; through this pass vascular bundles like 
 fine thread, and the outer covering, at present known to you as the epi- 
 derm, encloses and protects the whole. Thus the little tender grain 
 has, after all, only a delicate resting-place, and does not approve of the 
 intrusive habits of the wasps and birds. In fact, it soon perishes if these 
 impertinents appear before it has had time to ripen. Soft seeds, such 
 as apple-pips, require more covering than those of peaches and apricots, 
 and the thickened ovary is enclosed by the fleshy substance that develops 
 from another part of the blossom. 
 
 To understand this thoroughly you must look carefully at the drawing, 
 
 which shows you a vertical section of an apple-blossom, a is the true 
 ovary, and b the cup or calyx that supported the leaves and stamens ; 
 after these have fallen off, the calyx, which is parted at its upper edge 
 into little green points, fills up its cells and enlarges much quicker 
 than the ovary. This, when the apple ripens, is called the core, and is 
 the original birthplace of the pips or seeds, while the outer succulent 
 layer is only the thickened calyx-tube. If you look at the top of the 
 truit, you will see the sepals and sometimes a few of the stamens re- 
 maining. 
 
 Gooseberries and currants also retain these leaves when they are fully 
 grown, but this does not prove that they are very closely related to their 
 companions the apples. We will cut one of these from the rose to the 
 stalk, and another transversely, and we shall see how prettily the core 
 divides to make separate cells for the seeds. Now cut a gooseberry, and 
 notice how differently the seeds are placed ; there are many more of them,
 
 FRUIT. 29 
 
 but no separate partitions to keep them apart ; there is no confusion, 
 however, in this pretty transparent nursery, for every seed is attached to 
 the side of the ovary, and the rest of the cavity is filled up with the juicy 
 pulp. Fruits of this kind have single cells, and are the only true berries ; 
 raspberries, strawberries, and mulberries go about under false colours, and 
 have no claim, as I will presently show you, to their surname. But the 
 stone fruits, such as apricots and cherries, deserve to be looked at before 
 these small people. Now it is clear enough there are no stones in the 
 blossom, so this must also be a substance that develops after the fertili- 
 zation of the ovule, when the flower-leaves have died away. 
 
 We have seen how carefully the apparatus for the production of seed 
 is protected by the petals of the corolla and the sepals of the calyx ; dur- 
 
 Vertical section. 
 
 Transverse section of Apple. 
 
 ing the process of ripening it is equally necessary that the baby plant 
 should be clothed and nourished. If you have comprehended how the 
 apple-trees meet this difficulty, you know that the skin of this fruit cor- 
 responds to the epiderm of the calyx. But the outer skin of the stone 
 fruits is only the covering of the ovary, and is now called the epicarp ; 
 the inner layer of cells next the ovule thickens and hardens into the shell. 
 You are wondering how the little soft kernel ever gets free from its wooden 
 case, and finds power to absorb moisture and get warmth to grow into a 
 fresh plant. This, which is a sufficiently simple process in dehiscent fruits 
 seems a mystery when we remember that apricots and peaches are planted 
 enclosed in a case that appears hard enough to remain a stone for ever. 
 In the damp earth this stubborn covering soon decays, and the liberated 
 seed at once begins the work of germination. 
 
 This change of ovule and pollen into seed, and its combination with
 
 30 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK Of SCIENCE. 
 
 the ovary to form fruit, is a comparatively natural development when 
 compared with the complex operations of the strawberries. This white 
 flower, that looks too wild and uneducated to know any but the most 
 ordinary way of bringing up seeds, chooses to find out a method of its 
 own, and very much puzzled me to discover where the red fruit was 
 coming from. 
 
 But let us study carefully the pistil of the lily, and learn how this is 
 made before we go on to the strawberries. 
 
 By pulling or cutting this to pieces we shall find that ovary, style, and 
 stigma are formed by the union of several leaves called carpels. These 
 curl inwards, and at their base the ovules lie until fertilized by the pollen 
 grain. But the carpels of strawberries and raspberries have no idea of 
 binding themselves together, and forming one general home for the chil- 
 dren ; on the contrary, each of these leaves starts off in a different direc- 
 tion, carrying with it an already growing seed ; the receptacle from which 
 they spring also begins to develop rapidly, and it is this that grows into 
 the juicy part of the fruit. The little yellow specks that lie in the dimples 
 of the strawberries are the true seeds, and it is these that are gathered 
 and planted when the gardeners want entirely fresh plants; they are 
 enclosed in a pericarp, never become soft or juicy, and are called 
 achenes. 
 
 Now the deceivers who are falsely called raspberries and blackberries 
 have no greater claim to the name than the one we have just examined, 
 but differ from strawberries by surrounding their seeds with a soft pulp 
 this comes from the swelling of the carpellary leaf, and the white mass 
 from which it springs supports the little juicy heads called drupels. 
 
 Mulberries show us another and entirely new way of growth, and may 
 be distinguished from the others by being called a collective fruit It 
 has an undoubted right to this distinction, because it is not made up 
 through the development of any one part of the blossom, but is composed 
 of entire flowers growing from a single stem. The leaves of these become 
 succulent and juicy as the pistil ripens ; a marked contrast to some of 
 those now known to us, whose petals take the earliest opportunity to 
 retire from business. 
 
 I shall not attempt to describe any more varieties of fruit, for I have 
 said enough to convince you that, useful as it is to us, it is of far greater 
 importance to the plants, and like the root, stem, and foliage leaves, 
 develops to perform distinct work for their benefit.
 
 WASPS AND PAPER-MAKING. 
 
 " VT'OU or I, fair damsel? you or I ? For which of us is that sweet 
 
 * fruit ripening in the summer sun ? Day after day you come 
 before any one else is awake, and gaze upon it, and as you watch its 
 delicate hue mellowing into the rich colouring of its perfection, you say 
 to yourself, ' To-morrow ! to-morrow I will pluck it.' But you shall find 
 to your cost that one has been there before you. Look to it, for I am 
 armed, and, once in possession, I know how to hold my own. Let 
 every one, man or insect, look out for himself." 
 
 Thus hummed and buzzed to himself, in selfish soliloquy, a brilliant 
 black and golden insect, hovering near the garden wall ; now wheeling 
 in airy circles, greatly to the terror of the gentle child who attempted to 
 approach the tree; and now settling on the luscious fruit, to thrust in his 
 proboscis, for the purpose of making his temporary abode inside the 
 mellow peach, so soon as it appeared to his fastidious senses to be suffi- 
 ciently ripe for the attack to be made. Sorely terrified was the little girl, 
 who, standing on tiptoe, just ventured hastily to touch the fruit, and 
 
 thought, " To-morrow ! to-morrow it will be quite ripe, and then 
 
 Oh, dear poor Janie ! and then Oh, how she will like it !" 
 
 To-morrow ! To-morrow ! Alas ! to-morrow brings with it many un- 
 looked-for disappointments ; and yet how strangely mixed sometimes 
 with the signs of a worse evil averted ! The wasp had his work set him 
 by his own greedy nature, and, ensconced at length in a cavity scooped 
 out by his own exertions in the side of the peach, settled himself in con- 
 scious security, armed, as he thought, against all intruders, and feasting 
 on the luscious dainty so long coveted by him. Did any relentings beset 
 him, as to the sting he was preparing for those fairy fingers, when they 
 should be extended to pluck his dainty morsel ? Could he not have 
 wished it were some selfish greedy creature like himself? perhaps some 
 tyrannical schoolboy, at home for the holidays, full of the conviction so 
 common among boys, that all good things ought to go but one road, or 
 at most two, into their own pocket, or down their throat ; and that but 
 one crime exists in the world that of depriving them thereof. 
 
 Whether or not the actual turn in the tide of affairs was any real satis-
 
 32 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 faction to the moral sense of the insect, it will doubtless be so to us, as 
 we turn at the sound of rapid footsteps, not lightly tripping as we ex- 
 pected, but heavily pounding the gravel-walk, and, rushing up to the tree 
 in hot haste, we recognize the identical being of our imagination. No, 
 we will not wrong the British schoolboy : it is the spoilt child of a foolish 
 home, who, having heard of his sister's secret and loving longings to 
 cany the peach, as soon as it should be ripe, to the bedside of her suffer- 
 ing friend, resolved to be beforehand with her, and secure the fruit for 
 his private eating. 
 
 Who can pity him? Who does not rejoice, and cry out, "Served him 
 right ! " " Glad it was he who got stung." Yes ; listen to him. how he 
 yells ! See how he dances about, flings his fingers from him as it were ! 
 and then seizes his cap and makes a dart at the wasp, determined to kill 
 the creature whose only crime was being there before him. And who 
 will help him ? Who is there to pity the pitiless boy? Who comes up 
 at the moment, her face beaming with hope ? She sees the fruit gone 
 dashed to the ground her cherished pleasure snatched from her, and 
 yet has hardly time for the tear to gather in her eye, or the grieved tender- 
 ness of her heart to find expression in her face, when the tone of anger 
 and the flush of selfish disappointment on her brother's countenance dis- 
 tract at once her attention from her own trouble, and she hastens to 
 soothe the rage, and to use such remedies as she can. Ah, little girl, we 
 are so glad the wasp stung him instead of you ! and, though you have 
 lost the peach you were waiting for, see, there is another hanging close 
 by among the leaves, which you may safely gather now, for I think that 
 wasp has left its sting in the proper place, and is not likely to trouble any 
 one again. 
 
 But why were wasps made with stings ? and of what use are they in 
 the world, even if they have no stings to make them a terror to the selfish 
 and the cruel among human beings? They make no honey for the 
 delectation of the lovers of sweetness no mead for the libations of our 
 ancestors was ever manufactured from the secretions of their industry. 
 For what benefits to society from their labours are we indebted to these 
 irascible creatures, whose very appearance at the breakfast-table has the 
 effect of a bombshell in dispersing the company ; but who seem to have 
 hitherto failed to establish a claim to respect or affection, or even to 
 have exhibited in their instincts any model on which more rational crea- 
 tures may improve in their elaborate efforts after comfortable homes or 
 luxurious living ?
 
 WASPS AND PAPER-MAKING. 33 
 
 No honey, no wax, for they must die with the season which gave them 
 birth, and the cells they inhabit for the brief space of their existence are 
 of far less durable materials than those which we see in the structures of 
 the honey-bee. Yet for delicacy of structure, for minute elaboration of 
 its material, for exactness of adaptation to all their wants, the nest of a 
 wasp will never suffer in comparison with that of any other living creature. 
 Fragile in the extreme, it is protected from attack by its situation, or 
 concealed underground at a distance of more than a foot from the sur- 
 face; and, like the nest of the bee, is furnished with rows of cells for the 
 habitation of the workers. A question seems to arise as the process is 
 examined whether the wasp exists to build his nest or the nest is built 
 for the existence of the wasp, since his life is extended so short a period 
 beyond the completion of his work. But nests have been seen above- 
 ground which served for several successive generations of wasps. One 
 especially was long preserved under a glass case in the drawing-room of 
 a house which had for years been infested by these irritating insects, 
 whose resort no one could discover until the repair of a disused chimney 
 led to the discovery of one of the largest known nests, which the wasps 
 had inhabited, repaired, and enlarged for years. 
 
 The character of our wasps has greatly suffered at the hands of pre- 
 judice. They are doubtless armed against attack, and are justly feared 
 when the ripened fruit hangs daintily in presence of the creatures, both 
 of human and of insect life, for whom, doubtless in common, such feast 
 is bountifully provided by the great Lord of Nature. But who ever saw 
 a wasp attack a wasp ? They never indulge their irascibility against one 
 another; they all work in harmony; nay, more, they are very good neigh- 
 bours to many other creatures. For instance, one of our ground-wasps 
 always makes its nest in the close neighbourhood of one of the humble- 
 bees, and no one ever knew the wasp, sweet though his tooth may be, 
 help himself from his neighbour's store-room, but he honestly goes out 
 and caters daily for himself. Indeed, the wasp has been hardly dealt with 
 in being held up to hatred as a waspish creature. He is not so "waspish" 
 in his temper as his cousin the bee ; and though he has not the character 
 of being a hard-working labourer, yet he is ordinarily far too busy in 
 getting his daily bread to turn aside and waste his time by picking a 
 quarrel with the passing stranger. When he conies into the breakfast- 
 room, drawn by the savoury odours of jam and preserve, he only asks for 
 a share ; but when every handkerchief is flashed over his wings, and when 
 ferocious attemps are made to crush him when, in his hurry to beat a 
 
 3
 
 34 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 retreat he has struck against the window-pane, his temper would be more 
 angelic than even a wasp's can be expected to be if he did not retaliate 
 by attempting to use the weapon with which Nature has endowed him. 
 But we can examine a wasp's nest with far less risk than we can investi- 
 gate a beehive, if only we do not irritate the inhabitants by too officious a 
 curiosity. When a scorching summer's sun has quickened the energies 
 and somewhat tried the temper of the busy colony as they pass to and 
 fro, we must not stand in their way, and we must beware of treading on 
 some wearied insect crawling home on the ground and too weak to fly, 
 though quite strong enough to sting with effect. 
 
 There is, however, a great difference in the temper of the different 
 species of wasps, as we are told by those who have studied them. The 
 large British wasp, which builds in the ground, is said to have the sharpest 
 sting; the wood-wasp (Vespa sylvestris), which hangs its home in the 
 bushes and is very common in the north of England, is the most ready 
 to use its sting, probably because, having so conspicuous a nest, it must 
 be most alert in its defence ; while the red wasp ( Vespa rufa) is said to 
 have the most amiable and inoffensive nature of all, and to hold the place 
 among wasps that the humble-bee does among bees. Of course, when 
 we attempt to take their nests, any wasps will sting if they have a chance. 
 Their devotion to the home they have built by their own mandibles is 
 very strong, and even the loss of their queen will not drive them from it. 
 No wonder, then, that like other creatures they have great repugnance to 
 being disestablished and disendowed. They will bear many things for 
 peace sake, but they would not be wasps to stand this. When, however, 
 the wasp -hunter, safely protected by his veil and strong leggings, has 
 succeeded in digging up the nest of the ground-wasps or cutting down 
 the branch with the nest of the tree-wasps, he may carry it where he will, 
 and the little republic will cling to it still. He has only to place it where 
 they can have easy access and work at leisure, and they will soon begin 
 to repair damages and to feed with devoted attention the young larva? in 
 the combs. 
 
 But after all, if we do leave them alone, what is the use of these dan- 
 gerous little creatures, who will not leave us alone if we disturb them in 
 gathering the plum or the gooseberry we have been cultivating for our- 
 selves ? 
 
 We shall soon find, if we will only study the life of a wasp, that it 
 deserves to be reckoned among our real benefactors. If they take toll 
 of our gardens in autumn, they have been really working for us in spring.
 
 WASPS AND PAPER-MAKING. 35 
 
 First of all, they are active scavengers. No vegetable matter, no decaying 
 garbage in which the vinous fermentation has commenced, comes amiss 
 to them, and they clear off much that would otherwise taint the atmo- 
 sphere. So also they gather a great deal of rotten wood. But besides 
 this they have a very carnivorous appetite, and devour spiders, flies, and 
 especially caterpillars, those enemies of the farmer and the gardener. Dr. 
 Ormerod, the charming historian and champion of the wasp, brings 
 forward instances in which the careful destruction of wasps has in a year 
 or two resulted in infesting the place with Egyptian swarms of flies. 
 About a wasp's nest the wings of flies and other insects may be gathered 
 in handfuls ; in fact, they form little insect kitchen-middens. Every one 
 who has studied the subject is aware of the mischief which is done by 
 killing off the larger animals, as for instance the kestrel and the owl, who 
 destroy millions of rats and mice, lest they should occasionally fall in with 
 a wounded partridge. The sea-birds, who used to be butchered by every 
 stupid fellow that could borrow a gun when out for a holiday, were found 
 to be so useful to the sailor and even the fisherman, though they eat fish, 
 that at length they are protected by law. But in the case of these larger 
 creatures man can by mouse-traps and other contrivances do something 
 to supply their office. In the case of insects he can do nothing, though, 
 happily for him, they are too small and too rapidly propagated to render 
 his ignorant efforts for their destruction successful, and so the wasp still 
 lives in spite of gardeners and their boys and helpers, whose whims and 
 prejudices would long since have doomed him to the same fate which has 
 befallen the noble peregrine falcon at the hand of the gamekeeper, if the 
 power of gardeners had been equal to their will, and their decision final. 
 Now, if we can only persuade the gardener to observe the wasp in 
 spring, at the very time he is most energetic in its destruction, we shall 
 soon convince him that he has in it a true friend. With the bright sunny 
 mornings in April, the old queen wasps that in some sheltered cranny 
 have survived the frosts of winter, come forth, not like lone widows, but 
 the royal foundresses of new kingdoms. We may see them then busily 
 occupied on the slender twigs of the gooseberry-bush, or in the young 
 wood of the apricot. There is no fruit for them there to pierce ; they 
 are feasting on the aphides and the mildew insects, which the gardener 
 with all his syringes and decoctions of tobacco-water cannot subdue as 
 the wasp can. Wherever these minute little pests most abound, there 
 you may see the wasps' mandibles hard at work, carefully clearing off all 
 the gummy exudation till the top of the young bough is reached. If the 
 
 32
 
 36 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 red spider or its eggs come in her way, the wasp uses them with much 
 relish as her sauce piquante. One wasp unmolested will thus, in a day or 
 two, clear the insect pests from a whole tree, and will secure the owner 
 that crop which he never could have had without her aid, and on which 
 surely she may put in a claim for her future family to take tithe. It is 
 scarcely possible to calculate the number of aphides which a hungry 
 queen wasp will thus devour in the spring and early summer months. 
 
 But it is rather as the original paper-maker that we would discourse of 
 wasps, for here it is that their most marvellous instinct is fully displayed. 
 Excepting in the shape of its cells, there is nothing in common between 
 the nest of the wasp and the hive of the bee. The architecture, the 
 material, the position, the arrangement, the uses all vary in the two 
 families. All bees make their combs of wax collected by them from 
 plants, and kneaded. All wasps are paper-makers, not wax-collectors. 
 The comb of the bee is destined for various uses, to be the home of eggs 
 and larvae, or young bees, to hold either honey or pollen, and is also 
 intended to last for many seasons. The comb of the wasp is built but 
 for one year and for a single purpose to contain the young from the 
 egg till it comes forth a perfect insect. Then, while the cells of the bees' 
 comb are arranged back to back in the same comb, which hangs vertically 
 from the roof of the hive, the wasps' comb is suspended horizontally by 
 a pillar in its centre, and is composed of a single layer of cells, all opening 
 downwards. There is one point in which the wasp shows greater archi- 
 tectural power than the bee. The latter trusts to nature or to man for 
 its hive. The wild bee finds a hollow tree or a crevice in the rocks, in 
 which the combs may hang protected from the weather. The wasp, not 
 content with manufacturing its own household furniture, builds the house 
 also for itself, and that of the same material, and relies upon her own 
 exertions to defend herself from the effects of wind and rain. 
 
 The wasps, like the bees, comprise prolific females or queens, barren 
 females or workers, and males or drones, which, among the former as 
 among the latter, are stingless. But the lives of the queen wasp and the 
 queen bee are very different. The queen bee, from that sunny morning 
 on which, like some Viking of the North in olden time, she set forth to 
 found a new empire on new soil, with the swarms of her attendant and 
 devoted subjects, never again leaves her palace, far more closely immured 
 within it than any Eastern Sultan or Japanese Tycoon, until she has done 
 her life's work, having known no labour save that of depositing myriads 
 of eggs. But then she is founding a dynasty, and her little kingdom may
 
 WASPS AND PAPER-MAKING. 37 
 
 be handed down in the female line for many generations, unless prema- 
 turely extinguished by the hand of the spoiler man. How different the 
 life of the queen wasp ! Like some hardy colonist, she goes forth in 
 early spring into the wilderness, the lonely and solitary survivor of her 
 family, with no obsequious damsels crowding round her such as those 
 that throng the court of her more dusky cousin. She has no parental 
 rooftree which is hers by succession. No inheritance has come down to 
 her, but, like the human pioneer in a new land, she must cater for herself. 
 She must be her own architect, her own mason, her own gardener and 
 purveyor, and this too with the cares of a family coming on, and all her 
 youthful progeny, swathed and helpless, dependent on her sole exertions 
 for everything. 
 
 During the winter she has lain torpid behind some shutter or cornice, 
 in the crevice of an old wall, or under the shelter of a roof, in the cranny 
 of a chimney-stalk. With the first warm mornings of April she comes 
 forth, very often to perish prematurely by the cutting spring frosts, and 
 keenly chased by the hungry starlings and the gardener's boy. Few of 
 her race have survived the blasts of winter ; and of those that have, fewer 
 still run unscathed the gauntlet of all their enemies. And still for weeks 
 she must remain alone and unaided, with food to seek, a home to find, a 
 nest to build, and then all the hungry grubs that soon follow to feed. 
 She does not hurry about beginning her nest, but takes a long time in 
 selecting her house. 
 
 There are six kinds of wasps in England besides the hornet, which is 
 in reality only a large species of wasp ; and of these some build in the 
 ground, in holes, or in fissures of rocks ; others hang their nests in trees 
 or among bushes, Whatever be the situation, the nests of all our species 
 have much in common. They are all built of paper, made by the insect 
 itself, and whether hanging from a bough with the paper dome that 
 shelters them from wind and rain, or snugly suspended under a roof-beam, 
 hidden in a hollow tree, or excavated in a bank-side, the nests all begin 
 and go on in the same way, adapted, of course, to circumstances. The 
 tree-wasps take care to have their dome smooth and rounded to carry off 
 the rain at once. The hornets make a stout case when their nest is 
 exposed, a very slight one when they choose a hollow tree or similar 
 shelter. The ground-wasps make a strong, rough, coarse, brown paper 
 shield underground, but a much firmer and lighter shell when they build, 
 as they sometimes do, from a rafter. 
 
 But how do the wasps 'get their paper ? They manufactured it long
 
 38 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS 1 BOOK' OF SCIENCE. 
 
 before the Egyptians had discovered how to pare papyrus-stems into 
 shavings to make their books. Before the Chinese had learned to 
 squeeze and spread out the thin cotton pulp into sheets of paper, the 
 wasps knew how to apply almost every substance which has been em- 
 ployed by our paper-makers to the fabrication of their dwellings. Grass- 
 fibres, withered leaves, rotten wood, paper cuttings, bark scrapings, the 
 thin coating of buds, vegetable down all these and many other sub- 
 stances are worked up by the wasps, and laid on precisely in the same 
 manner by all. If we watch a wasp on an old rail or gate-post, we shall 
 see it diligently peeling off little strips of woody fibre, which it rolls 
 into pellets and carries home in its mandibles. There are also many 
 kinds of rushes and water-plants, the stems of which are covered with 
 tough filaments, which the wasps peel off, and which make papier-mache 
 of a stronger and superior quality, much more proof against the rain than 
 the wood scrapings. As soon as the busy insect has rolled up a good- 
 sized pellet of wood or grass parings, she tucks the burden in and under 
 her mandible or large pincer jaws, and with outstretched neck flies home. 
 Then on arrival she retires within the nest to rest for a minute, and 
 coming out again, promptly sets to work. If what is required be the 
 strengthening or enlarging of the outer walls, she gets astride the edge of 
 the shell of the nest, takes hold of the pellet with her fore legs, presses it 
 down firmly, and kneads the end of it, fastening it with her gummy 
 saliva; and then slowly she walks backwards, unrolling the pellet as she 
 goes, pounding and working it firmly down, while keeping it moist, and 
 when she has come to the end she runs forward again, and commences 
 to retrace her steps, drawing the edge through her mandibles, flattening 
 and kneading it as she goes, and repeating the process several times 
 till the little addition she has made is evenly and neatly welded on 
 to the structure, and as soon as it is dried cannot be distinguished 
 from the former work. The nests often have a striped appearance, 
 caused by different wasps bringing materials of different colours, and 
 working in their own quota as they find a vacant place on the edge of 
 the nest. 
 
 But the first commencement was very humble. The queen began in 
 spring by attaching a little cap of grey paper, of the shape of a tiny 
 parasol, to a stalk of paper gummed securely to the under-side of a 
 branch or stone. Below the cap this footstalk is extended and spread 
 out to form the beginnings of four little octagon cells, hanging down- 
 wards, in each of which she drops an egg, and glues it into its place.
 
 WASPS AND PAPER-MAKING. 39 
 
 The lonely lady then begins to enlarge the cap, and adds other cells on 
 each side of the first, strengthening the foundation pillar as she proceeds. 
 Her labour grows upon her, for the first eggs hatch, and now she must 
 feed her young and go on with her house-building at the same time. She 
 busily flies backwards and forwards to the nearest bushes, and hurriedly 
 gathers a supply of juicy aphides or well-fatted spiders to support her 
 larvae. 
 
 At length the first brood is hatched (though by far the greater number 
 of nests begun never reached this stage, owing to the precarious fortunes 
 of the mother), and then the queen begins to assert her dignity, and to 
 rely upon the labours of her offspring. The nest is soon brought into 
 shape, and the covering drawn down and completed underneath, so as to 
 form a perfect sphere, with a small port-hole near the bottom for an 
 entrance. But the original work must be rapidly undone. There is no 
 room for enlargement within, and therefore one outside cover after an- 
 other is added over the former, each quite independent of the preceding 
 layer, which is removed from the inside, as the outer cover is com- 
 pleted. Meantime the comb inside grows apace, as fast as the walls ex- 
 pand. The four original cells grow into a comb, with six or seven combs 
 hanging layer beneath layer, each perhaps six inches or more in breadth; 
 and the pillar, which is the centre and key of the work, is proportionally 
 strengthened, and the strips of paper which attach it above are doubled 
 and trebled to bear the additional weight. As the comb grows, every 
 day the inside of the case is cut away to make room for it. Thus the 
 quantity of paper used is very great, for the cuttings of the old are not 
 used again, or, if they are, it is only after they have been nibbled and 
 reduced to pulp again by the jaws of the workers, and then mixed with 
 new material. The floor of the nest is thus always strewn with scraps of 
 used paper, as that of a beehive with waste wax-plates. Sometimes, too, 
 the wasps scamp their work, and if they find leaves at hand that suit 
 their purpose, they will work them into the nest without any previous 
 manufacture. 
 
 Many foreign wasps and the species of wasps are countless differ 
 much in their architecture from ours. Some, in countries exposed to 
 much rain and wind, make their paper stout, thick, clean, and white as 
 cardboard so strong, that it may be knocked about and washed with 
 impunity. The cardboard is made of the finest cotton down felted 
 together: as many as sixteen or more layers may be counted forming the 
 wall of the nest. This wasp lives in Demerara, where the sudden and
 
 40 THE OYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 violent rains would soon wash away the whitey-brown fabric of the British 
 paper-maker. Then again in the East Indies, where rain hardly ever falls 
 during the lifetime of the wasp republic, another large species is content 
 with mud with a little straw mingled, like the bricks at which Israel had 
 to toil in Egypt, and makes a huge clumsy structure, which one heavy 
 thunderstorm would reduce to a hopeless wreck of mud. Others again 
 use only leaves, and are tailors rather than paper-makers. Others make 
 no roof at all, and some hang their combs with a paper umbrella over 
 them, but no flooring or other protection. One species contents itself 
 with using a great leaf for its cover, while it makes its cells of paper. In 
 the Holy Land there is one species which hangs its combs in cavities in 
 the sandy banks of rivers, and which, suspending its great comb from the 
 roof, economizes labour by omitting all covering, while it prevents any 
 injury to the comb by running a thin irregular sheet of very fine whitey 
 brown paper along the under-side of the roof of the cave, so that no sand 
 or pebbles can fall on to its nest. 
 
 Dr. Ormerod tells us also that wasps can foretell the weather with a 
 preciseness far superior to that of the most skilled of almanac prophets. 
 A gamekeeper who had spent his life in a land of brooks informed him 
 that the height at which wasps make their nests above the water is a rough 
 index of the amount of rain that is to be expected during the summer. 
 In a wet season they choose the top of the bank, in a dry year they excavate 
 nearer the water-level. Again, it is found that when a hedge-bank is 
 selected, instead of the more ordinary situation, the edifice is much slighter 
 than when wind and rain have to be provided against. But still, under 
 whatever conditions it is built, we can always recognize the difference 
 between the architecture of the different kinds of wasps. Besides the 
 hornet, which is only a very large species of wasp, and must always be 
 counted with them, there are three kinds of ground-wasps and three of 
 tree-wasps in Britain. Each species makes a distinct sort of paper, and 
 we have only to hold it up to the light, to read the water-mark of nature's 
 impressing, and we can recognize the builder. 
 
 The hornet ( Vespa crabro\ for instance, who does everything on a large 
 and coarse scale, makes its paper very thick and brittle, of a yellow colour, 
 composed of fragments of decayed wood, bits of straw, and other rubbish 
 glued up with sand into a coarse pulp. There is a good clear space, inside 
 the hornet's nest, between the combs and the wall, like the open space that 
 used to be kept in Vienna and other fortified towns between the houses 
 and the walls.
 
 WASPS AND PAPER-MAKING. 41 
 
 The common ground-wasp ( Vespa vulgaris) builds on the same plan, 
 but its paper is a very superior sample. It is much finer, the fragments 
 of wood are much more carefully beaten into pulp, and instead of being 
 yellow, the colour is much more varied, generally with stripes of whitish- 
 brown. This wasp will build anywhere where it can find shelter. Though 
 generally underground, yet a good cottage roof, especially if it be thatched, 
 never comes amiss. It has even been known to build attached to a sugar- 
 loaf. This last was rather an extravagant use of the loaf for a wasp, since 
 it usually prefers to take the sugar inside. At least we have read of a 
 Government sugar store at Shahjehanpoor, in India, which was taken 
 possession of by a swarm of hornets, and held by them in defiance of 
 the order of the East India Company, till the end of the season, when on 
 the commissariat officer claiming his charge at last, he found they had 
 got through two thousand pounds of sugar ! We must confess that the 
 paper of the ground-wasp is not of the strongest quality, and would not 
 be at all appreciated in the grocer's shop. 
 
 Our other common ground-wasp ( Vespa Germanica) makes a similar nest, 
 but it can always be distinguished by having no mottling or stripes of colour 
 in its construction, but is of a uniform dull grey colour, and in texture is 
 not more stout or durable than its cousins. It easily comes to pieces, 
 though there is no stint of material in its construction; but the layers are 
 heaped on overlapping each other, and without the neatly trimmed edges 
 which mark many of the others. There is generally a neat little mouth, 
 with a landing-place and porch at the entrance of this nest, which is always 
 near the bottom of the building. Much prettier is the ground nest of the 
 red wasp, arather rare species, which lays on the plates of paper very neatly, 
 and with the edges smoothly tacked down. 
 
 The tree-wasp makes much larger sheets of paper. Vespa Eritannica, 
 the commonest tree-wasp in the south of England, makes its nest of much 
 better paper, for it uses stout vegetable fibre instead of rotten wood in its 
 construction ; and, indeed, it requires a much stronger material, for the 
 nest hangs exposed in a bush or hedgerow, open to all the changes of 
 weather. The paper is prettily mottled with white, brown, and yellow 
 streaks. One other tree-wasp ( Vespa sylvestris\ so common in the north 
 of England, makes its nest generally of paper of one colour, but very tough, 
 and hanging loosely, like petticoat flounces, one over another, in a great 
 many layers. The hole of this nest is always exactly at the bottom. 
 This bell-shaped nest is, I think, the prettiest of all. 
 The internal domestic arrangements of all these species of paper-
 
 42 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 makers are the same. The eggs we have said are glued to the bottom 
 of the cell by the mother wasp, or else, of course, they would drop at 
 once out of the inverted cup. But when they are hatched, and are still 
 helpless, the tail of the little infant remains glued to the top of the cell in 
 its old egg-shell ; and though it moults several times, still its tail remains 
 glued until it has nearly reached its full size. But it often becomes 
 detached, and then the workers, who have no toleration for untidiness, 
 and treat everything that is out of its place as dirt, are sure to carry the 
 little larva away without pity, and eject it with other scraps and rubbish 
 a fearful warning to other baby wasps to keep in their cradles. As 
 soon as, after various moultings, the little larvae have attained their full 
 size, nearly large enough to fill the cell, but still able to turn round in it, 
 they begin to weave a silk case, which is to protect them while they 
 change to the pupa or chrysalis state. This done, they weave a white 
 silk cap on the bottom of the cell, and then cast their skin a second time. 
 It is a curious fact that the wasp larvae have sharp mandibles, with which 
 they mince for themselves the food brought them by their nurses. They 
 get a new pair with their new moult, which are used at the end of their 
 chrysalis existence to cut their way into the outer world. As soon as the 
 newly-awakened insect has cut its way through this nightcap, it begins to 
 feed itself, and actually eats its slight dress piecemeal directly it emerges 
 from the cell a full-grown, pale-looking wasp. Soon its wings expand 
 and dry, and it sets to work at once at paper-making, as if it had long 
 since served its apprenticeship. Meantime all the old silk casing and 
 other loose fragments are cut off the empty cell, and it is considered 
 ready for a new-laid egg, though much dirt may be left at the top, which 
 is never thoroughly cleaned out. 
 
 I must give the history of the growth and end of the wasp's nest in 
 Dr. Ormerod's words: "By the conjoint labours of all the busy workers, 
 here a little and there a little, the nest grows. The work of one week 
 may have to be renewed the next week, to make way for modern im- 
 provements and for the requirements of the growing city; and, as we have 
 seen, it has nearly all to be done twice over. But wasps work very hard, 
 and the nest grows visibly day by day. The little egg-shell in which it 
 began is lost in the changes which the top of the nest undergoes. The 
 slight strap from which it hung is now quite inadequate to sustain the 
 daily increasing weight, and new points of attachment are sought to pro- 
 jecting roots, or stones, or branches. Sometimes a branch runs all through 
 a nest. Or, failing these, the original point of support is strengthened
 
 WASPS AND PAPER-MAKING. 43 
 
 by layer upon layer of paper rubbed smooth, and thickly coated with 
 wasp-gum, to preserve so vital a point from all accidents of wind and 
 weather 
 
 " One thing more British wasps' nests have in common, viz., the end 
 of all their labour, the wreck and ruin of their wonderful fabric. The 
 history of the most long-lived swarm of wasps extends only over a few 
 weeks. The end comes very speedily, as well as surely, whatever the 
 cause, and the story of the decay of the nest, whose growth we have 
 traced, may be traced in a few lines. Thus : no additions are made to 
 the structure, the repairs are neglected, the loose ends are not neatly cut 
 off and fastened down. A few idle wasps hang about, but the nest seems 
 almost deserted. Perhaps a shake of the hedge will bring out a few fussy 
 wasps for a minute, or a sunny afternoon will develop signs of life in the 
 remains of the swarm, yet their strength is gone. A cold night or two, 
 a few damp cold days, and all is over. Now the collector may take his 
 prize safely; and he must be quick about it, for if he delays, the rain and 
 wind will soon destroy whatever of this curious structure the moths and 
 wood-lice and eanvigs have spared. These are now its occupants. The 
 little creatures who made it, and held it against all comers, have suc- 
 cumbed to cold, and disease, and old age, like other brave soldiers. 
 They have skulked off to die, like old cats, away from home, and the 
 most unlikely place to find a live wasp in is an old wasps' nest." * 
 
 So much for the story of paper-making and wasps. Much more remains 
 to tell, for wasps yield not to bees in interest and in display of forethought 
 and instinct, which can never be explained but by reference to Divine 
 prevision. But I hope I have told enough to lead my young readers to 
 look on a wasp as something better than a " horrid nasty thing," to be 
 crushed on the window-pane or trodden underfoot whenever there is a 
 chance. 
 
 * Ormerod, "Natural History of Wasps," p. 209.
 
 BESSIE'S CALENDAR. 
 
 live in the midst of fields, and meadows, and pastures, wide- 
 spreading woods, hop gardens, apple and cherry orchards, and nut 
 groves doesn't it sound delightful ? 
 
 But little Bessie did not always find it so. 
 
 First let me tell you what kind of house she lived in. 
 
 Strangers from the county town, who drove past it in flys, used to ex- 
 claim, " How picturesque ! " and sometimes made their drivers pull up 
 in order that they might take a longer look at the cottage; and wandering 
 artists from beneath the shade of their white umbrellas have sketched it 
 in pencil, in chalk, and in water-colours. And it was a very pretty place 
 to look at from the outside. 
 
 It had a thatched roof spotted with patches of moss-like bits of green 
 velvet carpet, and walls of ripe and dim red and purple brick, parqueted 
 with grey beams, both variegated with many-coloured lichens and fungi. 
 
 But the leaky roof let in the rain, and the cracked chinky walls, the 
 warped doors, and the often paneless windows, the draughts. Owing to 
 the pig-packet-like crowding of the inmates, the air was never pure, and 
 yet in winter the lower rooms, unevenly paved with worn, pitted, chipped 
 bricks, were miserably cold. There was not a mite of comfort, and 
 scarcely an approach to decency, about the " pretty " place. 
 
 Bessie, a dark-haired, dark-eyed little puss, whom exposure to all 
 weathers had made almost as dark-skinned as a little gipsy, was an 
 orphan. When her father and mother died of fever, her mother's married 
 sister had adopted her. She did not receive a very warm welcome from 
 her uncle by marriage, or her cousins a swarming hungry brood, all 
 older than herself. Then the aunt died, the uncle married again, and 
 the new wife looked upon this little " anteloper," as she called Bessie, 
 even more coldly than she had been looked on before. The child was 
 not turned out of her uncle's house, but as soon as she could do anything 
 she was set to work ; all the little she earned she had to give to her stern 
 step-aunt, and very scanty was the " keep " she received in return ; whilst 
 as for raiment, Bessie's clothes had been worn by all her girl cousins 
 before they came down to her. 
 
 Early in the morning, sometimes almost as soon as it was light, Bessie 
 was roused from her sleep and her dreams of " mother " and rest by day
 
 BESSIE,
 
 46 THE BOY? AND GIALS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 as well as night, and sent forth to her field labours with the crust or two 
 of stale dry bread, which, with water got anyhow, and now and then a cup 
 of wishy-washy tea when she came home, or a scrap of hard cheese about 
 as toothsome as horn, formed her provender for the day. On Sundays, 
 in prosperous times, she just tasted "pig-meat" or "cag-mag," picked up 
 cheap overnight in the nearest town. On other Sundays she and her 
 cousins had to content themselves with bread, or potatoes, or " tea-kettle 
 broth " for their dinner; and Bessie was grudged her scanty share of even 
 that Lenten fare. 
 
 Bird-keeping, i.e., scaring, was the work to which the little girl was first 
 put, from November to April in the fields, and again later on in the 
 orchards. For hours the little girl was all alone, save for the big rooks and 
 smaller black and other birds, whom it went to her heart to have to frighten 
 off from the corn and fruit. Her lack of human company she did not 
 mind. What she got of it was not so pleasant that she should regret its 
 loss; but she wished that she might make friends with the birds. Some- 
 times, moreover, when she sat all Sunday long beneath a hedge or on 
 the sun-and-shadow-chequered orchard grass, and heard the bells ringing 
 out from the grey and red towers, half hidden in trees, of the village 
 churches round, she could not help wishing that she too had nice Sunday 
 clothes like the farmers' daughters, and could go to church hand-in-hand 
 with mother in a silk dress. 
 
 But having no human being to love her, Bessie was obliged to make 
 her friends of the so-called " inferior " creatures, animate and inanimate, 
 in the midst of which she lived. 
 
 Her life was a calendar of nature. She did not always know the names 
 of the things she loved to watch, she could not have given any but the 
 baldest description of them, and yet she knew them well, and had their 
 images photographed on her little brain. Her dark eyes looked as it 
 they had been meant for laughing ones. As things were, a wistful yearn- 
 ing for smiles to awaken them to answer, was their chief expression when 
 she was in company with the people of the village ; but when she thought 
 there was no one to see her watching or listening to her country favourites, 
 light danced in those dark eyes. She welcomed, after the dead time of the 
 year, the reappearance of the wagtails and the chaffinches, the new year's 
 song or chirping of the redbreast, the thrush, the blackbird, the sparrows, 
 the wren, the skylark, the woodlark, and the titmouse ; the rooks return- 
 ing to their nests, the jackdaws resuming their church-going, the nut- 
 hatch running up the trees; the first bat, the first butterfly; the white
 
 SSSE'S CALENDAR. 47 
 
 lambs on the brightening grass ; the worms and snails crawling out of 
 their winter quarters, bees booming from their long-hushed hives, gnats 
 and flies again buzzing about; catkins hung upon the hazels, the red gold 
 of the fresh crocuses, the pale gold of the rathe primrose, the snowdrop 
 trembling upon its slender stalk, the nettles, honeysuckles, speedwell, 
 dandelions in flower. 
 
 And as the year warmed, lovingly she noted the rooks and ravens 
 building, and listened to the blackcaps, yellow-hammers, green and 
 goldfinches singing, the drowsy coo of the ringdove, the startled cry of 
 the curlew, even to the croak of the awakened frogs. The hoot of the 
 wood-owl, the scream of the woodpecker, the pheasant's crow were more 
 of her music. " Glad to see you again," her heart said to the wheatears, 
 swallows, and martins. The only drawback was that the snakes had 
 come back too. She was afraid of snakes, and had got a notion that 
 they were made by the Devil. She had picked up a good deal more 
 about the Devil than about God ; but God Himself taught her that the 
 flowering coltsfoot, the floating gossamer, the peacock butterflies, the 
 daffodils, the violets, the crowfoot, the fruit-blossom, the catkins on the 
 aspen and the filbert, the young leaves on the gooseberry-bush, the 
 flowers upon the elm, the periwinkle, the wild hyacinths, and wood- 
 anemones, were His handiwork. 
 
 Next she rejoiced in the season of the nightingale, the cuckoo, and 
 the cowslip, the milk-white blossoms of the blackthorn, leaping trout, 
 lady's-smock and ladybirds, harebells and hawthorn, dragon-flies and 
 cabbage butterflies, glow-worms and guelder roses, lilac, and laburnum, 
 and ragged Robin. 
 
 June Bessie loved because of its dog-roses starring the hedges and 
 littering the lanes. Its hay-making was a very different thing to her 
 from what it is to you. She was kept hard at work instead of being 
 allowed to roll, and romp, and bury other children in the fragrant drying 
 grass, as you do. Sheep-shearing she did not like, because the sheep 
 struggled so when they were thrown down to be shorn, and bleated so 
 piteously when they trotted off released, scarred sometimes with nasty 
 snips from clumsily-wielded shears. 
 
 In July the calling quail, the plump young brown partridges rising 
 out of and dropping into the green wheat, here and there beginning 
 to turn yellow, the scarlet pheasant's-eye, the bluebottle in the corn- 
 fields, the straggling traveller's-joy in the hedges, the hemlock in the 
 ditches, the white lilies and the hollyhocks and sunflowers in her uncle's
 
 48 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS* BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 cottage garden, were more of Bessie's friends ; and in later summer and 
 autumn the spotted foxgloves and nodding Canterbury bells, the floating 
 thistledown and gossamer, and the second blossoms of the honeysuckle. 
 She welcomed back the fieldfares, but felt sad when the swallows took 
 their flight southwards, and the starlings mustered to follow them. But 
 Bessie's calendar included labour from year's end to year's end, as well 
 as pretty things in their season. Bird-keeping and hay-making were not 
 the only work she did. She had to help in rag-cutting, hop dressing and 
 tying, couching, thistling, weeding, fruit-picking, nut-gathering, hop-pick- 
 ing, acorn-picking. Except when she was birding, she got no rest on a 
 week-day so long as she was awake, for in the cottage, too, she was made 
 a little drudge. At first she thought it cruel that, slaving as she did, she 
 could not get a word or look of love. No one praised her, however 
 hard she worked. The kindest thing ever said of her was by her uncle 
 one Sunday afternoon, as he came away from the little grave in which she 
 had just been laid, " Poor little gal ! she didn't cost nothin', and we 
 s hall feel the miss on J er." 
 
 SILK AND SILKWORMS. 
 
 " A LONG pull, and a strong pull, and a pull all together," was the 
 * practical language of the thousand and one slender fibres of the 
 silken cord, strained and tightened from the bell-wire, which the master of 
 the house pulled with a vigour and determination that bespoke attention, 
 and with a result which might have awakened the Seven Sleepers. 
 
 "You'll break the rope!" was our exclamation, instinctively closing 
 our ears with our hands : " you '11 certainly break the rope, it 's only silk" 
 " Only silk ! and what more, and what better would you have for 
 strength, for elasticity, for carrying weight, or bearing a pull ? Look at 
 little Madge at the table, winding away off her cocoon, and tell me what 
 other material in the world for its size is half as strong? Talk of a 
 hempen rope, an iron cable ! you might as soon make use of a rope of 
 sand, if either of them were taken in the slender form of that little thread ; 
 but twisted, combined, made into a cord, I think we have something far 
 more telling than even the old fable of the bundle of sticks, as to the 
 strength of united action."
 
 AND SILKWORMS. 49 
 
 " Oh for united action now ! " Was it not the voice as of a plaintive 
 and much-injured being, issuing from the glistening thread, that many 
 times already had snapped under the impatient hands that attempted to 
 wind it? "Had I but my ten sisters here to twist and twine their 
 threads with mine as erst so lovingly we fed together on one mulberry- 
 bough, I had not now to endure alone the impatient shocks that shiver 
 my whole being and send a tremor from end to end of my thousand 
 yards of length." 
 
 "Tiresome thing!" exclaimed little Madge, whose single thread of 
 silk from the one cocoon which was her own especial property, had, 
 notwithstanding all the elasticity so truly attributed to it, snapped now 
 once too often for her impetuous spirit, and on whom the above valuable 
 suggestion had been entirely thrown away, probably because entirely 
 inaudible. " Tiresome thing ! It won't go on ! 1 'm sure it breaks on 
 purpose /" 
 
 " And a good purpose too, if it were to teach you to twine a little 
 patience and perseverance with the slender thread of a little objectless 
 amusement; the threefold cord would stand a stronger pull than that 
 which broke your silk, and that, slender as it was, would have given you 
 no disappointment, if you had consented to the wish of the others, to 
 wind the three cocoons together. 
 
 " But while your patience has time to recruit itself, come here and 
 listen to a little silkworm memoir which I happen just now to have met 
 with; just such a history as the little being inside that cocoon might 
 have uttered, could it make itself understood by us : 
 
 " Like all beings, clad not in the rough and borrowed garments of the 
 flax or of cotton material, but in the luxurious folds of their own ances- 
 tral silk, / boast a very long line of ancestry. My native land possesses 
 a history older than that of any other nation on the face of the globe 
 a land where also the theory of the transmigration of souls lent encourage- 
 ment to the hopes even of a silkworm, that the soul which had so rapidly 
 been transmitted through its various and exciting transformations, might 
 one day fill the body of a mandarin,, an empress, or an emperor, clad 
 once more in its primitive raiment, and walking erect on two instead of 
 crawling upon many legs. 
 
 "Comparatively recent, that is, not quite four thousand years ago, were 
 the days when the great Emperor Hoang Ti cast the eye of appreciation 
 upon the labours and the lives of my progenitors, and his Empress the 
 inestimable Si Ling Chi, with the lilliputian feet and the fairy fingers, 
 
 4
 
 50 THE BOYS' 1 AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 first caused to be assembled within the precincts of her Celestial garden, 
 multitudes of the many-legged race, and gathered with her own hands 
 the dainty leaves of viscid mulberry wherewith the voracious appetites of 
 the mothers of millions might be appeased. Strange were the transfor- 
 mations of their bodies, strange also doubtless the transmigrations of 
 their souls, prefiguring the heights to which patient industry, even em- 
 bodied in a grub, may yet attain. Yet it is recorded concerning their 
 work and the productions of their lives, that evermore that which was 
 most hidden and nearest the centre of their body was the richest and 
 most highly prized, while the showy exterior and lighter surroundings 
 were thrown away as comparatively worthless. 
 
 "Nor was the Celestial lady content with the task of benevolence 
 which consisted only in ministering to the hunger and pampering the 
 appetites of the army of insatiables; but as in China and among our 
 own race all things human are reversed, so was her chief work of bene- 
 volence, not that of clothing the naked, but of relieving the overcharged 
 and sleeping bodies of my ancestors of their superabundant clothing. 
 
 " Up to that time the skins of slaughtered sheep sufficed to cover the 
 human frame, and protect from the inclemency of wintry seasons a race 
 who possessed neither the art of producing from their interior substance 
 their external covering, nor yet the energy to condense within a single 
 summer season the duties of a lifetime. But men were many and sheep 
 were few, and the cradles of our race were used by the Empress and 
 her attendant ladies to enclose their own august persons. 
 
 " Willingly we afforded to them the shelter no longer of use to our- 
 selves, feeling abundantly requited by the provision so liberally made for 
 successive generations of our family in the planting of extensive groves 
 of that paternal tree whence we derive, not only the strength of our con- 
 stitution, but the texture of our raiment. Well it was that such care was 
 bestowed on their nourishment, as otherwise it might have become neces- 
 sary to resort to emigration, a step that would not only have seriously 
 lowered the self-respect of a race whose welcome has in every land, and 
 in all times, anticipated their arrival, and who have never had to wander 
 in search of a settlement, but have nevertheless entirely baffled the boast 
 of our great patroness Si Ling Chi, who reserved the best and richest 
 of her silken fabrics for the great sacrifice of Chang Si, and suffered not 
 the outside barbarians so much as to see our grandmothers, or to handle 
 the delicate threads they spun. 
 
 " Then were we had in great esteem, then was silk worth its weight in
 
 SILK AND SILKWORMS. 51 
 
 gold, and then did the merchants trade with other lands for these precious 
 things, making payment for the same in fabrics cunningly woven by secret 
 arts from the many-threaded cocoons of the mulberry groves. 
 
 " Rough and hard were the men of old, and wool was for them the 
 fittest covering best suited both to their unclothed bodies and their 
 sordid souls. And of them the roughest and the hardest were the 
 Romans ; and of the Romans, one stronger and braver than many yet 
 saw and coveted the strange softness and dazzling brightness wherewith 
 shine the garments of those who are clad in the cast-off raiments of our 
 grandmothers. How must the great-grandsons of those noble old mul- 
 berry-eaters have shuddered could they have witnessed the scenes enacted 
 before the first silken curtain which Julius Caesar spread over his tent in. 
 the Colosseum, where human gladiators and savage animals fought to- 
 gether as fight the tigers in the jungle, and the outside barbarians shouted 
 at the spectacle ! The show was brave, the silk was a gorgeous prodi- 
 gality, and Caesar was a great man. 
 
 " Yet did the Empress of the Celestials long outshine those of the 
 West, for not even to the Empress Severina was the luxury accorded, so 
 universally indulged in by the ladies of the little feet, of wearing a dress 
 of a material so costly. 
 
 " Still the natural desire of that half of the human race for costly, soft, 
 and splendid attire was destined to be gratified by means apparently the 
 most unlikely. 
 
 " Clad in costume of dingy brown, the produce of the sheep or goat, 
 and with no weapon but a staff, two men on foot invaded and succeeded 
 in robbing of its precious monopoly the land that had hitherto cherished 
 and protected us ; and by ingenious concealment within those very staves> 
 they imported in small numbers, and carried across the mountains and 
 rivers of India, and the plains of Persia and Syria, the precious eggs 
 whence should be hatched the successive generations of our now widely 
 extended family. Since that epoch, our pride of family, our exclusiveness 
 in social position, have rapidly given way before the revolutionary tide 
 which has swept over Europe, and has even procured for the barbarians 
 of the West a settlement in the early home of our race. 
 
 " No longer do emperors and empresses enjoy alone the privilege of 
 wearing the produce of our labours. Not only does the blue ribbon 
 sustain the star of honour that distinguishes the breast of the British 
 mandarin, not only does the gorgeous train sweep gracefully round the 
 person of the royal dame, the village maiden weaves in her golden hair a 
 
 42
 
 52 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 tress of brilliant silk, and even the schoolboy, when he stoops to tie his 
 shoe, fingers the ribbon that was once the work of a silkworm like myself. 
 
 " My personal history is but brief, for not to silkworms is it given to 
 con again in recurring seasons the experience of former years. With the 
 early sun of advancing spring I, who till then had been but an egg and 
 had lain tranquilly on a shelf through the bleak storms of winter, crawled 
 into being, a slender black thread of life. Larger I grew, for future 
 greatness dawned on my distant horizon ; and perceiving that the first, 
 last, and only duties incumbent on a being like myself were to eat, to 
 grow, and to cast my skin when too tight for my expanding body, I dili- 
 gently pursued these avocations, and with a success that rivalled the 
 largest, the most voracious, and most sluggish of my companions. Soon 
 a longing for change seemed to oppress me, and as I raised my head to 
 seek for new spheres of action, a torpor crept over my frame. I quitted 
 the leaves on which hitherto I had feasted, and cast my lot as a dependent 
 being on an isolated spot selected at random. But I soon felt the hour 
 was come no longer to receive but to impart, and that in the process of 
 giving forth of my substance I was myself enriched. I have now for some 
 time dwelt in the midst of a golden abundance, never hungering for food, 
 and possessed of that wherewith I may clothe the needy. I shall now 
 soon end my career, a creature different far from my small beginning, 
 feeble indeed in flight but prolific in eggs, and ready, after fluttering a 
 few brief days a fair white moth and leaving innumerable hostages to 
 posterity, to enter upon whatsoever stage of transmigration the theories 
 of Confucius may point out as the future of a perfected Bombyx mori" 
 
 So much for the autobiography of the little silkworm; but by what 
 little things may the history of nations be affected ! When those two 
 wandering Persian monks of whom we spoke contrived from the Indian 
 Missions to penetrate the hitherto sealed empire of China, they discovered 
 that the priceless tissues on which at that time the dainty dames of 
 Byzantium expended princely fortunes were not combed from plants or 
 distilled from Oriental dews, but were the produce of an unsightly cater- 
 pillar reared from a tiny egg. So important did they deem the discovery 
 that, big with the secret, they traversed the breadth of Asia to lay it at 
 the feet of the Emperor Justinian. Recognizing its importance, he per- 
 suaded them, by right imperial promises, to retrace their two years' 
 journey and bring back the precious eggs. Rivalling in cunning the 
 crafty Chinaman, they succeeded at length in filling their hollow canes ; 
 and those pilgrim staves, charged with a freight which has proved the
 
 SILK AND SILKWORMS. 53 
 
 seed of untold millions of wealth and has changed the fate and industries 
 of nations, in A.D. 552 were safely landed on the Golden Horn. Long as 
 they had remained concealed, the eggs were hatched at length, and fed 
 and tended by the monks, who had carefully studied their culture. 
 
 From the little family which was landed at the Golden Horn have 
 sprung, for thirteen hundred years, all the silkworms of Europe and of 
 Western Asia. Long, however, did the Greeks retain the secret of their 
 culture with a jealousy as vigilant as that of the Chinese ; and it was not 
 until eight hundred years had elapsed, when the Turk was thundering 
 at the gates of Byzantium, and the fleets of Genoa and Venice were 
 harrying the fairest provinces of the Greek empire, that Roger of Sicily 
 carried off from the cities of Greece not only the silkworms, but the 
 weavers, and compelled them to impart their mysteries to his subjects. 
 
 England had but small share in the silk of the East, for we read that 
 the first time it was seen in this country was when the Emperor Charle- 
 magne presented Offa, King of Mercia, with a royal gift of two silken 
 vests. But from Sicily the culture soon spread over all the countries 
 bordering on the Mediterranean where the mulberry-tree would flourish; 
 and though Queen Mary forbade by law any person under the rank of 
 an alderman's wife to indulge in a silken garment, and Queen Elizabeth 
 was especially vain of the silken hose she received from Spain, the envy 
 of her maids of honour ; yet only a century later, in the reign of Charles 
 II., it was the complaint of patriots, that every servant-maid in London 
 spent half her wages in silk, to swell the revenue of the King of France. 
 
 It is strange, and almost unaccountable, how, for so many centuries, 
 the origin and culture of silk remained so profound a mystery. For 
 though it is not mentioned by Solomon, and we do not read that his 
 ships of Tarshish brought bales of silk along with the ivory and peacocks, 
 yet the very earliest writer on natural history whose works have come 
 down to us, Aristotle, the tutor and friend of Alexander the Great, has 
 given us (B.C. 325) a very accurate account of the origin of the precious 
 tissue. He tells us it is spun by a horned worm, which passes through 
 many transformations, and finally becomes a winged moth. But truth 
 is often stranger than fiction. The story that so beautiful a texture could 
 be produced from a creeping worm was too absurd to be believed ; and 
 until the cocoons were actually spun in the West, the tales of gossamers 
 floating in the air, or combed down from silk-trees, were thought far 
 snore reasonable. 
 
 There is no country which those little eggs from within the pilgrims'
 
 54 THE SOYS' AND GILLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 staff have so wonderfully transformed as the old mountains of Lebanon. 
 When Solomon was filling Jerusalem with all the strange curiosities of 
 India, and the Holy Land was one vast garden studded with towns and 
 villages, the long range of the Lebanon was one mighty cedar forest; 
 very valuable indeed for building temples and palaces, but inhabited by 
 bears and wild goats instead of by men. Now all has been changed. 
 The cedar-trees have been cut down, and it is only here and there, in 
 some wild corner, that the traveller can find them ; the wild beasts have 
 all been hunted away; and while the rich towns of Solomon have for the 
 most part become desolate heaps, and the inhabitants of the villages 
 have ceased in Israel, there are actually more people crowded amongst 
 the valleys and rocks of Lebanon than are now to be found through the 
 length and breadth of the Holy Land. 
 
 The silkworm has done it all. It was soon discovered by the indus- 
 trious Syrians, that the Lebanon was exactly the country which suited 
 the mulberry-tree, on the leaves of which alone the silkworms could be 
 fed. In so hilly a country, garden ground is very precious; but the 
 mulberry-tree strikes its roots so deep, that they do not interfere at all 
 with the crops of carrots, cucumbers, and onions, which grow under the 
 shade. Then, again, if the worms are to be healthy, they must be fed 
 on leaves grown in dry places ; for though they will eat very greedily of 
 the large succulent leaves of trees grown in valleys and wet places, yet 
 they often suffer from them, and the silk is not so good. The noble cedars 
 have all been cleared away, and the homely mulberry has taken their 
 place. Up and down the valleys the traveller passes for several days' 
 journey along rocky mule-paths, that are more like staircases than roads, 
 with villages curiously hidden in clefts of the rocks ; and churches (for 
 the people here are Christians) stuck on to the sides of the cliffs, with 
 their flat roofs covered with turf, and grazed by kids, while rows of 
 mulberry-trees swathe the mountains from top to bottom with closely-set 
 waving strips of green. I call the mulberry a homely tree, for it is never 
 allowed there to indulge its own taste, but is pollarded to the height of 
 from six to eight feet, whence springs a dense thicket of small shoots, very 
 useful and convenient, though not very ornamental. 
 
 It is a bright and cheerful scene to visit the Lebanon in the height of 
 the silk season. There is no school then for either boys or girls ; all are 
 too busy in attending to the hungry little worms. As we ride along we 
 are startled by the cuckoo cry of a little urchin, ensconced in the 
 centre of the dumpy pollard. There he sits, busily engaged in shedding
 
 SILK AND SILKWORMS. 55 
 
 the leaves within his reach, and throwing them to the ground, and his 
 merry face, with his red cap and black eyes, peers from out of the foliage, 
 enjoying a saucy joke at the "howadji" as they pass. Beneath, the 
 little sisters of the family are gathering up the leaves and heaping them 
 into sheets, while even the little toddler of three years old looks proudly 
 conscious of the dignity of labour and employment, as she stumbles 
 along with her little contribution to the common stock. The elder girls 
 are staggering home under their bulky but not oppressive loads, and one 
 taller than the rest stands on a pair of rustic steps, and strips the twigs 
 that are beyond the reach of the merry boy in his nest. 
 
 But it is when the leaves have been brought home that the most con- 
 stant care is required. In the garden behind each cottage stands a 
 large wooden erection, a sort of stage of laths, thatched to the height of 
 about six feet with the green boughs of the oleander. The stage is full 
 of trays from the top to the bottom, which slide in and out about six 
 inches apart. On these trays the little worms are placed as soon as they 
 are hatched. Here is the station of the housewife from morning till 
 night. She draws out the trays one by one, carefully clears away the 
 refuse, and picks out any diseased or dead insects, strewing the whole 
 with the fresh-picked leaves which the children supply, and carefully 
 screening the caterpillars from the sun, as they always feed on the 
 under-side of the leaves. The fresh green roof and the open-latticed 
 sides secure abundant ventilation and coolness, even under a Syrian 
 summer sun. There, unlike the colder region of France, no artificial 
 heat is required for the development of the eggs ; and, from the first age 
 to the fifth, the caterpillars continue to grow and thrive without any 
 further care than air, food, and cleanliness, provided for them in this 
 simple way. This feeding lasts for little more than a month, when the 
 worms, as tired of eating as a schoolboy towards the end of his holidays, 
 begin to leave the trays and creep up the sides of the lattices. They 
 are then left alone, and allowed to spin in peace and quiet on tufts of 
 grass which are placed at the corners of the trays. And now the silk- 
 worm's life is ended, for scarce one in a hundred is allowed to leave its 
 little case alive. A few of the cocoons are laid aside to be pierced in 
 due time by the chrysalis, to supply the eggs for next year. The others 
 are gathered and baked, lest the insect should eat its way out before the 
 family have had time to unwind the silk. This unwinding forms the 
 employment of the Lebanon household during the early winter. 
 
 The cocoons are laid aside until the grapes and the olives have been
 
 56 THE OYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE, 
 
 gathered, and then the process begins. It is performed in a very simple 
 fashion, just as children do it at home ; about half a dozen cocoons being 
 unwound as the children stand in a circle round the basin of hot water 
 which contains a handfull of the golden balls. The little bobbins of silk 
 
 are then duly weighed, and the village muleteer, when he hears that the 
 roads are safe, and that there are no robbers in the neighbourhood, takes 
 his precious freight to Damascus, and returns, if he is not plundered by 
 the way, laden with the profits which are to provide all the simple
 
 SILK AND SILKWORMS. 57 
 
 luxuries of the village for the coming year. For strength, for toughness, 
 for solidity, the ladies tell us there is no silk like that of Damascus, and 
 it is all grown by the mountaineers of the Lebanon. The silk bazaars of 
 Damascus are among the wonders of the Eastern world, and many little 
 arched streets run out of them, covered over from the light of day, where 
 hundreds of hand-looms are busily employed in weaving the beautiful 
 shawls and girdles which every Turkish gentleman wears round his head 
 and waist, in which every English traveller who visits that eldest of the 
 cities of the world is sure to invest all the cash he has in his pocket, if 
 he have any sisters or daughters at home. 
 
 Of course, in more highly civilized countries, like France and Italy, 
 the rearing of silkworms is carried on after a very much more scientific and 
 artistic fashion ; but I do not think it is nearly so interesting to watch as 
 the happy industry of Hazrun, or any other village of the Lebanon. In 
 England, though we rear no silkworms, yet the silk manufactory is a very 
 important branch of industry. Two important towns, Coventry and 
 Macclesfield, almost depend upon it ; and many thousands of industrious 
 artisans are employed in Spitalfields, in the east of London, in the same 
 manufacture. Our silk is chiefly imported from Italy, for the French 
 weave nearly the whole of their own produce ; but our silk-weavers are, 
 for the most part, the descendants of French Protestants, who were 
 driven from their own country by Louis XIV. at the cruel revocation of 
 the Edict of Nantes, which had promised toleration to the Protestants. 
 That wicked revocation, whilst it deprived France of many of her best 
 artisans, who fled in terror to other and freer lands, was the means of 
 spreading a valuable industry, of which those who decreed that measure 
 had little foresight. The exiles brought with them improvements in the 
 manufacture into England, and have enabled our silks to hold their place 
 in the markets of the world. 
 
 Though th'e little Bombyx mori is the silk moth with which we are 
 best acquainted, yet there are many other silk-producing caterpillars. 
 Some of these, which have long been cultivated in Japan, and are much 
 larger than the mulberry moth, feed on the oak, and other trees more 
 hardy than the mulberry. One of them, in the Himalayas, produces a 
 silk which, under the name of Tusseh, is used largely for clothing in 
 India. Another Japanese silkworm, which feeds on the oleanthus, has 
 lately been introduced into Europe, and produces a coarse silk scarcely 
 inferior to that of the mulberry moth. 
 
 But there are other moths which spin silk in great abundance, though,
 
 58 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 unfortunately, without any consideration for the needs or tastes of man- 
 kind. Thus, in our fields, we may often see, in early autumn, a whole 
 network of glossy silk, stretching like a canopy from the heads of the 
 taller stems of grass, and covering a space of two or three square feet. 
 This is the umbrella of what are called the umbrella-spinning cater- 
 pillars. They particularly dislike to expose their bodies to a shower ot 
 rain, and so, when they have found an agreeable feeding-ground, they 
 combine in spinning a screen which shall protect them from the sun and 
 rain, while they devour at leisure the herbage beneath. 
 
 Akin to these, so far as they work in common, are what are called the 
 sociable procession moths ; the caterpillars of which may be often seen 
 in oak coppices, marching by night, in regular order like files of soldiers, 
 all moving in exact order, one after another, till they have found a feed- 
 ing branch, and then returning before daybreak with the same regularity. 
 These creatures hang to the stem or amongst the branches of the oak, 
 large silken bags in which they remain secure during the day, lying 
 heaped upon one another, till sunset calls them again to the march. 
 But the silk of all these sociable moths is too short and scanty to be of 
 use in commerce. 
 
 Silkworms, like larger beings, have many diseases, and many learned 
 doctors have prescribed for their treatment. Some of these diseases 
 appear to be very infectious, and three years ago an epidemic in Lom- 
 bardy destroyed nearly the whole crop of the year. 
 
 They suffer most at the time when they change into their last moult, 
 and it is then that the nurses are obliged to watch them most closely. 
 Sometimes they writhe about, as if in acute agony, and at others they 
 seem struck with paralysis. But I am afraid many of these diseases are 
 the consequence of their own greediness, for it is the worms which have 
 eaten most and become most fat, that fall victims to it. It appears that 
 there is a curious microscopic fungus which takes root on their soft bodies, 
 is nourished by their fat, and soon turns the living animal into a minia- 
 ture mushroom-bed. The animal soon turns red and dies. 
 
 The silkworm is not the only caterpillar on which vegetables seem to 
 grow. We have had sent home from New Zealand numbers of extra- 
 ordinary specimens, each consisting of a large caterpillar, hard as wood, 
 out of which rises a stem six inches in length, at the top of which is the 
 fructification and seed of a sort of moss. This sphinx of nature is, after 
 all, only like a gigantic muscadine, the name given to the silkworm fungus. 
 Its little seed-spores, floating in the air, attach themselves to the back of
 
 WHAT HAPPENS IN GARDENS. 59 
 
 the New Zealand caterpillar, which is in the habit of burying itself before 
 it enters the chrysalis state for the winter. The unconscious insect, little 
 knowing that he bears upon him the seeds of death, descends in due 
 time to his living tomb. As soon as he is under the earth, the spore 
 begins to germinate, and, drawing all its nourishment from its victim, 
 sends its shoot to the surface, and fills the whole of his skin with a hard 
 woody substance, which is its root, fed, not by the moisture of the earth, 
 but by the flesh of the caterpillar. Its root never breaks the skin, and, 
 as soon as the whole body is exhausted and transformed into hard fibre, 
 the plant itself dies, and its seeds float in the air, till, perchance, one of 
 them alights on the fostering back of another victim. 
 
 WHAT HAPPENS IN GARDENS. 
 
 E house is as good as another, and better too," said a domestic 
 bee to a companion who was twice her size and more than three 
 times as handsome. 
 
 " Buzz, buzz !" said the larger insect, " that is not true, for you have to 
 take one that is given you ; / build my own, and make sure to have it 
 convenient, soft, comfortable, and not over-crowded" And then the mis- 
 called humble-bee went down into the bank by the lawn, and the poor 
 snubbed little worker tried to hide herself in the sweet violets, feeling 
 sorely the need of a big campanula, or blue gentian, to shield herself 
 from a person of such independent tendencies. 
 
 It was just the grain of truth in the remark which made the poor bee 
 feel hurt, for she and her relations were the victims of a new-fashioned 
 owner, and they could not bring themselves to feel grateful for glass 
 houses, patent slides, and other inventions intended for the development 
 of honey rather than the comfort of bees. 
 
 " Indeed, it is very unpleasant," said the poor little thing when she 
 went home at night, " to have these underground workers quizzing not 
 only our houses but our motives, and the humble-bees quite despise us." 
 
 At this such an angry buzz went through the hive that the queen in- 
 quired what the disturbance was about. As soon as it was explained to 
 her, she said that the statement was quite true, and that it had been on 
 her mind for days how insulting and degrading it was to herself and her 
 subjects to be put into houses where their domestic arrangements could
 
 60 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 be examined by every one, and she had been told that there was an 
 enormous glass hive in the world, which contained many smaller ones of 
 the kind they were then living in, and " Would you believe ? " said the 
 queen, making her great eyes flash red lights as she spoke, " people 
 actually pay to see us make cells and store honey ! " Again the buzz of 
 anger went through the hive, and a drone who was generally too much 
 concerned with his own affairs to care for those of the community, said, 
 " I cannot see why you should not live in the roof of the gardener's 
 cottage." This magnificent idea was received with a general fluttering 
 of wings, and was so earnestly desired that the queen decided to move 
 before the sun disappeared over the hills. Such a fuss and commotion 
 the moving caused ! but no sooner did the queen pop into the hole of 
 the roof which she found with so little trouble that the common bees 
 felt convinced she and the drone had arranged it beforehand than the 
 whole of her subjects followed, leaving the hive and its grand furni- 
 ture just as clear as when they were put into it a week before. Happi- 
 ness and hard work soon reigned in the home the bees had found for 
 themselves, and they felt a comfortable conviction that they were esta- 
 blished where they would not be ejected by burning. This has proved 
 a very true conjecture, for they left the nice hives seven years ago, and have 
 been undisturbed possessors of the space under the roof ever since, and 
 it is likely they may remain as many more, for the patches on the thatch 
 are renewed in the coldest of weather, no one caring for the privilege of 
 mending it when the bees are buzzing round by thousands. It is impos- 
 sible to get rid of the bees by burning, as the roof is so large, one could 
 never make sure that they were all suffocated, besides the pleasant pro- 
 spect of destroying the house if the wind carried a spark to the thatch ; 
 and therefore this lawless establishment is kept up in our own grounds, 
 and fed with our own flowers, but we never partake of the honey. There 
 are many straw hives and 'many bees living close by, but I suppose there 
 has been no other insect so sensitive as the little worker who stirred up 
 such a violent rebellion, or perhaps humble-bees are less arrogant, and 
 have learned by experience not to throw stones at those who live in glass 
 houses, knowing, as some of them must, the flaws in their own economy. 
 Had the domestic bee who caused all the mischief known the whole 
 story of her companion's life, she would have been better pleased with 
 her own, for she had friends at home, and a monarchical government, 
 whereas the humble-bee had only just found her way out of the ground 
 after her winter sleep, and had at that moment neither home nor friends.
 
 WHAT HAPPENS IN GARDENS. 
 
 61 
 
 But she felt the power within her to make good her assertion, and her 
 plunge into the lawn bank was her first effort towards it. 
 
 "I must have a home for myself," she thought, "and that hole where 
 
 the croquet-stick went last night will save me a great deal of work." And 
 she was just going to begin preparations when it occurred to her that a 
 shower of rain would ruin her house, and that she could find no insurance 
 office to remunerate her for damage by fire or water. Half ashamed of
 
 62 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 her idle thought, she had flown to the bank, and in the pride and pleasure 
 of her first spring work had snubbed all other bees who liked gathering 
 pollen and nectar better than building. How busy she was ! she dug 
 into the side of the lawn with her poor little front legs with as much 
 energy as a dog who is scratching for rats. First with her legs, then 
 with her head, and apparently with her whole body, she worked with an 
 energy that would have made a steam-engine ashamed of the fuss it makes 
 about working its way along an even road. As soon as she had made a 
 hole large enough for two of her own size to enter, she made a transverse 
 passage across the end of it, and then she gave her attention to the 
 building of the nest. How many journeys she made carrying moss by 
 instalments of one or two leaflets, and taking sand by the grain when 
 such coarse material was needed, I could not tell, never seeming weary 
 or tired of her work, and apparently never waiting to rest. Yet I think 
 fatigue sometimes overtakes these bees, for I have picked up in the cold 
 spring one or two fainting bumbledors, as they are sometimes called, who 
 have soon revived by the warmth of my hand and flown away. After 
 watching the little creatures as they crawl over my hand and arm, I get 
 more puzzled than before to realize how such curious legs and jaws can 
 build so cunningly such pretty habitations. The moss, the sand, scraps 
 of straw, and tiny sticks were cemented together by a gummy secretion 
 of the little lady's own manufacture, and the nest was finished in a very 
 few days after her boast that it should be "warm, soft, and comfortable." 
 B.ut when all this was done a sense of loneliness came over the labourer; 
 not a friend in the world had she, and to go out and seek companions 
 did not accord with her notions of pride and independence. " I will have 
 a colony, and companions and stores," said the energetic creature; and 
 then in the transverse part of her home she constructed five or six cells 
 with wax which she had already prepared. Then into each cell she put 
 one small egg, which she thought a product of marvellous beauty ; but 
 unlike the hens who " cluck ! cluck ! " and invite every one to see their 
 productions, she rushed to the other extreme, and putting into the cells 
 a tiny portion of bee-bread, she fastened each of them down with a waxen 
 lid. What a cruel mother she seems, to prevent the escape of her chil- 
 dren by such a process ! but with five or six eggs hatched perhaps all on 
 the same day, she would have a worse time of it than the " old woman 
 who lived in a shoe " if she had not taken the precaution to keep the 
 wriggling young things in their proper places. But now is the happiest 
 time of the bee's life, if she could only realize it, and she makes more
 
 WHAT HAPPENS IN GARDENS. 63 
 
 cells and has more children, and gathers honey in a busy delightful way 
 that is quite aggravating to the flowers who supply her with material. 
 Each little caterpillar at last shows signs of having had food enough, and 
 then the mother knows her work is nearly finished as a nurse. She again 
 fastens down the cells and leaves the chrysalides, into which the children 
 have developed, to work their own way out of them. This happens in a 
 few days, and at last the lonely builder and mother has companions on 
 her journeys and friends to share the labours of storing and gathering. 
 It would be a happy state if this buzzing, humming life continued, and 
 we can fancy how proud the mother must be of the new bright golden 
 bands of coloured hair upon the bodies of her children. Her own have 
 faded to pale dusky yellow since the work in the hot May suns ; but she 
 forgets this, and is proud of her children's gorgeous beauty. But pre- 
 sently the colony increases, each child builds cells and lays eggs, and 
 these children as they grow older develop into bees and do the same, 
 until the little family of five or six is sometimes increased to a colony of 
 two or three hundred. There is no longer much peace, and the new 
 and last comers, who are small male bees, try to rule in the nest ; their 
 mothers, who are also small, and the latest females of the broods, en- 
 deavour to support them in their claims ; and then the older bees, who 
 have worked for them and built for them, are obliged to fight to keep a 
 place in their own homes. 
 
 As the season advances more quarrelling and fighting goes on between 
 these rival mothers, and at last so many are killed, and so many driven 
 out, that the nest with its stores and regular waxen cells is quite deserted. 
 The foundress bee has been killed long since, destroyed by one of her 
 own children perhaps, and her pretty home with all its wealth is left for 
 a cunning field-mouse to break up, and carry off the effects to a family 
 of sharp-nosed hungry babies, who sorely try her patience to find food 
 for them. One would suppose that such rebellion and quarrelling would 
 soon bring the reign of Bumbledom to an end ; but it is not so : some of 
 the larger early broods creep away and hide in the cracks of old willow- 
 trees, in holes in the ground, or under the eaves of the thatched houses, 
 and sleep away the winter. Then, when the warm spring days return, 
 they creep from their curious crannies, and each one starts alone and 
 unaided to do such work as I have described. A visit from a humble- 
 bee is a sure sign of returning summer, and how many of us have heard 
 the old nurse's tale that when one of these insects enters the house, strange 
 visitors are sure to follow. Such stories were invented before railways and
 
 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 telegraphs brought people together so frequently as they meet now, and 
 the story means nothing more than that the ground was dry and the bees 
 at work, and so the roads were passable for foot or driving passengers. 
 But these bees are not the only patient and solitary workers, although the 
 others do not found such enormous colonies, and even those of humble- 
 bees number generally only sixty or a hundred inhabitants. Perhaps the 
 leaf-cutter bee, who is at this moment destroying the leaves of my rose- 
 trees, is a more interesting designer than these I have described. This 
 little artificer despises such material as the others delight in ; not for her 
 are the dead stalks of the curly moss, or the bruised petals of flowers, 
 or scraps of hay which may have fallen from somewhere unknown and 
 unclean. This little lady (and she is really such an atom !) prefers the 
 crisp and just full-blown leaves of the choicest roses, and she will never 
 touch those of the dog-rose, if certain cultivated kinds are to be had for 
 the trouble of flying over the hedge where it is growing. She is not at 
 all an easy bee to capture, and her mind is not so much occupied with 
 her work that she is off her guard. The movement of a bird or the 
 rustle of a dress disturbs her, and she will fly off, leaving her scrap of 
 leaf hanging by a thread, which she comes back and cuts off as soon as 
 she thinks the danger over. But it is a pity to catch her and stop the 
 progress of her pretty mischief; it is far better to watch and to follow 
 her when possible to the abode she is building with your property. There, 
 under a fallen stick, or quite likely under your window-sill, or behind 
 your shutters, you will see the cunning nest, which is built with such 
 regularity as to the size of the pieces employed, that one might suppose 
 the bees were taught mathematics and brick-making. There she puts in 
 separate cells her tiny eggs, and she lives to see the family metamorphose 
 result in producing less vicious insects than those of the bumbledors. 
 
 The other British rivals in insect architecture are the mason bees, who 
 make their nests of sand, which they carry, a grain at a time, into some 
 little nook which forms the outer wall of the structure. The sand is 
 made into a kind of paste by the insect, and put in ridges to divide the 
 separate cells, and it soon hardens by exposure to the air. Sometimes 
 an empty snail-shell is converted into a house, whose chambers will con- 
 tain an egg, a caterpillar, or a chrysalis, but never an idle bee. Such are 
 the spring visitors to all our gardens, but they are only known to those 
 who care for their acquaintance ; and prying into their affairs, from any 
 motive but that of an earnest love for them, is much disliked by these 
 tiny aristocrats. If by an accident they intrude upon us, they do the.r
 
 A LUMP OF COAL. 65 
 
 best to escape, and one reason that they quarrel so much with their 
 discarded relations, the wasps, is that these latter have not at present 
 tact enough to know when they are not wanted. This vulgar habit, and 
 the very dishonest tricks which the wasps have a way of playing upon the 
 bees, render them very troublesome company, and now and then one is 
 attacked by a united party of bees in a way which is quite certain to end 
 in the death of the intruder. This result we certainly cannot regret, nor 
 even blame the murderers, when we with our clumsy apparatus and enor- 
 mous size are delighted if we succeed in crushing to death an insect 
 whose only crime, so far as we are concerned, is that she has lost her way. 
 
 A LUMP OF COAL, 
 
 VERY one likes a good fire in bleak chilly weather, not the huge 
 block of black cold coal, with a backing of dross, with which 
 the thrifty housewife fills the grate, and only a thin line of dull red 
 glimmering between the lowest bars ; but a little active volcano, whose 
 cheery crackling does one's heart good. It is pleasant to sit beside 
 such a fire when the short wintry day is fading into the gloomy night. 
 The eye can no longer see the printed page, and the weary book is laid 
 aside. It is the time for thinking. Gazing into the bright embers, the 
 fancy is busy with all sorts of dreamy notions. Strange faces are seen 
 in the centre of the pure white heat ; and the shapes of the burning coals 
 look like those castles and rocks, the abodes of giants and dragons, of 
 which the young mind is so full. But the things that we see in the fire 
 are not all fancies airy nothings. From the ashes of the fire the man of 
 science can raise before his mind's eye the shapes of the old trees whose 
 remains formed the coal that is burning beside him. For, strange to 
 say, the coal is not a mineral but a vegetable substance. It looks like a 
 stone a piece of black marble ; but it is in reality made of the relics of 
 plants, just as the limestone that is often found with it in the earth is 
 made up of the remains of animals, shells, and corals, whose figures we 
 see in the marble of almost every mantelpiece. 
 
 The page of the earth's story-book that tells us the history of coal is a 
 very extraordinary one. It is to the familiar appearance of the world of 
 
 5
 
 66 THE BOYS 1 AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 he present day what the fairy story-books of childhood are to the sober 
 duties and enjoyments of grown-up men. The earth has its ages just 
 like a human being. It has its childhood and youth, and it is of the 
 fresh green youth of the earth that the coal burning in the grate speaks. 
 It tells us of forests growing where no trees are now found, and where 
 everlasting winter reigns, covering the earth with a dark green mantle 
 from pole to pole. The plants that composed these old forests are 
 different from any that now exist. They passed away many ages before 
 man came into the world they were the first planting on the fresh soil 
 r aised above the ocean. But we see, at times, in sandstone quarries, 
 pieces of their stems and branches ; and on the roofs of coal-mines, and 
 on the upper layers of coal-seams, we find impressions of leaves and 
 other parts, and from these fragments we know what kind of appearance 
 they had when green and growing. 
 
 Between three and four hundred different kinds of plants are found in 
 the coal area of our own country. The great mass of them are ferns and 
 pines, and belong to a lower order of vegetation than our own oak and 
 beech forests. The most common coal plants are called Sigillarias, on 
 account of the seal-like impressions which occur on their stems. Large 
 fragments of them are frequently found in coal-pits, remarkably well 
 preserved, and filled in the inside with sand. There are furrows or 
 grooves running beside each other from one end of the trunk to the 
 other, and along these the seal-like marks are arranged in rows. Each 
 stem resembles a fluted Doric column, beautifully but variously chiselled 
 the pattern changing with the species. The seal-like impressions are 
 evidently the scars left behind by old leaves, like the horse-shoe marks 
 on the young twig of a horse-chestnut- tree when its leaves have fallen in 
 autumn. 
 
 Another very common coal plant is called Lepidodendron, a long word 
 which signifies a scaly tree. Its trunk was covered with scales, somewhat 
 like a pine-cone. It grew in a fork-shaped form to a considerable height, 
 and was covered with needle-like leaves like a larch or fir-tree. The 
 wood of the stem was very soft, with a pith in the centre, and was there- 
 fore worthless for timber. Both the Sigillarias and the Lepidodendrons 
 were intermediate between the pine-trees and the club-mosses now grow- 
 ing on our moors and hills, partaking of the characters of both. They 
 supply the missing link connecting these two classes of plants; the 
 Sigillarias most nearly resembling the pine-trees, and the Lepidodendrons 
 most nearly the club-mosses. Every one knows what pine-trees are like ;
 
 A LUMP OF COAL. 67 
 
 and most persons have seen the club-mosses, often called fox-fetters 
 which creep over the ground among the heather ; so that by uniting the 
 shapes of these two kinds of familiar plants in the mind's eye, any one 
 may have a very good idea of the appearance of the coal plants. We 
 are struck with their enormous size in comparison with the humble 
 plants which represent them at the present day. They frequently 
 attained the amazing height of seventy to one hundred feet, and a girth 
 of five to six feet. 
 
 Another ancient plant still whose substance formed our coal is called 
 Catamites, signifying a reed. It is found in jointed fragments which 
 were originally round and hollow, but which by the pressure of the 
 rocks above them have been crushed and flattened. The stem appears 
 to have been branched; and both stem and branches are ribbed and 
 furrowed, and present quite an elegant appearance. We know less 
 about this plant than about the two others; but it is supposed to have 
 been a kind of ancient horse-tail. Our modern horse-tails are among 
 our humblest plants, a foot being about the usual height; but the 
 ancient horse-tails or Calamites had stems fourteen or fifteen inches 
 round, and grew to a height of thirty or forty feet. 
 
 Scattered among these huge club-mosses and horse-tails were many 
 beautiful tree-ferns. Their wide umbrellas of richly-cut leaves waved 
 high above the ground, upborne on tall dark stems. Beneath their 
 shadow, forming the underwood of the forest, grew many thick clusters 
 of graceful ferns, whose impressions are seen as delicately marked on 
 the black slate of coal-pits as though they had been printed from 
 copper plates. 
 
 There are many other plants that enter into the composition of coal, 
 but those I have mentioned are the four principal kinds. And it is not 
 a little strange that we owe our coal to plants so low in the scale of nature 
 instead of to the lordly oaks and the princely palms. God shows us in 
 this the value and importance of humble things, and proves to us that He 
 is greatest even in His least productions. 
 
 The ancient coal forests composed of these trees must have looked 
 very dark and sombre. The colour of the whole was one dull green, 
 without the many delicate shades which we see in our woods. And all 
 the year round there was no change of hue any more than in a pine wood. 
 The stillness of these old forests was awful : only the grand sound of the 
 wind among the tops of the trees seemed at intervals like the distant roar 
 of the sea. Animal life was scarce. Only huge reptiles frogs, serpents, 
 
 52
 
 68 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS\ BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 and crocodiles glided silently in and out among the fern clumps, devouring 
 each other. Had man lived among these woods, he would have been 
 sorely pinched for food and fuel and implements of work. He could not 
 have cultivated the trees for their fruit or their blossoms or their shade ; 
 their wood was too soft and spongy to have formed his furniture or his 
 instruments, and it was too wet and pithy to serve even for fuel. The 
 
 only form in which they could have been made useful was in making 
 coal ; and accordingly it is in this form alone that the great Creator has 
 preserved them to us. 
 
 What the climate of the globe was at the time that these coal plants 
 grew may be found out from the fact that ferns and club-mosses thrive 
 best at the present day in moist sheltered islands. Some think that the 
 presence of tree-ferns shoAvs a tropical warmth; but in New Zealand, 
 where they still occur, the climate is very much like our own, and tree-
 
 A LUMP OF COAL. 69 
 
 ferns are found even at a height of upwards of a thousand feet, beside 
 the end of glaciers, waving their green feathery fronds over the never- 
 melting ice. Ferns and club-mosses can therefore endure a wide range 
 of temperature, so that their occurrence is no proof of a particular climate. 
 In all probability, however, the climate of the coal period was warmer, 
 moister, and more uniform than now obtains ; and the huge size of the 
 coal plants and the vast quantity of coal which they formed seem to 
 prove that the atmosphere was highly charged with that carbonic acid 
 gas which plants take in and work into all their structures. The sameness 
 of the climate is shown by the general character of the coal plants being 
 the same over every portion of the earth's surface, the same kinds being 
 found in the most distant countries. 
 
 How coal was formed from these plants it is very difficult indeed to 
 tell, because there is no process precisely of the same nature now going 
 on anywhere. Most men of science believe that the plants have been 
 swept down from the places where they grew by rivers or currents, and 
 left in basins and firths of the sea or in fresh-water lakes. Sand and mud 
 were heaped in alternate layers over them there, and thus formed the 
 different strata of coal and sandstone which we now find in a coal basin. 
 We can trace the gradual change between perfect wood and perfect coal 
 in such situations, from the blackened tree-trunks of our peat-bogs, through 
 the lignites or brown coal, up through bituminous coal to the true coals 
 which we burn in our grates. After a long interment of the heaped-up 
 plants beneath the water, gradually undergoing there the chemical changes 
 necessary to convert them into the mineral condition, subterranean fires 
 at last elevated the beds of coal above the waters nearer the surface of 
 the earth. Were it not for this the coal would have been buried far 
 beyond the reach of man. 
 
 Molten matter ran through the coal basin in different directions, like 
 the lava that flows down the sides of Vesuvius, and this hardened into 
 what is called trap-rocks. By these fiery eruptions of trap the seams cf 
 coal were broken up and divided into parts that are easily worked, and 
 the coal itself was brought from the profound depths within reach of 
 man. We find many wonderful proofs of God's wisdom and care for 
 man in thus preparing and arranging the coal beds. Had they been 
 formed on the surface, exposed to the air, they would have crumbled 
 away into dross. But the precious treasure was safely hid deep down in 
 the earth under beds of rocks, and yet not so deep as to be beyond the 
 industry of man to] 'get it by digging. It was not covered with hard
 
 70 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 rocks like granite and quartz, which it would be very difficult to blast 
 and penetrate ; but with limestone, sandstone, shale, and clay iron- 
 stone, which can be easily pierced, and yet afford a sufficiently safe 
 roof for the mine, and which are very valuable in themselves for man's 
 uses. 
 
 A lump of coal, it is often said, is made up of sunbeams. We could 
 believe this more readily of the diamond, which is just a crystal of coal, 
 for it is so bright and sparkling, and makes brilliant sunshine in a shady 
 place. But even the dull black coal has been formed of the sunshine of 
 long-forgotten summers. Every sunbeam that fell upon the club-mosses 
 and ferns of the old coal forests, enabled them to withdraw the minute 
 unseen carbon from the air, and form out of it their own solid tissue. 
 They thus caged and imprisoned the floating light itself, and wrought its 
 bright threads in their loom into the beautiful patterns of stem and leaf 
 which they showed. To form one of the little rings of wood in the trunk 
 of one of the old pines took the sunshine of a long summer falling upon 
 all its thousand leaves ; and who can tell how much sunshine has been 
 worked up in all the stores of coal that lie concealed under our feet ? 
 This prisoned sunshine we set free whenever we kindle a fire of coals. 
 When the sun ceases to shine upon us in cold misty wintry days, we 
 draw upon the sunshine of a million years ago to drive away the frost and 
 make us comfortable. The source of all labour is the sun ; and we get 
 the benefit of his labour when we burn the coal or the wood in which he 
 has condensed and preserved it. No ray of sunlight has ever been wasted 
 or thrown away. It is because Nature has been so thrifty in her house- 
 hold ways that we are enabled to be so prodigal of our resources to-day, 
 spending upwards of one hundred millions of tons of coal every year, and 
 with that vast consumption of sun-labour producing all the varied and 
 extraordinary work that we do under the sun. 
 
 Why is a lump of coal black if it is composed of sunbeams, which every 
 one knows contain all the colours of the rainbow? Why is it black if it 
 is made up of the green stems and branches and leaves of plants ? It is 
 because its particles are so formed and arranged as to take in all the light 
 that falls upon it without giving back any portion. A white object reflects 
 all the light, and a black object absorbs all the light. What becomes, then, 
 of the colours which the black coal has withdrawn from the sunshine ? 
 Are they lost? No ! nothing in this world is lost. Everything is accounted 
 for. When anything has served its purpose in one form, it seems to vanish 
 altogether, but it reappears in another form, and in it works anew. There
 
 A LUMP OF COAL. 71 
 
 is everywhere change, but not loss. A growing plant absorbs some of 
 the colours of the sunbeams that nourish it, and reflects others in its 
 prevailing hue yellow or blue or red or purple. But the colours that it 
 absorbs are not lost ; they generally reappear in some other or after part 
 of the plant. So the colours of the sunshine that are absorbed in the black 
 coal come out in the coloured flames of the blazing fire. The red and 
 
 yellow flame over which you warm your hands, is just the flower into 
 which the sunshine, concealed and stored up in the coal for ages, has 
 blossomed. But more than this : the lost colours of the rainbow in coal 
 are brought out still more strikingly by our modern manufactures. 
 Every one has heard of and most persons have seen what are called 
 the coal-tar colours. Richest and brightest hues of blue and green, and 
 mauve and magenta, and rose and yellow, are obtained from tar, and 
 tar is obtained from coal. It would take too long to describe the
 
 72 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 process, but it is very curious, and is one of the many triumphs of this 
 extraordinary age. 
 
 Were I disposed to draw a moral from this little essay, I could show 
 that there are hidden beauties in everything and every one, however ugly 
 and unpromising, which it would be well worth our while to find and bring 
 out. But I shall merely throw out this as a hint, and simply ask those who 
 have accompanied me thus far without sleepy eyes and yawns as round as 
 O's, if it is not true what I have said, that there are wonders in the fire 
 stranger than in any fairy story, stranger than any faces, and castles, and 
 pictures that the young fancy sees in its glowing heat in the twilight hours, 
 wonders, the half of which has not been told them ? 
 
 THE SPIDER AND ITS WEBS. 
 
 upon a time there was a spider. Not one of those happy 
 creatures who spin their gossamer webs in green lanes or shady 
 forests, where they glance in the sunshine or glisten with dew to make 
 captives of the bright unwary creatures passing by in the free summer 
 air ; nor yet one of those unfortunate Penelopes who day by day weave 
 afresh their webs, to be as often torn away by the unwearied housemaid, 
 who with her Turk's-head brush, poking into corners, peeping behind 
 shutters and into the recesses of closets, would sweep to destruction the 
 homes and hopes of the spider race. It was none of these, but a plain 
 brown spider of homely birth and habits, suited to a cottage home, though 
 possibly with hidden aspirations within him, such as may have swelled 
 the breast of many a village Hampden who lived and died inglorious. 
 
 Well, now, to return to the spider. His home was a hovel, the rafters 
 of which at wide intervals supported the thatch, through which the smoke 
 found scanty exit. Without splendour, there was spider comfort, and no 
 rude winds tore his web to atoms, no officious housemaid with her ruth- 
 less broom brushed away his larder well stocked with flies. But the 
 spider was restless. He dreamed of a lot cast in a higher region, where 
 his web might curtain the arches and festoon the pillars of a king's palace. 
 Had he ever heard what Agur, the son of Jakeh, says of the spider, who 
 "taketh hold with her hands and is in king's palaces"? (Prov. xxx. 28)
 
 THE SPIDER AND ITS WEBS. 73 
 
 (though philosophers do say that the wise man had a lizard of some kind 
 in his mind when he made that allusion). "Alas ! " said our cottage friend, 
 "that my life should pass so uneventful and so unobserved on this retired 
 rafter! that far from courting observation, or even attracting the notice of 
 the sordid giants of the human race who inhabit this smoky den, I am 
 never thought worth looking after, nor does my web, weighed down with 
 dust and skeletons, demand of them the trouble of sweeping it away. A 
 palace were a better sphere for me. My industry, my taste, and the fine- 
 ness of my fabric might there win the admiration of all who had time to 
 examine the ingenuity of its construction; while history might record 
 my successful capture of a bluebottle about to settle on the nose of the 
 monarch ! " 
 
 Happily, a good night's rest, after a plentiful supper, restored the 
 spider to a more complacent state of mind with respect to his existing 
 circumstances and his native home ; and, balancing himself on the deli- 
 cate meshes of his dusty web, he took measure of his present position, 
 and of his actual powers, with a view to their exercise and improvement, 
 in case the palace for which he longed should ever open its portals for 
 his reception. "Could I," he mused, "all untrained as I am in this 
 lonely shed, weave like those lighter spiders whose slender bodies and 
 lengthened limbs dart almost unseen through those lofty corridors, and 
 weave in those elevated niches for which I so often sigh, I, whose body 
 has become heavy with the gross fare of this confined cottage, my fate 
 might be that foreshadowed by the poet, that 'vaulting ambition doth 
 sometimes o'erleap itself, and fall on t' other side.' No. But I will fit 
 myself. I will cultivate my powers, and extend my efforts, till my per- 
 severance at least shall be worthy of imitation. Hitherto I have been 
 content with spinning my web in this dark corner, where no effort is 
 needed to stretch it from rafter to rafter. At least I will deserve, if I 
 do not gain, the gratitude of the giants who sleep below me. How often 
 have I watched them tormented in their sleep by some pertinacious fly, 
 or some vicious little imp of a gnat, which settled on their eyelid, or 
 buzzed in their ear. while they winked and winced, and turned from 
 side to side to elude their plagues ! But as they moved, their nimble 
 tormentor darted out of reach, and came down again in an instant. 
 Ah ! if I had woven a nobler web, had I stretched it just over their 
 heads, I might soon have trapped their plagues, and laid up a good 
 breakfast for myself at the same time." 
 
 From this musing he proceeded to action, and from the inner recesses
 
 74 THE J50YS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 of his self-consciousness he evolved a long silken thread on which to 
 hang not his argument, but himself. Dropping a little gum from his 
 spinneret, he proceeded gently to draw out from his body a long viscous 
 thread. The end of it he carefully glued to his rafter, and then gently 
 letting himself down, he rapidly but very carefully combed out this gum 
 into a long thread between the claws of his hind legs, taking care that 
 it was strong enough to support his weight, when, meeting the air, it in- 
 stantly dried into hard fine silk. Thus he transformed himself into a 
 species of pendulum, the vibrations of which should affect, if not the 
 history of the world, at least that of his own particular ambition. 
 
 Ignorant of the higher mathematics, or even of the simpler laws which 
 govern gravitation, knowing nothing of the movements of the radii of 
 circles, or of the arcs which they describe, he yet, in his vain attempts to 
 reach the next rafter, and in the constant return of his little cargo of legs 
 to the other side of his beat, described an orbit regulated by mathematical 
 rules as exact as those which were at the same moment carrying him, his 
 web, his hovel, and the earth on which it stood, with unerring force through 
 the regions of space. The point at which he aimed was a distant one, but 
 to his ardent imagination it seemed not unattainable. "What spider has 
 done, spider may do," thought he, as he swung disconsolately back from 
 his second unsuccessful attempt. Again he applied his hind legs to the 
 end of his abdomen, and gently teazed out a little more of the glutinous 
 fluid, and carefully combed it into long silken hairs. "Perhaps," he 
 reflected within himself, "with a little longer web I may succeed." 
 Pausing a moment, he looked down and contrasted himself favourably 
 with a human being who had lately entered the hovel, and had flung 
 himself down on the pallet bed with the hopeless and worn expression 
 of one with whom effort and success had not gone hand in hand. The 
 spider saw he was a stranger, and began to criticise somewhat contemptu- 
 ously his soiled and tattered appearance. But vanity had a large share 
 in our spider's composition, and when he noted how the wanderer's eyes, 
 which at first roved vacantly from object to object with a weary stare, 
 at length rested on himself, he felt spurred on to more vigorous efforts. 
 Never before had one of the familiar faces of that cottage been fixed on 
 him or his work. 
 
 "I will prove myself worthy," resolved he, "of human notice. That 
 man shall learn now how even a cottage spider can float in air, where he 
 cannot follow." Again, again he tried : with a sudden motion, stretching 
 out his legs, he pushed himself back, and swung once more towards the
 
 THE SPIDER AND ITS WEBS. 75 
 
 rafter. It seemed to retreat still further from his unequal efforts. Again 
 he tried. "England, Scotland, Spiderland expects every one to do his 
 duty," was perhaps the thought that animated the renewed effort of the 
 spirited creature; and it seemed in some mysterious manner to commu- 
 nicate its energy to the lustreless eyes of the wayworn traveller. Warrior 
 he seemed as well as huntsman, for his bugle and his sword hung side by 
 side from his loosened belt. His eyes became riveted on the little animal, 
 so unremitting, so dauntless, yet so unsuccessful. A fellow-feeling touched, 
 perhaps, a sympathetic chord, and kindled the almost extinguished 
 embers of hope that had well-nigh given way to despair, alternating with 
 sad and revengeful thoughts. 
 
 Beneath that spider lay Robert Bruce, the defeated and almost hope- 
 less hero of Scotland. Ah ! little spider, had you taken hold with your 
 hands of a king's palace, instead of the rafters of a cotter's hut, your lot 
 might have been a more brilliant, probably a shorter, most certainly a less 
 useful one. 
 
 Four times, five times, six limes, swings the living pendulum from side 
 to side, and failing to gain his own object, rebounds again, baffled, but not 
 disheartened. The seventh time it gathers up its energies and repeats the 
 effort. It has won at last, and "Never say die" is the watchword that 
 thrills the giant heart of the champion of Scottish liberties, as he recalls 
 how six times he has been defeated, and beholds the little animal safely 
 resting on the rafter it has scaled at last with so much effort. Little did 
 it think how a mighty courage had been rekindled by its tiny struggles, 
 and that a page in history would ennoble the memory of the cottage 
 spider. 
 
 But it is not every spider that can expect a place in story. Yet there 
 is many another spider, which, if we watched it, would teach us a lesson, 
 if not as grand as that which Robert Bruce learned, yet one very useful 
 or interesting. 
 
 There are nearly three hundred kinds of British spiders, living not only 
 in cottages and halls, but in lanes and hedges, or trees, or in fields, but 
 some burying themselves in the ground, and others, stranger still, living 
 nnder water not in it, like fishes or reptiles, but actually bottling the air, 
 taking it down with them and keeping enough about them to breathe, and 
 then, when that is exhausted, coming up again for a fresh supply. But 
 all these spiders weave webs, and the webs are almost as various as the 
 spiders. If there are near three hundred species of spiders in this country, 
 there are as many different patterns of webs. Just as silk is woven into
 
 '1HE SPIDER AND ITS WEBS. 77 
 
 sarsenet, or satin, or velvet, or net, so the fairy gossamer of the spider's 
 web is spun sometimes to form the brown dust-catching silk which festoons 
 the neglected corners of a room ; sometimes those beautiful patterns of 
 network we see jewelled with dewdrops on a summer's morning in the 
 hedges, or the fine threads which stretch from tree to tree, or the light 
 hairs we catch up with our feet as we walk across a field in early spring. 
 But all spiders spin, though all do not spin nets. Some content them- 
 selves with spinning houses for their young ones, and very tight and tough 
 houses those white and yellow silk bags are. Other subterranean spiders 
 make silk hinges for the doors of their houses, of which we may have 
 something more to say further on. And others make literal fishing-nets, 
 for the water-spiders of which we spoke actually spin webs in the water 
 and catch the water-insects. 
 
 There is one spider, the tarantula, not an English animal (insect we 
 must not call it, for spiders, small as they are, are not insects, but far 
 more like crabs or lobsters), about which strange stories are told not 
 quite so pleasing as that of Robert Bruce's spider, for it is said to have 
 a poisonous bite, which forces people not to try again like Bruce, but 
 to dance like maniacs. The bite is not, however, very serious, and I 
 have often caught the tarantula in warm countries without being hurt 
 by it. 
 
 But there is another kind of spider, which by candle-light looks as large 
 as a mouse running across a room, which is a very old friend of mine. I 
 once had one of these spiders, a sort of Mygale, as it would be called in 
 books of natural history, which I kept tame in my bed for a year and a 
 half, and which I think was quite as noble a spider as Robert Bruce's 
 friend. It was in the island of Bermuda, which swarms with every kind 
 of disagreeable insects, and where the mosquitoes, gigantic bloodthirsty 
 gnats, not only murder sleep by their sharp shrieking buzz in the ear all 
 night long, but thrust their long lancets through the skin and suck out 
 the blood, raising great sores which are often very troublesome. No one 
 can sleep there in peace without a mosquito-net or large bag made of 
 bobbin net, which is hung from a hook in the ceiling and covers the 
 whole bed to the ground like a huge gauze nightcap. But the mosquitoes 
 are very active, and when you lift up the net to get into bed, some of them 
 are sure to be nimble enough to get in with you to keep you company. 
 Now, my bedfellows were very troublesome, and would neither sleep 
 themselves nor let me sleep. Sometimes they tasted the tip of my nose, 
 then they bored my ears, then they ran their lancets into my eyelids,
 
 78 THE BOYS' AND GILLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 singing all the time most hideously. At last I determined to make friends 
 with a large spider. I caught him one evening as he was jumping after 
 the flies in the window curtains, and put him into a little bag which I 
 fastened inside my net at the very top. Then I fed him with large flies 
 for a few days, until he began to find himself in very comfortable quarters, 
 and thought of spinning a nest and making his home. I then cut a hole 
 in the bag, and my spider soon spun a beautiful nest as large as a wine- 
 glass for himself, winding himself round and round as he combed out the 
 silk from the end of his tail. In this nest he sat perfectly motionless, for 
 these spiders do not weave nests, but only homes for themselves and their 
 young ones, and catch their prey by leaping upon them with amazing 
 speed. There at the top of the net sat my friend, and often have I watched 
 him when a fly or mosquito got inside our gauzy tent. I could fancy I 
 saw his eyes twinkle as his victims buzzed about, till when they were 
 within a yard or so of the top, one spring, and the fly was in his forceps 
 or nippers, and another leap took him back to his den, where he soon 
 finished the savoury mouthful. Sometimes he would bound from side 
 to side of the bed, and seize a mosquito at every spring, resting only a 
 moment on the net to swallow it. In another corner of the room was 
 the nest of a female Mygale of the same species. She was not content 
 with so small a house as her husband, but added some beautiful little 
 silk bags or cocoons larger than a thimble of very tough yellow silk made 
 by herself, in each of which she laid more than a dozen spider's eggs, 
 which used to sit on her back when hatched, but which all disappeared 
 as soon as they were old enough to hunt and leap for themselves. I kept 
 my useful friend in bed for nearly a year and a half, when unfortunately 
 one day a new housemaid spied his pretty brown house, pulled it down, 
 and crushed under her black feet my poor companion. 
 
 There was another kind of spider in Bermuda, much more handsome 
 than my bedfellow, but not nearly so great a favourite of mine, about an 
 inch long without measuring its long legs, and with a bright yellow and 
 black body painted in beautiful patterns. This spider did not weave nets, 
 but nooses of bright yellow silk. It spun them in the woods from tree 
 to tree, sitting at the extremity of a branch, and then, taking advantage 
 of a breath of wind, it would sail out into the air, carrying its thread 
 behind it, till it reached the next tree, where it fastened it, and then 
 started back again with another thread. These spiders generally choose 
 the trees on each side of a pathway for their operations, and the silken 
 threads hang across it in myriads. When the large beautiful butterflies
 
 THE SPIDER AND ITS WEBS. 79 
 
 come fluttering down the avenue in the sunlight, they often get their wings 
 entangled in these cords. If the cord breaks at once the butterfly escapes, 
 but if not, in its struggles it would soon touch two or three more lines, and 
 as soon as it was completely entangled, the spider would come running 
 along its thread from the tree, and rapidly moving round and round its 
 lovely prey, would spin its gummy silk till the butterfly was completely 
 fettered, when it devoured its captive on the spot. I once saw two of 
 these spiders together capture a little bird, a greenlet, about the size of a 
 wren, in this way. The threads had got so entangled round its wings 
 that the spiders were able to seize it as it struggled in the snare, and had 
 bitten its throat so severely that, though I freed it after watching the battle 
 for a minute or two, the poor little bird died in my hand. 
 
 An ingenious American tried to make use of this silk, and once ex- 
 hibited at a show in Bermuda a yellow silk handkerchief of spiders' webs. 
 But though it was far finer than silkworms' silk, it was so troublesome to 
 collect that no one attempted the manufacture afterwards. 
 
 There is another spider which I have often watched in Greece and the 
 Holy Land, which is, I think, the most wonderful of all in its architecture. 
 It is also a Mygale, but much smaller than those of which we have been 
 speaking, and is commonly known as the Mason Spider. This spider is 
 entirely nocturnal in its habits, and never either hunts or feeds in daylight, 
 but makes itself a most comfortable house, where it is perfectly safe and 
 locked up till snnset. It bores a circular hole in the side of a bank, or 
 any sloping ground, about the size of a man's middle finger. The tunnel 
 is most exactly rounded, and from two to four inches deep. To rake up 
 the earth and shovel it away, it has a row of hard points on its head, like 
 the teeth of a rake. As soon as it has scooped out the soil, it lines the 
 tunnel with silk, through which no damp can penetrate; and no drawing- 
 room was ever so beautifully plastered, and papered with damask, as the 
 mason spider's sitting-room. But the door is the most wonderful part 
 of this mansion. The spider does not like draughts, and cannot bear 
 having the door left open, so it contrives that it shall shut itself. The 
 door is perfectly round and flat, about the size of a sixpence, but very 
 thick, made of thin layers of fine earth moistened and worked together 
 with fine silk, so that it is very tough and elastic, and cannot crumble ; with 
 a wonderful silk liinge at the top. The hinge is elastic silk, very springy, 
 and so tight that when the door is opened it closes immediately with a 
 sharp snap. But the door does not fit on to the house, but into it It 
 has a beautifully hard socket, bound with silk, into which it fits very tightly,
 
 8o 1HE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 while the outside is covered with bits of moss or other things glued on, 
 so that no one can possibly detect it. The only way of opening it from 
 without is by a pin, and even then I have often seen the spider keeping 
 tight hold of the bottom of the door with her claws, while holding on to 
 the walls of her cell with her whole force. Here the little architect re- 
 mains all day, and at night spins a few threads among the grass near her 
 home, in which she catches her prey; but she also hunts for food by leap- 
 ing upon beetles, and carrying them into her tunnel. So attached is she 
 to her cellar, that I have often cut the nests out of the earth and brought 
 them away in my pocket with the inhabitant within; and I have now be- 
 ore me a row of these nests, all with their doors fitting exactly alike. I 
 once cut off the door of a nest near my tent, and next day found that a 
 new one had already been hung on its hinges. 
 
 One more spider I should like to say a word upon, because it is one 
 we may often see in this country, and is very little known. It is the water* 
 spider. It has a very long Latin name, Argyroneta aquatica^ i.e., the water 
 silver spider, and it is very interesting, because as we said some time 
 ago it bottles up air and takes it under water to breathe with. In fact, 
 had people only watched water-spiders as Robert Bruce watched the cot* 
 tage spider, diving-bells would have been discovered hundreds of years 
 ago, and people might have learnt how to go to the bottom of the sea 
 and save the treasures of wrecks. We know there are two ways in which 
 divers descend and work under water. One is by the diving-bell, which 
 is like a great bell dropped into the water, so that the air cannot escape; 
 the other is by a diving dress, in which there is a supply of air inside the 
 clothes of the diver. The spider uses both these methods. It lives in 
 ditches and stagnant pools, near the bottom, and weaves a strong silken 
 cup of the shape of a bell, which it fastens by long cords stretched on all 
 sides to the stems 01 water-weeds, and which is filled with air. As the 
 bag is always kept mouth downwards by the cords, the air cannot escape; 
 and here the spider lives and deposits its eggs in little capsules or bags, 
 where its submarine cradle keeps them perfectly safe. Its body is co- 
 vered with long hairs, and these hairs hold the atmosphere all around it, 
 so that when it swims lying on its back which is its regular method of 
 moving about it looks like a silvery bubble of air. It often comes to the 
 surface to replenish its supply. The walls of its nest are very thin, com- 
 posed of a tissue of fine white silk, to which is attached quite a fringe of 
 threads to anchor it to the weeds. Here the spider lives, with his head 
 downwards, ready to pounce upon any unwary insect. In winter, when
 
 VOLCANOES, 8 
 
 it sleeps for many weeks together, it weaves a flooring to its nest to secure 
 it from any accidental entrance of water. 
 
 I could tell of many other wondrous kinds of spiders' webs, but my 
 readers will see from the few here mentioned how full of marvels is even 
 the little spider's world, and how much there is to instruct any one who 
 would rather go through life with eyes than with no eyes. The spider 
 will teach us not only the lesson of perseverance which Robert Bruce 
 learnt when he was nearly giving way to despair it will teach us how to 
 spin and how to weave, how to hunt and how to snare. It gives lessons 
 in gymnastics, in swimming, and in leaping, and it has solved many a 
 problem in mathematics before Euclid was born. Look at the spider's 
 web, and see whether " any hand of man, with all the fine appliances 
 of art, and twenty years' apprenticeship to boot, could weave us such 
 another." 
 
 VOLCANOES. 
 
 "VTOU want to know why the Spaniards in Peru and Ecuador should 
 ^ have expected an earthquake. 
 
 Because they had had so many already. The shaking of the ground 
 in their country had gone on perpetually, till they had almost ceased 
 to care about it, always hoping that no very heavy shock would come; 
 and being, now and then, terribly mistaken. 
 
 For instance, in the province of Quito, in the year 1797, from thirty 
 to forty thousand people were killed at once by an earthquake. One 
 would have thought that warning enough; but the warning was not 
 taken; and since then thousands more have been killed in the very same 
 country, in the very same way. 
 
 They might have expected as much. For their towns are built, most 
 of them, close to volcanoes some of the highest and most terrible in 
 the world. And wherever there are volcanoes there will be earthquakes. 
 You may have earthquakes without volcanoes, now and then ; but vol- 
 canoes without earthquakes, seldom or never. 
 
 How does that come to pass ? Does A volcano make earthquakes ? 
 No; we may rather say, that earthquakes are trying to make volcanoes. 
 
 6
 
 82 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 For volcanoes are the holes which the steam underground has burst 
 open, that it may escape into the air above. They are the chimneys of 
 the great blast-furnaces underground, in which Nature pounds and melts 
 up the old rocks, to make them into new ones, and spread them out 
 over the land above. 
 
 And are there many volcanoes in the world? You have heard of Vesu- 
 vius, of course, in Italy; and Etna, in Sicily; and Hecla, in Iceland. 
 And you have heard, too, of Kilauea, in the Sandwich Islands, and of 
 Pele's Hair the yellow threads of lava, like fine spun glass, which 
 are blown from off its pools of fire, and which the Sandwich Islanders 
 believed to be the hair of a goddess who lived in the crater; and you 
 have read, too, perhaps, the noble story of the Christian chieftainess who, 
 in order to persuade her subjects to become Christians also, went down 
 into the crater and defied the goddess of the volcano, and came back 
 unhurt and triumphant. 
 
 But if you look at the map, you will see that there are many, many 
 more. Get Keith Johnston's Physical Atlas from the school-room of 
 course it is there (for a school-room without a physical atlas is like a needle 
 without an eye) and look at the map which is called "Phenomena of 
 Volcanic Action." 
 
 You will see in it many red dots, which mark the volcanoes which are 
 still burning; and black dots, which mark those which have been burning 
 at some time or other, not very long ago, scattered about the world. 
 Sometimes they are single, like the red dot at Otaheite, or at Easter Island 
 in the Pacific. Sometimes they are in groups, or clusters, like the cluster 
 at the Sandwich Islands, or in the Friendly Islands, or in New Zealand. 
 And if we look in the Atlantic, we shall see four clusters: one in poor 
 half-destroyed Iceland, in the far north, one in the Azores, one in the 
 Canaries, and one in the Cape de Verdes. And there is one dot in those 
 Canaries which we must not overlook, for it is no other than the famous 
 Peak of Teneriffe, a volcano which is hardly burnt out yet, and may burn 
 up again any day, standing up out of the sea more than 12,000 feet high 
 still, and once it must have been double that height. Some think that it 
 is perhaps the true Mount Atlas, which the old Greeks named when first 
 they ventured out of the Straits of Gibraltar down the coast of Africa, and 
 saw the great peak far to the westward, with the clouds cutting off its top; 
 and said that it was a mighty giant, the brother of the Evening Star, who 
 held up the sky upon his shoulders, in the midst of the Fortunate Islands, 
 the gardens of the daughter of the Evening Star, full of strange golden
 
 VOLCANOES. , 83 
 
 fruits; and that Perseus had turned him into stone, when he passed him 
 with the Gorgon's head. 
 
 But you will see, too, that most of these red and black dots run in 
 crooked lines, and that many of the clusters run in lines likewise. 
 
 Look at one line : by far the largest on the earth. You will learn a 
 good deal of geography from it. 
 
 The red dots begin at a place called the Terribles, on the east side of 
 the Bay of Bengal. They run on, here and there, along the islands of 
 Sumatra and Java, and through the Spice Islands; and at New Guinea 
 the line of red dots forks. One branch runs south-east, through islands 
 whose names you never heard, to the Friendly Islands and to New Zealand. 
 The other runs north, through the Philippines, through Japan, through 
 Kamschatka; and then there is a little break of sea, between Asia and 
 America ; but beyond it, the red dots begin again in the Aleutian 
 Islands, and then turn down the whole west coast of America, down 
 from Mount Elias towards British Columbia. Then, after a long gap, 
 there are one or two in Lower California (and we must not forget 
 the terrible earthquake which some years ago shook San Francisco, 
 between those two last places) ; and when we come down to Mexico we 
 find the red dots again plentiful; and only too plentiful, for they mark 
 the great volcanic line of Mexico, of which you will read, I hope, some 
 day, in Humboldt's works. But the line does not stop there. After 
 the little gap of the Isthmus of Panama, it begins again in Quito, the 
 country in which stand the huge volcanoes Chimborazo, Pasto, Anti- 
 sanas, Cotopaxi, Pichincha, Tunguragua, smooth cones from 15,000 
 to 20,000 feet high, shining white with snow, till the heat inside 
 melts it off, and leaves the cinders of which the peaks are made all 
 black and ugly among the clouds, ready to burst out in smoke and fire. 
 South of them, again, there is a long gap, and then another line of red 
 dots Arequipa, Chipicani, Gualatieri, Atacama, as high or higher than 
 those of Quito. On the sea-shore below those volcanoes stood the hapless 
 city of Arica, whose ruins we saw in the picture (p. 16). Then comes 
 another gap ; and then a line of more volcanoes in Chili, at the foot of 
 which happened the fearful earthquake of 1835 (besides many more) of 
 which you will read some day in that noble book "The Voyage of the 
 Beagle;" and so the line of dots runs down to the southernmost point of 
 America. 
 
 What a line we have traced ! Long enough to go round the world if it 
 were straight. A line of holes, out of which steam, and heat, and cinders, 
 
 62
 
 4 THE BOY3 AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 and melted stones are rushing up perpetually, in one place and another. 
 Now the holes in this line which are near each other have certainly some- 
 thing to do with each other. For instance, when the earth shakes round 
 the volcanoes of Quito, it shakes also round the volcanoes of Peru, 
 though they are 600 miles away. And there are many stories of earth- 
 quakes being felt, or awful underground thunder heard, while volcanoes 
 were breaking out hundreds of miles away. I will give you a very curious 
 instance of that. 
 
 If you look at the West Indies on the map, you will see a line of red 
 dots run through the Windward Islands. There are two volcanoes in 
 them, one in Guadaloupe and one in St. Vincent (I will tell you a curious 
 story presently about that last), and a little volcano, which now only sends 
 out mud, in Trinidad. There the red dots stop ; but then begins along 
 the north coast of South America (which you must learn to call the Spanish 
 Main) a line of mountain country called Cumana and Caraccas, which has 
 often been horribly shaken by earthquakes. Now once, when the volcano 
 in St. Vincent began to pour out a vast stream of melted lava, a noise like 
 thunder was heard underground, over thousands of square miles beyond 
 those mountains, in the plains of Calabozo, and on the banks of the Apure, 
 more than 600 miles away from the volcano, a plain sign that there was 
 something underground which joined them together, perhaps a long crack 
 in the earth. Look for yourselves at the places, and you will see that (as 
 Humboldt says) it is as strange as if an eruption of Mount Vesuvius was 
 heard in the north of France. 
 
 So it seems as if these lines of volcanoes stood along cracks in the 
 rind of the earth, through which the melted stuff inside was for ever 
 trying to force its way, and that, as the crack got choked up in one 
 place by the melted stuff cooling and hardening again into stone, it 
 was burst in another place and a fresh volcano made, or an old one 
 reopened. 
 
 Now we can understand why earthquakes should be most common 
 round volcanoes ; and we can understand, too, why they would be worst 
 before a volcano breaks out, because then the steam is trying to escape ; 
 and we can understand, too, why people who live near volcanoes are glad 
 to see them blazing and spouting, because then they have hope that the 
 steam has found its way out, and will not make earthquakes any more for 
 a while. But still that is merely foolish speculation on chance. Volcanoes 
 can never be trusted. No one knows when one will break out, or what 
 it will do ; and those who live close to them as the city of Naples is
 
 VOLCANOES. 85 
 
 close to Mount Vesuvius must not be astonished if they are blown up 
 or swallowed up, as that great and beautiful city of Naples may be without 
 a warning any day. 
 
 For what happened to that same Mount Vesuvius nearly 1800 years 
 ago in the old Roman times ? For ages and ages it had been lying quiet 
 like any other hill. Beautiful cities were built at its foot, filled with people 
 who were as handsome and as comfortable and (I am afraid) as wicked 
 as people ever were on earth. Fair gardens, vineyards, oliveyards, covered 
 the mountain slopes. It was held to be one of the Paradises of the world. 
 As for the mountain's being a burning mountain, who ever thought of 
 
 that ? To be sure, on the top of it was a great round crater or cup, a 
 mile or more across and a few hundred yards deep. But that was all 
 overgrown with bushes and wild vines, full of boars and deer. What 
 sign of fire was there in that ? To be sure, also, there was an ugly place 
 below by the sea-shore called the Phlegrsean Fields, where smoke and 
 brimstone came out of the ground, and a lake called Avernus, over which 
 poisonous gases hung, and which (old stories told) was one of the mouths 
 of the Nether Pit. But what of that ? It had never harmed any one, 
 and how could it harm them ? 
 
 So they all lived on, merrily and happily enough, till, in the year A.D. 
 79 (that was eight years, you know, after the Emperor Titus destroyed 
 Jerusalem), there was stationed in the Bay of Naples a Roman admiral, 
 called Pliny, who was also a very studious and learned man, and author 
 of a famous old book on natural history. He was staying on shore with
 
 86 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 his sister ; and as he sat in his study, she called him out to see a strange 
 cloud which had been hanging for some time over the top of Mount 
 Vesuvius. It was in shape just like a pine-tree (see p. 85) ; not, of course, 
 like one of our branching Scotch firs here, but like an Italian stone-pine, 
 with a long straight stem and a flat parasol-shaped top. Sometimes it was 
 blackish, sometimes spotted; and the good Admiral Pliny, who was always 
 curious about natural science, ordered his cutter and went away across 
 the bay to seewhat it could be. Earthquake-shocks had been very common 
 for the last few days ; but I do not suppose that Pliny had any notion that 
 the earthquakes and the cloud had aught to do with each other. How- 
 ever, he soon found out that they had ; and to his cost. When he got 
 near the opposite shore, some of the sailors met him and entreated him 
 to turn back. Cinders and pumice-stones were falling down from the sky, 
 and flames breaking out of the mountain above. But Pliny would go on : 
 he said that if people were in danger it was his duty to help them ; and 
 that he must see this strange cloud, and note down the different shapes 
 into which it changed. But the hot ashes fell faster and faster ; the sea 
 ebbed out suddenly, and left them nearly dry, and Pliny turned away to 
 a place called Stabiae, to the house of his friend Pomponianus, who was 
 just going to escape in a boat. Brave Pliny told him not to be afraid ; 
 ordered his bath like a true Roman gentleman; and then went in to dinner 
 with a cheerful face. Flames came down from the mountain, nearer and 
 nearer as the night drew on. But Pliny persuaded his friend that they 
 were only fires in some villages from which the peasants had fled ; and 
 then went to bed and slept soundly. However, in the middle of the night 
 they found the courtyard being fast filled with cinders, and, if they had 
 not woke up the Admiral in time, he would never have been able to get 
 out of the house. The earthquake-shocks grew stronger and fiercer, till 
 the house was ready to fall ; and Pliny and his friend, and the sailors and 
 the slaves, all fled into the open fields, amid a shower of stones and cinders, 
 tying pillows over their heads to prevent their being beaten down. The 
 day had come by this time, but not the dawn ; for it was still pitch dark 
 as night. They went down to their boats upon the shore; but the sea 
 raged so horribly that there was no getting on board of them. Then Pliny 
 grew tired, and made his men spread a sail for him, and lay down on it. 
 But there came down upon them a rush of flames and a horrible smell of 
 sulphur, and all ran for their lives. Some of the slaves tried to help the 
 Admiral upon his legs ; but he sank down again overpowered with the 
 brimstone-fumes, and so was left behind. When they came back again,
 
 VOLCANOES. 87 
 
 there he lay dead ; but with his clothes in order, and his face as quiet as 
 if he had been only sleeping. And that was the end of a brave and learned 
 man a martyr to duty and to the love of science. 
 
 But what was going on in the meantime ? Under clouds of ashes, 
 cinders, mud, lava, three of those happy cities were buried at once 
 Herculaneum, Pompeii, Stabiae. They were buried just as the people 
 had fled from them, leaving the furniture and the earthenware, even often 
 jewels and gold, behind, and here and there among them a human being 
 who had not had time to escape from the dreadful deluge of dust. The 
 ruins of Herculaneum and Pompeii have been dug into since ; and the 
 paintings, especially in Pompeii, are found upon the walls still fresh, 
 preserved from the air by the ashes which have covered them in. When 
 you are older, you perhaps will go to Naples, and see in its famous museum 
 the curiosities which have been dug out of the ruined cities; and you will 
 walk, I suppose, along the streets of Pompeii, and see the wheel-tracks 
 in the pavement, along which carts and chariots rumbled 2,000 years ago. 
 Meanwhile, if you go nearer home, to the Crystal Palace, and to the 
 Pompeian Court, as it is called, you will see an exact model of one of 
 these old buried houses, copied even to the very paintings on the walls; 
 and judge for yourself, as far as a little boy can judge, what sort of life 
 these thoughtless, luckless people lived 2,000 years ago. 
 
 And what had become of Vesuvius, the treacherous mountain ? Half 
 or more than half of the side of the old crater had been blown away; and 
 what was left, which is now called the Monte Somma, stands in a half- 
 circle round the new cone and new crater which is burning at this very 
 day. True, after that eruption which killed Pliny, Vesuvius fell asleep 
 again, and did not wake for 134 years, and then again for 269 years; but 
 it has been growing more and more restless as the ages have passed on, 
 and now hardly a year passes without its sending out smoke and stones 
 from its crater, and streams of lava from its sides. 
 
 And now, I suppose, you will want to know what a volcano is like, and 
 what a cone, and a crater, and lava are ? 
 
 What a volcano is like, it is easy enough to show you ; for they are the 
 most simply and beautifully shaped of all mountains, and they are alike all 
 over the world, whether they be large or small. Almost every volcano in 
 the world, I believe, is, or has been once, of the shape which you see in the 
 drawing on next page ; even those volcanoes in the Sandwich Islands, of 
 which you have often heard, which are now great lakes of boiling fire upon 
 flat downs, without any cone to them at all. They, I believe, are volcanoes
 
 88 
 
 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS" BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 which have fallen in ages ago : just as in Java a whole burning mountain 
 fell in on the night of the i ith of August, in the year 1772. Then, after a 
 short and terrible earthquake, a bright cloud suddenly covered the whole 
 mountain. The people who dwelt around it tried to escape ; but before 
 the poor souls could get away the earth sank beneath their feet, and the 
 whole mountain fell in, and was swallowed up, with a noise as if great 
 cannon were being fired. Forty villages and nearly three thousand people 
 were destroyed, and where the mountain had been was only a plain of 
 red-hot stones. In the same way in the year 1698, the top of a mountain in 
 Quito fell in a single night, leaving only two immense peaks of rock behind, 
 
 and pouring out great floods of mud mixed with dead fish ; for there are 
 underground lakes among those volcanoes, which swarm with little fish 
 which never see the light. 
 
 But most volcanoes, as I say, are, or have been, the shape of the one 
 which you see here. This is Cotopaxi, in Quito; more than 19,000 feet 
 in height. All those sloping sides are made of cinders and ashes, braced 
 together, I suppose, by bars of solid lava-stone inside, which prevent the 
 whole from crumbling down. The upper part, you see, is white with snow, 
 as far down as a line which is 15,000 feet above the sea. For the moun- 
 tain is in the tropics, close to the equator, and the snow will not lie in that 
 hot climate any lower down. But now and then the snow melts off, and 
 rushes down the mountain-side in floods of water and of mud, and the 
 cindery cone of Cotopaxi stands out black and dreadful against the clear
 
 VOLCANOES. 89 
 
 blue sky, and then the people of that country know what is coming. The 
 mountain is growing so hot inside that it melts off its snowy covering ; 
 and soon it will burst forth with smoke and steam, the red-hot stones, and 
 earthquakes which will shake the ground, and roars that will be heard, it 
 may be, hundreds of miles away. 
 
 And now for the words, cone, crater, lava. If I can make you under- 
 stand those words, you will see why volcanoes must be in general of the 
 shape of Cotopaxi. 
 
 Cone, crater, lava: those words make up the alphabet of volcano 
 learning. The cone is the outside of a huge chimney. The crater is the 
 mouth of it. The lava is the ore which is being melted in the furnace 
 below, that it may flow out over the surface of the old land, and make 
 new land instead. 
 
 And where is the furnace itself? Who can tell that? Under the roots 
 of the mountains, under the depths of the sea ; down " the path which 
 no fowl knoweth, and which the vulture's eye hath not seen : the lion's 
 whelp hath not trodden it, nor the fierce lion passed by it. There He 
 putteth forth His hand upon the rock ; He overturneth the mountains 
 by the roots : He cutteth out rivers among the rocks; and His eye seeth 
 every precious thing " while we, like little ants, run up and down out- 
 side the earth, scratching, like ants, a few feet down, and calling that a 
 deep ravine ; or peeping a few feet down into the crater of a volcano, 
 unable to guess what precious things may lie below below even the fire 
 which blazes and roars up through the thin crust of the earth. For of 
 the inside of this earth we know nothing whatsoever. We only know that 
 it is, on an average, several times as heavy as solid rock ; but how that 
 can be we know not. 
 
 So let us look at the chimney, and what comes out of it ; for we can 
 see very little more. 
 
 Why is a volcano like a cone ? 
 
 For the same cause for which a molehill is like a cone, though a very 
 rough one ; and that the little heaps which the burrowing beetles make 
 on the moor, or which the ant-lions in France make in the sand, are all 
 something of the shape of a cone, with a hole like a crater in the middle. 
 What the beetle and the ant-lion do on a very little scale, the steam 
 inside the earth does on a great scale. When once it has forced a vent 
 into the outside air, it tears out the rocks underground, grinds them small 
 against each other, often into the finest dust, and blasts them out of the 
 hole which it has made. Some of them fall back into the hole, and are
 
 90 THE 30YS' AND GILLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 shot out again; but most of them fall round the hole, most of them close 
 to it, and fewer of them farther off, till they are piled up in a ring round 
 it, just as the sand is piled up round a beetle's burrow. For days, and 
 weeks, and months this goes on, even it may be for hundreds of years, 
 till a great cone is formed round the steam vent, hundreds or thousands 
 of feet in height, of dust and stones, and of cinders likewise. For 
 recollect, that when the steam has blown away the cold earth and rock 
 near the surface of the ground, it begins blowing out the hot rocks down 
 below, red-hot, white-hot, and at last actually melted. But these, as they 
 are hurled into the cool air above, become ashes, cinders, and blocks of 
 stone again, making the hill on which they fall bigger and bigger con- 
 tinually. And thus does wise Nature stand in no need of bricklayers, 
 but makes her chimneys build themselves. 
 
 And why is the mouth of the chimney called a crater ? 
 
 Crater, as you know, is Greek for a cup. And the mouths of these 
 chimneys, when they have become choked and stopped working, are 
 often just the shape of a cup, or, as the Germans call them, kessels, 
 which means kettles, or caldrons. I have seen some of them as beauti- 
 fully and exactly rounded as if a cunning engineer had planned them, 
 and had them dug out with the spade. At first, of course, their sides 
 and bottom are nothing but loose stones, cinders, slag, ashes, such as 
 would be thrown out of a furnace. But Nature, who, whenever she 
 makes an ugly desolate place, always tries to cover over its ugliness, 
 and set something green to grow over it, and make it pretty once more, 
 does so often and often by her worn-out craters. I have seen them 
 covered with short sweet turf, like so many chalk downs. I have seen 
 them, too, filled with bushes, which held woodcocks and wild boars. 
 Once I came on a beautiful round crater on the top of a mountain, 
 which was filled at the bottom with a splendid crop of potatoes. Though 
 Nature had not put them there herself, she had at least taught the 
 honest Germans to put them there. And often she turns her worn- 
 out craters into beautiful lakes. There are many such crater-lakes in 
 Italy, as you will see if ever you go there ; as you may see in English 
 galleries painted by Wilson, a famous artist, who died before you were 
 born. You recollect Lord Macaulay's ballad, " The Battle of the Lake 
 Regillus"? Then that Lake Regillus (if I recollect right) is one of 
 these round crater-lakes. Many such deep clear blue lakes have I seen 
 in the Eifel, in Germany ; and many a curious plant have I picked on 
 their shores, where once the steam blasted, and the earthquake roared,
 
 VOLCANOES. gi 
 
 and the ash-clouds rushed up high into the heaven, and buried all the 
 land around in dust, which is now fertile soil. And long did I puzzle 
 to find out why the water stood in some craters, while others, within a 
 mile of them perhaps, were perfectly dry. That I never found out for 
 myself. But learned men tell me that the ashes which fall back into the 
 crater, if the bottom of it be wet from rain, will sometimes " set " (as it 
 is called) into a hard cement, and so make the bottom of the great bowl 
 waterproof as if it were made of earthenware. 
 
 But what gives the craters this cup-shape at first ? 
 
 Think While the steam and stones are being blown out, the crater 
 
 is an open funnel, with more or less upright walls inside. As the steam 
 grows weaker, fewer and fewer stones fall outside, and more and more 
 fall back again inside. At last they quite choke up the bottom of the 
 great round hole. Perhaps, too, the lava or melted rock underneath 
 cools and grows hard, and that chokes up the hole lower down. Then, 
 down from the round edge of the crater the stones and cinders roll in- 
 ward more and more. The rains wash them down, the wind blows them 
 down. They roll to the middle, and meet each other, and stop. And 
 so gradually the steep funnel becomes a round cup. You may prove for 
 yourself that it must be so, if you will try. Do you not know that if you 
 dig a round hole in the ground, and leave it to crumble in, it is sure to 
 become cup-shaped at last, though at first its sides may have been quite 
 upright, like those of a bucket ? If you do not know, get a trowel and 
 make your little experiment. 
 
 And now you ought to understand what " cone " and " crater " mean. 
 And more, if you will think for yourself, you may guess what would 
 come out of a volcano when it broke out " in an eruption," as it is 
 usually called. First, clouds of steam and dust (what you would call 
 smoke) ; then volleys of stones, some cool, some burning hot ; and at 
 the last, because it lies lowest of all, the melted rock itself, which is 
 called lava. 
 
 And where would that come out? At the top of the chimney? At 
 the top of the cone ? 
 
 No. Nature, as I told you, usually makes things make themselves. 
 She has made the chimney of the furnace make itself; and next 
 she will make the furnace-door make itself. The melted lava rises in 
 the crater the funnel inside the cone but it never gets to the top. It 
 is so enormously heavy that the sides of the cone cannot bear its weight, 
 and give way low down. And then, through ashes and cinders, the
 
 92 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 melted lava burrows out, twisting and twirling like an enormous fiery 
 earth-worm, till it gets to the air outside, and runs off down the mountain 
 in a stream of fire. And so you may see (as are to be seen on Vesuvius 
 now) two eruptions at once one of burning stones above, and one of 
 melted lava below. 
 
 And what is lava ? 
 
 That, I think, I must tell you another time. But if you want to 
 know (as 1 dare say you do) what the eruption of a volcano is like, you 
 may read what follows. I did not see it happen ; for I had never the 
 good fortune of seeing a mountain burning, though I have seen many 
 and many a one which has been burnt extinct volcanoes, as they 
 are called. 
 
 The man who saw it a very good friend of mine, and a very good 
 man of science also went last year to see an eruption on Vesuvius, not 
 from the main crater, but from a small one which had risen up suddenly 
 on the outside of it ; and he gave me leave (when I told him that I was 
 writing for boys and girls) to tell them what he saw. 
 
 This new cone, he said, was about two hundred feet high, and 
 perhaps eighty or one hundred feet across at the top. And as he stood 
 belo\v it (it was not safe to go up it), smoke rolled out from its top, 
 "rosy pink below," from the glare of the caldron, and above "faint 
 greenish or bluish silver of indescribable beauty, from the light of the 
 moon." 
 
 But more By good chance, the cone began to send out, not smoke 
 
 only, but brilliant burning stones. " Each explosion," he says, " was 
 like a vast girandole of rockets, with a noise (such as rockets would make) 
 like the waves on a beach, or the wind blowing through shrouds. The 
 mountain was trembling the whole time. So it went on for two hours and 
 more ; sometimes eight or ten explosions in a minute, and more than 
 1,000 stones in each, some as large as two bricks end to end. The 
 largest ones mostly fell back into the crater; but the smaller ones, being 
 thrown higher, and more acted on by the wind, fell in immense numbers 
 on the leeward slope of the cone " (of course, making it bigger and bigger, 
 as I have explained already to you), and of course, as they were intensely 
 hot and bright, making the cone look as if it too were red hot. But it 
 was not so, he says, really. The colour of the stones was rather "golden, 
 and they spotted the black cone over with their golden showers, the 
 smaller ones stopping still, the bigger ones rolling down, and jumping 
 along just like hares." "A wonderful pedestal," he says, "for the explosion
 
 VOLCANOES. 93 
 
 which surmounted it." How high the stones flew up he could not tell. 
 (l There was generally one which went much higher than the rest, and 
 pierced upwards towards the moon, who looked calmly down, mocking 
 such vain attempts to reach her." The large stones, of course, did not 
 rise so high ; and some, he says, " only just appeared over the rim of the 
 cone, above which they came floating leisurely up, to show their brilliant 
 forms and intense white light for an instant, and then subside again." 
 
 Try and picture that to yourselves, remembering that this was only a 
 little side eruption, of no more importance to the whole mountain than 
 the fall of a slate off the roof is of importance to the whole house. And 
 then think how mean and weak man's fireworks, and even man's heaviest 
 artillery, are, compared with the terrible beauty and terrible strength of 
 Nature's artillery underneath our feet. 
 
 Now look at this figure. It represents a section of a volcano ; that is, 
 
 one cut in half to show you the inside. A is the cone of cinders; B B, the 
 black line up through the middle, is the funnel, or crack, through which 
 steam, ashes, lava, and everything else rises; c is the crater mouth; D D D, 
 which looks broken, are the old rocks which the steam heaved up and 
 burst before it could get out. And what are the black lines across, 
 marked E E E ? They are the streams of lava which have burrowed out, 
 some covered up again in cinders, some lying bare in the open air, some 
 still inside the cone, bracing it together, holding it up. Something like 
 this is the inside of a volcano.
 
 BEAVERS AND BUILDING. 
 
 " A LAS for old home ! Desolation, emptiness, the work of a lifetime 
 *!* swept away ! " groaned a beaver to his wife, with a flap of his 
 broad tail, expressive of mingled scorn and indignation. "Torn to pieces, 
 to make room for the new mill-dam that these humans think they know 
 how to put together. And the friends, ' our happy tribe,' together we 
 gnawed the logs, together we fed on the bank, and dwelt side by side ; 
 and now, whither are they fled ? Scattered, like the wreck of our happy 
 dwelling, which the waters have carried beyond our depth. Times are 
 changed for the worse since our young days ; and the older the world 
 grows, my dear, and the longer the rivers run, the fewer beavers and the 
 more fools dwell upon their banks. 
 
 " Fools did I say ? " cried he, rousing himself at the thought of the 
 wrongs of his race, while another decided flap accompanied his words, 
 and his partner listened with attentive ear and gleaming eye to his ani-- 
 mated language. " Fools did I say ? Idiots ! Beings whose utter in- 
 capacity of mind and body glories in destroying what they can never 
 imitate ! And what are these inventions of theirs, their implements, their 
 edifices? Why, a man and his tools are two separate affairs. If he 
 leaves them behind where is he? If he breaks one and has no smith 
 at hand with his tools where is he? If he blunts them and has no 
 grindstone, and no stonecutter with his tools to make one where is he? 
 If he cannot find limestone for his mortar, and cow's hair and what not 
 where is he, and where is his work ? And when the floods come 
 where is he, and where are all his fine constructions? Ay, my dear, let 
 the west wind and the cataract answer me that. But a beaver is a beaver, 
 worth a human and his tools put together ten times over. Whatever 
 happens, there he is. Wherever he is driven by the draining of his pools, 
 or the levelling of his dam, there he is. The beaver is a beaver still : 
 give him his tail and his teeth, and back him against the finest and 
 strongest tools that ever built a dam against wind and water, and plastered 
 it over with compost of lime and hair ! Yes ! wherever we may go, 
 and go we must, for we beavers have had our day, change and emigra- 
 tion are now the cry. Humans emigrate to beaver-land beavers must 
 emigrate too ; but whither ? " Are there yet rivers to be found where no
 
 BEAVERS AND BUILDING. 95 
 
 beaver ever yet laid his brain and his tail together, and made the water 
 alive with his dwellings and his work ? Thither let us go, and, gathering 
 our scattered forces, prove ourselves superior to the adversities of 
 civilization ! " 
 
 "You do well, my love," replied a gentle voice beside him, while a 
 feminine flap of another broad tail was heard in a subdued plash under 
 the water ; "you do well to withdraw from a region where your superior 
 example and endowments have so little benefited mankind. Vain, appa- 
 rently, have been all the attempts of human beings to absorb into their 
 own brain the wisdom that dwells in ours. Generations of beaver hats 
 have been worn out our parents, our kindred, our sons and our daughters 
 sacrificed in the cause and men are no wiser! The fur from our bodies, 
 felted and fitted to the human hand, has been likewise adopted, and with 
 a like result to their practical utility. Nor can I anticipate that the 
 newest covering to the human head, so pretentiously styled a 'wide-awake' 
 should indicate or stimulate an intelligence superior, or even equal to that 
 of our little ones, born as they are with their eyes wide open. Might we 
 hope for better days: that wisdom should not die with you; that men 
 might live and learn; a glorious future might yet be before you to edu- 
 cate the human head and hand Ah ! let us remain my heart clings 
 
 to this old reedy bank!" 
 
 "Never! my darling, never! " and he plashed a despondent plash as he 
 spoke. "The days of 'go-ahead' are not ended yet. Men have yet to 
 learn what strength, what vigour, what resources of every kind reside in 
 the tail. Deprived by niggard nature of that most useful, that essential 
 appendage, how can they understand its value, or appreciate the living 
 virtue of that which when cooked for food they only esteem as the richest 
 diet? No! let others go a-head through life; but while this old heart 
 beats warm beneath the beaver fur, the motto of my existence shall be, 
 ' Make sure you're right, then go a-tail.'" 
 
 Thus saying, he plunged into the stream, and for a few seconds dis- 
 appeared, but was soon to be descried making his way down stream with 
 little apparent movement of the feet, but with a conscious self-assertion 
 of the member he so highly prized, which acted as a rudder, while he 
 neared the rapids, and was soon concealed by the turnings of the stream 
 from the view of his solitary mate, who wept in silence over the shattered 
 home of her early loves. 
 
 Soon, however for inactivity under misfortune forms no part of the 
 beaver creed soon she discerns, first by the distant sound of the ever-use-
 
 96 THE BOYS 1 AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 ful organ which so greatly assisted his movements, not least by the odour 
 of Castoreum, by which beavers are so successfully traced by the hunters, 
 and, finally, by the vision of the well-beloved nasal rotundity which ap- 
 peared above the water, that her mate had neither spoken, resolved, nor 
 departed in vain. Would that my tale had the breadth and energy which 
 so greatly assisted him while he led the way to new waters, flowing through 
 a yet untrodden forest, whose gigantic shade sheltered the growth of young 
 and succulent boughs, and seemed to invite the disestablished and dis- 
 heartened pair to begin life again ! Happy were they that no prognosti- 
 cations of the revolutionary progress of a so-called civilization disturbed 
 their minds or discouraged their efforts ! Intent on the duties of the pre- 
 sent, they left anxiety for the future, until that future should in its turn 
 become the present. 
 
 Happy pair! whom destruction and disappointment only nerved to 
 fresh effort ; and who shall say that the sagacity expressed in action by 
 those broad tails of yours, did not surpass the wisdom of many a human 
 brain, toiling to create for himself appliances of existence alike foreign to 
 his better nature and to his highest needs? 
 
 Happy pair ! I think I see you on the deep shade of that virgin forest, 
 where the weary sun looks in aslant each evening, and the cool shade pro- 
 tects your labours through the day. Deep among the ooze and the tan- 
 gled reeds, by the near margin of the running water, you lay the foundation 
 sound and strong, for you know by experience that tempests blow, and 
 that floods can sweep away the best of surface work. Pursue your task 
 as generations of your ancestors have done before you, so perfectly, so 
 soundly, and without a flaw, that posterity shall find as little scope for 
 improvement on your plans, and your work, as you have on those of your 
 progenitors. 
 
 Not long did our friend Castor and his mate work alone on the new 
 ground I should rather say the new waters they had selected for their 
 home. Speedily joined by some of the scattered members of their former 
 colony, they proceeded to organize their operations on that extended scale 
 which had produced in the vast Canadian streams, and probably at re- 
 moter periods in the nearer waters of our Welsh and English rivers, those 
 remarkable constructions, the beaver-dams and beaver-huts, whence doubt- 
 less were originated the first practical ideas in the mind of man, applicable 
 to weirs and earthworks, for social or defensible purposes. 
 
 Shall we penetrate yet further into the past history of our race and 
 theirs, and feel compelled to repudiate, even for those primitive inhabi-
 
 A BEAVEP-DAM.
 
 98 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS^ BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 tants of now civilized countries, whose only records are found in the 
 remains of their dwellings, and their simple implements, the attribute of 
 a pure originality of design ? Side by side with the lake dwellings of a 
 bygone age dwelt the beavers, whose bones and skulls are now disinterred 
 in company with the flint implements and other relics of the untaught 
 industry of that epoch. Shall we say that they learned no lesson in con- 
 structive ingenuity and engineering art from the creatures whose simple 
 necessities differed chiefly from theirs in the fact that the object of the 
 man was to raise his dwelling above the water, and that of the beaver 
 was to raise the water to the level of his dwelling ; and therefore, while 
 the latter laid his logs in a horizontal position, the former drove in his 
 piles vertically, and raised his platform above them ? The appearance 
 of the dwellings of the man and the animal I had almost said of the 
 animal and the man must have been very similar, fey: the description of 
 the two runs thus : 
 
 "The dwellings of the Gauls are described as having been circular 
 huts, built of wood and lined with mud. The huts of the pile works 
 were probably of a similar nature, pieces of the clay used in the lining 
 having been preserved. These fragments bear on the one side the marks 
 of interlaced branches, while on the other, which apparently formed the 
 wall of the cabin, they are quite smooth. Some of those found at Wangen 
 are so large and regular, that Mr. Troyes feels justified in concluding 
 that the cabins were circular, and about fifteen feet in diameter. Sup- 
 posing on an average each cavern was inhabited by four persons . . ."* 
 
 " Every man had a hut on the planks in which he dwells, with a trap- 
 door closely fitted on the planks, and leading down to the lake. Offish 
 there is such an abundance that when a man has opened his trap-door, 
 he lets down an empty basket by a cord into the lake, and, after waiting 
 a short time, draws it up full of fish."f 
 
 " The lake dwellers followed two different systems in the construction 
 of their dwellings, in the second of which the support consisted not of 
 piles only, but of a solid mass of mud and stones, with layers of horizontal 
 and perpendicular stakes, the latter serving to bind the mass firmly 
 together. They were from three to nine inches in diameter."^: 
 
 " The beaver lodges are composed chiefly of branches, moss, and mud, 
 and will accommodate five or six beavers together. The form of an ordi- 
 narily sized beaver's hut is circular, and its cavity is about seven feet 
 
 * Lubbock, " Prehistoric Man." t Herodotus. , J Dr. Keller.
 
 BEAVERS AND BUILDING. 99 
 
 in diameter by about three feet in length. The walls of this structure 
 are extremely thick, so that the external measurement of the same lodge 
 will be fifteen or twenty feet in diameter, and seven or eight feet in 
 height. The roofs are finished off with a thick layer of mud, laid on with 
 marvellous smoothness, and carefully renewed every year." 
 
 " In order to secure a store of winter food, the beavers take a vast num- 
 ber of small logs, and carefully fasten them under water in the close vi- 
 cinity of their lodges. When a beaver feels hungry, he dives to the store 
 heap, drags out a suitable log, carries it to a sheltered and dry spot, and 
 nibbles the bark away, and then either permits the stripped log to float 
 down the stream, or applies it to the dam." 
 
 " In forming the dam, the beaver does not thrust the ends of the stakes 
 into the bed of the river, but lays them down horizontally, and keeps 
 them in their places by heaping stones and mud upon them. The logs ot 
 which the dam is composed are generally about seven inches in diameter." 
 
 Such a dwelling, with a barrier constructed on similar principles, was 
 erected by our energetic pair of friends, assisted by the companions 
 who shortly thronged around them, for the social instinct is strong in 
 these wonderful animals, and the company of their fellows seems to call 
 out into fuller exercise the instincts and powers which in solitude seem 
 to lie comparatively useless and inactive, except so far as to supply their 
 individual wants. Brought up together, these animals live in perfect har- 
 mony, and labour in concert ; but, removed from such society, each can 
 live no longer but for himself alone, and even the instinct of building 
 suffers total extinction as long as the animal is kept in captivity; while 
 the attempt to introduce two of them under these circumstances to one 
 another is attended with the danger of their violent combats, and the 
 severe wounds they inflict on each other, terminating fatally for one or 
 both. The condition of isolation and of captivity, so utterly foreign 
 to their nature, seems to paralyse every natural instinct, especially if 
 adopted in early youth. The necessity for exertion in procuring food, 
 and in protecting its dwelling from attack, and from the effects of climate 
 and weather, seem to be absolute requisites, as they are found to be in 
 the human race, for drawing out and educating to a full perfection not 
 only the subtler sensibilities of their nature, but even their ordinary in- 
 stincts. 
 
 The first and apparently the most arduous operation was to secure the 
 most suitable material, not in the first place for their dwelling, but for 
 
 72
 
 too THE BOYS' AND GIRLS* BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 the immense dam which was to be carried across the stream, and to secure 
 for their base of operations a clear and undisturbed depth of water. No 
 settler had yet made a clearing in that native forest ; no axe had rung 
 through its silent arcades, nor had a tree fallen, save on the height where 
 the storms had from time to time uprooted the aged giants of the w r ood. 
 But now the younger trees, the saplings, were to bow their waving crests, 
 and succumb to the slow and sure inroads made by the teeth of the 
 four-footed invader. These mere recent growths were found in luxuriant 
 abundance, rising chiefly from one of those strange clearings in the forest 
 which testify to the force of the invisible agents, which from past ages to 
 the present time have performed in a few hours the work which now costs 
 the axe of the backwoodsman months to accomplish. And whether it 
 be the whirlwind, gathering force as it sweeps over miles of forest and 
 agitates the ocean of verdure, till it meets the obstruction on a rising 
 ground of a few aged and gigantic trunks, or whether the lightning force 
 of an electric current, devastating the line of its viewless march, the 
 effect is one which enhances greatly the silent sublimity of those vast soli- 
 tudes for solitudes they now are, the trail of the Mohawk, the Oneida, 
 or the Mohican having almost vanished from among them, and the human 
 settler having not yet made a permanent home there. But on the spot 
 where lay the vast trunks of uptorn monsters, heaped in wild confusion, 
 the noble elm, with its graceful and weeping top lUid low ; the maple in 
 its rich variety ; the sturdy oak, stretching its roots into the air, and 
 mingling its giant boughs with those of the broad-leaved linden, space 
 was thereby afforded for the struggling growth towards sunshine and upper 
 air of many an inferior tree, which essayed to lift its modest head to a 
 level with the surrounding surface of undulating verdure. The silvery- 
 stemmed birch, the quivering aspen, the useful and shrubby nut-bearing 
 bushes, which, thrown in this manner into the company of the stately and 
 the great, proved themselves, by their utility for the purposes which these 
 skilful little architects had in hand, to be neither ignoble nor vulgar 
 cumberers of the ground, these in their turn were destined to a fate 
 differing from that which their own ambition, could its utterances have 
 been heard, would have asked, of supplying the vacuum created, not by 
 the lightning and the hurricane, but by the encroaching hand of advanc- 
 ing civilization, which had commenced the work whereby some of the 
 most interesting specimens of instinctive ingenuity have by this time been 
 almost improved off the face of the earth. 
 
 Here the beavers fixed their abode, here in increasing numbers they
 
 BEAVERS AND BUILDING. 101 
 
 began to nibble sharp were their teeth and quick the fall, as tree after tree 
 crashed down and interlaced their branches on their way. Cut after- 
 wards into shorter lengths, they became more portable, and were con- 
 veyed, by the united strength and ingenuity of the builders, to the spot 
 beside the waters where the wondrous edifice was soon to rise. Not ten, 
 nor even a hundred, sufficed for the work higher and higher up the 
 course of the stream they plied their task, never following its downward 
 flow, but in parts of the forest whence with vast labour they rolled the 
 nibbled branches to the stream, which floated them to the destined spot, 
 until the foundation was laid of a barrier three hundred yards in length. 
 Slowly rose the superstructure, tapering from a thickness at the bottom 
 of twelve feet, to a summit of from two to three feet. But why that 
 strange variety in the direction of the work? Is it possible that the mas- 
 ter-mind which seemed to guide the whole has hesitated, paused, changed 
 its intention, and failed at length in producing that symmetry which so 
 much united action seemed to promise ? Here it runs boldly out into 
 the river. There it takes a bend, and curves outwardly against the stream. 
 Ah ! at that very point they know that the current is the strongest and 
 though they have never visited an artificial harbour, or inspected a mo- 
 dern breakwater, they have adopted* their principle with the most con- 
 summate engineering skill. Strengthened with stones and plastered over 
 with mud, they have now completed the breastwork, behind which, in the 
 artificial depths which they have created, they may calmly erect the 
 dwellings which are to form for their growing colony, not only a cluster 
 of compact and comfortable dwellings, but an invaluable defence against 
 the attacks of their enemies. 
 
 Yes, experience is a stern teacher, and the new dwelling must be both 
 commodious within and invincible without. The thickness of their conical 
 mansions is such, that an external diameter of fifteen feet allows but seven 
 feet within, and the walls are so curiously plastered within and without, 
 that the outer surface, hardened by the action of frost, is a model for 
 an iron-plated man-of-war. Danger there may be beyond the walls ; for 
 the savage foe to the beaver, as to the smaller quadruped, the wolverine, 
 prowls through the.woods in search of prey, with its jet-black fur, gigantic 
 paws, and ivory claws ; and, but for the thickness and hardness of the 
 roofing of the beaver-huts, would even invade the privacy of their 
 dwelling, where, in neatly arranged beds, separately placed against the 
 wall, each family of beavers spends the winter months. A deep ditch 
 affords additional facility of entrance and egress to the beavers, the doors
 
 102 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 of whose huts are under water, and to whom travelling by land is always 
 less acceptable than aquatic exercise; and the store of bark stripped 
 from the logs they have used in building, is kept in the lower stores of 
 their dwelling, for the supply of their winter food. Notwithstanding 
 these provident arrangements, the beavers generally emerge from their 
 winter quarters greatly reduced by hunger and extremely thin, and find 
 it prudent during the summer to separate from each other and to seek 
 their food alone, until the necessity of shelter during the severe season 
 re-unites them for another winter. 
 
 Not all of the beaver tribe are equally distinguished for their ingenuity 
 and industry. Among them, as among the bees, are to be found a class, 
 called by the Canadian trappers Les Paresseux, or the Idlers. These, the 
 rejected and disappointed bachelors of the race, retire gloomily into 
 burrows or tunnels on the river-banks, and, having no family affections 
 to call out their natural powers in providing homes or provision for the 
 young, they build no dams and construct no houses, and unsuspiciously 
 fall an easy prey to the trappers, doubtless living unrespected, and dying 
 unlamented. 
 
 Perhaps now, as men have failed in absorbing constructive instinct 
 through their hats, and have descended for their fabrics to the insect 
 world, the beaver in North America may linger at least as long as his 
 compatriot, the Red Indian, whose wigwam is indeed but a miserable 
 parody on the comfort of the beaver's hut. Time was when the beaver 
 was the first architect in the British Isles. Long before round towers 
 had arisen to mystify future antiquarians, the beaver was modelling his 
 dome in the fens of Yorkshire and the mountains of Wales. But skill is 
 not always victorious against brute force. The beaver's tail struggled in 
 vain against the flint hatchet, and when the Roman came, the beaver and 
 the Briton alike withdrew to Scotland and to Wales. They had had their 
 day the day when the great Irish deer, the wild boar, the roebuck, the 
 stag, the goat, and the wolf, disputed with the Briton the fens of Lin- 
 colnshire and the wolds of Berks. They were the successors of the 
 elephant, the woolly rhinoceros, the hippopotamus, the hyaena, and the 
 cave tiger, which had ceased to exist before the peat began to grow on 
 the swampy plains where the beavers built their dams. It is in the peat 
 mosses that we find the only story of the English beaver. 
 
 But in Scotland and in Wales the beaver finds a place in written 
 history. An old monk who writes his travels in Wales tells of the beavers 
 in Cardiganshire, and three hundred years later, about A.D. 1490, we are
 
 BEAVERS AND BUILDING. 103 
 
 told they abounded about Loch Ness, whence their furs were exported. 
 Still later lingered the tradition among the Highlanders about Lochaber, 
 of the former abundance of the " broad-tailed otter " there, the very same 
 name by which it was known in Wales. But the beaver's coat was too 
 precious for him to be allowed to wear it in peace, for Howel the Good, 
 when he fixed the price of furs by law in the ninth century for the 
 Welshmen, while he rated an otter's skin at 12^., estimated the beaver's 
 as worth i2od. 
 
 We know not whether the Crusaders wore them for their cloaks ; but 
 when the Archbishop of Canterbury, A.D. 1180, went to the Principality 
 to beat for recruits, his secretary and biographer was so delighted with 
 the beavers of Cardiganshire that, forgetting the Crusades, he can only 
 tell us about their huts, their tails, and their teeth, and how their habita- 
 tions, formed of willow-stumps, so soon as the boughs begin to shoot, 
 look like groves of trees, rude and natural without, but artfully constructed 
 within. 
 
 But this was long ago, and all the traces the beaver has left are his 
 name, still attached to some waters in the Principality, telling us of the 
 home of the old family; just as in Yorkshire, Beverley, "Beaver's Legh," 
 by its name and its coat of arms, remind us of an inhabitant more ancient 
 than the monks and the minster. 
 
 But as there were heroes before Ajax, beaverdom, like man, had its 
 giants of a yet older time. All over the northern world, from Siberia to 
 Britain, have been found the remains of a gigantic beaver, buried in the 
 clay with the bones of the mammoth and the rhinoceros, with teeth in 
 comparison with which the incisors of our beavers are puny indeed; 
 teeth which, instead of confining themselves to willows and alders, may 
 have felled the huge pine for a morning's work, to dam some ancient and 
 long-forgotten river. 
 
 Let us hope that our children may sometimes have the opportunity of 
 seeing a beaver-dam even nearer home than the rivers of Arctic America. 
 One enterprising proprietor proposes to re-introduce the beaver in Staf- 
 fordshire, where, let us hope, the intelligent builders will learn that plan- 
 tations are not forests, and will exercise no right of free forestry beyond 
 the domain of their kindly patron. A few beavers still linger on the 
 Vistula and other rivers of Russian Poland. There are many living who 
 remember several colonies in Norway; but it was supposed that the 
 Norwegian Parliament, when thirty years ago it passed a law imposing a 
 heavy fine on any one who should kill a beaver, was acting on the old
 
 104 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 maxim of locking the stable door when the steed was stolen, for years 
 had passed since a beaver had been seen in the land. It seems, however, 
 that one family, perhaps only a single pair, had contrived to escape ob- 
 servation in a sequestered forest of Southern Norway. Unknown and 
 unobserved, the family increased ; they judiciously selected almost the 
 only vast estate left in that democratic land. Its proprietor kept the 
 secret, and three years ago introduced a delighted and astonished English 
 professor to a thriving colony in a sequestered Dahl. In spite of his 
 enthusiasm, it is to be feared that the professor's zeal for his University 
 Museum might have overcome his respect for Norwegian law at least, 
 the temptation would have been strong had he not, by strange good 
 fortune, lighted on the unburied remains of an aged beaver, who had 
 died in peace by the side of his village, and whose skeleton is now 
 honourably entombed, with other gaunt specimens, in a palace of science. 
 But the living beaver may be studied still nearer home. The interesing 
 Canadian family in the Zoological Gardens, though not allowed to indulge 
 their taste by building a dam across the Regent's Canal, a feat on which 
 they seemed to have set their hearts, having more than once surrep- 
 titiously made nocturnal surveys, rudely interrupted by London barges, 
 have had to content themselves with building a hut of most inferior 
 materials in a mere paltry pond. Even here, however, they contrived to 
 elude the pertinacious inquisitiveness of keepers and sight-seers into their 
 domestic privacy. Safely housed under that cumbrous dome, which they 
 had been obliged to construct, not of the neat willows their native taste 
 would have selected, but of such rubbish as was within a captive's reach, 
 they have reared a little beaver family, of the existence of which no one 
 was aware, Until the necessity for extra-mural sepulture compelled them 
 to deposit the remains of a little one on the edge of their prison ; and 
 a few days afterwards the watchful mother introduced her surviving off- 
 spring to the glories of sunrise on a summer morning.
 
 LIGHT. 
 
 A SINGLE ray of light is a marvellous thing, whether it is regarded 
 ** in itself or in its influence on other objects in nature. Even every 
 child knows that the sun is the earth's grand source of light, as it also 
 is to the other planets of our system. The rays of the sun, however, 
 are not simply rays of light. Associated ' with the luminous rays 
 there are others which give out heat and chemical power. These 
 various descriptions of rays are. always found in combination with each 
 other. 
 
 They fly with almost inconceivable swiftness. A sunbeam darts in a- 
 single minute to a distance of more than a million of miles. In a second 
 it passes through a hundred and ninety-two thousand miles. When these 
 rays fall upon any surface, they either pass through it, or they pass into 
 it and are lost, or they are reflected from it. Bodies which permit the 
 rays of light to pass freely through them are said to be transparent. 
 Glass, water,, air, and various gases, are instances of transparent bodies ; 
 but some of them are more transparent and others less so. In passing 
 through a transparent medium, the sun will go in a straight line ; but if 
 it passes from one transparent body into another, that other being of a 
 different density, it no longer pursues a straight course, but becomes more 
 or less bent. The familiar experiment of the basin and shilling very satis- 
 factorily illustrates this law. An empty basin is taken, and at the bottom 
 of it a shilling is placed : the observer then goes back a step or two from 
 the basin, until the side next to him just hides the shilling from his eye. 
 If another person now pours water gradually into the basin, it will be 
 found that the shilling becomes visible to the first observer, although he 
 has not in the least altered his position. The reason is simply this : the 
 rays of light reflected from the shilling, in passing from the water into the 
 air, which is a transparent body of a different density, are bent in such a 
 manner as to rnake them meet the eye at a point at which they would 
 not otherwise have reached it. This property of the sunbeam the pro- 
 perty of bending is called, or rather the effect is called, the refraction 
 of light. 
 
 It is upon this property of the sunbeam's bending aside out of a straight
 
 ISAAC NEWTON EXPERIMENTING WITH LIGHT.
 
 LIGHT. 107 
 
 line on its entering into bodies of different density to that of the air, that 
 the effect of a lens on light depends. When the rays fall on the surface 
 of the lens otherwise than in straight lines, they pass through it in a 
 direction still different from that in which they reached it, and emerge 
 from it in a direction also different from that which they followed in 
 passing through its substance. In the case of a convex lens, or bulged 
 and magnifying-glass, the rays of light are so bent in passing through it, 
 as to meet in a common point at a little distance from the lens, and this 
 point is called the focus. Thus a lens may be employed to collect or 
 gather together the rays of light proceeding from any luminous body, 
 such as the sun or a lamp, and to. bring them to a focus upon any sur- 
 face towards which we may choose to direct them. With this process all 
 boys are well acquainted. All the lenses which are employed in the 
 artificial experiments on light and shadow are varieties of the convex 
 lens, the object being to collect the rays proceeding from various external 
 bodies, and to collect them in such a manner upon a smooth white sur- 
 face, as shall render those bodies visible as distinct images. Lenses are 
 sometimes convex' or rounded only on one side, the other being flat. In 
 that case, the lens is called a plano-convex lens. Sometimes the one 
 side is convex, and the other concave, or hollowed and this sort of lens 
 is called a meniscus. The most frequently employed lens, however, is 
 that which has two convex surfaces. This is called a double convex 
 lens. 
 
 Rays of light have also the property of being capable of reflection, or 
 of being thrown back from various surfaces. Indeed, were it not for this 
 property, all the objects around us would be invisible, and light could be 
 perceived only when we looked at the sun, or at some other luminous 
 body. In fact, we do not see external objects at all, but the image of 
 them which is reflected and pictured upon what is called the retina of our 
 own eye. The reflecting power of different objects upon the rays of light 
 is intimately connected with the state of their surface, and is closely asso- 
 ciated with the production of many remarkable effects which are espe- 
 cially worthy of notice. 
 
 To light also belongs the property of being absorbed, or lost, when it 
 falls upon various kinds of surfaces as black velvet, for example. It 
 seems as if it really entered into such substances, and there became anni- 
 hilated. It is, at all events, no longer to be detected. 
 
 The decomposition of light, as it is called, is another of its remarkable 
 properties or capabilities. The process by which this is accomplished
 
 lo8 THE BOYS'- AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 is well known. When a glass prism is held in the sunbeams, immediately 
 may be seen a beautiful streak of colours upon the wall or on the ceiling. 
 This is in consequence of the breaking up of the rays into those colours, 
 which were previously united in the form of pure white light. It is gene- 
 rally believed that any coloured body, such as a red one, for instance, 
 appears so coloured to the eye because of its decomposing power on the 
 light in other words, it absorbs all the other rays, and reflects only the 
 red ones, which become impressed on the organ of vision. The three 
 primary rays of light, as they are called, which by their various combi- 
 nations produce all other colours, and which, mingled in due proportion, 
 constitute white light, are red, blue, and yellow. 
 
 These remarks on the properties of light may help to explain certain 
 appearances which we now proceed to notice. 
 
 One evening in the summer of the year 1743 a gentleman and his 
 servant, as they were sitting at the door of a house in Cumberland, saw 
 the figures of a man and a dog pursuing some horses along the side of a 
 mountain. They knew the place to be so precipitous that a horse could 
 scarcely walk upon it at all ; but as these figures appeared to them they 
 seemed to run at an amazing pace, until they disappeared from view. 
 The servant and his master resolved to go next morning in search of the 
 person they had seen, and accordingly, after daybreak, ascended the steep 
 side of the mountain, fully expecting to find the man dead, and quite 
 satisfied that the horses also must have been dashed to pieces. But 
 there was no trace of either, nor could they find in the turf the slightest 
 mark to indicate that the place had been recently visited by any living 
 creature. They returned in great amazement, and on telling what they 
 had seen were laughed at for their credulity, and most probably began 
 themselves to believe that their own senses had deceived them. In the 
 following year one of. these same men was walking in the evening about 
 half a mile from the same mountain, when, to his astonishment, he saw a 
 troop of horsemen riding on the steep mountain side, in close ranks and 
 at a quick pace. Not having forgotten the ridicule with which his neigh- 
 bours had received his former statement, he continued, on this occasion, 
 to observe the figures for some time in silence ; but becoming convinced 
 that there could be no deception in the matter, he went to the house and 
 informed another person. They accordingly went out together, and in a 
 short time the whole famHy had assembled to witness the strange spectacle. 
 The mounted men advanced in regular troops along the side of the 
 mountain, and finally disappeared from view by crossing over it. They
 
 no , THE SOYS' AND GIRLS^ BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 continued to be seen for upwards of two hours. Many troops were seen 
 in succession, and frequently the last but one in the troop quitted his 
 position, and, galloping to the front, fell into the same pace with those 
 who were there. All this was seen by -every person at every cottage 
 within the distance of a mile ; but no explanation presented itself to the 
 beholders. t 
 
 The loftiest of the Hartz Mountains in Hanover is called the Brocken, 
 and from the earliest periods of authentic history this mountain has always 
 been the seat of the marvellous. The scenery is weird and wild, and 
 heathen rites and sacrifices were long ago to be witnessed in the midst of 
 it. But the most remarkable spectacle there to be seen in certain states 
 of the atmosphere is a gigantic figure which is popularly known as the 
 ' Spectre of the Brocken." A gentleman having ascended the mountain 
 on a fine morning in spring when the sun was just rising, was astonished 
 to see at some distance before him a colossal representation of himself. 
 His hat having been suddenly almost carried away by a gust of wind, he 
 raised his hand to his head, and was amazed to find that the figure did 
 so likewise. He then bent forwards, and the figure repeated his move- 
 ments. It then disappeared. Soon, however, it appeared again, when 
 it mimicked his gestures as before. Another person having joined him, 
 there very soon appeared two colossal spectres in the clouds, which 
 imitated the motions of the wondering observers in a remarkable degree. 
 After this the figures disappeared. 
 
 Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, remarks a similar fact, and describes the 
 astonishment which he felt when on one occasion he observed a spectre 
 in the clouds which imitated all his movements, and which he even 
 found to be attended by a spectral dog like his own, but ot enormous 
 magnitude. 
 
 Some remarkable appearances of a corresponding character were wit- 
 nessed by Baron Humboldt in his travels in South America. On one 
 occasion he observed small fishing-boats swimming in the air during more 
 than three or four minutes above the well-defined horizon of the sea. 
 When residing at Cumana, he frequently saw the islands of Picuita and 
 Baracha suspended in the air, and sometimes with an inverted image. 
 At another place he beheld the extraordinary spectacle of cows suspended 
 in the air at a considerable height above the soil. The same voluminous 
 author says, "The well-known phenomenon of the mirage is called in 
 Sanscrit 'the thirst of .the gazelle.' -The objects appear to float in the 
 air, while their forms are reflected in the lower strata of the atmosphere.
 
 LIGHT. \\\ 
 
 At such times the whole desert resembles a vast lake, whose surface 
 undulates like waves. Palm-trees, cattle, and camels sometimes appear 
 inverted in the horizon. In the French expedition to Egypt this 
 optical illusion often nearly drove the faint and parched soldiers to 
 distraction. This phenomenon has been observed in all parts of the 
 world." 
 
 Phantom ships, as they have been called, have repeatedly been seen by 
 various observers. Mr. Scoresby, in his voyage to Greenland, in 1822, 
 saw an inverted image of a ship in the air, so well defined that he could 
 distinguish by a telescope every sail, the peculiar rig of the ship, and its 
 whole general character, insomuch that he confidently pronounced it to 
 be his father's ship, the Fame, which it afterwards proved to be. On 
 subsequently comparing notes with his father, he found that their relative 
 position at the time gave a distance of the one from the other of nearly 
 thirty miles. But the most magnificent of these spectacles was seen by 
 Mr. Scoresby after he had further penetrated the Arctic regions. On this 
 occasion, the sky being clear, there was a tremulous and perfectly trans- 
 parent vapour, and the land on the coast was particularly distinct and bold. 
 The general telescopic appearance of the coast was that of an extensive 
 ancient city, abounding with the ruins of castles, obelisks, churches, and 
 monuments, with other large and conspicuous buildings. Some of the 
 hills seemed to be surmounted by turrets, battlements, spires, and' 
 pinnacles ; while others exhibited large masses of rock, apparently 
 suspended in the air, at a considerable elevation above the actual termina- 
 tion of the mountains to which they referred. - The whole magnificent 
 scene was continually changing. Scarcely was any particular portion 
 sketched before it assumed another form, and entirely differed in its whole 
 aspect. But notwithstanding these many and repeated changes, the various 
 figures had all the distinctness of reality; and not only the different strata, 
 but also the veins of the rocks, with the wreaths of snow occupying the 
 ravines and fissures, formed sharp and distinct lines, and exhibited every 
 appearance of the most perfect solidity. The Fata Morgana, seen in the 
 Straits of Messina, between Sicily and the coast of Italy, presents an 
 appearance somewhat resembling that observed by Scoresby. 
 
 All the appearances just described depend upon those properties of 
 light of which we before gave an account, and many of a similar cha- 
 racter can, without difficulty, be provided on a small scale by arti- 
 ficial means. The spectres seen in the clouds, as at the Brocken, are 
 merely shadows of the observer, or of other persons, projected on
 
 112 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OP SCIENCE. 
 
 dense vapour or thin fleecy clouds, which have the power of reflecting 
 much light. Vapours or clouds are necessary for their production, and 
 they can be seen only when the sun is throwing his rays in a horizontal 
 direction. The other phenomena depend upon the unequal retraction 
 of light. If, in calm weather, the surface of the sea is much colder 
 than the air which overlies it, that air will gradually become colder by 
 giving out its heat to the water, and the air immediately above will give 
 out its heat to the cooler air immediately below it, so that the air from 
 the surface of the sea to a considerable height upwards will gradually 
 diminish in density, and, therefore, everything requisite to produce the 
 phenomena in question is present. Just as, in the shilling and basin 
 experiment, the shilling is seen in consequence of the alteration in the 
 path of the light proceeding from it, or rather reflected by it, by its 
 having to pass through a denser into a rarer medium, so the ship below 
 the horizon is rendered visible to the eye by a similar disturbance of the 
 direction of the light proceeding from it, in consequence of the unequal 
 density 'of the overlying air. All the objects seen by Mr. Scoresby were 
 produced in the same way that is, by the unequal refraction of the rays 
 of light proceeding from real objects on the coast. 
 
 The spectacle of the troopers seen in Cumberland may be explained 
 in this way : a number of troopers were probably being drilled on the 
 other side of the hill to that on which the spectral troopers were seen. 
 At the time of their being so engaged, the air near the ground was mere 
 dense than at a short distance above it. Such being the case, the light, 
 just as in the experiment which has been mentioned, on passing from a 
 medium of greater into one of less density, underwent refraction, and its 
 course was so far changed as to bend the rays over the hill, and produce 
 the impression that the troopers were actually on the one side of the hill 
 instead of being on the other. The Fata Morgana are to be explained 
 upon the same principle. 
 
 Thus nature is full of wonders, and the simplest causes, such as the 
 production of a shadow, or the bending of a ray of light, may sometimes 
 combine so as to produce effects the most remarkable. The light oi 
 science dispels the mystery in which ignorance or superstition would 
 envelop such occurrences, and teaches us that those very spectacles which 
 terrify the unenlightened are mere illustrations on the great scale of the 
 properties of bodies, the less imposing examples ot which are, at every 
 moment, presented to our notice. The same law which makes the rod 
 of the angler appear bent when thrust into the clear stream in which he
 
 Ii 4 THE BOYS 1 AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 is fishing, is that which, in other circumstances and in a different medium, 
 produces all the splendid and fantastic scenery ot the Enchanted Coast, 
 the Fata Morgana, and the Phantom Ship. 
 
 When light is reflected from a polished surface at a particular angle, 
 it becomes possessed of certain properties which it did not before possess. 
 In this state, light is said to be polarized. By means of an ingenious 
 apparatus, and with the assistance of the oxy-hydrogen light, or with that 
 of the sun, the most splendid phenomena can be produced. Figures of 
 various kinds, illuminated with a depth and brilliancy of colour otherwise 
 unattainable, can be displayed, and shine with all the lustre of precious 
 gems. But the arrangements by which these phenomena are produced 
 are too complicated for intelligible description in a work like the pre- 
 sent. 
 
 Still, very singular effects can be realized in a simpler manner. Let 
 us suppose a room to be darkened by the exclusion of all light from 
 without, and that in this room a lamp is then lighted which emits rays 
 of only one colour say yellow or red. By dissolving a little salt, or some 
 other compound containing soda, and applying it to a sponge, or by merely 
 sprinkling the surface of a sponge dipped in spirits of wine with some 
 powdered carbonate of soda, the flame, when this sponge is ignited, will 
 be almost wholly of a yellow colour. The effect of this experiment is 
 most extraordinary. The dresses of ladies, which before the introduction 
 of the yellow light had displayed every variety of tint, now appear simply 
 white or a ghastly yellow, and black or purple. Neither is the effect on 
 the countenance less appalling every face wears the aspect of disease, 
 and looks pale and ghastly. So is it with the furniture so with every- 
 thing. If a shutter is opened at the other end of the room, and the 
 pure daylight is allowed to stream in, the contrast between the one di- 
 vision of the apartment and the other is exceedingly remarkable. The 
 same phenomena are sometimes produced at scientific lectures, by means 
 of trays of ribbons, and one or two sponges prepared in the manner which 
 has just been described. In such an experiment, a solar lamp, within 
 a dark lantern, is employed. When the lamp is allowed to pour its rays 
 on the ribbons, they appear in their proper colours ; but when the slide 
 of the lantern is closed, and the light of the sponges falls upon the trays, 
 all is instantly changed. The same experiment has been effectively made 
 with a landscape painting. With the yellow light the whole scene is 
 dismal in the extreme, but when the white light is permitted to fall upon 
 it, it is at once restored to its former beauty.
 
 LIGHT. 115 
 
 These effects are all due to the properties of light considered in itself; 
 but there are many interesting experiments which are related to the 
 manner in which light is conveyed to the eye. These belong to the class 
 of what are called optical delusions. If a lighted stick be twisted rapidly 
 round, the appearance of a single moving point of flame is lost to the 
 eye, and a circle of light takes its place. Many readers must be familiar 
 with the thaumatrope. This instrument consists of an upright frame of 
 wood, resembling the frame of a looking-glass; but the place of the 
 mirror is occupied by a flat board, covered on each of its sides with white 
 paper. This board is conected with a band and a pulley, and can be 
 made to revolve with great swiftness. Upon one side it is usual to paint 
 a rat-trap without a rat in it, and upon the other a rat without a trap. By 
 causing this board to revolve at a certain rate, the rat and the trap cease 
 to be seen separately, and the rat is distinctly beheld within the trap. Of 
 course, many varieties of objects may be used in connection with this in- 
 strument all depending upon what is painted on the revolving board. 
 Another is a figure of a body without a head on the one side, and a 
 head without a body on the other. By the revolutions the head is seen 
 as if restored to its proper place. 
 
 Among the various instruments which are associated with light and its 
 uses, must first be named the Camera Obscnra. This was discovered by 
 a celebrated natural philosopher of the sixteenth century, John Baptista 
 Porta, a Neapolitan gentleman, born about the year 1540. The name, 
 camera obscura, means the dark chamber, and in giving an account of 
 his instrument, and his invention of it, Porta tells us that all the windows 
 of an apartment must be closed by shutters, and that it will be well if 
 even the chimney also is stopped up, so as to exclude every possible ray of 
 light. A single round aperture, of the size of the little finger, must then 
 be made in a shutter, and upon the white Wall opposite will be seen 
 images of external objects, but all upside down, and their movements 
 reversed. This must often have been seen before Porta's time, but none 
 had so carefully observed the fact as he. He informs us that he placed 
 a lens of glass in the aperture, and immediately every object appeared 
 with a far superior brilliancy. The countenances of the passers-by, the 
 colours of their dresses, their movements, all shone forth with great lus- 
 tre, and formed a spectacle of such beauty that all who witnessed it were 
 never weary of looking at it. This was the origin of the camera obscura. 
 Porta continued to experiment upon his discovery, and that especially 
 with the view of restoring the images, which were all reversed, to their 
 
 82
 
 n6 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 proper position. In this he finally succeeded, by the assistance of two 
 concave mirrors. He now took portraits of his friends, and also produced 
 pictures of hunting scenes, and battles, and other spectacles, which he 
 produced from paintings partly, and partly from living figures associated 
 with paintings. The uses to which the camera has been devoted in con- 
 nection with photography are well known. The instrument, as we now 
 find it, is constructed on precisely the same principles as those of Porta, 
 of a great variety of sizes, and of course is much improved in its mechan- 
 ism. It consists essentially of a dark space, into which the light proceed- 
 ing from external objects is permitted to enter through a lens, adapted 
 to a tube in one of its sides. The rays thus entering are thrown upon 
 a white surface of paper, or of any other material, and produce the 
 images of external objects in all their natural colours. 
 
 The most general and ordinary use of the camera, in our time, is in 
 connection with photography, and the form of the instrument is so well 
 known that it need not here be described. Photographic cameras are 
 generally required for one of. three purposes portraits, landscapes, or 
 copying, and for each of them it used to be necessary to make suitable 
 modifications in the construction of the instrument. But a camera has 
 been recently contrived which contains within itself all the conditions 
 required for these purposes. Literally, photography means "light- 
 writing," or " writing by light," and it really is so. This art has com- 
 bined the various discoveries in reference to the nature and properties 
 of light made by investigators at different periods in such a manner as 
 has secured for it a far more rapid progress than has been the experience 
 of most of the sciences. Like other branches of chemistry, it owes its 
 origin to the alchemists, who, in their fruitless researches after the Philo- 
 sopher's Stone and Elixir Vita, produced a substance to which they gave 
 the name of Luna Cornea, or horn silver, which was observed to blacken 
 on exposure to light. This property of the substance constitutes the 
 leading fact upon which the science of photography is based. There are 
 great names connected with the progress of photography, such as Scheele. 
 Wedgwood, Davy, Niepce, Daguerre, Talbot, and many others. Thomas 
 Wedgwood was the first to produce pictures by the action of light on 
 what is called a sensitive surface this was in 1802 but immense pro- 
 gress has been made in the art since his time. The action of light has, 
 by arrangements not widely different from those of photography, been 
 successfully employed in engraving on stone, and on wood, and in 
 various other ways; and altogether, this class of effects produced by
 
 LIGHT. 117 
 
 light is among the most interesting and surprising .in the circle 01 the 
 sciences. 
 
 The Diorama and Panorama are pictorial representatives of the whole 
 of a surrounding landscape as seen from one point. The invention is 
 claimed by the Germans for Professor Breisig, of Danzig, but he never 
 constructed one. The real inventor was Mr. Barker, an ingenious artist 
 of Edinburgh, to whom the idea occurred when he was taking a sketch 
 of the city from the top of Arthur's Seat The paintings must be very 
 carefully executed, and each sketch is the section of a circle. The posi- 
 tion from which the picture is viewed is in the centre of a circular room, 
 and the light is admitted from a concealed aperture in the roof. The 
 effect of light on such pictures is such that the real scene appears to be 
 before the spectator. So much is this the case, that several years ago, 
 in London, when a panorama was being exhibited, which included a 
 representation of the wreck of a ship's boat, with sailors struggling in the 
 waves, a dog belonging to one of the spectators at once leaped over the 
 handrail to rescue the men who were supposed to be drowning. 
 
 The Magic Lantern is an instrument which consists of a lens which 
 orms on the wall an enlarged image of any object which is placed before 
 it. The objects used in the magic lantern are pictures painted with 
 transparent varnishes, and the magnifying power of the instrument may 
 be diminished or increased by bringing the white screen which receives 
 the image either nearer to the lantern, or removing it to a greater dis- 
 tance. The instrument, which was formerly employed very much for 
 mere amusement, is now largely used in almost every branch of scientific 
 instruction. In connection with the use of this lantern, spectres have 
 been apparently raised by the management of the lights. These are 
 called phantasmagoria, and this process very forcibly illustrates the power 
 and quality of light. The same may be said of the chromatrope and of 
 dissolving views, all of which class of experiments depend much upon the 
 use of the magic lantern. 
 
 Ignorance and superstition were, ages ago, practised upon by designing 
 men who knew the properties of light. Ghastly images, and other ap- 
 palling sights, were called up to terrify the credulous. But the advance 
 of science has happily brought such impostures to an end.
 
 I 
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 
 I. 
 
 T was just half-past three in the afternoon of Friday, July the 
 
 that we. reached the Loudwater Station on the Western Railway, 
 after rather a hot but pleasant journey from London. We had been just 
 enough to fill the carriage, eight of us, besides a little rough brown terrier 
 called "Skye," several carpet-bags, two baskets full of prog, a bundle of 
 fishing-rods, sticks, umbrellas, and butterfly-nets ; and a very jolly time of 
 it we had, I can tell you, all the way down. It was like a very long, cosy 
 picnic, without any of the insects that will creep up one's back, or wasps 
 that will taste the sandwiches and sip the beer. The two elder boys were 
 just home from school, and had appetites that were not to be satisfied, and 
 a thirst that nothing could quench, though they tried every possible variety 
 of liquid they could lay hands on. We were all in the best of spirits, for, 
 after six months' hard work, we were getting away from the smoke, dirt, 
 and noise of the great city to a quiet country vicarage, in the very heart 
 of the summer woods, with green fields, lanes, and heathy downs on all 
 sides of it ; and there we were going to rest, and drink the fresh pure 
 air for seven weeks. But our great business was to hunt for and catch 
 Butterflies ; and I am now going to try and tell you how we spent our 
 holiday, and found out how full of beauty and of good healthy pleasure 
 God has made the green fields, lanes, and woods, and everywhere left 
 traces of His goodness and wisdom among the least and lowest of His 
 creatures. 
 
 Well, in spite of our long and jolly picnic, we were all glad enough to 
 get out of the train, and take a breath of pure, bright, Hampshire air, 
 after that last long tunnel, in which we seemed to taste nothing but brick- 
 dust and smoky fog, though we shut up both windows as we rushed into 
 it. Loudwater was a quiet little roadside station, with fields of yellow 
 waving corn all round it, and white lilies growing up in the broad sunshine 
 in little patches of earth from the platform, and already we seemed to 
 have got a thousand miles away from smoky Babylon. 
 
 " Now, boys," said I, " come with me and count the packages and 
 boxes as they come out of the van." There were just ten of them, besides 
 all the baskets, carpet-bags, sticks, umbrellas, etc., etc.; but at last all 
 were counted. Mamma and the two little ones were packed into the
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 119 
 
 pony carriage ; the two servants, Skye, and the legion of boxes into the 
 carrier's cart, and away they went to Loudwater Vicarage, to get all un- 
 packed and ready for us who were going to make the journey on foot, a 
 matter of four miles, through fields, over the down, and along the edge 
 of some woods. It was rather late in the day to think of doing much in 
 the way of butterflies ; but, not to miss a chance, we resolved to take our 
 nets and see what could be done. 
 
 Away therefore, we went, Henry, Mary, Cecil, and I, each having a 
 light stiff bamboo cane, between five and six feet long, at the end of 
 which was fastened a bag of soft green * gauze, called a bag-net. 
 
 The sun was shining brightly as We set out, and the wind was from the 
 west, so that by the time we got to the top of our first hill we found out 
 that, if not quite warm enough for butterflies to be out, it certainly was 
 quite warm enough for us who had to chase them. Our way at first lay 
 through some bright sunny corn-fields, but the flowers were few, and we 
 saw nothing worthy of our notice; "Nothing," as the boys said, " but 
 Meadow Browns, that we could catch at any time." Then we came to a 
 piece of hot dusty road between a double row of firs, where there was 
 plenty of blackberry blossom, wild scabious, and a few early sprays of 
 yellow bed-straw by the side of the ragged hedges ; but still not a butter- 
 fly to be seen. All this time we were gradually mounting up to higher 
 and higher ground, and finding out that a west wind could blow very 
 fiercely when it pleased ; and then we all at once came out on the open 
 down, covered with patches of furze, wild thyme, and purple heath, and 
 stopped for a moment to turn our faces to the breeze, and drink in the 
 glorious fresh air, that seemed to penetrate to every dusty corner of our 
 lungs and fill us with new life. 
 
 Of butterflies, however, there was scarcely one, though we knew the 
 ground well, and only two years before had spent many a long hour on 
 this very down, away under those two tall Barrows, chasing Chalkhill 
 Blues, Graylings, Clouded Sulphurs, Skippers, and small Heaths, till we 
 were hardly able to stir hand or foot, and our boxes were nearly full. 
 There was one strip of chalky ground, especially, along by the edge of a 
 cornfield, where we had seen and caught clouds of the smaller butterflies, 
 when busily feeding, a score of times ; but even this was now all but de- 
 serted, and the freshening blast of wind had clearly swept them all away 
 
 * Our nets were all of green gauze, but I strongly advise my young readers to try -white ; 
 through which they will far more easily examine a butterfly, see what he is, and whether he 
 is worth keeping, before killing him.
 
 120 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 among the stalks of barley, the long grass, and into the quietest corners 
 in the hedges, till to-morrow morning. 
 
 Still, on we went, across the smooth short grass of the chalky down, 
 watching narrowly every cluster of flowers and bunch of thistles, every 
 patch of thyme, and bush of hazel and hawthorn, that fringed the edge 
 of the common, and cut us off from the gritty road. But not a butterfly 
 could be seen. 
 
 " Well," said I at last, " it is not much matter, after all, for in such a 
 wind as this, on the open down, there would be little chance of catching 
 it, if we saw anything worth getting." 
 
 Just at this moment, up from a clump of long grass, near a furze-bush, 
 sprang a greyish-white-looking butterfly, and flew away as hard as he could 
 go before the wind. In a moment Cecil was after him, as hard as he could 
 go. They started fairly enough, and Cecil was a good runner ; but in less 
 than two minutes he was fairly distanced, and came back panting and out 
 of breath. 
 
 " I don't mind the run a bit, but what was that butterfly ? " 
 
 " It wasn't a Common White," said I ; " there was too much black 
 about the wings, and there was not enough yellow for a Clouded Sulphur. 
 The only butterfly I can fancy at all like him is the Marbled White, 
 whose wings are marbled with black and greenish-white, and when he 
 flies fast, are apt to look of a dingy colour. But I never found the Marbled 
 White on a chalky down, his favourite haunts being along the edge of 
 woods, in grassy brakes, and meadows. However, he is now quite be- 
 yond our reach, and no other butterflies appear to be out ; so, as we 
 have still a couple of miles to walk, let me tell you something about the 
 ten different families of butterflies, all having Latin as well as English 
 names, which it is well that you should know. 
 
 " Family I. is that of the PAPILIONID;E, or Swallow-tails, of which only 
 One species is found in England, chiefly in the fenny districts of Norfolk 
 and Cambridgeshire ; colour chiefly yellow, lower wings sharply tailed, 
 hence the name swall<nv-\atis> ; having six legs, and straight antenna; 
 knobbed at the point 
 
 ''Family II. PIERID.E, or Whites, of which we have Seven species in 
 England, all having six legs, straight knobbed antennae, and rounded 
 lower wings ; colour chiefly white. 
 
 " Oddly enough, the Marbled White has only four walking legs, and 
 does not belong to this class, but to the Satyridse. (All butterflies, in 
 fact, have six legs, but a few have only four which they can use for walk-
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 121 
 
 ing, the two front ones being short and imperfect, used, perhaps, as the 
 common fly uses his fore legs for cleaning his proboscis.) 
 
 "Family III. RHODOCERID.E, or Red-horns, a very lovely class of 
 butterflies, chiefly of a yellow colour (Sulphurs and Clouded Sulphurs), 
 having six true legs, short clubbed antennas of a reddish colour, and a 
 very downy fringe at the edge of the wing. 
 
 " Family IV. ARGYNNID^E, or Fritillaries, a beautiful class of spotted 
 butterflies, containing Seven species, all but one (the Queen of Spain 
 Fritillary) common in England, all having four legs only, rounded wings 
 of a rich bright brown spotted with black, and on the under-side washed 
 or dotted with silver. The antennae are knobbed and of a fine dark 
 brown colour. 
 
 " Family V. VANESSID^E, or Angle-wings ; that is, having wings which 
 run to sharp points at the upper and lower extremity, and containing 
 some of the rarest and most beautiful of the larger English butterflies, 
 such as the Camberwell Beauty, the White Admiral, the Comma, the Red 
 Admiral. All this family (Eight in number) are decked with brilliant 
 colours, and have fine knobbed antennae, but only four true legs. 
 
 " Family VI. NYMPHALID/E, or Nymphs, the smallest of all the English 
 families, and containing only One species found in England. But then 
 that one is the Purple Emperor, and he, by virtue of his size, strength, 
 and splendour, is entitled to a royal name and place. The Emperor has 
 but four true legs ; his wings are angled at the lower extremity, and his 
 long antennae taper to a thick point. His throne, as we shall see by- 
 and-bye, is generally fixed at the top of some lofty oak, from which he 
 takes broad sweeping flights through the hot summer air, often returning 
 to the very spray from which he set out. 
 
 " Family VII. SATYRID^E, or Satyrs, a large family of Eleven species, 
 many of them differing much in appearance, but all ornamented on the 
 upper or lower wings, or both, with rings of some size or other. The wings 
 are rounded, mostly of a brown colour, while the whole family have straight 
 knobbed antennae, and four legs. 
 
 "Family VIII. LYCENID.E, or Argus Butterflies; so called because most 
 of them have, on the under-surface of the wings, many shining eye-like 
 dots, and remind us of Argus and his hundred eyes. This large family 
 of Sixteen species includes all the Blues and Hairstreaks, some of the 
 daintiest and most charming of our small butterflies. All of them are 
 fond of creeping up the leaves and stems of plants and trees, and are 
 therefore provided with six legs, which the Hairstreaks use very nimbly
 
 122 THE OYS> AND GIXLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 in passing from one side of a leaf to another. The antennae are fine and 
 straight, the wings mostly rounded; but the lower wings of the Hairstreak 
 are distinguished by a small pointed tail, which adds much to their 
 beauty. 
 
 "Family IX. ERvciNiDiE, or Dryads. The Duke of Burgundy Fritillary 
 has this family all to himself, and is chiefly remarkable for the male 
 butterfly's having only four legs, while the female has six, as if the lady 
 in this case spent her time more in creeping about the house, and the 
 gentlemen in gadding abroad. Oddly enough, neither the caterpillar nor 
 chrysalis of this butterfly has been found in England, though both Duke 
 and Duchess have been taken plentifully every year. 
 
 "Family X. HESPERID^E, or Skippers. This small family of Seven 
 species takes its name from the odd skipping manner in which they all 
 flit rapidly over the ground, or from flower to flower when feeding. They 
 are altogether an odd family indeed, having short, clubbed, or hooked 
 antennae, standing widely apart, while they differ from all other butterflies 
 in not closing their wings in the usual fashion, but keeping the lower ones 
 open and flat, while the upper ones are erect. Some few moths have, I 
 think, the power of doing this, but not, as far as I know, any other British 
 butterflies. They have small, stiff, rounded wings, and the full number 
 of legs. Their odd, swift, skipping flight makes them difficult to catch, 
 except when settled on a flower. 
 
 " These ten families include altogether Sixty-four species ; but out ot 
 these, four the Mazarine Blue, the Batli White, the Camberwell Beauty, 
 and the Queen of Spain Fritillary are so rare, that, however hard you 
 may work, boys, for many years to come, you will never, I fear, get beyond 
 sixty." 
 
 "But shall we get sixty here in Hampshire before we go back to school?' 
 inquires Cecil, his eyes sparkling at the thought. 
 
 " Well," said I, " if we get thirty out of the sixty, I think we shall do 
 well, considering that we have but seven weeks, and the May and June 
 butterflies must now be all over. But it's just five o'clock, and here we 
 are at the Vicarage. Our work is done for to-day; to-morrow we shall 
 begin in real earnest." 
 
 The sunset clouds were rosy red that night, and everybody prophesied 
 a good day for butterflying. 
 
 The next day was bright and sunny enough, but the wind was from 
 the north-west, and rolling clouds every now and then came up and shut 
 out the sun, so that we did not expect much sport ; but at half-past ten
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 123 
 
 Henry and I set off with our nets to Starling Park, a fine old place, full 
 of grassy lawns, among tall forest trees, patches of rough ground, and plenty 
 of oak and hazel copse. Meadow Browns, Ringlets in abundance, and a 
 few battered specimens of the Wood Argus flitted about us whenever we 
 went down the long leafy avenues, but nothing worth keeping, until we 
 got to the middle of a little open brake, among the tall trees, where I saw 
 coming towards us a small butterfly, whose flight was totally different from 
 that of any we had seen. It skimmed and floated along from bush to bush 
 and flower to flower, with an easy, dainty flight, so that when it hovered 
 for a moment over a spray of blackberry blossom, I caught it at once. 
 
 It was one of the small Fritillaries (Family IV.), Argynnis selene, a May 
 or June butterfly, who, after his little life of six weeks, had nearly lost all 
 his bright colours, and sadly battered his wings (see Fig. i, p. 124), but still 
 was worth keeping because of his untimely appearance. The colour of his 
 wings on the upper side is of a fine rich chestnut brown, much like that 
 of the Highbrown Fritillary, dotted with black; underneath, the lower 
 wings are marked with small irregular spots of yellow, black, silver, and 
 reddish brown, the lower edge being fringed with a row of silver dots. 
 Selene is a very elegant little butterfly, and very much resembles Argynnis 
 euphrosym, except that it has more silver on the lower wings, and is of 
 a darker brown. The caterpillar of a blackish colour, covered with dingy 
 spines, feeds on the dog-violet. There are two broods of the butterfly, 
 one in May or June ; and a second late in August. 
 
 Scarcely had I packed Selene into the box than Henry set off full cry 
 after a butterfly I pointed out to him, going away at a good pace over an 
 open sward of grass. 
 
 " I believe," said I, " it 's an Orange-tip, that has no more business to 
 be out now than a Pearl-bordered Fritillary." 
 
 Away dashed Henry as hard as he could go, tumbling as he went 
 headlong into a swampy pit among the trees, but catching his butterfly 
 and bringing him back in triumph. It was the Orange-tip (Anthocharis 
 cardamines^) and a perfect specimen of the male (see Fig. 2). When 
 fully stretched, his wings expand from one inch and three-quarters to two 
 inches, the upper wings of the male being of a soft creamy white, with a 
 broad orange-coloured band (edged with black), which covers half the 
 wing. In the wings of the female the orange patch is wanting ; but the 
 under-side of the lower wings in both male and female is marbled with 
 pale green. This is a lovely little butterfly, and well deserves its name, 
 the Lady of the Woods. The caterpillar, of a pale green with one narrow
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 125 
 
 stripe of yellow on the side, may be found in May and June feeding on 
 the cuckoo-flower or wild mustard. 
 
 When we got back to the Vicarage, Mary had brought home a small 
 thick web full of caterpillars which she found among the branches of two 
 hawthorn and blackthorn-bushes, which grew up closely together. All 
 the caterpillars were rough and hairy, but some of a fine rich brown, and 
 others of a dark, tawny, black hue, so that they looked like two different 
 species ; but after keeping them a day or two in a flower-pot, we found 
 that they were all of one family, but that the blackish ones had cast one 
 skin more than their brown brothers; almost all caterpillars, you must 
 know, casting their skins three or four times at least before they enter on 
 the chrysalis state. This is a very curious process, and I shall have a 
 word more to say to you about it in another chapter. Our brown and 
 black friends turned out to be the caterpillars of a small Egger moth, and 
 so we packed them all off into the hedge from which they came. Cecil 
 had been out with his net along the hedges of the upper wood, and now 
 came in with great triumph to say that he had seen several Purple Hair- 
 streaks hovering over the oaks and ash-trees, and scores of Meadow 
 Browns in the fields, where also he had caught a large Fritillary. 
 
 When we came to look at it, it proved to be a fine male specimen of 
 Family IV., the Argynnidce (Argynnis adippc), or Highbrown Fritillary 
 (see Fig. 3); his antennae both perfect, and the silver spots on his under 
 wings uninjured. (I mention these points because many young collectors, 
 when once a butterfly is in their net, are only in an awful hurry to kill 
 him. If they do this roughly and in haste, the result will be that the 
 specimen is not worth keeping.) The wings, both of male and female, 
 are on the upper side of a fine rich sienna brown, spotted and barred 
 with black, while the lower wings on the under-side are splendidly marked 
 with large silver spots, and especially by a row of rusty-red spots with a 
 dot of silver in the centre of each. It is this row of rusty-red spots 
 which mainly distinguishes Adippc from Aglaia, the Dark-green Fritillary, 
 both being often taken at the same time, July and August, and in the 
 same feeding-places, along the edge of woods, or in any woodland paths 
 where blackberry blossom and other flowers abound. Adippe is a swift 
 flier, and not easily caught. The caterpillar, spiny, and of a dingy grey 
 colour, feeds on the dog-violet, hanging to the leaves or stems of which 
 the chrysalis, spotted with gold, may often be found in June. 
 
 That evening we devoted to stretching our butterflies, and hoping 
 that it would be a fine day on Monday. The next day, Sunday, we had
 
 126 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 a glorious walk through the woods to a little rustic church at the edge of 
 the copse, and, as we had of course no nets with us, saw many good 
 butterflies. Monday came in due time, and with it .a bright clear sky 
 without a cloud, while the wind blew rather fiercely from the east ; but, 
 east or west wind, as long as there was. a hot sun, the morning must not 
 be lost, and so away we went, Cecil and I to the upper wood, the two 
 younger boys to the lower wood, and some meadows abounding in long, 
 rough, thick grass, and many flowers. 
 
 The path which we took brought us at once into a broad grass road, 
 with thickets of green hazel, ash, and young oak on either side, the 
 ground being actually carpeted with wild strawberry,* sweet basil and 
 ground ivy, interspersed with clusters of marjoram. The air was intensely 
 hot, and fragrant with wild flowers; while the commoner butterflies 
 swarmed on every side of us. Presently we came to an open brake, where 
 some clusters of blackberry blossom were just opening in the sun, and at 
 that moment there came sweeping by us a large bright yellow Fritillary, 
 Argynnis paphia, or Silver-washed, who is so well known by her under 
 wings of silver green, as to need little more than a glance at Fig. 4, to 
 distinguish her from all the other Fritillaries. She hovered for a moment 
 over the blackberry blossom, then darted away through the leafy glade, 
 presently skimmed quickly back, again hovered over the blossom, and 
 settled. One swift sweep of the net, and she was ours. 
 
 The male differs from the female in being marked on the upper surface 
 with broad black borders to the veins of the upper wings, while the 
 ground colour of the lady's wings often inclines to a tint of greenish olive- 
 brown. On the under side both sexes are closely alike. The caterpillar, 
 thorny and blackish, with yellow lines on the sides, is found in June on 
 the dog-violet. A spray of blackberry blossom in a woody glade is a 
 sure feeding-place for this elegant butterfly. 
 
 We saw some Purple Hairstreaks high up on the ash-trees and hazels, 
 but they all kept carefully out of reach. 
 
 To-day Henry and Willy came home in great triumph, with a box full 
 of butterflies. They had been down in the open piece of rough grassy 
 ground by the edge of the lower wood, and there among the long grass, 
 marjoram, cinquefoil, and wild scabious, had actually caught a dozen 
 Marbled Whites. So abundant were they in this one piece of ground, 
 that the boys might have taken fifty if they pleased. 
 
 * So abundant were the wild strawberries, that a quart basin was easily filled with plain 
 fruit by a couple of children in less than half an hour.
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 127 
 
 "You were quite right," said I, "not to take any more : we have now 
 plenty for our own collection, and a couple or two to give away or ex- 
 change, when we meet with a friend in need." 
 
 The Marbled White (Arge galathea) is not a very rare butterfly, but a 
 very local one, being taken only in certain districts, and only in certain 
 small feeding-grounds in those districts. We, for example, had hunted 
 for butterflies all round this very parish for six weeks in 1867, and not 
 chanced to find a single specimen. In fact, this was the first time we 
 had ever seen one alive, so that our dinner that day was well seasoned 
 with Galatheas, how they flew, and how they puzzled a stranger with their 
 strange dingy appearance. And then we thought of the odd butterfly 
 Cecil had chased on the down near the Barrows. 
 
 " I knew it was a Marbled White," exclaimed Cecil, " he had such a 
 dusky look about him." 
 
 And he was right, for within a week, in a strip of rough grassy copse 
 near the Barrows, we saw a score of Galatheas in a single morning. 
 
 Arge galathea belongs to Family VII. the Satyrs. The ground 
 colour of the wings, which are slightly scalloped at the edge (see Fig. 5), 
 is a yellowish-white, or pale creamy yellow marbled with black. The 
 female is supposed to have wings of the yellower tint, and the male of 
 paler white, the under-side (see Fig. i) being even more elegantly che- 
 quered than the upper. It flies very near the ground, settling frequently, 
 and is easily caught, except in a high wind. The caterpillar, of a greenish 
 colour, with a yellow stripe down the sides, feeds on several kinds of 
 grass, attached to which the chrysalis may often be found towards the 
 end of June. Galathea is the only White which has four legs. 
 
 July 1 3th was a cloudy day, with wind from the north-west, after some 
 thunder and heavy rain in the night, so that we did not reckon on many 
 butterflies. But we went down for an hour to the Galathea meadows by 
 the edge of the wood ; and there saw a score or two flitting heavily about 
 over the long grass. We allowed ourselves one good specimen each ; 
 and after watching the bright grassy field and busy Galatheas for a time, 
 wandered pleasantly homewards ; putting up, on our way, two fine coveys 
 of partridges in a turnip-field that had suddenly grown green after last 
 night's rain. As we passed through one of the narrow winding wood- 
 paths I spied a Purple Hairstreak at the end of a blade of grass. He 
 had just come out of the chrysalis, and could scarcely fly; and being 
 very perfect, we caught him. The gleaming purple on his upper wings 
 looked very lovely in the sunshine.
 
 128 THE BOYS* AND GIRLS* BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 The next day, July i4th, after two hours' hard work at a pile of books 
 waiting to be reviewed, we all set out again for the open down, to try 
 our old hunting-ground for Skippers and Chalkhill Blues. But, though 
 the wind was calm and the sun hot, not a single specimen did we get. 
 We searched carefully all along the edge of a field of ripe oats, fringed 
 with yellow bedstraw, clover, wild scabious, marjoram, and half a dozen 
 other dainties ; but not a Blue was to be seen where only two years ago 
 we had caught dozens. On the edge of the down, however, perched on 
 a tall thistle, I took one fine specimen of Galathea, clearly just out of the 
 chrysalis; his wings being still slightly crumpled, like blotting-paper, in 
 one or two places, but his plumage very bright and perfect. 
 
 On our way home through the woods, however, we took five very fine 
 Silver-washed Fritillaries, and one of the smaller species of the same 
 family, Argynnis euphrosyne, or Pearl-bordered Fritillary, which we still 
 have in our cabinet ; but, being a May butterfly, he was in so battered a 
 condition that our artist declined to make a drawing of him. We must 
 hope, therefore, for a better specimen at some future day. 
 
 Butterflies feed on the honey of flowers, and are said to love all sweet 
 and dainty things ; but on our way home through one of the narrow 
 winding wood paths, we had a strong proof that they have a decided 
 taste for much stronger meat. Up against an old oak the keeper had 
 nailed a dead magpie clearly some months ago, to judge by his rank 
 odour ; and upon this very high game was perched a large Fritillary,* 
 evidently feeding to his heart's content. The Purple Emperor himself 
 is said to have a mighty relish for strong dainties of this kind ; and to 
 have been caught more than once when drawn down from his airy flight 
 to feed on some morsel of carrion. 
 
 July i Qth. Cecil came home this morning from Chalkhill Wood in a 
 wonderful state of excitement ; having seen, so he protested, a couple of 
 Purple Emperors sailing round the tops of some lofty oak-trees. I am 
 afraid that we put down this vision mainly to the power of a very strong 
 imagination. 
 
 But he brought home with him a couple of those elegant little butter- 
 flies, the Azure or Holly Blue, belonging to Family VIII., the Lycenidce, 
 and about these there could be no doubt. Lyccena argiolus, or Azure 
 Blue, is one of the purest and simplest of the Argus butterflies, and may 
 easily be known from all the other Blues by the soft silvery grey of the 
 whole of the under-side of the wings. This silver grey, which reminds one 
 * The very one copied in our plate after being caught by Henry.
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 129 
 
 of a pretty Quakeress's silk gown, isYaintly sprinkled with very small black 
 dots. The upper surface of the wings is of a fine purplish blue, the 
 upper wings of the male (see Fig. 6) being edged with a narrow darkish 
 border, and those of the female (Fig. 7) with a broader band of black; 
 while on the lower wings of the female, close to the edge, is a row of 
 black spots which greatly add to her beauty. When flying, Argiolus often 
 looks like a pale butterfly with whitish-grey wings, and may thus at once 
 be known from the other members of her family. The caterpillar, of a 
 yellowish-green colour, is said to feed on the blossoms of the holly; and 
 the chrysalis may be found in May and July. We took it in great abun- 
 dance, both in the woods, fields, and lanes. 
 
 In still greater abundance, also, we took another small, very active, and 
 charming little butterfly, of the same family, Lyccena agestis, or the Brown 
 Argus (see Fig. 8). How he comes to be counted among the family of 
 Blues it is hard to say, for he has not a speck of blue about him. The 
 upper surface of all the wings is of a warrn, rich, coppery brown ; and at 
 the edge of each wing is a row of dark orange spots, rather broader in 
 the female than in the male. The under-side of the wings is exactly like 
 that of the Common Blue, Lyccena Alexis, except that it wants two small 
 spots, between the discoidal spot and the root of the wing, which Alexis 
 always has. The small caterpillar, pale green with a brown line down 
 the back, feeds on the helianthemum, or rock cistus, whose gay yellow 
 flowers we found growing most abundantly along the edge of all the 
 wood paths. This is one of the smallest and nimblest of British butter- 
 flies. 
 
 July i gth was one of the hottest days of the year; the wind being 
 fierce from the east, with a blue cloudless sky, and a brassy sun. 
 
 "Just the very day," so said Cecil in his eager fashion, "just the very 
 day for Purple Emperors !" as if he had been used to them all his life. 
 As I had never seen one alive, I determined to give myself the best 
 possible chance, and at 10.30 set off, in the blazing sunshine, for Chalk- 
 hill Wood, which lay on the sloping sides and summit of a low rising 
 ground, covered with a thick coppice of oak, ash, and hazel, and crowned 
 every here and there with lofty oaks. The lower slope of the hill was 
 occupied by a field o scrabbly potatoes, which, I was told, from neglect, 
 never bore anything worth .eating. Next to the potatoes came a wide 
 straggling patch of ground densely covered with one brilliant mass of 
 scarlet poppies and snow-white camomile. Not one inch of ground was 
 bare, and a more dazzling flower-show I never set eyes on. To us 
 
 9
 
 130 THE 30YS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 butterfliers such a field was impracticable, for the instant a butterfly 
 crossed the area of dazzling crimson and white, we lost sight of him for 
 ever. We therefore made our way into the wood at once, by a winding 
 path among the copse ; paying heed neither to small nor great, but 
 devoted entirely to his Royal Highness alone. On every side of us were 
 bushes of broad sallow, on which the caterpillar of the Emperor feeds, 
 and on every side oak-trees of all shapes, sizes, and ages. 
 
 " It was over one of those splendid evergreen oaks," said Cecil, " that 
 I saw the Emperor, sailing round, like a great swift." 
 
 " All right," said I ; " all right, my boy. All I wish is that he would 
 sail across one of them now." 
 
 The words were scarcely out of my mouth, when on a spray of hazel 
 about six feet from the ground, perched on an outer leaf, with his head 
 downwards, basking in the sunshine, right in frgnt of me, I beheld a 
 Purple Emperor in all his glory. 
 
 For a moment I was speechless, fairly speechless with excitement, as 
 I turned to Cecil, and pointed with my finger to the glowing prize still 
 within my reach. My hand trembled as I raised my net, but nearer and 
 nearer I drew it steadily on, taking care not to shut out the rays of the 
 sun, and then suddenly, with one swift triumphant stroke, the Emperor 
 was mine! My fingers trembled as I killed him, but in less than a 
 minute he was safely in my box, and Cecil fairly beside himself for very 
 joy. It was a perfect specimen, having plainly just emerged from the 
 chrysalis, and crawled up to sun himself on the hazel-spray, before winging 
 his lofty flight above the green oaks. 
 
 Apatura* iris, belonging to Family VI., NYMPHALID^E, well deserves 
 his name of Emperor ; his dusky wings of black, shaded with most glorious 
 purple, being of the largest, swiftest, strongest make, and well fitted for 
 royal flights over his forest domain. On the upper wings are ten irregular 
 white spots, and on the lower wings a bar of white, stretching down to 
 the lower segment, at the end of which is a small ring of bright orange. 
 The under surface of the wings both of Emperor and Empress is alike, 
 and though very beautiful in its mixture of grey, orange, and black, it 
 wants the royal purple of the upper. The wings of the female are of a 
 dull brown, without a tinge of purple. The Empress is rarely taken, 
 being content apparently to remain quietly at home, while her royal lord 
 
 * This surname Apatura a softer form of Apodura, which means without feet is given 
 to butterflies of this family because their caterpillars have not the two usual clasping feet at 
 the end of the tail
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 131 
 
 and master wings his way through the blue air, in search of fresh domains, 
 or some rival to his throne. 
 
 On that very morning we watched two of these royal butterflies skim- 
 ming on swift wings round the top of a lofty oak, and now and then 
 darting aloft into the blue air, until the eye could scarcely detect them. 
 But not one more ever ventured down to the perilous regions of earth 
 near enough to be within reach of our net. 
 
 I had to go and see a sick man in one of the little cottages beyond 
 the church, and so on we went through the copse, every now and then 
 opening the collecting-box, and having a glance at our grand prize, to 
 make sure that he was quite safe. We could, as yet, hardly believe that 
 we had really got the Emperor safe and sound in our box ; and though 
 they received us with shouts of triumph at the Vicarage, it was some time 
 before they would believe our incredible story not, in fact, until we had 
 opened the box and proved the treasure to be indeed ours. 
 
 At 7 P.M. that evening, when it began to grow cool, Mamma, Henry, 
 and I walked down through Starling Park into a broad open glade of 
 soft thymy grass, lined on each side with lofty forest trees, the beeches 
 and caks being the finest we had yet seen. The sunset was bright and 
 clear, and every tiny branch and twig of the tall trees could be clearly 
 made out against the soft blue sky ; the wind had gone down, and every- 
 thing was at perfect peace. As we strolled on, the last rays of the sun 
 just caught the topmost boughs of a lofty beech-tree, and crowned them 
 with rosy light, when to our great surprise we saw clouds of small butter- 
 flies hovering over the top of that tree, and an ash which grew next to 
 it. After watching their gambols for some minutes, we clearly made 
 them out to be Hairstreaks, many scores in number, and among them 
 one large swift black butterfly, which from his peculiar flight was at once 
 detected to be an Emperor, who had been probably disturbed on his airy 
 throne by this cloud of saucy interlopers. They were fifty or sixty feet 
 beyond the reach of our longest net. 
 
 The next morning at 10.30 Henry and I went down into the same 
 glade, but not a single butterfly of any kind could be seen near either 
 tree although the wind was from the west, and the sky without a cloud. 
 Except one old battered Sulphur, surviving from the brood of last March, 
 we did not in fact see one butterfly in the neighbourhood but Meadow 
 Browns and Ringlets.
 
 132 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 II. 
 
 SATURDAY, July 24, was a blazing hot day, though the sky was well 
 filled with great piles of rolling white clouds, and the wind very stormy. 
 After breakfast Cecil and I took our nets and went away down by the 
 edge of the woods to Starling Park, hoping that we might get a glimpse 
 of an Emperor, or some of the Hairstreaks of which we had seen such 
 clouds only a few evenings before. We came into the same beautiful 
 glade, nearly a mile long, and about three hundred yards in width, with 
 tall forest trees on the right bank, and on the left a low scattered copse 
 of oak, ash, and hazel, with a superb row of lofty beeches for a back- 
 ground. But neither among the long grass, nor in the copse, nor any- 
 where near the trees, could we see more than a few butterflies, and all 
 these were of the commoner sorts. On one of the grassy slopes there 
 were several clusters of dark green shining holly, but not a single Blue 
 or a caterpillar could we find anywhere near them. 
 
 And then, all at once, as we might have done long before, we found 
 out that there were very few flowers in the park, either in the wood paths 
 or on the grassy lawns, and therefore there were few butterflies. 
 
 "We have had our walk for nothing," said I, "so far as butterflies are 
 concerned ; " when, just as I spoke, up started a large female Sulphur 
 from among the tall grass, and flew swiftly away before the wind. I set 
 off as fast as I could go in pursuit, and Cecil with me, in case the butterfly 
 should turn ; but after two minutes' hard running, and several random 
 strokes of the net, I was fairly winded, and obliged to give in. Then 
 Cecil took up the chase, and for another minute went along at a great 
 pace, zigzagging to and fro across the glade, until the poor Sulphur 
 suddenly began to flag, and all at once actually fell down on the grass, 
 unable to fly another yard. It is not an easy thing to run down a but- 
 terfly, nor one that often happens. As the specimen was a very perfect 
 one, we kept it, and made our way rather wearily home, along a straight 
 piece of turnpike road, which, unlike most turnpike roads, was fringed 
 on one side by some noble walnut-trees and firs, and on the other by some 
 capital brakes of bramble infull blossom, among which we took a couple 
 of dainty little Holly Blues. As I strolled through the Vicarage garden, 
 up started a greenish-white-looking butterfly, which turned out to be a 
 female Orange-tip, one of the May brood, hardly able to fly, so thin and 
 battered had the edges of her wings become.
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 133 
 
 What does a May butterfly mean by showing her face at the end of 
 July?" asks Cecil. 
 
 "It reminds me," said I, "of that spray of hawthorn which Mary 
 brought home the other day, with a cluster of flowers in full bloom, a 
 bunch of buds and of berries on the same stem. A butterfly's life lasts, 
 I suppose, about six or eight weeks in most cases; but here is a poor 
 battered old lady who has weathered the storms of life till she has reached 
 at least twice the usual age of the oldest native. It is, in fact, as if Miss 
 Smith, Mary's governess, should live to be a hundred and fifty. But still, 
 after all, in these burning hot July days it is pleasant to have only a taste 
 of spring, once more, in a bunch of fragrant hawthorn, or in the lovely 
 wing of an Orange-tip." 
 
 "Did you ever find a dead butterfly?" inquired Cecil; "for there 
 must be thousands that die every year before they 're half worn out, or 
 have got to be old cripples like the Orange-tip." 
 
 " Well," said I, " I never found but one dead butterfly, and that was 
 a Wood Ringlet, two years ago, in the wood beyond Loudwater Church. 
 Henry and I were coming home one evening, after a long day at trout- 
 fishing, and there before us in the path lay the poor Ringlet, quite dead 
 and stiff, but quite perfect, and both his antennae unbroken. What was 
 the cause of death I can't say; and there was no coroner to hold an 
 inquest." 
 
 "Heart disease, perhaps, papa?" 
 
 " No, not heart disease," I replied, " because butterflies are far wiser 
 than men and women, and don't poison themselves with too much eating 
 or drinking, or food which they can't digest : they breathe fresh air, and 
 can't have their blood poisoned by drains. Nine hundred and ninety 
 out of a thousand, depend on it, live out their full time. Here and there 
 one gets snapped up by a hungry bird, a flycatcher, a water-wagtail, or a 
 swallow; but most of them live to a good old age, and die in peace." 
 
 " But still," says insatiable Cecil, " they must die somewhere, and how 
 is it we don't find them dead ? " 
 
 " No doubt," I replied, " you would find some of them, if you looked 
 in the right places, down among the thick leaves near the roots of the 
 grass in the hedgerow, in the quietest secret crannies, wherever in wood 
 and field and roadside there is most perfect shelter from cold and wind. 
 There, the poor worn-out butterfly, after his little life of sunny pleasure 
 and holiday-making, creeps in, and dies a lonely death. After which, 
 perhaps, the ants eat him up, or a stray wasp or two, or some hungry
 
 134 THE BOYS' 1 AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 insects in search of a morsel of food, set on him, and suck out of his 
 body what little moisture there may be left in him. Then comes a touch 
 of autumnal frost, cracks all his brittle legs and wings up into broken 
 fragments, and perhaps half buries him with a sprinkle of earth from 
 the next day's thaw, so no wonder that we find so few dead butterflies." 
 At 7 A.M. that evening, while strolling through the lower wood, we saw 
 dozens of Hairstreaks hovering over the top of almost every oak and 
 ash-tree in the copse; but none within reach of our nets. The next day, 
 as we were all coming home from church through the Emperor wood, by 
 a narrow winding path, fringed with flowers and thick bushes on either 
 side, Mary suddenly spied a butterfly perched on a cluster of white flowers, 
 to which he seemed to stick fast in a very odd fashion. The flower was 
 
 Wild Carrot (Daucus carota). 
 
 the wild carrot, which grew in great abundance along the path, in straggling 
 clusters of white blossom, very much like hemlock. The butterfly, oddly 
 enough, was a Wood Ringlet, who had settled down upon the cluster of tiny 
 flowers, and was there held fast. We touched him with our fingers, and he 
 never moved ; we shook the flower, but still he remained fixed in his old 
 quarters. At last Cecil's sharp eyes found out that a white spider (see 
 Fig. 12, page 136) had lain in wait among the tiny flowers and pounced 
 upon him as he fed. We looked, and then clearly saw that the spider had 
 still got hold of the poor Ringlet, and held him fast by the throat.
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 
 
 He had sprung upon the butterfly, as a tiger springs upon his prey from 
 behind an ambush of boughs, killed him with one fatal bite, and was 
 now sucking his blood. It required several smart taps with a stick to 
 make him relax his hold ; but we forced him to give way at last, and 
 carried him back to the Vicarage. 
 
 There were three other spiders of the same kind on that one cluster 
 of flowers, and we afterwards found numbers of them in all the woodland 
 paths, but rarely by the open roadside. The spiders were always white, 
 and were rarely found on any but white flowers,* while to judge by their 
 plump bodies they lived on the fat of the land. They all had the same 
 sort of round puffy body, and long thin legs, which they wrapped round 
 their prey and held it fast. So vicious were they, that on another oc- 
 casion, when I dropped a couple of them into a tiny bottle of spirits of 
 wine, one instantly seized the other by the leg and bit it off. Twice I 
 saw a Meadow Brown caught in this crafty fashion ; once a bluebottle 
 fly ; and once a poor hapless wall butterfly (Satyrus Megara), who had 
 quietly settled to sip the honey from a tall thistle, been seized on, and 
 been pulled into the very heart of the silky purple flower. His body, 
 hind legs, and lower wings were sticking up in the air, in the most 
 ungainly fashion, just as a duck turns up his tail in the air when diving. 
 
 Monday, the 2yth, was a blazing hot day, with a fierce east wind and 
 a bright brassy sky. But butterflies were out in abundance, and besides 
 a number of fine Holly Blues and some Skippers from Mary's net, we 
 had our first Clouded Sulphur (Colias Edusa) from Cecil. Close to the 
 Vicarage gate was a large field of lucerne, just coming into flower, and 
 after feeding there the butterfly took a flight across the garden, was at 
 once seen, and chased. Away went the Clouded Sulphur at a great rate 
 before the wind, down the turnpike road, in the blazing sunshine, and 
 away went Cecil after it, as hard as he could go, for a full quarter of a 
 mile. Then he got ahead of Edusa, and turning quickly round, with one 
 quick sweep of the net against the wind had the game safe at last. It 
 was one of the largest and most perfect specimens we had ever seen, a 
 female, and, judging by her dainty plumage, just out of the chrysalis. 
 The Clouded Sulphur is one of the swiftest fliers among butterflies, and 
 Cecil came back from his chase in the noonday sun looking red hot and 
 melting, but in great joy at his good luck. 
 
 * They clearly chose clusters of white flowers for a.hiding-place, so as better to escape 
 the keen eye of their enemies, the wren and the titmouse, and at the same time to lurk un- 
 noticed by their prey the butterfly ; guided, no doubt, by that wise instinct which God has 
 given to all His creatures in their search for food.
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 137 
 
 The Clouded Sulphur, Colias Edusa, belongs to Family III., RHODO- 
 CERiDjE, or Red-horns, and is one of the most favourite butterflies, both for 
 beauty and rarity. The ground colour of all the wings is of a fine rich 
 saffron hue, with a narrow band of rich dark brown, sometimes almost 
 black, at the outer edge. This dark margin in the male is usually crossed 
 by faint yellow lines (Fig. 3), and in the female dotted with a series of 
 pale yellow spots (Fig. 2), which add greatly to her beauty. The female 
 is considerably larger than the male, and apparently rarer, for though we 
 afterwards caught six or eight more males, we took only two females. 
 The caterpillar, of a pale green, whitish-yellow stripe on each side, may 
 be found in June, or even in July, feeding on lucerne or common white 
 clover. 
 
 Just after the capture of the female, in came Henry from the Barrows 
 where he had seen Chalkhill Blues and Harvest Blues in abundance: 
 with an equally good specimen of the male Edusa, which he had caught 
 in an old chalk-pit at the edge of a field of barley. This, with Cecil's, 
 made a capital pair of specimens for our cabinet, being brighter and more 
 perfect than those which we caught two years ago, when they were found 
 here in great abundance. 
 
 The Clouded Sulphur is one of those few butterflies which every now 
 and then are very plentiful, then for a season or two are scarcely seen, 
 and again appear in great numbers. I had many long talks with Henry 
 about this fact, and after searching far and wide for its cause, we came to 
 the following conclusion. The fields of lucerne, on which the caterpillar 
 feeds, in most places are allowed to lie fallow for a year or two, that the 
 crop may grow richer and stronger for grazing on. When it so happens 
 that many of the lucerne crops of a district or a county, or even a wider 
 range of country, chance to be mown or grazed on about the same time 
 in June or July, a great destruction of caterpillars and chrysalides takes 
 place, and few Clouded Sulphurs appear. Then follows a year or two of 
 rest, when the brood quietly increases, then a year of plenty, and next a 
 time of scarcity. The question is a curious and interesting one, and, at 
 all events, our solution of it, for want of a better, is worth considering. 
 
 For the next two days we had heavy thick rain and cold winds, which 
 kept the boys busy indoors at their books and me with pens and ink, 
 while the butterflies had to take refuge in the thickest hedges, at the 
 roots of the long grass, and down among the ranks of waving corn. But 
 the next day, when the sun shone brightly again, the flowers, yellow 
 bedstraw, scabious, hardheads, yellow rock rose, and blackberry blossom,
 
 138 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 refreshed by the glorious rain, had come out in greater number and 
 beauty than ever, and the butterflies were everywhere in clouds. 
 
 Cecil and Mary set off to the open down, near the Barrows, and came 
 back with a box full of treasures, among which were a pair ot Pearl 
 Skippers and some very fine Graylings. 
 
 The Pearl Skipper (Hesperia comma, Figs. 4, 5), belonging to Family 
 X., HESPERID^E, is a very elegant little butterfly, and perhaps the most 
 beautiful of all the Skippers, if only for the silvery spots on the under 
 surface of the wings. The upper wings of the male (Fig. 4) are of a rich 
 tawny brown, with a dark outer margin, varied with spots of pale yellow, 
 while the lower wings are of a still darker hue, and also spotted with pale 
 yellow. In the wings of the female the colours are all rather dingier, and 
 have not the dark stripe of black to be seen on the upper wings of the 
 male. The under-side of the wings both in male and female is of a 
 yellowish green hue, with clusters of whitish silvery spots, generally eight 
 on the lower wing, and six on the upper (Fig. 5). The caterpillar, of a 
 greyish-green colour, here and there touched with red, and with a narrow 
 white band round the neck, may be found on one of the small trefoils in 
 chalky ground in July. 
 
 Mary had caught both the Pearl Skippers together, hovering over a 
 flower, and thinking that they were the common large Skippers, let them 
 fly again. 
 
 " I don't believe they are common Skippers at all," said Cecil ; where- 
 upon Mary set off in pursuit again, and once more got them in her net. 
 This time she luckily kept them. 
 
 If you look at Fig. 6, you will at once see that the common large 
 Skipper (Hesperia sylvanus) is to be easily distinguished from Hesperia 
 comma, and still more easily from the small Skipper (Hesperia linea, 
 Fig. 7), by size, colour, and shape of wing. The general colour of the 
 wings in both these species is a dull tawny orange ; the male having a 
 bar of black in the middle of the upper wing, from which some dark veins 
 run towards the edge ; while both wings grow darker towards the margin. 
 Underneath, both the large and small Skippers are very much alike, the 
 colour of the wings being a dull yellow-brown, tinged with green. The 
 caterpillars of both these Skippers are of a dull green, and feed on various 
 kinds of grass ; the larger one being dotted with black, and the small one 
 marked with whitish stripes. Both butterflies are common, and easily 
 caught in woodland paths or meadows along the edge of woods, from 
 May to August.
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 139 
 
 Among the butterflies of the soberer, quieter colours, are the Meadow 
 Browns and Graylings ; of both of which they had brought home good 
 specimens from the down, and of which we saw great numbers all through 
 our seven weeks' holiday, on the heath, and in the meadows and woods. 
 
 The Grayling (Safyrus semele), belonging to Family VII., SATYRID^E, 
 may be found in good numbers on open heaths, stony fields, and chalky 
 downs ; though not nearly so common as the Meadow Brown. All the 
 wings are of a dark tawny grey colour (Fig. 8) ; the upper ones having 
 near the edge two black spots with white dots in the centre, like eyes; 
 while the lower ones, which are beautifully scalloped at the edge, and 
 marked with an irregular bar of dull orange yellow, have only one eye, 
 much less bright than those on the upper wings. This orange bar is brighter 
 and clearer in the female, which is also larger than the male. Under- 
 neath, the lower wings are shaded with a lovely mixture of brown and 
 grey (Fig. 9), so exactly like the colour of broken, flinty, stony ground, 
 where the Grayling loves to settle, that it often puzzled us to find Semele, 
 even when we had just seen him drop down to the earth for a rest. 
 
 I have known this butterfly rest for more than five minutes on a bed of 
 broken grey and white flints, where it was next to impossible to distinguish 
 its brown and grey wings from the stones about it. The caterpillar, of a 
 dull grey colour, striped with green, feeds on heathy grass, and is said to 
 change into a chrysalis in the earth. 
 
 The Meadow Brown (Safyrus janira, Figs. 10, n) is to be found 
 nearly everywhere, flitting along with heavy zigzag flight, in her sober 
 dull robes of russet brown. The female is larger and handsomer than 
 the male, all her wings being of a dull reddish-brown, the upper ones 
 having at the higher corner a patch of lighter yellow, in which is a black 
 spot with a centre of two white dots ; while the lower wings are of a pale 
 dull brown, slightly scalloped at the edge. The male is smaller than the 
 female, and still dingier in colour, though sometimes found with a flush 
 of a redder hue across the upper wings, which are marked by one smaller 
 black dot, with a speck of white in the centre. Underneath, the wings 
 of the male and female are much alike. The caterpillar, green with a 
 white stripe on the sides, feeds on many kinds of grasses, low down, near 
 the roots, where it often remains in a half-torpid state all through the 
 winter ; waking up again, and feeding, when spring comes, and turning 
 into a chrysalis in May. 
 
 But both these specimens (Figs. 10, n) puzzled us very much by 
 having stuck fast to them, close to the thorax, small round bits that looked
 
 140 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK Of SCIENCE. 
 
 like red coral. If you look at the plate, you will see that the male has 
 one and the female two of these tiny red specks, each as big as a large 
 pin's head. We searched all the books within our reach likely to tell us 
 anything about this strange appearance, but could meet with no mention 
 of it whatever. We afterwards found bits of the same red substance 
 sticking fast to the bodies of Graylings, Harvest Blues, Meadow Browns, 
 and small Heaths, but not, I think, ot any other butterflies, with the 
 exception of a single large White. 
 
 In the afternoon of the 2 8th the wind sprang up rather roughly from 
 the south-west, bringing with it piles of rolling clouds which often shut 
 out the sun, and at 3 P.M. Cecil and I set out for the Barrows, going 
 along by the edge of the wood, through grassy fields abounding in flowers, 
 through patches of open copse, and over the chalky down. But scarcely 
 a butterfly was to be seen. In the strip of sunny copse by the roadside, 
 near the Barrows, where last week we saw scores of Marbled Whites, not 
 one was to be met with ; the bank covered with scabious, wild thyme, 
 and patches of tiny clover, where the Blues by the score were busily 
 feeding this morning, were quite deserted ; not a Grayling on the down, 
 and scarcely a Meadow Brown by the thick grassy hedge. All had taken 
 refuge in the bushes, among the stalks of barley or the thick grass, till 
 to-morrow's sun should bring back light and warmth and joy to the dusky 
 woods, fields, and springing corn, as well as to the birds, bees, and butter- 
 flies, and all the other creatures of God's hand, which He has made to 
 praise Him by their beauty, their songs of joy, or their lives of patient 
 harmless toil. 
 
 As we made our way homewards along by the edge of the wood, we 
 came upon a little pool of water in the chalky ground from the previous 
 day's rain ; and near the water, where the ground was still muddy, was 
 settled a large White butterfly. 
 
 "Look at him," said Cecil; "is he drinking?" 
 
 "Beyond a doubt," said I ; "why shouldn't he drink, if he is thirsty ? " 
 
 " I should have thought that he would have found enough moisture 
 yesterday on the flowers and grass, without coming to a pool of water." 
 
 "That was yesterday ; and he has perhaps made a long and weary jour- 
 ney to-day, through the hot sunshine, and now against this fierce wind, a 
 journey of many miles; so that he needs a good long draught. Two years 
 ago, when Henry and I caught that famous dish of trout at Clatford, one 
 burning day in August, in going down to the river we came to a very 
 shallow patch of water which had leaked out from a spring in the meadow
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 141 
 
 and crept on to the dusty road. When we got close to it, up started a 
 whole cloud of White butterflies, who had been settled tippling at the 
 edges of the crystal lake. We counted more than twenty, many of which, 
 after hovering about, gossiping and flirting for a fewminutes, quietly settled 
 down again to their potations. This was towards the end of the butterfly 
 season, when these Whites have a great trick of collecting together in great 
 numbers ; though one hardly knows why or for what purpose. But, Cecil, 
 Purple Emperors are the fellows to tipple ! Mr. Hewitson, a famous 
 butterflier, tells us that at Kissengen in Bavaria, where he had many 
 chances ot watching the Emperors, after long and rapid flights in the 
 neighbouring forest they would take refuge in its shady recesses to cool 
 themselves, and sip the moisture from any puddle of water the dirtier 
 the better with their long trunks. And so eager were they in tippling, 
 that he once took seven under a flat net at one stroke ! he even caught 
 one with his finger and thumb." 
 
 " Oh, papa ! you are not telling me something out of Baron Mun- 
 chausen, are you ? Fancy seven Emperors at one stroke ! I only wish 
 there were some pools of water in our Emperor wood." 
 
 "I only wish there were, my boy," said I, " for my story is a true one, 
 every word. What happens among the Emperors in Kissengen would 
 surely happen here in Hampshire, if our woods were not scattered over 
 the stony hill-side, where a drop of water is hard to find." 
 
 " But you talked of butterflies being weary after a long journey ; how 
 ar do they fly in a day ? " 
 
 " That is a hard question to answer. But, although butterflies are such 
 idle truants, there is no doubt that they have favourite feeding-grounds, 
 to which even if driven away they return again and again after a long 
 flight, and that a gay young spark of a butterfly will often chase his lady- 
 love a very long way, and that she delights in leading him a long chase ; 
 after which he will, perhaps, set off once more in pursuit of another charmer. 
 Then, as his life cannot be all spent in love-making, and he must have some- 
 thing to eat and drink, he wanders from meadow to meadow, and from 
 flower to flower, over and through woods, and along dusty roads, for many 
 a long hour ot sunshine, until, at last, quite worn-out, he slips down into 
 some cozy quiet nook among the grassy flowers, or, if it is calm, among 
 the sheltered leaves of some favourite tree, and there goes fast " 
 
 "Asleep?" interrupts Cecil ; "does he go to sleep? If he sleeps, he 
 dreams." 
 
 " Well, my son, about dreams I can't say anything, though I have heard
 
 143 THE OYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 of a book called 'The Butterfly's Dream;' but with regard to sleep, all 
 I know is that every butterfly has a good pair of eyes, though he may not 
 be able to shut them. He may sleep with his eyes open, and if he does 
 not sleep, he sinks into a state of deep rest; for I have with my finger 
 and thumb, more than once, taken a butterfly with his wings folded 
 closely up, when he was quietly resting on a flower or leaf, just as evening 
 was closing in." 
 
 " And is everything you read in books true ? " 
 
 "I am afraid not, Cecil; people who deal in fibs will write books, you 
 see, as well as talk. But one thing you may depend on, I think, 
 that the people who really love the green fields and woods, the shining 
 rivers, the lonely hills and valleys, with all the wondrous and beautiful 
 creatures which they contain, and write as if they did love them, are the 
 least likely to deal in fibs, or ' crackers,' as you schoolboys call them. 
 And I will give you a good reason for this. The more a man truly 
 studies these things, and the more knowledge he really gains of them, 
 the nearer and nearer he draws to the wise and good God who made 
 them all at the first, and in whom they live and have their being. The 
 nearer a man draws to God, and learns His wisdom, the more and more 
 he forgets himself and his own cleverness, his petty troubles, and foolish 
 sins, the envy and ill-will of his neighbour, as well as his own ; and the 
 less he thinks of such things, the more likely he is to think of and de- 
 light in the truth, and care to write that alone." 
 
 By this time we had nearly reached home, when I heard Cecil, who 
 was loitering behind, suddenly call out, 
 
 " I say, what heaps of ladybirds ! Where do they all come from ? " 
 " That's more than I or anybody else can tell, but they never come 
 until they are wanted, and when wanted they do come, in hundreds and 
 thousands at a time, like a regular army of little red-coated soldiers." 
 "But they don't fight," inquires Cecil, "and of what good are they?" 
 " No, they do far better than fight with their enemies, they set to work 
 and eat them up. The locusts that you read of in the Bible were sent 
 as a curse to destroy the green crops and herbage; but these millions of 
 ladybirds that just now are swarming all over England are a true blessing 
 to the farmer and the gardener, because they eat up their greatest enemies, 
 the aphides or ' plant-lice,' that infest the young trees here in the wood, 
 the ripening corn, the hop-plants in Kent, the fruit-trees, and the flower, 
 in such countless myriads as to be like a plague. Last week the rose- 
 trees in the Vicarage garden were thickly covered with green aphides \
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 143 
 
 one morning, suddenly comes a shower of ladybirds, all hungry, and all 
 having a relish for green insects ; the next day all the rose-trees are clean. 
 And the good work they have been doing in the garden has been going 
 on all over England, among the pea crops, the hop-gardens, and the or- 
 chards. And the strange thing is that no sooner is their work done, than 
 the little red-coated army all disappears. ' For weeks,' says one gentle- 
 man,* ' my best apple-trees were covered with American blight. A few 
 days ago myriads of ladybirds swept down into my garden, and instantly 
 set to work, and now after one week my trees are all clear, and as healthy 
 as ever. The ladybirds are all gone.' The good which they do, therefore, 
 is beyond all price; but I cannot tell you where they come from in such 
 swarms, or whither they go when their work is done." 
 
 "They are very little things," replies Cecil, "to do such a grand lot 
 ot work." 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " they are little things; and if you watch the mightiest 
 works that are done in this world, you will be surprised to find how many 
 of them depend on what are called trifles, or little ways and little crea- 
 tures. All the honey in the world comes from little five-sided cells, built 
 up out of wax by a little insect, who, with a tiny trunk, sucks the sweet 
 nectar out of flowers. The famous Plymouth Breakwater, a mile long 
 and two hundred feet wide, stretching across the mouth of a harbour in 
 the deep sea, was built by overturning thousands of boatloads of small 
 stone into the wild waves, until a foundation was found for the mighty 
 blocks of granite which now pave its upper surface. The coral islands 
 in the South Sea were all built by myriads of insects; and the worst 
 enemies which our old line-of-battle ships used to have were the Teredo 
 or auger worms, which bored a tiny round hole through the hardest, 
 toughest beam of oak. 
 
 " The ladybird always crawls up to the topmost leaves and branches 
 until she finds her prey, the green aphis, the hop-fly, or the black blight, 
 as the country people call them ; and all we can say is, may they have 
 a good appetite and a good digestion, especially as the aphides multiply 
 at the most terrible rate, and the descendants of a single couple, in three 
 weeks, would amount to more than a million. But though such a little 
 creature, the ladybird is full of life, and very hard to kill, as you may 
 fancy from a little story of Mr. Spence's. ' I caught a ladybird,' he says, 
 ' in my study window one day, with twenty- two spots on her wings (most 
 of the common ones have two, five, or seven), and thinking she was very 
 
 * Mr. H. Brook.
 
 144 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 pretty, I determined to kill and keep her. Not knowing how to kill her 
 I put her into a wine-glass of gin. There she stayed for a day and a 
 night, when, fancying she must be dead, I laid her out in the sun to dry. 
 No sooner, however, did she feel the warmth than she began to move, 
 and presently flew away.' " 
 
 "Well," said Cecil, "after being drowned in gin for twenty-four hours, 
 she deserved to get away, and tell her wonderful adventures, if she 
 could." 
 
 " If she could?" said I; "but what is to hinder her? Ants talk to 
 each other, and bees spread an alarm through the hive in less than half 
 a minute. Is nobody to be able to say a word, unless we understand the 
 language they talk in ? I heard an old hen talking to her chickens, this 
 very morning, down on the gravel yard near the stables, and she said as 
 plainly as the Cluck, cluck, keck, keck language could say it, ' Now, you 
 good-for-nothing children, mind what you 're about, and don't get away 
 too far from the coop, for there 's that vile cat from the vicarage watching 
 you from the corner behind the laurel hedge.' And the very moment 
 she spoke they all came rushing in between the bars of the coop, as if 
 they had seen an ogre. And sure enough, when I got to the corner, there 
 was Grimalkin, ready to pounce out on the first little wicked chick who 
 
 dared to disobey his mother " 
 
 " But that doesn't prove that ants talk," interrupts Cecil. 
 " No," said I, " it does not. We will go home to our old smoky garden 
 in London to prove that. Do you remember the tall ash-tree in the 
 grass-plot?" 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, at the foot of that tree was an ants' nest, out of which they 
 crawled up the dingy black trunk at all hours of the day; up and down 
 again in two distinct, long, narrow, winding files, in and out among the 
 crevices of the bark. One day I took off from a plant in the flower-bed 
 a couple of large green aphides, and stuck them fast in small crannies 
 just where the line of march of the ants came. Several ants went by 
 without noticing the green dainty. At last one stopped, felt the little 
 monster all over with his antennae, and seemed to be trying to move him 
 or taste him, I could not make out which ; and then away he went. On 
 his way up the trunk he met a friend, and stopped to talk to him with 
 his feelers, and back they BOTH came and made another inspection. These 
 two then waylaid half a dozen more passers-by, and presently eight or 
 ten ants did what one could not. They seized on my friend in the crevice,
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 145 
 
 and three or four at a time, with the others about them as a joyful crowd, 
 carried the green aphis steadily down the tree and into the nest, where no 
 doubt they made a kind of delicate preserve of him, as good, perhaps, 
 as green-gage jam is to you and Willy." 
 
 " The ladybirds do a deal of good, I see now," replies Cecil ; " and I 
 suppose, as they eat the green aphides, so the sparrows eat them ? " 
 
 " I hope not," said I ; " and although Master Sparrow is a greedy chap 
 in his way, yet poor little Cocdnella, the ladybird, often escapes from his 
 nimble beak. The very moment anything touches the twig on which she 
 is crawling, she hides her feet under her body, and sticks fast to the leaf 
 or stem; but if the danger comes nearer, she drops headlong down to the 
 ground, as if dead." 
 
 For a few minutes after this long talk, we walked on in silence ; Cecil 
 still noticing from time to time the number of ladybirds to be seen on 
 the flowers and bushes in the hedgerow, and now and then setting up a 
 stray butterfly from among the long grass. But, though silent, he was, 
 as usual, thinking over what he had heard about the green aphis ; and 
 presently began again: 
 
 " I wonder the rain didn't wash away most of these crawling things on 
 the apple-trees and roses ? " 
 
 " Well," said I, " you may wash away a good many dozens, or even 
 hundreds, and not miss them after all, when thousands are born in a 
 single night. And, besides, a good soaking of cold rain doesn't do them 
 much harm, as Mr. Curtis will tell you. He once took four aphides and 
 sunk them in water for sixteen hours. At the end of that time they were 
 taken out and dried, and three out of the four crawled away, as usual, as 
 if nothing had happened. So that, you see, a few hours' rain is a mere 
 trifle to the clusters of green aphides on the plants and flowers." 
 
 III. 
 
 WE were all coming home through the Lower Wood on a dull, heavy, 
 hot morning, after a long ramble, and as we had seen very few butterflies, 
 everybody was complaining of the heat. 
 
 " I should like," said Cecil, " to lie down in the shade under this great 
 oak-tree, and sleep till to-morrow morning among the long grass. Perhaps 
 the butterflies will be out by that time." 
 
 "They seem to be all asleep now, at all events. But it's growing 
 hotter and hotter every ten minutes, so do not give up all hope yet." 
 
 10
 
 146 THE J30YS' AND GIRLS^ BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 Just as I said this, D called to us to come and look at a Purple 
 
 Hairstreak which she had spied settled on the leaf of a nut-bush. He 
 was clearly fast asleep, and she caught him easily with her fingers. He 
 was a perfect specimen, but we all voted that he should not be killed, 
 and so away he flew, zigzagging heavily up among the branches of a tall 
 ash-tree. 
 
 Presently we came to a little open glade at the edge of the wood, and 
 there to our great surprise we found Meadow Browns and large Skippers 
 by the score, all as busy and gay as in the brightest sunshine. But not 
 a Blue nor a Sulphur was to be seen. 
 
 " The fact is," said I, " that the Hairstreaks, Blues, and Sulphurs ot 
 this little district must have got drenched in yesterday's heavy rain, and 
 are sleeping off their fatigue. Let us take our sticks and beat all the nut- 
 bushes, buckthorn, and young ash-trees on both side of the next wood 
 path, and stir up the sluggards." 
 
 We accordingly all set to work, laying about us right and left, and in 
 less than five minutes had set up a score or two of Purple Hairstreaks, 
 and a couple of the finest Sulphurs (male and female) that I ever saw. 
 These two still flew very heavily, and we caught both. 
 
 The Purple Hairstreak, Theda qucrcus, (Figs, i, 2, p. 148), which be- 
 longs to Family VIII., LYC^NID^E (Argus butterflies), is a very lovely little 
 butterfly, much like a young Purple Emperor, if there were such a thing. 
 But, as you know, butterflies are all full grown when born, as some other 
 insects are, and so escape all the dangers of infancy. If it were not so, 
 not one butterfly in a hundred would survive the touch of cold and rain, 
 much less escape from the many enemies, birds, wasps, spiders, and 
 boys, that are always on the watch against him. 
 
 The wings of Ihccla quercus are all of a dull blackish-brown; the 
 inner part nearest the body (especially in the upper wings) being beauti- 
 fully tinted with royal purple, and daintily fringed with white. But the 
 purple on the wings of the female is generally brighter than on those of 
 the male. The lower wings have a short tail, which adds greatly to their 
 beauty ; while the under-side of all the wings is of a silvery grey tint 
 (Fie. 2), touched here and there with bronze, with a pale irregular streak 
 of silver white across them, and a spot of orange with a black central dot 
 at the corner of the lower wing. All the Hairstreaks have this pale 
 streak on the under-side of their wings, in some shape or other ; except 
 the Green Hairstreak, which has, instead, a faint line of white dots along 
 the edge of the lower wing. The caterpillar of the Purple Hairstreak is
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 147 
 
 small, of a reddish and yellow colour, and may be found on the oak 
 towards the end of June. For the chrysalis, of a dull brown tint, you 
 must search among the stalks of grass, near the roots, wherever oak-trees 
 abound. The butterfly is to be caught from July to September. 
 
 The Green Hairstreak, Theda Rubi (Fig. 3), is rather smaller than his 
 cousin the Purple, but there is a strong family likeness between them as 
 to the size, shape, and angle of the wings. The only pair we afterwards 
 obtained were caught in this wood,* being among the last of the June 
 brood ; but though we hunted most carefully for them till the end of 
 August, we never got another specimen. 
 
 All the wings are of a dull brown, slightly tinted with bronze, the colour 
 being lighter at the outer edge. Underneath, both upper and lower wings 
 are of a lovely pale green (Fig. 4), like bright verdigris, fringed with pale 
 brown ; and some specimens have a faint row of white dots across the 
 middle of the wing. No such dots, however, are to be seen on the Green 
 Hairstreaks in our engraving. The caterpillar, which is of a pale green 
 colour, shaped like a wood-louse, feeds on the blossom of the blackberry, 
 broom, and dyer's-weed, and may easily be found, by those who have 
 sharp eyes, early in April and May. 
 
 As the two Sulphur butterflies were the largest and most perfect which 
 we took during the entire holidays, we determined to keep them both. 
 They were easily caught, in the hot still summer air of the woodland 
 path with thick trees on either side of us, though in the open meadow 
 at the edge of the wood, or on the windy down, either of them might 
 have cost us a long chase. 
 
 The Brimstone or Sulphur butterfly belongs to Family III., RHODO- 
 CERID^E, or Red-horns, and in spite of his being very common, is one of 
 the purest and loveliest of English butterflies. In fact, he deserves a far 
 softer and pleasanter name than Gonepteryx rhamni, and if he were only 
 as rare as he is common, he would soon have one, say Papilio primula, 
 or Primrose Butterfly. There is little to say about his personal appear- 
 ance, except that he has six perfect legs and wings of a charming golden 
 sulphury yellow, pointed with a short tail at the lower angle ; and each 
 wing adorned with a round spot of bright saffron (Fig. 5). The female 
 differs from the male in being rather larger, flying more heavily, and 
 having wings of a pale greenish-yellow. The under-side of the wings, 
 both in male and female, is of a much fainter greener tint (Fig. 6), and 
 
 * Given to us by that most generous of collectors, Mr. Pamplin, of Winchester, whose 
 butterflies are worth going a long day's march to see. 
 
 102
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 149 
 
 the spot of bright orange on the upper side of the wing becomes a dot 
 of reddish-brown, a colour which in some specimens (see Fig. 6) fringes 
 the edges of the wings. The antennae of the Brimstone are short and of 
 a ruddy colour, but his legs are long, and he is much given to creeping 
 up the stems of those plants which he likes. The caterpillar, green dotted 
 with black, with a white stripe at the sides, may be found on the buck- 
 thorn in May and June ; at the end of which time it turns into a chrysalis, 
 pointed at both ends, at first of a pale green, dotted in part with red 
 specks, then becoming yellow. 
 
 There are two broods of the butterfly, one as early as March and 
 April, when the weather is mild, and a second in July and August ; but 
 the second brood is always the more plentiful, though in the case of other 
 butterflies it is almost always the less in number, and occasionally in size. 
 The Brimstone is found in fields, lanes, and woods, but especially in 
 woodland paths where flowers abound. 
 
 On our way home, near the Vicarage gate, we met Henry, who had 
 been up to the Barrows on the high ground. He brought us tidings of 
 great numbers of Holly Blues, and of one Brown Hairstreak which he 
 had chased along the edge of a corn-field, and then lost sight of among 
 some thick nut-bushes. But, above all, he had seen, and chased, until 
 he was dead beat, a good-sized blackish butterfly, as big as a Painted 
 Lady, he said, which flew very swiftly after the chase began, over the tops 
 of the bushes, and so got away. What this black swift gentleman was 
 we could not quite agree. He asserted that it must have been the White 
 Admiral, who, in spite of the white bar across his wing, really does look 
 very black when flying swiftly. Perhaps he was right. 
 
 The next morning was very still and calm, and there had been a very 
 heavy dew. But what struck us all most strongly, whether in the garden, 
 road, or woodland path, was the abundance of cobwebs. They were 
 everywhere. Skye, our nimble terrier, who had been scouring round the 
 meadow and through the copse, came in with his nose and eyes covered 
 with patches of them. There were webs across the window-panes ; webs 
 stretching from rose-tree to rose-tree, and across the creepers in the 
 porch ; webs on the grass ; some of the finest gossamer streaming in long 
 dainty threads on the summer air ; and others that seemed like tough 
 spiders' webs able to handcuff and fetter a stout bluebottle fly. 
 
 As usual, Cecil was one of the first to propound a question : " These 
 webs are so tough and strong, why don't they make some use of them ? " 
 
 "Well," said I, "one reason is that spiders are very difficult hands to
 
 ISO THE BOYS' AND GSXLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 manage : they have a disagreeable habit of biting and killing one another ; 
 and when compared to the dull, quiet, patient silkworm, are not pleasant 
 things to handle or have to do with. But the attempt has been made, 
 and not only have large numbers of spiders been brought together into a 
 nursery, and there led to lay eggs, but the young have been brought up, 
 made to spin, and the silk has been wound off and woven. The female 
 spider is the spinner, and the utmost that can be got from a single insect 
 is about 150 yards, weighing -^th of a grain, while a large silkworm's 
 cocoon will yield 300 yards, weighing 3 grains. Yet, fine as spider's silk 
 is, its strength is something prodigious." 
 
 "Oh! I know that," says Cecil: " there were three jolly bluebottles 
 in one thin tiny web this morning, all struggling to break through like so 
 many mad bulls ; but in spite of all their buzzing, roaring, and kicking, 
 not one strand was broken ; and there sat the little spider in her corner 
 under the vine-leaf, afraid to venture out among three such great bullies, 
 and yet knowing that they were all as safe as if a 'bobby' had hand- 
 cuffed the three, and hung them up in her larder." 
 
 " Well, Cecil, I'll tell you another fact about the strength of spiders' 
 silk. A bar of steel an inch thick will bear a weight of nearly sixty tons; 
 but it is said on good authority, too that a rope of spiders' silk an inch 
 thick would bear up a weight of seventy-four tons ; that is to say, it is a 
 quarter as strong again as the bar of steel. Whether this is positively true 
 is not certain ; but there can be no doubt whatever that a thread of the 
 silk ^jtfth part of an inch thick will bear up fifty-four grains, so that there 
 is no reason why the rope should not bear up the seventy-four tons." 
 
 "What colour is the silk?" inquires Mary. 
 
 " It is of two colours, silver grey and golden, and both may be drawn 
 from the same spider, at different points of her spinning organ, and ot 
 two different kinds also. The yellow is the strongest and most elastic, 
 and after being stretched flies back again to its old length, like a thread 
 of india-rubber; while the silver crinkles up, and is apt to snap if stretched 
 too hard. But both kinds are wanted in building a web ; and if you 
 look at one carefully you will see with what skill and beauty every part is 
 arranged one kind of silk for the strong, straight, outer edges, and the 
 other for the swaying, bending cross-beams." 
 
 "But, I say," interrupts Cecil, "what a terrific lot of spiders, and what 
 miles of silk, one must have before a silk dress can be made !" 
 
 " Not so many spiders as you might think. You must remember that 
 although each silkworm spins but one cocoon, and is then done for, a
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 151 
 
 spider, after yielding 150 yards, has only to rest for a few days, and is 
 then quite ready to have 150 yards more drawn off; and so on, a dozen 
 or fifteen times in a month." 
 
 " What do you mean by drawn off?" 
 
 "Just what I say, Cecil. I can't stop now to give you a full descrip- 
 tion ; but Dr. Wilder, a very wise man, who has been studying spiders 
 for years past, and knows more about them than a dozen dictionaries, 
 says that all his apparatus for winding off their silk consisted of 'two large 
 corks, a bent hair-pin, two large common pins, a bit of card, and a bit of 
 lead. 3 All I can tell you now is, that the Doctor catches the spider be- 
 tween his finger and thumb, so that two legs are turned back, out of the 
 way, applies his machine in the right fashion, and winds away as easily 
 and smoothly as if from a lifeless cocoon. The thread of a single spider 
 is so fine that it cannot be wound off alone from the reel, so the cunning 
 Doctor arranges a large number of spiders, and contrives to wind off all 
 their silks together in one thread. The great difficulty is, as I told you, 
 to prevent the bloodthirsty spinners from killing and devouring each other. 
 Only a few out of every hundred young spiders, brought up together in 
 one web, ever escape alive to marry and set up housekeeping and separate 
 establishments for themselves ; and a hungry wife has been known, first 
 to kiss her husband, and then seize on him and eat him up, which, as 
 she is one hundred times as big as her lord and master, she can easily 
 manage. 
 
 "An ounce, says Dr. Wilder, is 437! grains, and as each spider yields 
 one grain, it will take about 450 to produce a yard of silk, or 5,400 for a 
 dress of twelve yards. Each silkworm yields about two and a quarter 
 times as much as a spider of one season, so that we should want 200 
 worms for a yard of silk and 2,400 for a dress. This would make spiders' 
 silk just two and a quarter times as dear as silkworms'; and so for the 
 present, Mary, there is not much chance of your having a dress of spiders 
 spinning." 
 
 In the afternoon Cecil, Willy, and I took our nets again and went oft 
 to the Emperor woods, up a steep hill of chalky, flinty road, along the 
 edge of a copse. On each side of one part of the road was a high stony 
 bank covered with rough grass and a few flowers, and here, as usual, we 
 saw one or two Painted Ladies hovering over the grass and settling on 
 the ground. But they were very shy and swift, and we caught none. 
 Farther on, nearer the wood, we found Holly Blues, Purple Hairstreaks, 
 and Silver-washed Fritillaries in abundance, and Willy took one very fine
 
 152 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS BOOK OF SCIEA 7 CE. 
 
 Brown Argus. The Hairstreaks were flitting about over the tops of some 
 young ash-trees, and we might have caught any number that we cared 
 to have. 
 
 "Never mind the Purple Hairstreaks," said I to Cecil, "but go along 
 the edge of the wood and look out for his cousin Thecla betitla, for 
 though his usual time of appearance is the middle of August, Henry 
 declares that he saw one yesterday." 
 
 Away went Cecil in great spirits, and in less than five minutes I heard 
 shouts of triumph as he came racing back to me, net in hand, and crying 
 out, " I 've got him, I 've got him ! " And so indeed he had. This was 
 our first specimen, and was caught hovering over a hazel-bush at the edge 
 of the wood. 
 
 The Brown Hairstreak, Thecla betula, though plentiful in some places, 
 is in many others counted a rare fly, so that there were great rejoicings 
 when the first was brought home to the Vicarage. The whole of the upper 
 surface of the wings is of a rich, smoky, brown colour, the upper wings 
 having near the edge a patch of cloudy yellow (Fig. 7), and the lower 
 ones being tailed and scalloped into an outline of great beauty. The 
 female is sometimes slightly larger, but always much gayer and brighter 
 in colour than her sober husband. The patch of yellow becomes a bright 
 orange on her upper wings (Fig. 8), while the tails on the lower wings 
 shine with the same glowing colour. She, indeed, looks far more like a 
 foreigner than an English butterfly, and the under-side (Fig. 9) of the 
 wings in both male and female is still more striking. There the ground 
 colour is a rich tawny brown, with an outer margin of bright orange running 
 parallel with the edge of the wings, which are fringed with most delicate 
 white. Across both wings wanders a clear streak of silvery white, which 
 adds greatly to their beauty, and shines brightly amidst many dainty 
 shades and touches of black and orange. 
 
 The caterpillar, of a pale green colour, striped with yellow on the back 
 and white at the sides, feeds on the blackthorn, and is mostly found at 
 the back of the leaves. In July it changes into a small, dull brown 
 chrysalis, faintly spotted with black. 
 
 As we came home through the woods, we saw a tiny young rabbit 
 scamper across the path, and hide away in a bunch of long grass. Cecil, 
 with his usual quickness, pounced upon the little trembling ball of white 
 and grey fur, and carried it home in his pocket, declaring that he knew 
 all about the feeding and nursing of young rabbits, and would educate 
 this one as a plaything for the children. After a long search in the stable,
 
 AMONG 7 HE BUTTERFLIES. 153 
 
 an old birdcage was found, and in it the poor little Bun was duly lodged, 
 to his utter amazement and terror. They began to feed him the moment 
 they got inside the Vicarage, on bread, apples, cabbage-leaves, grass, 
 carrots, sops, milk, wild parsley, and fifty other dainties ; but, at the end 
 of the second day he insisted on dying, to the great mortification of his 
 four nurses. I am afraid that he fairly died of stuffing. 
 
 On our way home, Willy caught so perfect a specimen of the Gate- 
 keeper, that we resolved to kill it for our cabinet. The Gate-keeper 
 (Satyrus Tithonus) belongs to Family VII., SATYRID^;, and is sometimes 
 called the Small Meadow Brown. He is a very common little butterfly, 
 of a sober brown hue, but still has a beauty of his own (Fig. 10), to be 
 seen even in a woodcut. The upper surface of all the wings is of a rich 
 dull brown colour, with a broad margin of a darker shade; and the male 
 (see cut, p. 148) has across his upper wings a bar of blackish cloudy 
 brown. Each upper wing has also near the tips a small black spot with 
 two tiny white pupils, and each lower wing a black spot with one pupil of 
 white. The lower wings are slightly scalloped, and he is a nimble flier 
 when roused. The caterpillar, of a dull greenish colour, having a red 
 head, may be easily found in May and June on the common meadow- 
 grass, and there also the small grey chrysalis into which it changes. 
 Tithonus is common throughout England, but, oddly enough, has not 
 been found in Scotland. The female differs from the male in being 
 without the patch of brown on the upper wings. 
 
 As we strolled homewards through the oak wood, we noticed one noble 
 Emperor skimming swiftly over the lower trees, but he was far beyond 
 the reach of our longest net, and soon out of sight among the green oaks. 
 Of the Purple Hairstreaks, we might have caught fifty if we cared to do 
 so, but we only took a few very large and choice specimens. We came 
 upon several clusters of wild carrot, and upon them found many of our 
 old friends the little white tiger-spiders (Fig. 12, page 136), all busily at 
 work as usual. One big fellow was lurking on the head of a Scotch 
 thistle among the long narrow purple petals, and into these he had 
 dragged a small brown moth head first, the legs of the poor victim sticking 
 up into the air in a very odd fashion, as we often found to be the case. 
 After some little poking with a sharp stick we dislodged the tiger, who 
 dropped nimbly down into the grass ; then we released the prisoner. 
 But he was dead, and sucked quite dry. 
 
 We got back to the Vicarage at last, before dinner-time, but very hot 
 and weary, just as Henry came home from the Barrows, to which he
 
 154 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK' OF SCIENCE. 
 
 had again gone off alone. We saw by the look of his face that he had 
 got a prize of some kind, and so indeed he had, as you shall hear in the 
 next chapter. 
 
 IV. 
 
 WE were quite right about Henry. On his way up to the Barrows he 
 had passed through a large field of sainfoin at the edge of the wood, and 
 was strolling leisurely along, away from the path, where the rosy flowers 
 were scanty, and the grass grew up thickly in rough patches. Among 
 these patches of grass were many tall plants of the common dock, now 
 covered with clusters of red seed; and on the stem of one of these docks 
 he saw hanging, head downwards, a yellow butterfly, which he at first 
 took to be a common Sulphur with its wings folded. On coming nearer, 
 he saw it was a Clouded Sulphur, and apparently fast asleep. With one 
 swift sweep of the net the prize was secured, and he went on his way to 
 the Barrows with a joyful heart. It was, as he thought, a capital speci- 
 men of the female Pale Clouded Sulphur, Colias hyale, and, having just 
 before come out of the chrysalis, as lovely and perfect a butterfly (Fig. i, 
 p. 156) as we had ever seen. The down on the wings, and the pink 
 fringe on their outer edge, were both untouched, and Henry had managed 
 to kill the butterfly without a single flaw on its perfect beauty. 
 
 But, when we came' to' examine it, we found that it was not a Pale 
 Clouded Sulphur at all, but a much rarer butterfly, viz., a white variety 
 of the female of the common Clouded Sulphur, named Colias helice (see 
 cut, p. 156), in which the ground colour of all the wings is of a pale 
 greenish-white, the margin of the upper wings intensely black, and broader 
 than in Edusa (Fig. 3, p. 136), mentioned in Chap. II., p. 135. 
 
 Over the whole wings and body of Colias helice is a greenish-white 
 tinge, which is wanting in all the other varieties of this butterfly; while the 
 deep rose-coloured fringe at the edge of the wings gave it a still greater 
 beauty. 
 
 Nor was this all Henry's good luck this day. Having secured the lovely 
 specimen which I have just described, he went on mightily towards the 
 Barrows in great spirits, and at the edge of the down saw two male 
 Clouded Sulphurs chasing each other across a field of ripe barley. This 
 was a prize that he could not resist, and so away he went galloping at full 
 speed among the golden ears, at a rate which I am afraid did the future 
 crop no good. He soon came up with the two butterflies, and, after many 
 vain trials with his net, at last managed by one dexterous sweep to bring
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 155 
 
 them both to the ground near the hedge, over which he climbed into the 
 winding road on the down. 
 
 I gave him great credit for this double capture, because, in the first 
 place, it was done under a blazing sun, across rough hilly ground, and 
 while the two butterflies were going at full speed across a field of swaying 
 yellow corn. 
 
 " As they flew," said Henry, " they were of the very exact colour 01 
 the brown barley, and if I had taken my eyes off them for a moment, as 
 they flew, I should have lost them at once." 
 
 This grand capture excited us all so much that we set off with fresh 
 vigour in the afternoon, once more for the Emperor woods. Away we 
 went again up the steep chalky hill, putting up, as we went, dozens of Blues, 
 Hairstreaks, and Painted Ladies, but able to catch none of them because 
 of the fierce wind which had sprung up from the south-west, and threatened 
 to blow our hats away. But still it was very hot, and along by the edge 
 of the wood, and in the shelter of the winding paths, we found plenty of 
 butterflies which were easily caught. Here I took a noble pair of High- 
 brown Fritillaries (Figs. 2, 3), the silver spots on the under-side of the 
 lady's wings (Fig. 3) the brightest and most perfect we had yet seen. The 
 silver seemed as if laid thickly on with a brush. The boys took several 
 other specimens, but all these were so battered, and their wings so faded 
 and knocked to pieces, that not one was worth keeping. They had clearly 
 been leading a very gay life of it for the previous four or five weeks ; and 
 the first heavy shower of rain would most likely be fatal to all further flight 
 over these pleasant feeding-grounds. There was a very large field of 
 sainfoin on one side of the road, as we went up the hill, and here we had 
 constantly watched for Clouded Sulphurs, but, up to this time, in vain. 
 We had all tried the ground carefully, but nobody had as yet seen a single 
 specimen. To-day, however, we were luckier ; for, just as we got to the 
 brow of the hill, at the edge of the wood, up got a Clouded Sulphur, and 
 flew very softly and gently across a bit of open brake to a patch of wild 
 scabious and yellow bedstraw among some long grass. I crept cautiously 
 after him, and presently found him perched on the purple flower of a hard 
 head, swaying to and fro in the wind. He was so intent on getting a good 
 sup of the sweet honey, that I came close up to the flower, and with my 
 finger and thumb canght him with his wings folded, as you see him in 
 Fig. 4. He was so perfect and bright a specimen that we all voted he 
 must be kept. 
 
 " His trunk, or proboscis, is, as you see, slightly uncurled, as if it were
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 15? 
 
 in the very act of getting ready for sipping the honey of a flower. If you 
 watch a butterfly closely while hovering over a bed of flowers, you will 
 see that he begins to uncurl his trunk before he settles, then straightens 
 it out, and plunges it down into the flower. Presently, after drawing it 
 out again, he gives it a little curve or twist, then straightens it out, and 
 makes a second dip into the honey at the base of the petals. Having done 
 this four or five times, away he flies in search of a fresh flower. 
 
 " If you cut the trunk into two pieces with a sharp penknife, and place 
 it under a good microscope, you will see that it is divided into three 
 separate canals, one of a square flat shape in the 
 middle, with a rounder tube on either side. M. 
 Reaumur, a wise and clever naturalist, was one 
 of the first to observe this, and he managed to 
 find out the use made of the three canals in the 
 following manner. Having got a moth to settle 
 
 quietly on a lump of sugar, he held in one hand a powerful magnifying- 
 glass, and brought it near to that part of the trunk he wished to examine. 
 ' Sometimes,' he says, ' I was half a minute, or nearly a minute, without 
 perceiving anything, but then I saw clearly a little column of liquid 
 mounting quickly along the whole length of the trunk; and in the liquid 
 some little balls, which seemed to be globules of air drawn up with the 
 liquid from the flower through the two outer canals.' * Presently he saw 
 some fluid rising straight up through the middle channel, and then, after 
 watching some time, once or twice he saw some fluid descending from the 
 root of the trunk to the point. Thus he found out how a butterfly or 
 moth is able to nourish itself on honey, thick syrup, or even solid sugar, 
 by sending down some liquid which falls against the sugar, moistens, and 
 dissolves it. When this liquid has got charged with sweet, he sucks it up 
 again through the two outer canals." 
 
 "I say," interrupted Cecil, "how splendidly the trunk must be 
 made ! " 
 
 " Yes, and when you remember that the whole three canals together 
 are no bigger round than a common pin, you will see with what beauty 
 and wisdom God has made even His tiniest creatures, and framed every 
 part to do its own work with ease and perfection." 
 
 As we went down the hill, a small Tortoiseshell Butterfly sprang up 
 from a bed of nettles near the hedge, and was immediately chased by a 
 chaffinch. Away they went, down the road in front of us, their rate of 
 
 * " The Insect World," p. 175.
 
 158 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS* BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 flying being pretty much about the same, the butterfly now and then dart- 
 ing ahead, and being overtaken by the bird. 
 
 "Two to one on the Tortoiseshell .!" cried Henry; but nobody would 
 take his bet. 
 
 " The butterfly is safe enough," said I ; " for though the bird has 
 stronger wings, and would soon tire out little golden-wings, the Tortoise- 
 shell, you see, is continually zigzagging up and down, and thus changing 
 his line of flight. Thus the bird is puzzled when to make a dart on him, 
 and the butterfly escapes over the hedge, or sinks down among the grass 
 or nettles in the hedge, before his enemy can seize on him." 
 
 At this moment came two sudden interruptions. Willy had suddenly 
 found a patch of butterflies' eggs on a leaf in the hedge, and shouted out 
 "I say, Henry, what butterflies are these?" while Cecil had a fresh 
 question to propound about the trunks of butterflies. 
 " First of all," said I, " we will deal with the eggs." 
 There were thirty or forty of them, of a dingy green colour, thickly 
 scattered over two leaves of a nettle, in patches of five or six. 
 
 " Well, Willy, so many caterpillars feed on the nettle that it is difficult 
 to say exactly to what butterfly these eggs belong ; they may be those of 
 the Red Admiral, or the Common Tortoiseshell most likely the latter, 
 as they seem to be rather small, and I see that there are many more of 
 them on the nettles. If so, they are not worth keeping. The Red Admiral 
 is a rarer and finer butterfly, and his caterpillar is always worth rearing." 
 " How is it," asks Willy, " that all these eggs didn't get washed off in 
 the rain last night ? " 
 
 " Because," said I, " the butterfly who laid them stuck them fast to the 
 leaf with a strong sort of gum, which water cannot melt." 
 "Where does she get the gum from?" 
 
 " Ah," said I, " that I cannot tell you. But her eggs are covered with 
 it when she lays them ; and no rain can wash it away. If you look, too, 
 you will see that most of the eggs are laid on the under-side of the leaf, 
 so that the birds shall not spy them out. But some of them do get eaten, 
 for all that ; and some are trampled on and destroyed, or lost among the 
 grass ; so that not one-half ever become caterpillars. If it were not so 
 with the eggs of butterflies and moths, the consequences would some- 
 times be terrible. Many of our trees, bushes, shrubs, and plants would 
 be entirely stripped, very often of blossom as well as leaves ; for some 
 butterflies lay a hundred eggs, and a moth has been known to lay five 
 hundred."
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 159 
 
 " All on one plant ? " 
 
 " No, Willy ; not all on one plant. She may lay her eggs in a dozen 
 different places, or a score perhaps. But she can lay as many as five hun- 
 dred eggs, because, when shut up in a box, she has been known to do so.' 
 
 " And do they ever really strip the trees of all their leaves ? " 
 
 " I have seen many young ash-trees and nut-bushes in this very wood 
 with a dozen bare branches on them every single scrap of green stripped 
 off, as if cut with a knife ; and all done by caterpillars." 
 
 " What appetites they must have ! " adds Cecil. " I hardly ever found 
 a caterpillar but what he was eating ! " 
 
 " Many caterpillars," said I, " in one day eat thrice their own weight 
 in leaves ! And if other larger creatures had such appetites, our green 
 meadows would soon be bare and black enough ; for an ox weighing 
 sixty stone would in twenty-four hours eat three-fourths of a ton of 
 grass ! " 
 
 ''But if these caterpillars eat so much," says Willy, "how is it that they 
 do not grow fat and big ? " 
 
 " Why," said I, " one reason is that the leaves they eat pass through 
 them very quickly, without being digested. The caterpillar seems to live 
 on the juices of the leaves which he eats ; and these make him grow 
 quickly, but not fat. One has been known to eat more than forty grains 
 of leaves in a certain number of hours, and yet at the end of the time he 
 was but one grain heavier than when he began." 
 
 "And do all little creatures eat and drink at this tremendous rate?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said I. " The caterpillar of a moth or butterfly eats a great 
 deal, and grows quickly, increasing rapidly in size more than in weight ; 
 while the little worm from which the flesh-fly comes grows in weight at 
 a tremendous pace. Thirty of them, on one day, all together weighed 
 one grain. The next day each worm weighed seven grains ; having thus, 
 in twenty-four hours, become two hundred times heavier than he was 
 before. Keep a caterpillar without food for a day or two, and the chances 
 are that you will then find him dead at the bottom of your breeding-box. 
 He lives on plants, or leaves of trees, which are always to be found in 
 plenty ; and his law is to eat and drink as much as he can. But the little 
 ant-lion, who makes a pitfall in sandy earth and traps all he eats, has 
 been known to live without a scrap of food for six months; and a spider 
 has been kept without food under a sealed tumbler for ten months, at the 
 end of which time he caught a fly that was introduced to him as nimbly 
 as ever. He deserved his fly, I am sure. While, to crown all, Mr. Baker
 
 160 THE BOYS^ AND GIRLS^ BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 tells us that he once kept a beetle (with the awful name of Blaps morti- 
 saga) without food of any kind for three years. The food of all these 
 creatures is scanty and hard to get when compared to the green leaves 
 for the caterpillar ; and so their law is, to be able to do without it for a 
 long time. 
 
 " But here we are at the Vicarage gate, and I am sure you have heard 
 enough about caterpillars to last you until to-morrow." 
 
 "I only want to know one thing more," says Cecil; "and that is, which 
 sort of caterpillars birds like best ?" 
 
 "Well," said I, "that is not an easy question to answer; but wrens 
 and titmice and all that class of birds eat a great many green caterpillars, 
 and the Robin, it is said, rarely touches the hairy ones." 
 
 " Those big ones that we found on the cabbages in the garden," cries 
 out Willy, "look as if they were naked, and very clean. I am sure they 
 are the nicest." 
 
 " I don't know about the nicest, Willy, but they are among the com- 
 monest, and some of them most easily found, though they are sometimes 
 of the very exact colour of the leaf on which they feed, to our eyes. The 
 brown hairy caterpillar is pretty safe so long as he is feeding on a brown- 
 ish leaf, or holding fast to a brown stem; but the moment he shows him- 
 self above the edge of a green leaf, he is seen and gobbled up in a trice 
 by some roving titmouse. 
 
 "And now," said I, " I have done with caterpillars for to-night, and I 
 shall tell you nothing more about them till some day when I find a Looper 
 in the wood. 
 
 Several days passed away after this before we took any new butterflies, 
 but the August sun began to grow hotter and hotter, and the yellow corn 
 to turn of a ruddy brown. 
 
 " Well," said I, one morning, as we all set out with our nets to Lower 
 Wood, " if we can find none of the rarer butterfles to-day, we had better 
 get a specimen or two of the common ones." 
 
 It was a still, sultry morning, and though heavy clouds almost covered 
 the sky, now and then we had a gleam of sunshine, which the butterflies 
 found out as soon as we did. Opposite the gate leading into the woods 
 is the park lodge, and outside this is a little open bit of grassy waste with 
 a stone wall at one side of it, under the shade of some tall trees. 
 
 Flitting over this plot of grass, and now and then settling on the stones 
 of the old wall, we saw several pairs of the homely little Wall Butterfly, 
 and of these we took a couple at once.
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 161 
 
 Satyrus Megara, or the Wall Butterfly, belongs to Family VII., the 
 SATYR IDJE, and is one of the commonest of them all. He is to be found 
 from June to August in almost every lane, zigzagging about at a slow 
 pace, often settling on warm hedge-banks or walls, but starting up again 
 as the shadow of your net falls on him. He is very easily caught, unless 
 thoroughly roused or scared by your awkwardness in missing him with 
 the net ; but then often flies away at a great pace. More than once I 
 have mistaken him for a small Fritillary, from his rapid flight. 
 
 All the wings are of a tawny golden yellow, irregularly barred with 
 brown, and edged with the same colour. On the upper wings, in the 
 middle of the yellow, a round black spot with a white dot in the centre, 
 and sometimes a second black spot (Fig. 5) close beside it, also having a 
 white speck in the centre. The lower wings, which are slightly scalloped 
 at the edge, have three distinct spots of the same kind. The under-side 
 of the wings is, both in colour and marking, much like the upper side, 
 except that the brown bars are narrower, while the eye has round it a 
 distinct circle of light brown. The female differs from the male in having 
 no cross bar of brown on the upper wings. You may see this cross bar 
 joining the bands on the upper wing of Fig. 5, a very fine male which we 
 caught near the park gate. 
 
 The caterpillar of Megcera, of a light pale green, with a white line on 
 each side, as well as stripes on its back, feeds on grass, and may easily 
 be found by the roadside in May, when it turns into a green chrysalis 
 that afterwards changes to a dingy brown colour. 
 
 When we got inside the wood, Hairstreaks as usual were flitting about 
 from tree to tree, especially among the ash-trees and young oaks. But 
 though we watched them narrowly, we could not detect a single Green 
 or Brown Hairstreak ; and of the Purple we already had some dozens. 
 Even Alice (atat. 4) had caught a pair among the long grass at the edge 
 of the copse, for the express adornment of the nursery. 
 
 We set to work, therefore, on a little open piece of grassy meadow, 
 lying between two pieces of copse, and soon found plenty to do among 
 the commoner butterflies. Oddly enough, the first I caught were a pair 
 of the Heath Butterfly, or, as he is sometimes called, the Least Meadow 
 Brown. 
 
 The Heath Butterfly, Chortobius Pamphilus, like the Wall, also belongs 
 to Family VII. SATYRID^E, and is one of the daintiest and most elegant 
 little flies of the whole genus. If he were only a rare catch, instead ot 
 a common one, his beauty would bring him great praise. All the wings 
 
 ii
 
 162 THE BOYS' 1 AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 are of a pale tawny yellow, faintly shaded with delicate brown (Fig. 6) at 
 the edges ; the lower wings being more and darkly shaded with brown, 
 and rounded at the edge. Near the tips of the upper wing is one faint 
 round spot of brown, and this spot on the under-side of the wing appears 
 almost black (see Fig. 7), with a white dot in the centre ; while the lower 
 wings are almost entirely shaded with brown, across which, parallel with 
 the edge, is an irregular waved line of whitish yellow. The female 
 (Fig. 7) is larger than the male, and on her wing this pale mark is clearly 
 seen. 
 
 The caterpillar, of a green colour, with stripes of dingy white on the 
 back and sides, is small, but may be often found on the dog's-tail grass 
 in May or August, as there are two broods of the butterfly, in June and 
 September. The tail of the caterpillar is slightly forked and tinted with 
 red, so that it may be easily known. 
 
 The favourite feeding-ground of the butterfly is on heathy commons 
 hence its name ; but, oddly enough, as I said, we found it most abun- 
 dantly in little open clearings in the woods. Here, too, in the same patch 
 of grassy waste, we took a couple of specimens of that curiously nimble 
 little butterfly, the Grizzled Skipper. So oddly and quickly does he flit 
 from flower to flower that Willy, who was the first to see him, declared 
 that he was not a butterfly at all, but only, as he said, " a very dodgy little 
 fly, with black wings." 
 
 The Grizzled Skipper, Syricthus alveolus (Fig. 8), belongs to Family 
 X., the HESPERID^E, several members of which we have already noticed. 
 When fully stretched his wings are barely an inch wide, all of a dull 
 clouded black tint, marked with very small white spots. The upper wings 
 have about fifteen of these tiny spots, while the lower ones have rather 
 fewer ; both being plainly fringed with black and white of the same tint. 
 The under-side of the wings is of much the same colour, but rather paler, 
 while the spots are fewer in number. 
 
 The caterpillar is said to be of a dark green colour, with a black head ; 
 feeding on the leaves of the common Potentilla, and turning into a chry- 
 salis in April. The butterfly appears in May, so that we were very lucky 
 in catching a couple of good specimens so late in the year as August. 
 
 Just after we had caught this little Skipper the sun came out strongly, 
 and swarms of smaller butterflies began to start up from ever)- cluster of 
 grass and furze, or clump of bushes. Heaths, Blues, Common Skippers, 
 and Meadow Browns might have been caught by the score, and the crowd 
 yet have seemed no less. But, strangely enough, we scarcely saw a single
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 163 
 
 White Butterfly, or a Small Tortoiseshell, though the time for their second 
 brood was fully come. Out of the meadow we passed on into a wide 
 green road through the wood, from which there branched away several 
 narrow winding paths. 
 
 " Now," said I to the elder boys, " Willy and I will take the lower path 
 down to the open brake by the old sawpit, while you go away to the higher 
 ground among the thicker copse, where you must look out for Wood 
 Ringlets." 
 
 We soon reached the open glade at the edge of the wood; and as there 
 was an abundance of wild thyme, wild scabious, and other flowers in full 
 bloom, and the sun was out again, we saw swarms of butterflies. We 
 strolled about for an hour, and got some very good Sulphurs, a pair of 
 Brown Hairstreaks, and a Silver-washed Fritillary, and then set out on 
 our way homewards. All at once Willy, who had crept through a great 
 bed of fern in pursuit of a Sulphur, cried out, 
 
 " A White Admiral ! a White Admiral ! " 
 
 I ran up to him as fast as I could, and soon got close to the hedge, 
 where he stood pointing with his net to a thick rough bush of blackthorn. 
 
 " Where is he ? " said I ; " I can see nothing like a White Admiral ; and 
 there is not a scrap of blossom there of any kind for him to feed on." 
 
 " There he is ; there he is ! I can see him now, opening and shutting 
 his wings at the tip of one of those branches." 
 
 I crept very cautiously up, and at last, after a long search, I saw him 
 exactly where Willy's sharp eyes had seen him. The branch was five feet 
 from the ground, and very rough and ragged. But there was no help for 
 it; and so I made one quick sweep just above the bough, and by sheer 
 good luck secured the prize. 
 
 " Well done, Willy," said I. " But how did you guess it was a White 
 Admiral, for you have never seen one ? " 
 
 " No, but I have seen his picture in the big book at home, and I was 
 sure that he was like nothing else but a White Admiral." 
 
 It was rather a prize for us, because the White Admiral is a June or 
 July butterfly, and it was now near the middle of August. So we packed 
 him up securely, and went away home in great spirits. 
 
 The White Admiral, Limenitis sybtlla, belongs to Family V., the VANES- 
 SID^E, or Angle Wings, and is one of the most graceful and beautiful of 
 English butterflies. All the wings are of a dingy black tint, the upper 
 ones being marked by a cluster of white spots, and the lower ones by a 
 bar of the same colour across their centre (Fig. 9). The wings are also 
 
 II 2
 
 164 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOR OF SCIENCE. 
 
 scalloped at the edge, but not angled so sharply as those of his cousin 
 the Red Admiral. The under-side of the wings is far more beautiful than 
 the upper, being of a rich tawny red with patches of silver grey, spotted 
 with dark brown near the edge, and across the centre barred and spotted 
 with white. The caterpillar, which feeds on the honeysuckle, is of a pale 
 green colour, with a reddish head and legs, and short hairy spines along 
 the back, turning at the beginning of June into a green chrysalis dotted 
 with gold. 
 
 When we met the boys we found that they had taken some splendid 
 Sulphurs and a couple of Wood Ringlets. 
 
 The Wood Ringlet, Satyrus hyperanthus, belongs to Family VII., the 
 SATYRID^E, and is found plentifully in shady woods and bushy lanes all 
 through the months of June, July, and August. The upper surface ot all 
 the wings is of a dull brownish-black colour ; the upper ones, in some 
 specimens, having a row of three small black spots, edged with pale brown, 
 and a white speck in the centre ; and the lower, three spots of the same 
 kind more clearly marked. The under-side of the wings is paler in colour 
 (see Fig. 10), the little ringed eyes on all the wings being much clearer 
 and brighter. The caterpillar, of a brownish-grey colour, striped on the 
 back, feeds on wood sorrel and several kinds of grass ; and at the end of 
 June creeps down to the roots of the grass, and changes into a small 
 brownish chrysalis just below the surface of the earth. 
 
 They had also caught a very odd-looking variety of the same butterfly 
 a male, without any ringed eyes on the upper side of his wings (see 
 Fig. n), but having the black dots more strongly marked. 
 
 Mary, too, had been very busily on the watch for the second brood of 
 the small Pearl-bordered Fritillary, already described at p. 128, and after 
 a long chase by the edge of a corn-field, had caught one perfect specimen 
 (Fig. 1 2), which, though very small, was the best in our whole collection. 
 It had just come out of the chrysalis. 
 
 V. 
 
 AFTER many sultry days, a cold north-east wind set in, and most of the 
 butterflies in field and wood, except in very sheltered spots, had disap- 
 peared. But the large silver-spotted and silver-washed Fritillaries seemed 
 to care nothing for the cold wind, and were still to be seen in abundance. 
 Cecil, too, was not to be daunted by the cold, and set oft as usual one 
 morning to the broken copse at the edge of the lower wood.
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 165 
 
 For a time he saw nothing but the large Fritillaries, and a few Purple 
 Hairstreaks which he routed out of the thick bushes with the handle of 
 his net ; but presently he came to the edge of an open brake, edged with 
 low oak-trees, and over one of these, to his great delight, he saw a Purple 
 Emperor sailing to and fro; then, suddenly sweeping down almost to the 
 ground, and then hovering over a thistle, where at last it settled. Sur- 
 prised and delighted at the sight, he made a hasty dash at the grand prize, 
 missed it, and sent it off like a flash of light away across the top of a lofty 
 oak. For a long hour he waited and watched, but all in vain ; not a 
 glimpse more did he get of his majesty that day; though a week after- 
 wards Cecil and I both saw him again, sailing over the top of the same 
 favourite oak-tree. 
 
 Meanwhile, Henry and I had gone away to a distant part of the Black 
 Wood, which we had as yet never tried. But though there were multi- 
 tudes of large Fritillaries on the wing all through the thickest part of the 
 copse, we got not a single new butterfly, and were making our way slowly 
 along by the edge of a corn-field, when, in the very thickest part of a thick 
 hawthorn hedge, among some long grass, I suddenly spied a large yel- 
 lowish-brown bird. We got close up to him, and at the first glance thought 
 he was dead. It was a large brown owl, that had apparently been caught 
 in the heavy storm of wind and rain during the previous night, and had 
 crept into the thickest part of a warm hedge to dry his draggled feathers. 
 He was standing bolt upright, with his eyes shut, and looked a great deal 
 more like a stuffed bird than a living one; so we determined to catch him 
 if we could. Henry, therefore, went round to the back of the hedge, to 
 attack the enemy in the rear, while I kept watch in front. In two minutes, 
 after a deal of scuffling and scratching, he cleverly managed to slip his 
 long butterfly-net over the owl's head and body, and., nolens volens, drag 
 him out into the long grass. The poor old half-drowned bird, winking 
 and blinking in the bright sun, fought very hard for his liberty, and man- 
 aged to inflict one sharp bite on Henry's finger, but at last we managed 
 to get him thoroughly down into the bag-net ; and after a long tramp of 
 five or six miles, brought him in triumph home to the Vicarage. There 
 we hunted up an old blackbird-cage in the stable, and after some trouble 
 got our prize into it. He was a splendid fellow, and as evening came on 
 soon began to set himself to rights and smooth his ruffled feathers. For 
 a long time he would touch nothing that we offered to him in the shape 
 of food; but at last a dead sparrow taken out of a trap, and partly picked, 
 was pushed into the cage at the end of a stick. At this the owl opened
 
 1 66 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 his eyes, and making a sudden and fierce dash, seized it with his talons, 
 and having torn off a few more feathers, swallowed the sparrow at a single 
 gulp. But the next minute he disgorged his prey, and then with much 
 wriggling about of his head, and many chokings, swallowed him once 
 more, this time, as we thought, not to reappear. Next, bits of meat and 
 bread went down like pills, when presently up came the sparrow again ; 
 and then, after two more gulps, was finally swallowed. 
 
 But that night few of us got any sound sleep. Fearful noises that 
 sounded like the cries of people in distress, mixed with strange hissings 
 and screams, were heard all through the Vicarage ; and at a very early 
 hour in the morning it was found that the owl had got out of his cage, 
 and was ruling over the cat and kitten in the back kitchen like a tyrant. 
 Then we held a council of war, and decided that the owl must go. But 
 the difficulty was to get him out of his cage. Henry had brought home 
 a dead mole from the corn-field, and popped it into the cage ; and upon 
 this the owl instantly pounced with outspread wings, and held it fast with 
 his talons. Now and then he gave the unlucky mole a sharp dig with his 
 beak ; then he tried to tear off the feet before swallowing it ; but finding 
 this impossible, he had another try at it, feet and all. All in vain. Then 
 we opened the door of the cage, and with a long sharp stick had a series 
 of fights among the straw for the possession of the mole. We secured it 
 at last, got it outside the cage on to the green grass, and then left it as a 
 dainty for his majesty to come out for and make his own again ; and at 
 last he condescended to creep through the open door, made a sudden 
 dash at the mole with outspread talons, missed his stroke, and then sailed 
 softly away on his soft downy wings, over the Vicarage garden into the 
 next meadow. It was a beautiful sight, and glad enough, no doubt, the 
 owl was to be once more free outside the horrible bars of a cage. 
 
 The next day was bright and sultry, and we all went to work again with 
 double vigour. Once in our day's ramble we came upon a little glade in 
 the heart of the wood, where the ground was carpeted with flowers ; and 
 there, on a little patch of about twenty square yards, we counted more 
 than a dozen of pale golden Sulphur Butterflies all hovering over the 
 blossoms, or drowsily settled with wings close shut. We might easily 
 have taken the whole of them. To-day we observed how strangely the 
 colour and tint of butterflies' eyes changed after they became quite dead, 
 light grey or green sometimes turning black, and yellow changing into 
 opaque brown or red. 
 
 We picked up, too, some odd caterpillars to-day ; one, that fed on the
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 16; 
 
 broad-leaved sallow, was of a pale whitish-green tint, exactly like the 
 colour of the leaves. When tired of eating, he would curl himself up at 
 the back of a leaf somewhat in this fashion : 
 
 though how he managed to stick fast to the leaf completely puzzled us. 
 But, blow as hard as it might, the wind never shook him off ; and unless 
 we were quite close to him, it was impossible to make out the leaf from 
 the caterpillar, so exactly alike were they in colour. This, no doubt, 
 saved him from the sharp eye of hungry birds in search of a morsel for 
 dinner. 
 
 Another very strange caterpillar of a pale brown colour, exactly that 
 of the stems and branches of the sallow, belonged to the family of 
 Loopers, so called because in walking they hunch up the middle part of 
 the body thus : 
 
 into a sort of loop. Most caterpillars have sixteen legs, of which six are 
 sharp and scaly near the head ; but the Loopers have only ten alto- 
 gether ; four being thick fleshy ones, near the tail, called prolegs. These 
 Loopers cannot shorten or lengthen their segments as they walk, but 
 only bend their bodies. But the strangest thing about them is, that they 
 have the power of stretching out their bodies in the air, at an angle of 
 about 45, without any support, merely holding fast to the twig or bough 
 by their hind feet (see engraving on next page.) Sometimes the Looper 
 stretches himself out thus in the air, or across from one twig or bough to 
 another, holding to the one side by his hind legs, and to the other by 
 four of his sharp feet near the head. But in either case he is so exactly 
 like the neighbouring branches in colour and shape, that it is impossible 
 at the first glance to make out which is the Looper and which the stem 
 of the sallow. 
 
 August the i yth was a blazing hot day, with a fierce east wind, and 
 we worked very hard for many hours, but we got no butterflies of the
 
 168 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 rarer kinds, and not many of the commoner sorts. A noble pair of Pea- 
 cocks was our best prize, and these we got just at the edge of the copse, 
 on a sunny slope, just outside Emperor wood, where teazle and nettles 
 grew in abundance. 
 
 The Peacock ( Vanessa 16) belongs to Family V., VANESSID.E, or Angle 
 Wings, and a glance at Fig. i (page 169), will show you how deeply 
 and beautifully these angles serrate the edge of all the wings. He gets 
 his name of Peacock from the large eye of orange, red, and other brilliant 
 
 Looper on Twig. 
 
 colours which he bears on each wing; those on the two upper ones being 
 the largest and brightest. The base colour of the upper and the lower 
 wings is a fine, tawny, reddish-brown, while a patch of black surrounds 
 the eye, just below which also (Fig. i) you will see two small whitish 
 dots that add greatly to the beauty of the wings. The under-side of all 
 the wings (see Fig. 2) is of a fine deep black, mingled with rich brown. 
 The Peacock is a noble and gorgeous butterfly, and though a strong and 
 swift flyer when disturbed, may be easily taken when settled on the 
 blossoms of the thistle, on which he loves to alight and sun his splendid 
 wings. 
 
 The caterpillar, which is common enough in all woody districts, feeds 
 on the nettle. It is of a deep black colour, covered with sharp spines, 
 and thickly sprinkled with white. The chrysalis, of a rich tawny brown 
 colour, sometimes tinged with gold (see Fig. 3), is often to be found 
 hanging head downwards to the under-side of the leaf more rarely to 
 the stem of the nettle. 
 
 The August brood of these butterflies was just now beginning to come 
 out, and we saw great numbers of them along the edge of all the woods 
 for many weeks after this ; but though we took many fine specimens, not
 
 170 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS 1 BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 one of them was so large or so splendid as Fig. i. He was fully three 
 inches in extent from wing to wing. On this day, too, we took several 
 very perfect specimens of the Small Tortoiseshell Butterfly, Vanessa 
 Urticce, the caterpillar of which is much like that of the Peacock, and 
 also feeds on the nettle. The wings of this butterfly (see Fig. 4) are of 
 much the same shape as those of Vanessa fo, but considerably smaller, 
 and beautifully angled at the lower edge. The chief colour of both upper 
 and lower wings is a fine tawny, rich orange brown, barred and spotted 
 near the upper edge with deep black, and patches of lighter yellow be- 
 tween or near the spots of black. All the wings, too, have a lovely 
 margin of brown and black at the outer edge, a row of faint blue spots 
 dividing the two waved lines of brown and black. The body of this 
 butterfly, like that of his relation V. lo, is' thickly covered with rich down* 
 the antennas being long and fine. The under-side of the wings is marked 
 much in the same way, but the orange is turned to stone-colour ; and all 
 the other colours are of a duller, dingier hue. 
 
 If the Tortoiseshell were as rare as he is common, he would be counted 
 a very handsome, .gay fellow. The young caterpillars, of a dull greyish or 
 greenish-black, thickly spined, at first live together in a web ; but after 
 changing their first skin they separate, and wander freely about the nettles 
 on which they feed. The chrysalis (see Fig. 5) is rather smaller than that 
 of Vanessa lo, but much like it both in shape and colour, hanging by the 
 tail from the back of a leaf or stem, the head also being divided into two 
 sharp points or ears (see Figs. 4 and 5). There are two broods, in June 
 and August, everywhere common in woods, lanes, and fields, wherever 
 nettles abound. 
 
 The next day I set off alone to the Emperor wood, intending to watch 
 for Emperors and Brown Hairstreaks. 
 
 It was just twelve o'clock when I reached the farther side of the wood, 
 and stood watching under an immense oak-tree, over which I had often 
 seen many butterflies hovering. The sky was without a cloud, not a breath 
 of air was stirring, and I was very glad of the thick shade. But though 
 I watched long and carefully, not a single glimpse did I catch of any 
 Emperor. Peacocks, Fritillaries, and Purple Hairstreaks flitted about 
 from flower to flower and bush to bush, in abundance. At last, however, 
 I made out two'or three small butterflies hovering over a spray of oak, 
 within reach; and watching these very carefully, one by one, as they settled, 
 I managed to capture three Brown Hairstreaks, two females and a male, 
 all perfect, and most brilliant Jn colour. Why they haunted the oak
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 171 
 
 so much I could not make out, as the caterpillar feeds on the blackthorn, 
 birch, and wild plum. 
 
 Seeing no more Hairstreaks, I made my way into a thicker part of the 
 wood, and at last found myself in a narrow path between two hedges of 
 stunted oak. Everything was intensely still, and the heat very great ; so 
 I stood up in the shade and watched and listened. Suddenly something 
 fell from the leafy boughs of the oak above my head into the grass and 
 leaves ; next it fell on my head, and then again among the brambles. 
 And still I could see nothing moving either in the tree or on the ground. 
 At last, however, just above my head, on the lower branch of the oak, I 
 made out a cluster of large, yellow and brown, hairy caterpillars. In the 
 middle of the bunch I saw one who was clinging fast to a twig by his hind 
 feet, hanging head downwards, and working his body to and] fro in short 
 rapid jerks, as if in great pain. Every now and then, in the violence ot 
 his contortions, he managed to strike one of his companions, who instantly 
 gave way and fell to the ground, I watched more than a dozen dislodged 
 in this curious fashion ; until at last the struggling tyrant was left alone 
 in his glory. What the object of all this tumult was I could not discover. 
 All I could make out was, that as soon as the other caterpillars reached 
 the ground, they set off as hard as they could go to the hedge on the opposite 
 side of the path, and there disappeared among the long grass. Whether 
 the food on the branch of the oak was scarce, or whether the hairy family, 
 after living together so long, had quarrelled and come to blows, or whether 
 their instinct for some wise purpose led them to separate, it is hard 
 to say ; I only tell the plain facts. I caught and carried away one large 
 hairy fellow, as big as my little finger, as a trophy. 
 
 August i gth was just such another day, with a fresh breeze; and we all 
 set off at ii A.M. to go over the same ground. Many Brown Hairstreaks 
 were watched up into the same great oak-tree, all beyond our reach; but, 
 oddly enough, we each caught one perfect specimen. 
 
 The next day, the wind having died away to a dead calm, and a white, 
 hot mist stretching over the woods and hills, Mary and I set out once more 
 to the Emperor wood, in search of the Small Pearl-bordered Fritillary 
 (Argynnis selene), of which the second brood was now due. For some 
 strange reason scarcely a butterfly of any kind was to be seen until nearly 
 twelve o'clock; when among the thinner copse, where marjoram and other 
 wild flowers grew in abundance, swarms of Peacocks, Sulphurs, Harvest 
 Blues, Argus Blues, Coppers, and large Wood Fritillaries suddenly 
 appeared in almost countless numbers. We might easily have taken a
 
 172 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 score of each, but we contented ourselves with a few Blues, which were 
 very brilliant and perfect ; but difficult to catch, because of their being 
 constantly engaged in chasing and frightening their cousins, the little 
 Coppers, who with shining golden wings flitted about in the sunshine ; 
 so swiftly at times as almost to escape notice. 
 
 The Common or Harvest Blue, Lycana Alexis, belong to Family VIII., 
 LYC^NID^E, a large family, all having six perfect legs, rather short 
 knobbed antennae, and wings mostly either tailed or scalloped at the edge. 
 In the male, both upper and lower wings are of a fine lilac-blue colour, 
 fringed with delicate white (see Figs. 6 and 7) ; but in the female (Fig 8) 
 of a tawny brown, faintly shaded with blue, with a row of orange spots 
 near the margin of each wing. The under-side both of male and female 
 is of a soft silvery grey (see Fig. 9), dotted with many black spots, and a 
 row of orange spots like those on the upper surface. The eyes of this 
 butterfly turn to a deep black colour when he is dead. He varies much 
 in size (Figs. 6 and 7), both being male specimens taken in the same wood 
 and on the same day ; though one is nearly twice as large as the other. 
 In fact, No. 7 is scarcely larger than Lycana alsus, the smallest of English 
 butterflies (see Fig. 9), of which we took only one specimen all through 
 our long holiday. The caterpillar of Alexis, of a dingy green colour, 
 dotted with white at the sides, feeds on clover and trefoil. 
 
 The upper and lower wings of Lyccena alsus, the Small Blue (Fig. 9) 
 are of a dark dingy brown, faintly touched with blue ; rather brighter in 
 the male than in the female, lightly fringed with white ; the under-side ot 
 the wings of both sexes being of a pale silvery grey, veined and dotted 
 with very fine black. The caterpillar, of a pale green colour, streaked 
 with yellow lines, seems to have been rarely found. This, the smallest 
 and daintiest of English butterflies, is not often taken; probably escaping 
 many a sharp pair of eyes by his small size and nimble zigzagging flight. 
 He looks, indeed, very much like a tiny moth when flying, and is generally 
 found near chalky downs or old lime-pits and quarries. 
 
 On our way home from the wood, Mary found in a bed of nettles several 
 caterpillars of the Small Tortoise shell, which the next day turned to chry- 
 salides of a rich tawny brown (Fig. 5), here and there touched with 
 bright gold. 
 
 The next day Alice came running into my room to tell me that she had 
 picked up a large hairy caterpillar in the passage, who could scarcely crawl. 
 I saw at once what was the matter with him. He had been without food 
 for three days, having escaped from the box in which I had placed him,
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 173 
 
 and was starving ; having spent his time, I suppose, in crawling up and 
 down the long passage. I carried him out into the garden, and set him 
 on a spray of green oak. lie began to eat instanter devouring leaf after 
 leaf, fibre and all, from the top to the very bottom. We watched him at 
 short intervals for about two hours and a half; and, as far as we could 
 make out, he never ceased eating. No wonder, therefore, that caterpillars 
 are said to eat in one day thiice their own weight of leaves (see p. 157), 
 and lucky for us it is that our larger creatures do not cram themselves 
 after the same fashion. Three-fourths of their time, in fact, seem to be 
 spent in eating ; and their strong horny mandibles are never wearying 
 of work. One thing, however, must be said for Master Caterpillar, and 
 that is, that what he eats passes very quickly through him, and that now 
 and then he may be put to hard shifts for food, to which Master Ox is not 
 liable. He may get knocked off his bough into the long grass, and spend 
 hours or days in finding his way back to his proper feeding-grounds. This 
 very one had been certainly more than sixty hours without any food 
 whatever. 
 
 All the smaller insects, indeed, appear able to fast without being much 
 the worse for it. M. Vaillant tells us that he once kept a spider without 
 food for ten months, at the end of which time, " though much shrunk in 
 size, it was as vigorous as ever." 
 
 "I wonder," said Willy, when I told him this, " how M. Vaillant would 
 have liked to be shut up in a bottle for ten months without food?" 
 
 Presently came a question which showed me that he was still thinking 
 of our friend feasting on the oak-leaves. 
 
 "I thought," said Willy, "that if a caterpillar fell into the grass, he 
 could climb up again by his thread of silk?" 
 
 " So he can, Willy, if he has let himstlf down by the thread; but if one 
 of his own relations gives him a box on the ear, and knocks him headlong 
 down on the ground, or a sudden gust of wind and rain snaps off the leaf 
 on which he is dining, he has no time or chance to begin spinning, and 
 so is driven to wander about among the grass, or in the dusty road, till 
 he happens to meet with some bush or plant which he can eat." 
 
 The next day we made a trip to the Chalky Down on purpose to hunt for 
 the only one of the Blues which we wanted Lyctzna Cory don, the Chalkhill 
 Blue; and this we knew was to be found in abundance all along the edge of 
 the down, and specially near a corn-field beyond the Barrows, where wild 
 scabious, marjoram, and other flowers covered a strip of heathy grass be- 
 tween it and the road. We got there in good time, passing on our way
 
 174 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 dozens of smaller Heath Butterflies, Coppers, and Sulphurs, and at last 
 reached our favourite hunting-ground. There we found the lovely pale 
 Corydon, in such numbers that we might easily have filled our boxes. But 
 it was intensely hot, and we therefore only took a very few choice speci- 
 mens, among which Figs. 1 1 and 1 5 are rare beauties. 
 
 The Chalkhill Blue, or Lyccena Corydon, is a very lovely butterfly; the 
 male having wings of a pale silvery blue, shining like moonlight, with a 
 broad fringe of delicate white barred with black, and a band also of black 
 at the edge, within the silver fringe (see Fig. n). At the edge of the 
 lower wings, too, is a row of black dots, circled with white (Fig. n), and 
 the whole body is covered with shining feathers of the same colour as the 
 wings ; so that, altogether, he is a very handsome fellow. The female is 
 of a much soberer, quieter appearance ; her wings being of a rich, soft, 
 brown hue (Fig. 1 2), faintly shot with blue ; the fringe being of a dull white, 
 with a row of black dots partly circled with orange at the edge of the 
 lower wings. In some specimens, too, in the centre of each wing is a 
 small blackish dot (Fig. 12), sometimes faintly edged with white; but in 
 many which we caught that day no such dots could be seen. The un- 
 der-side, both of male and female, is of a lovely, soft, greyish-brown ; 
 bluish at the base, near the body (Fig. 13), fading off into grey, and brown 
 towards the upper part of the wings, which are' adorned with small black 
 spots, and a row of orange dots near the lower edge. The caterpillar, 
 which is of a pale green striped with yellow, feeds on the small trefoil, so 
 often found on chalky downs. 
 
 You may fancy what numbers of Blues were out that morning, when I 
 tell you that Mary, with one sweep of her net, took four perfect speci- 
 mens, and a Brown Argus. All the Fritillaries that we saw were very 
 ragged and battered; but not a glimpse did we get of a Clouded Sulphur 
 or Red Admiral, though we watched carefully among the brakes of bramble 
 at the edge of the down. We were more lucky when we got into the 
 thick of the wood, on our way home, as you shall soon hear. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " I DO not wonder," said I to Willy one day, in reply to a remark of 
 his, " that you cannot understand how a crawling caterpillar, perhaps 
 covered with hair, having sixteen legs, and living on green leaves, can 
 ever change into a gay butterfly, with bright and beautiful wings, flying 
 about among the flowers, and living on honey. It is altogether a mystery,
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 175 
 
 like so many other of the wise and good things God has done. But, 
 though it is so wonderful, yet we know it is true. I cannot explain it to 
 you fully, any more than I can tell you how an acorn becomes an oak- 
 tree, or a little tiny egg, filled with white and yellow fluid, turns into a 
 golden-crested wren. 
 
 " All I can tell you is this. When the caterpillar is full-grown, and his 
 time for change is come, he leaves off eating, and becomes very dull and 
 sluggish. Sometimes he spins himself a little cocoon of silk, or silk and 
 grains of earth, or creeps down into the earth, or makes for himself a warm 
 smooth nest on the bark of a tree, or hangs himself by a thread of silk to 
 the back of a leaf or stem. There he remains perfectly quiet and still 
 for a time, and gradually changes into a chrysalis or pupa.* Little by little 
 the wonderful change goes on inside the shining case, and the crawling 
 hungry caterpillar is slowly transformed into a bright swift butterfly on 
 golden wings. The change, in fact, begins in a caterpillar before he turns 
 into a pupa ; and if the chrysalis be opened only a few days after it is 
 formed, you will find some traces of the legs, the wings, and the trunk 01 
 the future butterfly, all folded and packed away in the neatest fashion, but 
 so as to be of no use to the chrysalis. 
 
 " The time during which the butterfly or moth remains in the chrysalis 
 varies very much in the different species. It may be a week or two, or 
 as much as several months, depending partly on the time of the year when 
 the butterfly is to appear, or on the cold or heat of the season. The skin of 
 the pupa is very thin, and when the butterfly is quite ready to come out, 
 a very slight motion of its body and wings will crack that skin. The 
 crack soon spreads ; other cracks appear ; next the head of the prisoner 
 makes its way through, and presently its whole body is free. At first its 
 wings seem short and small and wrinkled, but by degrees, in the light and 
 the air, they spread to their full size, grow harder and straighter, and are 
 fit for use. Then the happy golden butterfly opens and shuts its dainty 
 golden wings in the light, and, drinking in new vigour from the 'sunny air, 
 starts forth upon its new life of enjoyment, roving here and there among 
 the flowers, green leaves, and woods, sipping honey and making love 
 through its little holiday of six weeks with untiring zeal ; and as unlike a 
 crawling caterpillar as it can well be. 
 
 "And when its little season of pleasure is done, it will choose a proper 
 place and a proper plant, and there lay a store of tiny eggs, out of which 
 
 *Pupa, a Latin word, meaning a girl, a baby ; and so a name given to the baby butterfly 
 in its case or cradle.
 
 176 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 in due time will creep a brood of crawling, hungry caterpillars, each in 
 due time to turn into the quiet chrysalis in its case of gold, or grey, or 
 brown, or black ; and each as duly at last into a bright and nimble but- 
 terfly. And so, Willy, year after year the mystery goes on, and these 
 strange, ugly, crawling caterpillars are changed into creatures who spend 
 half their time in the air, whose wings are covered with feathers that shine 
 with all the colours of the rainbow." 
 
 "Feathers ? " repeats Willy, as if in doubt whether he had heard aright. 
 " I thought their wings were covered with dust." 
 
 " Yes, feathers. And on the first wet evening that comes this way we 
 will get out the microscope, "and you shall see the feathers plainly enough 
 for yourself. But here we are at the Vicarage gate." 
 
 Now, about ten days before this, Henry and I had been hunting the 
 broad sallows in the upper wood for a caterpillar or egg of the Emperor. 
 For many days we searched in vain, but at last Henry found at the back 
 of a leaf one large green clear egg, which we at once pronounced to be 
 an Imperial one. It was, therefore, taken immense care of, covered up 
 (leaf and all) under a wine-glass, and only brought out on rare occasions 
 into the garden for air, when it could be watched. After a deal of watch- 
 ing and waiting, all that we could make out was that the egg changed 
 colour, got darker, and had in the middle one tiny black speck, which 
 was looked at every morning with profound interest, but looked at in vain. 
 
 One morning, however, there were great shouts heard in the drawing- 
 room, " He 's out ! "he 's out ! " 
 
 And so he was. There, on the withered leaf of sallow, lay what looked 
 like half of a tiny frozen bubble, and close beside it a little thread of bright 
 green, with a horn on his tail almost as big as his own body, creeping 
 along at a great pace along the edge of the leaf. He looked like this : 
 
 Messengers were sent off at once for food ot every kind likely to suit 
 his Royal Highness : fresh sallow-leaves, willow, silver birch, and lettuce 
 but, alas ! all in vain. He did nothing but crawl about incessantly over 
 the leaves, trying now and then to nibble them, and then giving it up in 
 despair. This went on, to our great horror, for the whole day. The 
 royal infant could eat nothing, and by the next morning had died of 
 hunger, and shrivelled up into a mere bit of skin.
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 177 
 
 The terrible truth dawned upon us afterwards, that we had kept him 
 too constantly under the hot air of the glass, and thus forced him to come 
 out of the egg before his proper time, when he was unable to bite the 
 leaves so carefully got ready for him, though he did try very hard at the 
 lettuce. After all, too, he was not a young Emperor, but a Poplar Hawk 
 Moth caterpillar. 
 
 August the 25th was a blazing day, the thermometer at 106 in the sun 
 and 85 in the shade. Not a breath of air was stirring, not a cloud in the 
 sky, as Mary, Willy, and I slowly crawled up the white dusty road towards 
 the Emperor woods, stopping on our way at the Manor House, where one 
 of our kind friends took us into the fruit garden at the back of the house. 
 There were few flowers, but almost at once I spied a butterfly. It was 
 a Red Admiral, which settled on the bough of an apple-tree, and was soon 
 caught. I only notice him here because he was the smallest specimen 
 we ever saw, though perfect in every respect. When stretched to the very 
 widest extent, his wings, from tip to tip, only measured two inches, nearly 
 an inch less than several specimens which we took during the following 
 week. 
 
 After a rest in the cool pleasant~garden, we made our way out into the 
 open sun again, along by the edge of some ragged fields, by a huge pond, 
 now almost dry, and through a noble avenue of elm-trees, under which 
 we saw several large Wood Tortoiseshell butterflies ( Vanessa polychoros] 
 flying very swiftly from tree to tree ; but we could not get near one of 
 them. Very slowly and wearily we made our way on across one or two 
 corn-fields, and at last into the shady woods, scarcely seeing a butterfly the 
 whole way. The green winding wood paths, which a day or two ago were 
 all alive with gay wings, now seemed deserted. 
 
 At last, however, we had traversed the whole wood in that direction, 
 and came out into the turnpike road beyond it, from which we were not 
 sorry to see the Vicarage just a mile off on the opposite hill. 
 
 Luckily we had a crust of bread and a flask of sherry with us ; and so 
 we sat down under a huge oak-tree at the corner of the road, and had a 
 good rest. It was a noble old tree, partly covered with ivy, and on the 
 outer bark, about a foot from the ground, grew the largest fungus we had 
 ever seen. It was of a dingy yellow colour, spotted like a tiger-skin, as 
 large as a dinner-plate, fringed at the edge with scales like small oyster- 
 shells, and thickly studded with large drops of sticky moisture, which 
 glittered in the sun and streamed down the bark to the ground. 
 
 "Just the very place," said I, "for a butterfly to come and drink." 
 
 12
 
 1 78 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 The words were scarcely out of my mouth when a noble Red Admiral 
 skimmed swiftly over some low bushes, and after circling swiftly round 
 the stem of the tree, settled quietly on the fungus. In a trice he was 
 safely in Mary's net, and hardly secured when a second splendid specimen 
 flew swiftly to the very same spot, to sip of the same dainty spring. This 
 one I tried for, and stupidly missed ; but a third, which came about five 
 minutes later, I caught ; and both specimens are now in our collection. 
 
 The Red Admiral (Vanessa Atalanta} belongs to Family V., the 
 VANESSID^E, or Angle Wings, and is one of the swiftest and most brilliant 
 of English butterflies. The base-colour of all the wings is a rich, soft, 
 shining black, the upper wings having an irregular band of scarlet running 
 across them, and between this band (Fig. i, page 180), and their outer tip 
 five or six irregular spots of snowy white. The base of the lower wings is 
 also barred with a scarlet band at the margin, through which runs a row of 
 black spots, ending in a larger blue one at the inner edge. The upper 
 wings are slightly angled and the lower ones scalloped at the edge, which 
 in most specimens is tipped with white. On the under-side (Fig. 2) the 
 scarlet band and white spots reappear on the upper wings, while the lower 
 ones (Fig. 2) are marbled in a most lovely manner with tints of soft grey, 
 brown, or bronze, edged with waves of the same colours of a lighter hue 
 and faintly tipped with white. 
 
 The caterpillar, of a dingy greyish colour, covered with short spines, 
 with a yellow line along each side, feeds on the nettle, where it may be 
 found in June and July, and sometimes later. The chrysalis, hanging 
 head downwards from the stem of the nettle inside a web, may often be 
 found in July and August. 
 
 As we went lazily homewards down a dry stony road, with high grassy 
 banks on either side of us, we managed to catch a fine pair of Painted 
 Ladies, as graceful and elegant a butterfly as the Red Admiral, but far 
 more difficult to catch. This is also a Vanessa, and in size, shape, and 
 flight much like her brilliant cousin, and as she feeds on the thistle gets 
 the name of Vaness^, Cardui* She is more difficult to catch because 
 she far more rarely settles, and when she does so is just as likely to choose 
 the ground as a flower. Vatiessa Cardui belongs to the family of Angle 
 Wings, though its wings are scarcely angled at all, but scalloped and fringed 
 with great beauty. The tip of the upper wings (Fig. 3) is of a dark black 
 colour, with five or six white spots near the upper edge, the middle and 
 lower part of the wings being of a delicate rosy orange hue, spotted and 
 
 * Carduus, the botanical name of one family among the thistles.
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 179 
 
 barred with black, as indeed are the whole of the lower wings (Fig. 3), 
 with a treble row of black dots of different shapes near the outer margin. 
 The down on the wings of some specimens is of the very richest orange 
 colour on the under-side of the upper wings (Fig. 4), the black colour is 
 paler, and the tawny pink hue more widely spread, while the lower wings 
 are mottled in the loveliest manner with grey, brown, yellow, and buff- 
 colour, all of the most delicate tint. This Vanessa well deserves its name 
 of Painted Lady. It is a very local butterfly, and a single specimen will 
 often haunt one little piece of stony road for weeks together, when driven 
 away coming back again in the course of a short time without fail. The 
 caterpillar, of a dark brown striped with yellow, and covered with spines, 
 feeds on the thistle, the nettle (?), and the mallow, and may be found in 
 a little web of its own spinning among the leaves in June and July. 
 
 The Painted Lady is one of those butterflies which are abundant one 
 year and very scarce the next. 
 
 In the shady lane leading out of the wood, too, we caught a couple of 
 those quiet little, yet nimble butterflies, the Wood Argus, of which we 
 had seen many specimens, but had as yet taken none. The Wood 
 Argus, or Speckled Wood (Satyrus sEgeria} belongs to Family VII., the 
 SATYRID^E, and has not much (see Fig. 5) to recommend it in the way 
 of beauty. 
 
 The wings are of a dull dingy brown, the upper ones spotted with 
 irregular dots and patches of yellowish-white, with one round black dot 
 having a white speck in the centre near the higher edge, the lower ones 
 having a row of similar dots (see Fig. 5) edged with white along the lower 
 edge of the wing, which is slightly scalloped. Oddly enough, the eyes 
 of this butterfly are said to be hairy. The male is smaller and darker 
 than the female, and less good-looking. 
 
 The caterpillar, of which there are several broods in the year, of a 
 palish green colour striped on the side with white, feeds on several sorts 
 of grass, and may be found in March, May, and June. The butterfly is 
 a common one in all woody districts. 
 
 As we went home that afternoon we saw, as we had done on many 
 other sunny days, darting along in a buzzing, irregular flight from flower 
 to flower, a very nimble little brown-winged creature (Fig. 6), which at 
 first we could not clearly make out to be either moth or butterfly. He 
 was feeding very busily on honeysuckle and other flowers full of honey, 
 and, swift of flight, was very hard to catch. But we secured one at last, 
 and as he was a very bright and perfect specimen, kept him among our 
 
 12 2
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 181 
 
 butterflies. He turned out to be a little moth of the kind that feed by 
 day. 
 
 By this time we had once more reached the Vicarage, and glad enough 
 of a good long rest after our weary tramp in the dust. The next day, 
 and the next, the heat and the dust were more intolerable than ever; but 
 as our holiday had now all but come to an end, we determined to have 
 one more good ramble through the woods, and try for another sight of 
 the Emperor. Our first day's walk was through Loudwater Wood, three 
 or four miles in extent, full of green winding paths, beds of fragrant 
 flowers, and noble trees of beech and oak. It was a famous place for 
 butterflies, but on that day we saw nothing rare or good, though we 
 searched far and wide. The only thing we brought home, in fact, was a 
 couple of Green-veined Whites, which Willy's sharp eyes spied among 
 the long grass by the roadside, where he caught both. They were as 
 perfect as if only just out of the chrysalis, so we kept them, though both 
 were females. 
 
 Pieris napi, or the Green-veined White, which is found in every green 
 lane and roadside that is fairly out of the reach of the smoky town, belongs 
 to Family II., PIERID.E ; but, though common, is an elegant little butter- 
 fly. The upper wings, of a soft greenish-white, are tipped at the upper 
 edge and spotted with black, and veined with streaks of greenish-grey 
 (see Fig. 7). The male is easily known from the female by having no 
 spots on the lower wings, and only one on the upper. On the under-side 
 both (Fig. 8) male and female are much alike, the upper wings being of 
 greenish-white, through which both nerves and spots show from the upper 
 side; the lower wings being ot a soft creamy yellow, veined (Fig. 8) with 
 green. The caterpillar, of a pale dingy green, dotted faintly with red 
 and yellow at the side, feeds on the cabbage and the leaves of the radish. 
 
 But though we got few butterflies that day, we got a good glimpse of 
 an Emperor, though he was far beyond the reach of our nets; as well as 
 of another gentleman, to Willy a still greater stranger. We had just 
 crossed a wide open brake, where a colony of young pollard oaks and 
 ashes had been thinned and stripped of underwood, when on suddenly 
 turning round, I saw what looked like a good-sized reddish-brown dog 
 creeping among the bushes, and jumping now and then over little clumps 
 of bramble. 
 
 " There goes a fox, Willy," I cried. " Look ! just beyond the hurdle 
 on the ground, by the stack of wood." 
 
 He had just time to catch a glimpse of Master Reynard, who, startled
 
 182 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 at the sound of voices, went away at a great pace into the copse. He 
 was looking after the young pheasants. Presently we came to a grove of 
 lofty green oaks and beeches, and all these we watched with longing, 
 eager eyes, hoping for a glimpse of an Emperor ; but for a long time in 
 vain. All at once, however, midway between two tall beeches, but fifty 
 or sixty feet above the taller of them, sailing round in wide circles, or 
 darting upward with a sudden spring through the bright sunshine, we 
 made out against the clear blue sky a large butterfly that we first took to 
 be a Swift. But after watching him for some minutes, we made out quite 
 clearly that it was a Purple Emperor, roving to and fro over his sunny 
 kingdom in the heart 4 of the summer woods. And that was our farewell 
 glimpse of his Imperial Majesty. 
 
 The next day, after a long ramble through the lower wood, where Blues, 
 Hairstreaks, and common Skippers were still to be seen in abundance, 
 oddly enough, we took our first perfect pair of Copper Butterflies, which 
 were flitting about in the sun like sparks of burnished gold. 
 
 The small Copper, Polyommatus phleas, belongs to Family VIII., 
 LYC^NID^;, or Argus Butterflies, all famous for their beauty, and mostly 
 for some touch of brilliant colour. The upper wings are of a bright 
 golden copper colour (Fig. n), especially in the male, edged with dark 
 brownish-black, with eight or ten black dots scattered across the centre. 
 The lower wings, scalloped and tailed at the lower edge, are of a rich 
 dark brown, with a margin of bright copper. The female (see Fig. 10) 
 differs from her husband in being rather smaller, and wearing much 
 darker, soberer colours on her upper wings, and on the lower a row of 
 four blue dots just inside the copper margin. Underneath both are much 
 alike, the upper wings being of a pale coppery brown, spotted with black, 
 and the lower ones of. a tawny buff, speckled with rows of golden brown 
 dots, with five small ruddy crescents close to the lower edge. 
 
 The Copper is a most pugnacious little butterfly, and seems to be 
 always making fierce love or fierce battle among friends or enemies, 
 whom he chases far and wide with nimble wings. Nearly every specimen 
 we took was caught in full chase of some wandering Blue, Argus, or 
 Skipper. 
 
 The caterpillar, small and of a pale green, feeds on the wood-sorrel, 
 and as there are two or three broods, may be found from March to July 
 wherever such plants abound. 
 
 This was, in truth, the last of our Hampshire butterflies ; but yet I 
 have one more specimen to add (the Small Meadow Erown), which
 
 AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES. 183 
 
 deserves special mention. He was quite perfect in every respect his 
 antennae unbroken, his wings without a flaw (see Fig. 9), but almost every 
 particle of colour seemed to have been washed away, or dried up with the 
 heat of the sun. His wings (Fig. 9) were almost transparent, nearly white, 
 edged with a band of pale dusky brown. 
 
 " He looks," said Cecil, " as if he was just recovering from the in- 
 fluenza." 
 
 And so he did; but whether it was a low fever or a stroke of the sun 
 that had befallen him, he was altogether the oddest little butterfly we had 
 ever met with, as I think you would say if you now saw him in our col- 
 lection, among all his gaily-dressed companions. 
 
 Out of the sixty butterflies which we had counted up (see p. 122) at 
 the beginning of the holidays, as possibly to be met with in England, we 
 had actually caught two-and-forty distinct species, making altogether a 
 grand total of just three hundred specimens ; so that we now have plenty 
 to spare for a friend, or to exchange. 
 
 And now, before we say good bye to all our kind young friends who may 
 have followed us in our butterfly rambles thus far, we must notice a few 
 points about which we talked during the few wet days that kept us indoors, 
 or that the microscope taught us in the evening. 
 
 All butterflies have four wings, which are covered with very tiny scales 
 or feathers, which to the naked eye look like fine dust, and when touched 
 come off upon the finger. Scales is the true name for them, because they 
 are arranged on the thin membrane of the wing like scales on the skin 
 of a fish, so that those of one row partly overlap the next. They all look 
 alike to us when shaken off from the butterfly's wing, but under the micro- 
 scope are found to be of very different shapes and even sizes; and from 
 these tiny scales shine out all the lovely colours of the azure Blue, the royal 
 Emperor, the golden Sulphur, the purple splendour of the Peacock, and 
 the fiery gold of the Copper, as well as all the sober greys and silvery 
 browns which help to make up the beauty of the butterfly world. 
 
 Here is some dust, which we took from various butterflies, as it looked 
 underlie microscope, when magnified about 300 times (see next page). 
 
 Group No. i are from the under-side of the large white butterfly, and 
 semed to be pretty much alike in size and shape ; Group No. 2 are from 
 the upper side of the Peacock ; No. 3 from the wing of the Chalkhill Blue, 
 which seemed to be almost all of a rounder, shorter form; while Group 
 No. 4 were taken from various wings, and mostly of the finer dust. Some 
 we found to be notched with three or four teeth at the upper edge, but
 
 i8 4 
 
 THE BOYS' AND GIKLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 the commoner number was five, and rarely six; while a very few, like one 
 or two of Group 4, ran off into single or double sharp points. 
 
 By a very ingenious contrivance* with the microscope, we were able to 
 cast a shadow of the scales, when magnified, on to a sheet of paper, and 
 so to sketch them in their true exact size. 
 
 The eyes of the butterfly, which we were not clever enough to prepare 
 for the microscope, are as wonderfully formed as the scales on the wings. 
 Each eye is made up of about 17,000 facets, each of which is so contrived 
 as to catch the rays of light on its centre, and thus serve all the purpose 
 of a separate eye, though they are all joined together in one orb ; just as 
 the little facets cut on the surface of a diamond are all on one shining 
 stone. The face of the whole eye being globular, the butterfly is able to 
 see in almost all directions ; and thus it is that he is so wary and so diffi- 
 cult to catch, even when settled on a flower. 
 
 The colour of the eyes in different butterflies differs very much. Those 
 of the Meadow Brown seemed to be of a dingy grey, but when dead of 
 a deep brown ; in the silver- washed Fritillary of a pale clear green when 
 living, of a nut-brown when dead, as they were in the large White ; while 
 those of the Sulphur were brown both when living and dead; and of the 
 Harvest Blue, black in both cases. 
 
 But look where we would throughout the butterfly's whole framework 
 legs, wings, antennae, and trunk everywhere were found traces of the 
 same Divine wisdom, skill, goodness, and beauty; every part exactly and 
 perfectly fitted for its exact work, and no part without some special use. 
 The more deeply we looked into any part, the more perfect we saw its 
 construction to be, the more full of grace and beauty, the more lovely 
 and wondrous in the eyes of man, the more worthy of the great and all- 
 wise God who has made everything beautiful in its season, and able to 
 praise and magnify its Maker by a life of joy and obedience, and perhaps 
 
 * The neutral tint reflector.
 
 POND LIFE. 185 
 
 with sounds and songs of praise which none but the ear of the Almighty 
 can hear. 
 
 Our six weeks' holiday among the woods and green fields had taught 
 us many things which we hope that all our young readers will soon learn 
 for themselves. It taught us how little we really knew, and how much 
 there was to learn, about the living creatures that haunt the fields and 
 woods ; that of all books, next to the Bible itself, the Book of Nature is 
 by far the grandest, fairest, and wisest ; that every page in it is full of 
 beauty, joy, and truth truth so simple and so clear that the child may 
 read it, and wisdom so deep and noble and lofty that the wisest man 
 cannot learn it all. That, turn where we would, everything was still "very 
 good," as Our Father first made it in the glorious garden of Eden. That 
 the more we learned, the more eager we were to get fresh knowledge ; 
 and all the lessons we learned were a pleasure; the fresh air and exercise 
 bringing us new health and strength and vigour. And so in the country 
 lanes, by sunny banks, on the open downs, and in green woodland paths, 
 we rambled happily on, finding pleasant work both for mind and body ; 
 learning to be patient and to persevere, to be accurate in marking the 
 difference between things nearly alike, to use our memories, to think, and 
 to judge, and yet to have a jolly holiday. 
 
 And so, at last, our six weeks "among the Butterflies" came to an 
 end, and we went back to smoky London and our regular work all the 
 better, stronger, and happier than we had been for many a long day. 
 
 POND LIFE. 
 
 T N the depths ot a pond, whose still waters are ruffled by no tides or 
 *- currents, thousands of little lives are brought into being, nursed 
 through infancy, and supplied with a dwelling-place for their brief exist- 
 ence. Weeping willow-trees wave their long pliant arms above this quiet 
 insect home, graceful water-lilies cradle their waxen cups upon its surface, 
 the pretty duckweed and starwort strew the waters with their petals; and 
 on the banks, among the reeds and rushes, grows the gentle blue-eyed 
 forget-me-not, and there also the wild marsh-marigold, which 
 
 ' ' Shines like fire in swamps and hollows grey," 
 
 blazes resplendent mid the soberly-coloured horsetails; everywhere flags,
 
 1 86 THE HOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OP SCIENCE. 
 
 osiers, and tall feather-grasses are mingled in nature's beautiful confusion 
 with the gorgeous purple iris and the willow-weed. 
 
 On sunny days what merry gambols take place on the surface of this 
 pond, what wonderful changes and transformations occur beneath the 
 shadow of those lily-cups ! Gnat boats float about with their precious 
 burden of embryo life, little gnat larvae wriggle and dart among the stems 
 of the water-plants below. The Great Water-Beetle spreads dismay into 
 the heart of the small fry of the pond, and tyrannizes over another aquatic 
 giant, the Black Water-Beetle, who in spite of his great size is of a mild 
 amiable disposition. This beetle, like most other aquatic species, is very 
 fond of still ponds, where it may be found in the egg, larval, and perfect 
 states. The female encloses her eggs in a beautiful silken covering. For 
 this purpose she possesses organs most unusual in beetles, and quite pe- 
 culiar to this species; namely, abdominal glands secreting a glutinous fluid 
 which can be spun out into silken threads. From these spinnerets she 
 draws forth delicate white silk, and weaves it into a cocoon shaped very 
 much like a turnip, with an upright projection on one side : the exterior 
 soon hardens, and being covered with a gummy surface, is perfectly water- 
 tight. When about to construct this aquatic nest, the beetle fastens her- 
 self, head downwards, upon some water-plant, and expelling her eggs, 
 encircles them with the silken threads, which she attaches to the stem or 
 leaf on which she has taken up her position. The number of eggs thus 
 enclosed varies from fifty to sixty. There the larvae are hatched, which is 
 said to take place in warm weather in little more than a fortnight, although 
 as a rule six weeks elapse ere they are excluded from the eggs. They 
 forsake their common nursery within a few hours, and begin to grow with 
 great rapidity. They are long grubs with a horny head ; the end of the 
 body having two little tail-like appendages, which form part of the breath- 
 ing apparatus of the insect, and through which it inhales its supply of air. 
 To obtain this the larvae constantly rise to the surface of the water, where 
 they also pursue small molluscs and insects. For the most part they creep 
 about among the roots and stems of aquatic plants, seizing their prey by 
 suddenly poking back the head, which places the curved jaws in a highly 
 favourable position for entrapping and crushing the tiny shell creatures 
 that form their chief food. 
 
 The Black Water-Beetle remains in the larval state about sixty days, 
 during which period it casts its skin three times, increasing in size after 
 each moult, till it finally attains the length of three inches. When it is 
 full fed it quits the water, but does not stray far from its native element ;
 
 POND LIFE. 187 
 
 it usually selects a soft spot in the adjacent bank, into which it burrows 
 by means of an organ situated at the end of its body, and, forming an 
 oval cell in the earth, there assumes its pupa shape. 
 
 In its perfect state the Black Water-Beetle is a handsome insect of a 
 blackish-olive hue, the elytra (wing-cases) incline more to blue, and the 
 breast is covered with a yellow down. It is a truly aquatic species, 
 residing entirely in the water, although it may now and then be surprised 
 while seated on the leaf of a water-plant surveying the world around in 
 solemn grandeur. In the evening, however, like the Great Water-Beetle, 
 it flies about on land. The full-grown beetles seem no longer to prey on 
 other insects, but satisfy themselves with a light vegetable repast, and in 
 spite of their large dimensions they are said to fall victims to the Great 
 Water-Beetle, which is equally active and voracious in its larval and 
 perfect condition. 
 
 In tranquil spots near the banks the merry Whirlwig Beetles congregate 
 in little companies and spin their ceaseless rounds, glancing like crystals 
 on the surface of the water. The structure of the most familiar of these 
 beetles (the Common Whirlwig) is marvellously interesting. Destined to 
 live in and on the water, it is at the same time dependent on atmospheric 
 air. The exigencies of its existence, therefore, demand that it should be 
 adapted for an aquatic life, and that it should also be sustained by an 
 abundant supply of oxygen. To enable it to perform its gambols on the 
 water it is furnished with limbs peculiarly serviceable for the purpose. 
 The Whirlwig (in common with all true insects) has six legs. The fore 
 pair are of considerable length in proportion to the others, and are con- 
 sequently of little use in swimming, although they are employed most 
 effectually in the seizure of prey ; but the middle and hind pairs of legs, 
 which are short, broad, and flat, and fringed with stout hairs, form admir- 
 able oars, and assist the little creature to progress through the water and 
 revolve upon it with a velocity which is all the more astonishing as the 
 locomotive apparatus is entirely hidden from sight by the horny elytra. 
 
 The eyes of insects are usually compound, and consist of numerous 
 facets, reflecting objects at various angles and distances, but immovably 
 fixed and incapable of direction. The eyes of the Whirlwig are perhaps 
 the most curious feature in its anatomy. Each eye is highly compound 
 and divided horizontally into two parts by a horny partition, so that the 
 insect has practically four eyes, two situated on the upper portion of the 
 head, giving timely warning of aerial dangers in the shape of birds and 
 entomologists, and two on the under surface, whose vision is directed to
 
 POND LIFE. 189 
 
 the depths below. The extraordinary efficacy of these organs and the 
 quickness of sight of the Whirlwigs may be attested by attempting to 
 catch them with the naked hand ; it is almost impossible to perform the 
 feat, as the tiny creatures dart hither and thither, dive, and disappear 
 before the hand has been approached within six inches of them. When 
 the Whirlwigs take refuge thus below water, they carry with them a store 
 of air which may be seen adhering in the form of a tiny glistening air 
 globule to the hind part of the body. A little tuft of hairs is disposed at 
 the extremity of the abdomen, in which the atmospheric air becomes 
 entangled while the insect is above water, and among which it remains 
 when it retires below until absorbed by the air-tubes. These tubes are 
 the respiratory apparatus and convey the air through the whole system of 
 the insect, the openings by which the oxygen is admitted into them being 
 situated between the segments of the abdomen. 
 
 The life history of this species does not differ materially from that ot 
 other aquatic beetles ; the eggs are deposited on some water-plant ; in 
 the course of a week or so the larvse long grubs bearing a marked 
 resemblance to centipedes are excluded. When the moment arrives 
 for assuming the pupal form, the larva crawls up the stem of a plant for 
 some distance out of the water, and there spins itself a small silken 
 cocoon, in which it awaits the critical hour of its new birth. 
 
 Looking down to the bottom of the pond we may behold little objects, 
 apparently strips of leaf, dried straws, and shell-covered tubes, moving 
 about with every evidence of life. These quaint things are the larvae 
 of Caddis-flies bearing about their portable homes. In these strange 
 dwellings they remain concealed from view, with the exception of the 
 head and the three first rings of the body, which protrude from the 
 entrance of the cylindrical abode. Reaumur, who devoted much time 
 to the study of the habits of the Caddis-worm, gives the following account 
 of their mode of constructing their cases : 
 
 " The body of these grubs is lodged in a silken tube, the inside of 
 which is smooth and shining. On the exterior of this case are fastened 
 fragments of different materials, serviceable in strengthening it, and neces- 
 sary to make the garment complete and to give it useful qualities. The 
 elegance of the external form seems to be a matter of small moment to 
 the Caddis-worms : the appearance of some of these tubes is most gro- 
 tesque, the outside is often bristling and full of inequalities. Others, 
 again, make themselves garments which have a neater air, the pieces 
 which compose them being symmetrically disposed one upon the other.
 
 190 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 They change their garments whenever occasion demands it that is to 
 say, when the tube they occupy becomes too narro\\tand short, they make 
 themselves one of more suitable size." 
 
 For this work they employ every variety of material, and with the happy 
 faculty of " making the best of everything," adapt it to their requirements 
 with wonderful ingenuity. Leaves, scraps of withered foliage, stalks of 
 plants, small sticks, slips of straw, roots, tiny pebbles, shells of aquatic 
 molluscs, and grains of sand are all stuck together without the slightest 
 semblance of arrangement. When the little abode is as yet incomplete, 
 should the Caddis-worm alight upon an object likely to add to the solidity 
 of the tube, it is appropriated with all speed. 
 
 " A Caddis-worm occasionally finds two scraps of the stem of a reed 
 bruised and split lengthways, and if it has as yet only adorned its sheath 
 with small materials, so that it is neither strong enough nor sufficiently 
 large, the Caddis-worm makes a very nice little overcoat with the two slips 
 of reed it has had the good luck to discover, and which it can adjust without 
 much difficulty. It places the tube in the two reed fragments, which it 
 then draws together as closely as possible."* 
 
 Then, again, there are Caddis-worms who decorate the outside of their 
 tubes with the shells of fresh-water mussels and snails ; and sometimes, 
 with complete disregard for the feelings of the owners, these shells are 
 attached to the sheath while the occupant is still alive, and so firmly are 
 they cemented that no effort of the creatures enables them to remove 
 themselves or to regain their freedom, and in this ignominious manner 
 are they compelled to move about at the will of the insect into whose 
 power they have fallen. Though the Caddis-worm seems so indifferent 
 to the external beauty of its residence, it has sense enough to attend to a 
 far more important particular. It is endowed with a wonderful instinct, 
 which teaches it to avoid making the specific gravity ot its dwelling 
 greater than that of the surrounding element, as otherwise the freedom 
 of its movements might be materially hindered. As it is even, it pro- 
 gresses at no great rate in the water. 
 
 When at rest, it retires completely into the tube; but when it wishes to 
 creep about among the stems of water-plants, out pops the little head and 
 the fore part of the body, and, clinging by the six fore legs, it drags its 
 little home along with it. The portion of the body enclosed by the 
 movable tent is soft, like that of a caterpillar, but the head and shoulders, 
 which are exposed to possible collisions with hard substances, are pro- 
 
 * Rdaurr.ur, .Iff metres four scrvir a la Histoirc da Insectcs, torn, iii., p. 157.
 
 POND LIFE. 191 
 
 tected by a horny integument When the larva is about to metamorphose 
 into a pupa, as if conscious that it is about to pass into a defenceless 
 condition, it weaves a stiff stout web across the open ends of its little 
 habitation, and in this quaint cylindrical tube it enters on a dreamless 
 repose and patiently awaits its entrance on a brighter and merrier life. 
 In due time it emerges from the case, and assumes the perfect form of a 
 beautiful four-winged fly. There are different modes of performing the 
 critical feat of bursting from the pupa-case. The larger species, such as 
 the Great Caddis-fly, completely forsake the water, and climbing up the 
 stems of aquatic-plants, fix themselves firmly thereto, and on this sup- 
 port aw.ait the splitting of the pupa-case; whereas the smaller species 
 seem to undergo the final transformation upon the surface of the water, 
 and, after the manner ot gnats under similar circumstances, use the cast- 
 off skin as a boat on which they can steady themselves till their wings 
 have grown firm and steady. 
 
 These pretty Caddis-flies, with their beautiful hairy wings, flit about 
 over the surface of the pond. The female carries her eggs about at the 
 extremity of the abdomen ; they are covered with a glutinous fluid, by 
 means of which they are fastened to the stem of some water-plant. The 
 mother-fly is very daring in her anxiety to deposit her egg-cluster in an 
 advantageous locality : she will descend under the water, no longer her 
 native element, and if disturbed in the act of oviposting, will swim from 
 one stalk to another. The most popular of these insects are the Great 
 Caddis-fly and the Lesser Caddis-fly. 
 
 On fine summer days the quaint little Water-boatmen may be observed 
 sitting motionless for an hour at a time, sunning themselves on the sur- 
 face of the water. The form of these insects resembles that of a boat, 
 the head being almost as broad as the rest of the body; the fore legs are 
 strong and curved, and well fitted for entrapping aquatic insects, on 
 which the boatmen chiefly feed ; the hind legs are greatly elongated and 
 feathered at the tips, and act as oats, which propel the body along at a 
 high rate of speed. If the little creatures are frightened while basking 
 in the sun, they give one stroke of their long paddles, and disappear 
 into the depths of the water. Their exquisite wings are also very strong, 
 and enable them to fly about on land with perfect ease, but their attempts 
 to walk on the ground are exceedingly ludicrous. 
 
 They always swim on their back, a position which offers great facility 
 for the capture of small insects that may fall into the water; they do not 
 eat their prey, but, seizing it with their fore legs, drive their powerful beaks
 
 192 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 into its body, and after sucking its juices, leave it floating on the water an 
 empty husk. The eggs of this insect are generally affixed by the parent 
 to the stem of a water-plant. They are soon hatched, and the young 
 larvae launch forth into the water. The Water-boatmen pass through the 
 usual stages of insect life, but these stages are not distinctly marked as 
 in the beetle and butterfly, for the larvae and pupae in form strongly 
 resemble the perfect insect, except that they are without wings, which 
 appendages characterize the full-grown insect 
 
 The Water-scorpions are very crocodiles of the water kingdom. They 
 are inactive creatures, with a flat leaf-shaped body, having the two fore 
 legs strongly incurved and adapted to their predatory instincts. Two 
 hair-like protuberances are situated at the end of the body, through which 
 the supply of oxygen is drawn in; and as they breathe atmospheric air, 
 they are constantly obliged to resort to the surface to obtain it. They 
 crawl along the edges of streams and ponds, seizing the insects that 
 pass by. They also lurk among the stems of aquatic plants, and, clutching 
 the larvse of other insects in their strong claws, drain them of their juices, 
 after the manner of the Water-boatmen. The Common Water-scorpion 
 is the most familiar of this family. 
 
 An allied species, which has no familiar name, but whose scientific 
 title is Ranatra lineans, is an exceedingly quaint insect, and very active 
 in its motions on the water. It is highly amusing to watch one of these 
 creatures skimming about by means of four spider-like legs, holding the 
 two fore legs, developed into powerful claws, in readiness to snap up its 
 terrified victim, who is scuttling away in the most precipitate manner. It 
 feeds for the most part on the larvae of the May-fly, and little beetles and 
 flies that fall into the water. The Ranatra has wings fitting closely to its 
 side, which serve to bear it on overland expeditions. 
 
 Numbers of insects frequent the surface of the water which are yet 
 incapable of living below it, although they may occasionally dive for a 
 moment. Among these are the Water-gnats, so called from their gnat- 
 like bodies and long slender legs. The most common of these is the 
 Water-measurer, who glides gracefully along, appearing to measure the 
 water with its legs as it proceeds. It is often found in company with a 
 more active species, the little Gerris locustris. This lively insect skims 
 upon the water with great speed, darting hither and thither and turning 
 about with much ease. The Water-gnats feed on aquatic insects, which 
 they grasp in their fore legs, and holding them tightly, plunge their long 
 suckers into their bodies, and thus extract their juices, but they in their
 
 POND LIFE. 193 
 
 turn constantly fall victims to the Water-boatmen, who treat them in a 
 manner no less barbarous. 
 
 The best time to become acquainted with the infinite richness and 
 variety of Pond Life is towards the middle of fine summer days. Some- 
 where about noon, Dragon-flies, May-flies, Gnats, and Chameleon-flies 
 rise to the surface of the water and undergo their final metamorphoses 
 into perfect creatures. 
 
 The Chameleon-fly is a beautifully-coloured insect with a soft velvety 
 black body adorned with bright yellow patches. It belongs, like the 
 gnats, to the order Diptera, one that comprises two-winged flies of various 
 shapes and sizes. The Chameleon-fly arranges its eggs on the under-side 
 of the leaves of water-plants, on the upper surface of which it greatly 
 enjoys to remain basking in the sun's rays. When the larvce are excluded 
 they swim about in the water, after the manner of the larvse of the gnat, 
 to which they bear a striking resemblance. The body is elongated and 
 worm-like, having the last segment or tail lengthened into a tube, the 
 extremity of which is fringed with thirty hairs disposed in a circular form 
 and looking like a feathery star. 
 
 Through this tube the insect inhales its supply of oxygen, and the 
 hairs are capable of being folded up to retain the globule of air thus 
 drawn in. It remains for the most part, like the larva of the gnat, poised 
 head downwards near the surface of the water. The head is horny, and 
 the mouth is bearded with many small hairs, which are kept in constant 
 motion for the purpose of entangling minute insects, which are then 
 seized and crushed by two small hooks with which the mouth is furnished. 
 The larva of the Chameleon-fly does not shed its skin to pass into the 
 perfect state, but its own skin hardens into a case, inside which the pupa 
 is developed, and as the insect in this condition is much smaller than it 
 was as a larva, there exists round it a vacant space occupied by air. This 
 causes the puparium to be specifically lighter than the water, consequently 
 it floats at liberty on or near the surface. In this tiny boat the pupa 
 reposes, borne along among lily-cups and forget-me-nots by gentle summer 
 
 breezes, 
 
 "From mom till eve, from eve till dewy morn," 
 
 till the term of its slumbers has expired, when, if its juices have not been 
 sucked by Water-boatmen, or it has not been bodily devoured by the 
 Great Water-beetle, it rises in beauty a gorgeous fly, shining with metallic 
 lustre, to bask in the cups of flowers and suck their honeyed sweets. 
 
 * Metamorphoses des Insects, p. 648. 
 
 13
 
 J94 THE BOYS' 1 AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 Blanchard, the French entomologist, says, " the Chameleon-fly is the most 
 common in our country. In its perfect state it haunts flowers, where it 
 finds insects whose juices it loves to drain." But most English entomo- 
 mologists seem to think that it is satisfied with the honey of flowers. 
 
 Under and above the water, Pond Life abounds with insects in every 
 stage of development; eggs in soft cocoons, or agglutinated to the stems 
 of water-plants, larvae eating, growing, gambolling, or trying to escape 
 from the rapacious and hungry attacks of their foes; pupas patiently 
 waiting in their little cases till their perfect form has been attained and 
 they can burst forth to play their part in the aquatic republic. And then 
 the perfect insects in all the happy exuberance of life; gnats and May- 
 flies humming, Chameleon-flies buzzing, beetles booming as they rise on 
 the wing, Water-boatmen paddling, Water-gnats washing and rubbing 
 themselves with their long legs, Whirlwigs gyrating, all predacious insects 
 darting, hunting, and leaping with eager haste and speed; and those 
 more interesting species who busy themselves in the construction of 
 wonderful dwellings, afford unending amusement for long summer hours. 
 By means of the water-telescope, the proceedings of these submarine 
 toilers may be watched with great satisfaction. The Water-spider can be 
 seen spinning its cocoon, attaching it by slender filaments to some plant, 
 and then with untiring perseverance making journeys to and from the 
 surface to obtain air-bubbles with which it fills its tiny home. On the 
 margin of the pond, among many other semi-aquatic creatures, the Raft- 
 spider may be seen collecting dried leaves, twigs, and herbage, and 
 weaving them into a little craft, on which it sails about with sinister 
 intentions towards the welfare of the pond community. 
 
 Thus so many lives are perfected among lily-cups and blue-eyed forget- 
 me-nots, so many minute hopes, fears, and instincts called forth within 
 the narrow boundaries of a tranquil pond.
 
 INSECT PETS. 
 
 T AM usually a good-tempered person : romping girls and frolicsome 
 boys never ruffle me. I can endure to have my furniture scratched 
 and my old china endangered without being cross, and although an old 
 maid, I can see my dogs teased and my cats insulted with only mild 
 protests that the torment shall cease before it becomes cruelty. But 
 (there always is a but or an //to everything) one kind of folly and cruelty 
 completely destroys in me every remnant of patience it is the way insects 
 are treated by boys and girls, and I am sorry to add by grown-up people 
 too. 
 
 In attempting to introduce my pets to little folks, and to promote their 
 future friendship with beetles and their allies, I could wish for a fairy 
 pen and pencil to do justice to the subject, so that every unfounded pre- 
 judice might be swept away. Of course, I do not expect any one to pet 
 wasps or pick up bees, but I cannot see why a fly should be screamed at, 
 buffeted, and injured because its unwieldy destroyer does not know what 
 the harmless creature is. I suppose that almost every one knows a moth 
 from a butterfly, and the bees from the wasps; but that there are many 
 flies mistaken for these insects is perhaps not so well known. Many 
 books have been written about butterflies, wasps, and spiders, but I 
 have not seen any notice of the beauty and intelligence of the largest 
 insect tribe known as Beetles. If the days of spinning cockchafers were 
 over, I need not have made this little effort on behalf of my pets; but 
 my experience of boys and girls prompts me to attempt such a slight 
 sketch of the insect world as will enable any ordinary person to know a 
 fly from a wasp or bee, and a beetle from a cockroach mistakes which 
 are as common as the little creatures are familiar. The first fact to re- 
 cognize is rather startling, Spiders, wood-lice, and centipedes are not 
 insects. The division Insecta contains only living beings who develop six 
 legs and two or four wings, a distinction which will be readily recognized 
 by any one who calls to mind the small round body and legs of the 
 spider, and the heavy armadillo-kind of covering that clothes the creeping 
 wood-lice. It is so difficult to contend with the general dislike to these 
 
 13-2
 
 196 7 HE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 little beings, that many people have no idea a spider has more legs than 
 a bee or a daddy-long-legs, and perhaps I may not succeed in tempting 
 any child to take more interest in a fly than can be evinced by pulling 
 off its legs. This is, however, only a boy's trick, and is less trying to me 
 (whatever it may be to the fly) than the senseless screaming of young 
 ladies at a harmless cockchafer or an active beetle who may unwittingly 
 disturb their gardening operations. Who but an entomologist ever stops 
 to consider whether the intruder has two wings or four, six legs or eight, 
 and whether it be injurious or useful ? Few people, I imagine, or this 
 simple knowledge would long since have been insisted upon in our educa- 
 tional system, as more practically useful than Algebraic Equations or the 
 Latin Grammar. 
 
 It is really ridiculous to any one who is willing to take the insect side 
 of the battle, to hear how the farmers and gardeners grumble because the 
 wire-worm eats the barley, or the grub spoils the roses or eats off the 
 China asters. One can only say to the tiny enemies, " Go in and win, 
 my dears, because although you injure them, they despise you too much 
 to take common precautions to prevent your living upon them." Nothing 
 is more exciting than contempt, and I dare say this urges the little 
 creatures to obtain their living where they can. In Paris there was 
 once an exhibition of useful and injurious insects, and, as well as we can 
 by the help of pictures, we intend to reproduce it here. To be of any 
 use the broad distinctions between great divisions must be first recognized 
 by comparing insects that are easily caught with the drawings and descrip- 
 tions given, and then special notices of the familiar species of each Order 
 will teach a fair amount of useful insect knowledge. 
 
 There are nine distinct Orders of insects, which are divided into the 
 Biting Insects and the Sucking Insects. 
 
 Into these two divisions the most opposite habits and characters are 
 introduced. Amongst the biting insects there are many which feed only 
 on vegetable food, but whose preference is for leaves and petals rather 
 than the nectar which is sought by sucking insects like butterflies and 
 moths. In the second division there are many insects who have an in- 
 tense craving for animal food, and there are many of us who have expe- 
 rienced the torture of the so-called "bite" of the bug or flea. 
 
 The habit of the insect in taking its food has caused great importance 
 to be attached to the mouth parts, and although we shall not attempt to 
 notice minute differences, we will describe simply the construction of the 
 two kinds of mouth. Any one who has watched a silkworm feed has seen
 
 INSECT PETS. 197 
 
 that its two jaws or mandibles move in an opposite direction from those 
 of animals. With us the lower jaw moves up and down against the fixed 
 upper one. But the insects move both jaws, and send them outwards 
 and inwards, or from outside to inside, instead of up and down. 
 
 In beetles there are other jaws, an inner pair j^the maxillae) to which 
 are attached small instruments for softening or.grinding the food, a lower 
 lip with two more instruments attached to it, and an upper lip which gene- 
 rally conceals the mouth when looked upon from above. This form which 
 I have mentioned, the most familiar to illustrate, is entirely altered when 
 the caterpillars develop into moths and butterflies. Perfect beetles (not 
 including the weevils), earwigs, grasshoppers, and cockroaches have these 
 
 a, Mandibles, or large jaws ; 3, maxillae, a smaller pair of jaws ; c , palpi, two small 
 attachments on the maxillae ; d, palpi of loweflip. 
 
 biting mouths. In sucking insects the difference is something like this. 
 The lower lip is drawn out to a great length, and turns up at the sides to 
 form a groove for the other parts of the mouth to rest in. The two man- 
 dibles and the two maxillse are drawn out into delicate lancet-shaped 
 organs, and rest in this long lip. The four palpijare generally wanting, 
 which may be accounted for by the fact that liquid food requires less 
 preparation before being transmitted to the stomach, and these extra organs 
 are not needed. 
 
 In the long and beautiful proboscis of the butterflies the mouth is 
 enormously prolonged, but by a most delicate arrangement is spirally 
 folded up when they are not feeding. It is easily uncurled and examined 
 by the help of any small pointed instrument. 
 
 Some beetles have enormous mandibles, which seem to be adapted for 
 catching and holding their prey rather than for mastication. In my col- 
 lection there is a fine Longicorne who was killed just as he had captured 
 a large fly; he still holds it in his mandibles, and the inner jaws or maxillae
 
 198 
 
 THE BOYS> AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 are closing on the body of the victim. Even in death this strong crea- 
 ture did not release his hold, and his end was a benzine bath. 
 
 The English stag-beetle uses his mandibles generally to bite off leaves 
 and bore the wood of trees for the purpose of depositing its eggs. It is 
 supposed to be a vegetable feeder, but I once saw one of these insects 
 with a caterpillar between the jaws, so I think they will eat anything which 
 it is possible to grasp. 
 
 As I have said, there are nine Orders of insects, separated into two sec- 
 tions those who have a mouth with jaws, and those who have a mouth 
 with a sucker or proboscis. 
 
 BITING INSECTS. 
 
 I. Beetles ..... Coleoptera. 
 
 II. Earwigs . . . . . Forficulidce. 
 
 ("Cockroaches'") 
 
 III. \ Grasshoppers J. . . Orthoptera. 
 
 ^Locusts J) 
 
 IV. Bees and Wasps . . Hymenoptera. 
 
 V. Dragon and May-flies . Neuroftera. 
 
 SUCKING INSECTS. 
 
 VI. Butterflies and Moths Ledroptera. 
 
 VII. Flies Diptera. 
 
 VIII. Bugs Hcmipterct. 
 
 Lantern-flies, Ci-J 
 cadas, and the I 
 
 IX. <( tiny green insects > Homoptera. 
 of the roses and I 
 plants, Aphis j
 
 INSECT PETS. 
 
 199 
 
 Order I. A. Rose beetle. 
 
 B. Carrion beetle. 
 
 C. Devil's coach-horse beetle. 
 II. Earwig. 
 
 III. D. Cockroach. 
 
 E. Cricket (English). 
 
 IV. 
 
 V. Common dragon-fly. 
 VI. 
 
 VII. Fly. 
 
 VIII. Bugs. i. Water-boatman. 
 
 2, Species of bug found in Brazil. 
 
 That the beetles come first in rank is a proof that something more 
 than mere beauty governed the uncertain minds of entomologists when 
 they put lovely jaws in the place of lovely wings, and drove the butter- 
 flies to a position behind the beetles and earwigs. The motives for this 
 arrangement are too unintereresting to enter upon in a new introduction 
 to the whole division, but it is principally founded upon the changes which 
 the insect undergoes between its first appearance as an egg, and its final 
 perfection as a being with wings and legs. To explain this more clearly 
 it is necessary to refer again to the familiar silkworm. The changes which 
 intervene between the egg and the moth are not peculiar to this species. 
 
 Every insect undergoes metamorphoses which resemble those of the 
 silkworm. The egg state is constantly seen upon the leaves of plants or 
 meat which has been visited by a blow-fly. The caterpillar or maggot state
 
 200 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 is also known : the presence of these creatures in nuts and fruit, and upon 
 cauliflowers and lime-trees, is too familiar to need description. Between 
 those on the trees and those in the nuts there is an interesting distinc- 
 tion. The maggots in apples and nuts have no feet. The thoughtful 
 mother knew her children could not walk after their food, so she placed 
 them in the very heart of the flower, which, as it grew into fruit, entirely 
 enclosed the egg, and when this was hatched there was food enough to 
 enable the maggot to live, and eventually find its way out of the nut or 
 apple. Wherever a hole is in the outside of an apple or nut, it is quite 
 certain there is no insect within, unless an earwig has taken advantage of 
 the hole and crept in for the sake of a hiding-place. But the maggot has 
 worked its way out, having grown too big for its first home. These foot- 
 less grubs are very common, and are great destroyers ; but it certainly is 
 not their fault, -as they have no choice of a home. Caterpillars have feet 
 like the silkworms, and can easily find food for themselves. In the chry- 
 salis state insects differ considerably from each other. Some are quite 
 like silkworms, others are almost perfect insects, and have sometimes the 
 use of two little wings, which are lost when the perfect ones are grown at 
 the last metamorphosis. In others the wings and legs are perfect, but 
 enclosed in a thin skin, which binds them together until the creature is 
 grown enough to cast it off. Every insect has passed from an egg to a 
 caterpillar or maggot (the larva state), then to the chrysalis (or pupa state), 
 and then to a winged and perfect insect. 
 
 In these pages it is only with the fully-developed insect that I can attempt 
 to deal, and it is when they are grown up that their different forms are so 
 little known, although many of them are frequent but unintentional visitors 
 to our houses. The fathers and mothers of insects have always wings and 
 legs, and are full grown. No caterpillar has children, having quite enough 
 to do to look after its own food ; and to expect a chrysalis to look after 
 a family would be too stupid. But in using the expression "look after a 
 family," I may lead you into some slight error. Most insects die when 
 they have laid their eggs, and long before the little maggots come to life. 
 There are some remarkable exceptions, as the earwigs and bees, who show 
 great affection and intelligence in providing for the wants of their families; 
 and almost all have an instinct or memory of their own early days, which 
 prompts them to place their eggs where they may come to life in the midst 
 of food suited to them, the blow-fly, whose eggs are placed upon meat, 
 and the moth, whose caterpillars live in our carpets and muffs. Indeed, 
 it is always the children who do the mischief. Who does not know a
 
 INSECT PETS. 201 
 
 midsummer daw ? but when one is killed it is not considered a useful 
 thing done, but merely an end put to a present nuisance. Nevertheless 
 so voracious are the cockchafer grubs, that they can destroy acres of planted 
 fields, and are a great torment to almost all agriculturists. At the same 
 time I have been often laughed at when I have suggested that boys should 
 be rewarded for every score of midsummer daws or cockchafers which 
 they could catch in the season. Indeed, it is impossible to imagine what 
 would become of the crops if the birds were not so swift on the wing. I 
 saw one evening last summer dozens of swallows and martins catching the 
 flying insects as they buzzed in swarms over the beeches and lilacs in my 
 garden, and they destroyed as many as the two cats playing on the lawn 
 permitted to escape. Cats are very fond of having what my cousin calls 
 " a lobster supper," and they will spend hours on a lawn in seizing the 
 cockchafers as their wings harden and enable them to fly. But it is only 
 just at one moment that these delicacies seem to suit the cat palate. When 
 I put the cat close to an insect which had just wriggled from its chrysalis 
 case in the ground, she would not touch it, but no sooner did it feel strong 
 enough to fly than pussy's paws settled the attempt directly, and her jaws 
 soon crunched the cockchafer to death. Whether cats dislike the stickiness 
 of the new arrivals, or whether their sporting instincts tempt them to give 
 their prey a chance of escape, I cannot tell, but I am quite sure of the 
 fact. 
 
 So destructive are the cockchafers, that they have really roused some 
 few people in France to enter into a perpetual war against them, and 
 combined action has certainly saved many a district from their ravages. 
 One of the most interesting accounts is furnished by the Mayor of La 
 Sarthe in M. Figuier's " Book of Insects." The neighbouring country had 
 been so much injured, that when the fields were ploughed the pale-looking 
 grub had to be carefully picked from the furrows. In a field of twenty- 
 nine acres, which was ploughed into seventy-two furrows, the number of 
 grubs averaged 350 per furrow at the first ploughing; at the second, 250 
 per furrow; and at the last turning over of the ground there were found 
 fifty in each : a total of over 40,000 in one field, which so effectually raised 
 an alarm that the mayor, who had more sense than is usually displayed 
 where the enemy is only an insect, offered a reward for the destruction of 
 the perfect cockchafer, and the district was saved. In Switzerland, a few 
 years since, 150,000,000 were caught in a cockchafer hunt, and this 
 number might have been equalled in England in 1865, when the country 
 was infested with them.
 
 202 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 The principal enemy to the crops in England is the caterpillar form of 
 a beetle known as the wireworm. 
 
 This little creature is a pale pink or red-looking worm, extremely 
 attenuated, and whose preference for the very young wheat and barley is 
 most trying to the farmer. At present he has found no remedy for this 
 apparently insignificant enemy, and I have never heard of any attempt 
 being made to collect the fully-developed beetle, which is familiar to most 
 
 a Skipjack (enlarged). l> Wireworm. 
 
 of us as the common skipjack.* The crows are frightened away from the 
 fields because they pull up the plants when searching for these favourite 
 morsels, and the wireworm gainsjime to live and develop and add yearly 
 to its numbers. That is, yearly when the seasons agree with it; but if not, 
 it remains a wireworm for two or three years, and grows to a beetle only 
 under favourable conditions. 
 
 It will be easy to learn the chief features by which a beetle may be 
 recognized in the common midsummer daw and lady-bird. The hard 
 shiny skeleton which encloses the whole of the muscular, nervous, and 
 digestive systems of an insect is nearly as complicated and quite as worthy 
 of study as our own. It is marked off into three great divisions the head, 
 thorax, and abdomen. Divide insects transversely where you may, and 
 you cut through blood-vessels, a digestive^ canal, and a string of nerves 
 and breathing-tubes. It is a point to remember that by these tubes 
 respiration is carried on at the sides, and not at the mouth of an insect, 
 
 * Skipjack, "Packard's Transformation of Insects." Westwood says it is a species of 
 Staphylinus, or beetle, like Fig. C ( p. 198), but smaller.
 
 INSECT PETS. 
 
 203 
 
 and the buzzing of their flight is produced by the quick movement of the 
 wings, which accelerates the power of respiration and drives the air out 
 from the sides of the body with great rapidity against the wings ; these 
 
 I. Head. II. Thorax. III. Abdomen. IV. Wing-cases. V. Wings. 
 
 are extended to their utmost tension in flight, and cause a vibration of 
 the air which is familiar to us as a hum or a buzz, and is totally distinct 
 from the whistle of a cricket or chirrup of a grasshopper. 
 
 I. BEETLES. 
 
 THE head of a beetleis furnished with a biting mouth, eyes, and antennje; 
 these last are sometimes inserted between the eyes, and sometimes below 
 or above them. The eyes themselves are as hard as the body, but are 
 faceted in manner to be explained when the bees and dragon-flies come 
 to be noticed. It is said that each one of these facets is an organ of vision, 
 and if this be true, it would hardly be possible to catch an insect without
 
 204 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 its seeing the hand put forth to capture it. How this may be I cannot say, 
 but you will observe that the hard structure of the eye renders the pro- 
 tection of an eyelid unnecessary, and therefore there is not the rudiment 
 of such an organ throughout the division. 
 
 To the thorax are attached the front and also the middle pair of legs, 
 and from this a plate of chitine is sent under the abdomen, to which the 
 hind pair of legs are joined. A beetle is thus shown to be a hard insect, 
 with head, thorax, and abdomen ; but its chief distinction from other 
 insects are the wings. The front pair are not so much flying wings as 
 cases to enclose the soft membranous pair when at rest. These cases 
 (or elytra) are also hard chitine, firmer in many beetles than the body; 
 and the second pair of wings fold up transversely beneath them. These 
 cases lie straight upon the back of the beetle when it is at rest, and it is 
 not easy to force some species to fly. 
 
 Ladybirds will sometimes take the advice so freely offered to them 
 by children, and " fly away home ; " and if they are suddenly arrested, 
 will crawl about with one or both of the membranous wings projecting 
 from the pretty red and black cases. This habit of the Ladybirds is very 
 trying to collectors, as the insects will constantly die with their elytra 
 and wings open, and spoil the appearance of a collection. The mem- 
 branous wings are longer than the cases, and have a transverse joint 
 which folds them across the abdomen. Some beetles have no wings at 
 all, but the cases are almost always present, and although of no service 
 to protect the wings, they are capital shield-armour for the upper surface 
 of the body, which is always softer than any other part of the insect. 
 
 And now it is necessary to impress upon the timid reader that every 
 British beetle is so harmless that the most ferocious can neither sting nor 
 bite. I suppose a Stag Beetle could nip tightly if one put one's finger 
 between the mandibles ; but I have picked up many dozens with perfect 
 impunity. The unpleasant habit which some species have of sending out 
 an irritating fluid when caught, generally leaves a disagreeable scent on 
 the fingers, but this would certainly be no reason for fright, as it is 
 merely unpleasant. The power of emitting a disagreeable odour is cer- 
 tainly objectionable, but it is of great importance to the beetles who are 
 likely to be eaten by larger species. No sooner are they aware of the 
 proximity of an enemy, than they eject a fluid which covers their own 
 body and renders them unpalatable. This habit is extremely annoying, 
 because the insect makes no distinction between a beetle who pursues it 
 as a sensual luxury, and a collector who designs to give it decent interment
 
 INSEC7 PETS. 205 
 
 and immortality in a cabinet. The fluid is ejected under any circumstances, 
 and dries upon the insect, and strong benzine and boiling water fail to 
 make certain species of the genus Tenebrio pleasing or even clean objects 
 in a collection. This is the more remarkable from the fact that if the beetle 
 had escaped its enemy, the fluid would have disappeared, and the insect 
 have regained its shiny black surface. Their cleanliness is remarkable, 
 and they may be often picked up from the dirtiest-looking heap with perfect 
 safety either to delicate gloves or fingers. But the means of defence used 
 by the Bombardier Beetle must be mentioned. This insect is very often 
 pursued by a beautiful beetle who desires to refresh himself with a dainty 
 morsel. No sooner is the Bombardier aware of its danger than it uses the 
 artillery with which it is provided. A loud explosion, a blue smoke, and 
 a disagreeable scent proceeds from the anus, which immediately stops 
 the pursuer. If he be courageous or hungry enough to follow his prey, 
 he is as constantly repelled, the ammunition lasting long enough to enable 
 the hunted creature to fire twenty times if necessary. This peculiar property 
 of emitting a fluid is common to beetles and a few other insects as means 
 of defence, but in all the British species its effect upon human beings is 
 too slight to cause apprehension. 
 
 The size of these insects varies considerably: the largest English beetle 
 would not exceed two and a half inches, and the largest I have seen did 
 not reach two. But who shall describe the length of the smallest ? for I 
 have in my possession many Ladybirds (some British) who are too tiny 
 for their markings to be seen without a microscope. They are perfectly 
 formed and beautifully marked ; some are shiny and dark, others pale, 
 yellow, and brown, and others covered all over with long silky down, 
 which is so long in proportion to the size of the insect, that it must be as 
 cosy a covering as the fur of a cat or the feathers of a bird. 
 
 Whatever the colour or covering of a beetle, the presence of wing-cases 
 is an easily recognized character, and no English species are liable to be 
 mistaken, except the female Glowworm and the Staphylinidce, or Devil's 
 Coach-horse tribe, of which a drawing is given (Fig. C, p. 198). These 
 look at first like Earwigs, but are easily distinguished from them. The 
 membranous wings fold up under the extremely small cases, and the 
 body is uncovered for some distance, but is of firm chitine, so that it is 
 not easily injured. The points of contrast are easily distinguished between 
 the Earwig and a beetle of this family. The abdomen of the latter has 
 no hooks at the end, has not so many rings or joints, and is generally 
 (except on the thorax and elytra) of a dull black.
 
 206 THE OYS' AND GIRLS^ BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 It is hardly possible to gather a chrysanthemum or aster without seeing 
 tiny beetles, and the shiny wing-cases will always proclaim the Order to 
 which the insect belongs. The cups of the convolvulus and bells of the 
 hyacinth tempt them to enter, and thus the pollen-grain is carried from 
 flower to flower to perfect the seed for the next year. It is a matter of 
 fact that if there were no insects there would be no flowers. 
 
 II. EARWIGS. 
 
 THESE insects (Forficulidce) have a stiff hard body, which is formed of 
 chitine like that of a beetle, and at a first glance there appears some 
 resemblance to Fig. C (p. 198). But mistakes, which are common 
 enough in other insects, seem never to have befallen the Earwigs : their 
 terrible hooked bodies, and the superstition about them, making every 
 nursemaid impress the danger of touching them upon children, so that 
 we all grow up familiar with the peculiarly stupid and unmeaning name. 
 
 These insects have leathery and stiff \\mg-covers, which are distinct 
 from the cases of the beetles. They are covers, because the posterior 
 wing of the Earwig is never entirely closed by them. The description 
 which I give of this wing is taken from a dead insect, and I have never 
 yet succeeded in making an Earwig fly so that I might see its motion. 
 This wing I disturbed myself, and the end of it at once explained the 
 uselessness of a perfect case. It is a tough leathery patch, from which 
 there are radiating veins and a membranous expansion to form a flying 
 wing. The veins are distributed in graceful curves, which render this an 
 infinitely prettier object than the posterior wing of beetles. It is folded 
 up by a most exquisite arrangement. It is first closed like the bars of a 
 fan, and then the wings lie like two delicate feathers over the body of the 
 insect ; at about two-thirds of its length the transparent part doubles upon 
 itself; and to draw the wing to its proper position another joint is close 
 to the leathery patch, and this turns the whole of the wings under the 
 front pair, with the exception of the thickened part. The trouble of 
 folding their wings must be a source of fatigue to Earwigs, and is probably 
 a reason why they are so seldom used, and the abdomen with its hooked 
 end is occasionally brought into service to fold and unfold them. It 
 would appear that they fly when food is scarce, and there is no doubt but 
 they effect an entrance into every garden where dahlias grow. I was 
 going to say that these flowers are the natural food of Earwigs, but I am 
 not at all sure that they have such an exclusive taste j my experience 
 certainly is that they destroy these flowers when they can, in spite of the
 
 INSECT PETS. 207 
 
 elegant traps which are set for them. Flowerpots, and bowls of tobacco- 
 pipes stuck upon sticks, disfigure dahlia grounds, and every morning 
 dozens of Earwigs come to sudden death in a pail of boiling water into 
 which these traps are turned. 
 
 When there are no flowers to destroy, these ruthless creatures seek the 
 fruit. How often when a ripe plum has tempted you to pluck and eat, 
 has the tempting morsel been suddenly dropped because some crawling 
 insect has fallen out of it ! Startled, you have looked on the ground to 
 discover the intruder, who constantly proves to be an Earwig ; but here 
 arises a difficult question : " Is he the intruder, or are you ? " He had 
 the right of possession, which may be nine points of Earwig as well as 
 human law. If neither fruit nor flowers are to be had, these voracious 
 creatures commit other enormities. The Earwig mother does not die, like 
 so many insects, as soon as her eggs are laid. She lives five or six weeks 
 watching her children develop, and evincing the greatest affection for 
 them. Soon after they reach the maggot state she dies, and her undutiful 
 children demolish her body, and that of any sickly brother or sister who 
 may fail to reach perfection. Although Earwigs are so numerous in 
 England, there are but few distinct species, only seven varieties being 
 found here. 
 
 III. COCKROACHES AND GRASSHOPPERS. 
 
 BITING insects (Orthoptera) have a mouth with transversely movable 
 jaws, four wings, the front pair being tough and leathery, but these are 
 the wing-covers, which overlap at the points ; six legs, armed with exceed- 
 ingly stiff and sharp spines. 
 
 The whole Order is again subdivided into four groups : 
 
 i st. The Cockroaches, with legs formed for running. 
 
 2nd. The Praying Crickets (not found in England) ; front legs much 
 longer than the other four, and held up when the insect is at rest. 
 
 3rd. A group also unknown in England. 
 
 4th. A group, which comprises the Crickets, Grasshoppers, and Locusts. 
 Legs formed for leaping. 
 
 The first section is unpleasantly well known in the familiar insects who 
 have rendered themselves so thoroughly at home with us as " the Black 
 Beetle." This troublesome individual is not a beetle at all, but, as any one 
 may prove upon examining by the rule given, a truly Orthopterous species. 
 Beetles are never found in the kitchens of town houses, although I have 
 seen a black species in the damp cellars of country places. But the
 
 208 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 destroyer of the maids' comfort in the kitchens of London is a Cockroach, 
 and even this British settler is a most disagreeable pest. Independently 
 of the alarm caused by discovering one in the folds of a dress or in a tub 
 of flour, there is the fact of their unpleasant odour, which remains in 
 boxes and cupboards long after the insects have been destroyed. For- 
 tunately the Cockroach is six months before it arrives at its full perfection, 
 and they cannot multiply so rapidly as other insects from this cause. 
 'The most interesting feature about them is the beautiful adaptation of 
 the mandibles for their work. The left is considerably longer than the 
 right, and furnished with sharp teeth : these fit into the grooves of the 
 right mandible, which is irregularly notched to receive them; the outer 
 surface of both mandibles is smooth and rounded. 
 
 It is amusing to consider what these insects did with themselves if they 
 found their way to England before kitchen stoves and bakers' ovens were 
 invented. They ha.ve been brought here from the Levant along with the 
 boxes of plums and currants, and finding that we have conquered the 
 difficult climate by artificial warmth, our Eastern friends continue to 
 abide with us. An unwary Cockroach in olden times must have perished 
 in 'an English winter. But troublesome as they are to us, they are an 
 infinitely worse nuisance on board the ships trading to India and the 
 Cape of Good Hope. 
 
 The following extract from a letter is only one of many that could be 
 produced about the punishment these insects are to the passengers : 
 
 " I did not open the boxes of biscuits until we changed into this ship 
 at Suez, but now I wish I had thought more of them, for everything, from 
 the tea to the soup, tastes of cockroaches. They eat our boots and gloves, 
 and ladies who have made the journey several times tell me that they 
 have found them eating the nails and hair of sleeping children." 
 
 This is a tempting prospect for any traveller ! but, by dint of setting 
 traps baited with bread soaked in beer, persevering people sleep without 
 fear. 
 
 In this rapid sketch of such large Orders I must not stop to tell any 
 very interesting stories about these well-known insects, but pass on at 
 once to a species not known in England, called the Praying Crickets, 
 distinguished from the preceding family by the extravagant length of 
 their front legs and their long thin bodies. They are also fond of daylight, 
 and may be often seen sitting about the ground in the south of Europe, 
 perfectly at ease, with their two front legs held up in the air. This curious 
 attitude is the cause of their name, and in all countries they are called re-
 
 INSECT PETS. 209 
 
 ligious and holy. Sometimes another interpretation is put upon the at- 
 titude, and mendicant and pauper is applied to them. However, St. Francis 
 Xavier (according to tradition, for I believe he was too sensible ever to have 
 uttered the story), seeing a Mantis or Praying Cricket sitting as a devout 
 creature holding up its legs in an attitude of supplication, tested its motive 
 for doing so by ordering the insect to sing the praises of God, and it 
 immediately carolled forth a fine canticle. We are also informed "that 
 if a child loses its way and asks the Mantis for direction, the intelligent 
 creature immediately points out the right way, and will seldom or never 
 miss."* It is very hard to destroy such pretty illusions, but truth must 
 be told at any cost. The true reason is that the Mantis is a very hungry 
 creature, and lives by catching insects to devour. Naturally she does 
 this with as little work as possible, and moving softly upon four legs, the 
 two long front ones are ready to devour the victim before the Mantis is 
 close enough to frighten it away. Although this fact must be clear to 
 any one who will take the trouble to watch for it, the superstition has not 
 yet died out, and certain nations hold these creatures in as much reve- 
 rence as the ancient Egyptians did the Sacred Beetle. 
 
 In the last of the our divisions we find the creatures with the jumping 
 legs, i.e., Crickets, Grasshoppers, Locusts; these are slightly different from 
 each other and from the preceding groups. 
 
 The first is given in Fig. E (p. 198), where it may be closely in- 
 spected, a privilege the living specimen distinctly refused. It is neces- 
 sary to notice the colour of the Cricket, which is much lighter than the 
 Cockroach, and is a pale brown. The antennae or horns are extremely long. 
 The wings, when folded, are too long to be covered by the front and 
 thicker pair, and project in the points marked a a. The song of the 
 Cricket is not made by any movement of the mouth, but by the front 
 wings. One of these has on its upper side a thickened vein which reaches 
 from the base to the tip, and its surface is roughened like the edges of a 
 rasp. The under-side of the other wing is supplied with a similar instru- 
 ment, and the friction of these when the insect is at rest produces the 
 sound. I say when at rest, because the ordinary movements of respira- 
 tion (they breathe by the pores or spiracles at the side of the body) cause 
 a tremulous motion of the wing-covers, and this is communicated to 
 certain spaces of the wings, which are thus converted into musical wind 
 instruments, and produce the chirruping sound with which every one is 
 familiar. 
 
 * Taken from Westwood's "Classification of Insects." 
 
 14
 
 210 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 The poet Cowper was probably more ot a poet than a naturalist when 
 he ascribed to the 
 
 " Little cricket on the hearth, 
 Chirping gaily, full of mirth," 
 
 a tendency to merriment ; because it is quite evident that our noisy friend 
 is dull when he is singing loudest, and is calling for cricket society. The 
 Crickets like dark holes and corners, and avoid the light ; but although in 
 this respect like the Cockroaches, they are not mischievous. Indeed, it is 
 said that they destroy these pests, but this requires proof, for a Cockroach 
 could certainly match an enemy his own size, and probably is never stupid 
 enough to be caught by a noisy Cricket. Besides, these little things prefer 
 moist food, such as yeast, soaked bread, milk, or broth, &c., and their 
 fondness for liquids often causes their death. For the sake of the sup- 
 posed good which they may effect in destroying other insects I never 
 kill a Cricket, and it is difficult to make a country servant do so; the super- 
 stition that " crickets bring luck " being still prevalent with the poorer 
 country people. 
 
 Grasshoppers differ from Crickets in the following points. They are 
 generally of a green colour, and have their wing-covers arranged when at 
 rest like a slanting roof. These project beyond the body of the insects, 
 and this is the first species yet mentioned whose covers are longer than 
 the abdomen. 
 
 The song of the Grasshopper is produced by the front pair of wings. 
 Two round plates are found at the base of each cover, surrounded by 
 strong ridge-like veins, which serve as a bar to produce sound when over- 
 lapped, the left wing lying over the right. 
 
 They feed upon the leaves of trees, but are often seen in damp grass. 
 They are not found in such enormous swarms as the Locusts, but are fairly 
 voracious when pressed for food. Mr. Westwood relates in his book on 
 the " Classification of Insects" that he once shut up the green Grasshopper 
 in a box, and in doing so its leg was accidentally jerked off. The next 
 morning it was found to have devoured its own leg. The baby Grass- 
 hoppers when first hatched are as active as their parents, but have neither 
 wings nor wing-covers. 
 
 Locusts differ from Crickets and Grasshoppers in the arrangement ox 
 the wing-covers, in the organ which produces noise, and in the short 
 antennae. The wing-covers lie flat upon the body, and this being com- 
 pressed at the sides causes the wings to slope from the middle of the 
 back, like the roof of a house, and brings the outer edges in close con-
 
 INSECT PETS. sit 
 
 tact with the first long joint of the posterior pair of legs. This joint 
 has a rough surface on its inner side, and the insect when it makes the 
 sound rubs this against the wing-covers, standing firmly as it sings on 
 the four front legs. 
 
 But how is it possible to explain what food is preferred by these insects? 
 A flight of Locusts soon destroys every green thing in a district, and, in 
 one of the most exquisite books ever written, there are many accounts of 
 the fearful destruction caused by these creatures, who are as much dreaded 
 as the plague in some countries. That they travel in societies renders 
 them dangerous, and they have been seen flying together in swarms three 
 miles broad, and darkening the air so that it was impossible for people to 
 see each other at a few yards' distance. To turn such a swarm from their 
 path of destruction was once attempted by the Bashaw of Tripoli, who 
 raised a force of 4,000 men to fight the Locusts, and ordered all those 
 who thought it beneath them to fight such pigmy foes to be immediately 
 hanged. 
 
 In 1650 a cloud of Locusts was seen to enter Russia in three different 
 places, which from thence passed over into Poland and Lithuania, where 
 the air was darkened with their numbers. In some places they were seen 
 lying dead heaped one upon another to the depth of four feet; in others 
 they covered the surface like a black cloth, the trees bent with their weight 
 and the damage exceeded all computation. 
 
 In 1841 the province of Ciudad Real in Spain was visited by so many 
 Locusts that three hundred persons were constantly employed to collect 
 them, and they destroyed seventy or eighty sacks a day. 
 
 The whole chapter of the book* from which these accounts are taken 
 is so tempting to transcribe, that I can with difficulty refrain from doing 
 so, but probably many will seek it for themselves, and be tempted to follow 
 the example of the dear old gentleman who wrote it, and watch insects 
 for their own instruction. 
 
 The next tribe, of Biting Insects, will require a chapter to itself, Bees 
 and Wasps being too important to be glanced over with the Earwigs and 
 Grasshoppers. I must also apologize for the extremely rapid manner in 
 which I am treating a subject whose importance is too great for me to 
 grasp. The patience and work of a life, and that life a long one, would 
 fail to include all that might be written : to endeavour to remove the 
 absurd terrors of young ladies, and to tempt boys to show human love 
 rather than human cruelty, is the only aim I have proposed to myself 
 
 * Kirby and Spence: " Introduction to Entomology." 
 
 142
 
 212 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 in attempting a slight sketch of the whole division. It may be well to 
 recapitulate and notice the chief points mentioned in the three sections : 
 
 Order I. Beetles. Distinguished by their wing-cases, and the familiar 
 species are Ladybirds, Midsummer Daws, Devil's Coach-horse, and 
 common Dung Beetle. They are generally useful to man by living on 
 other insects when perfectly developed. There are many vegetable feeders 
 which will be described when the chief Orders have been noticed. 
 
 Order II. Eat wigs. Straight short wing-covers and long hooks at 
 the end of the body. No foundation for the idea that they cause deaf- 
 ness, although they are called Earpiercers and Earwigs in all countries 
 where they are known. 
 
 Order III. Cockroaches, Grasshoppers, and Locusts. Long tough wing- 
 covers, overlapping at the tips, and in the Cockroaches and Grasshoppers 
 very long horns to the head. Wing-covers like a sloping roof in Locusts 
 and Grasshoppers. 
 
 IV. MAY-FLIES DRAGON-FLIES. 
 
 IT is not an easy task on a dreary winter's day to write (as I am now 
 doing) of these graceful insects, whose very existence depends on the 
 sun's warmth and the earth's brightness. At this season of the year 
 there are no perfect May-flies living : they rest quietly enough as larvae 
 under the stones and in the mud of rivers. Not one of them would be 
 so imprudent as to venture forth in the midst of snow and ice, like three 
 unwise bees which I picked up while skating this winter, and warmed 
 back to life in my muff. Poor little things ! they had been nearly starved 
 to death, because no food was left near the hive, and ventured forth in 
 search of provisions, and were all but killed in the attempt. No May- 
 fly could have done this for three excellent reasons. In the first place, 
 there are not any of them in the winter ; in the second, they would not 
 be hungry even if they existed ; and thirdly, they could not eat, for they 
 have no mouths. Why, then, describe them at the same time with biting 
 insects ? This question certainly deserves to be answered. Insects are 
 arranged according to a definite plan, as I have already said, and this 
 involves a careful consideration of their habits and structure from the 
 time they leave the egg ; and it is the May-fly's children which bring it 
 into the same Order with the biting insects. These young people, like 
 the children of the Dragon and Caddis-flies, are true water-babies, and 
 have very good mouths, and, so far as I know, very fine appetites also,
 
 INSECT PETS. 213 
 
 seeing that mud has been found in their digestive organs. I must ask 
 my readers to put out of their heads any idea that these insects are true 
 flies or ants : the insects we know by these names belong to two Orders 
 we have not yet mentioned, and our House-flies differ from this Order by 
 such a visible difference in their limbs that I shall not point it out, but 
 give the characteristics of Neiiroptera as arranged in our list. Some of 
 the Order have such an inclination to look like Crickets or the Praying 
 Mantis that they have their front wings tough and leathery, or at least 
 much thicker than the back ones ; some of them are just as voracious as 
 the most violent and ill-tempered Cockroach in existence, and the modifi- 
 cation of the mouth parts demands a place for them before the Bees and 
 true Ants, and after the Locusts and Crickets. The Order is called Neu- 
 roptera, or nerve-winged, because the tendency to thickening of the front 
 wings belongs only to one or two species. 
 
 A Neuropterous insect is known by four transparent wings, generally 
 of the same size; mouth with transversely movable jaws; long thin 
 bodies of brilliant colours ; and soft, instead of hard chitine, like the 
 Beetles and Earwigs. At the end of the body there is a sharp-pointed 
 arrangement that looks like a sting. 
 
 Now, this is the distressing part of the business, for not one of the 
 whole Order could hurt us if it tried. This appendage is a complicated 
 apparatus to lay eggs with, and causes many of these harmless creatures 
 to be put to death. I have found it difficult to persuade people that this 
 useful instrument was not a poisonous weapon even in such well-known 
 insects as Midsummer Daws, and it is certainly unfortunate that, this 
 being the case with Wasps and Bees, every other winged creature is made 
 the scapegoat of their offences. 
 
 I intend to mention only four families of this Order, and these differ 
 so much in appearance and habits that we cannot wonder entomologists 
 have had very grave doubts about the propriety of grouping them all 
 under the name Neuroptera. 
 
 These four families are i. May-flies Ephemera. 2. Dragon-flies 
 Libellulidce. 3. Caddis-flies Phrygpnea. 4. White Ants Termites. 
 Because the May-flies are quite sure to be seen on the fine and early 
 spring days, they are put first on the list, but anything more inconvenient 
 than this arrangement it would hard to find. First of all, I give four 
 rules for knowing Neuroptera, and the very first example does not fit any 
 of them. A May-fly is an exception, when a perfect insect, to all but the 
 first rule. It has transparent nerve-veined wings, but the front pair are
 
 214 
 
 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 very much larger than the others. It has no mouth, but merely masses 
 of membrane, which look like an attempt at a biting mouth, if the creature 
 meant to live long enough to make it worth while to grow one. Last, 
 but not least, there are at the end of the body three extraordinary tails, 
 which any sensible person must consider a most extravagant supply for 
 an insect. Why a May-fly should have more tails than its neighbours, 
 except it be to make up for the loss of a mouth, I cannot tell. It has 
 been said that they guide themselves in their downward flight by these 
 
 Common^May-fly. 
 
 Pupa of May-fly. 
 
 appendages, but I am much inclined to doubt the truth of this, for then 
 Dragon-flies, who live longer and fly more, would surely have developed 
 some such means for balancing themselves in the air. 
 
 These three tails give a very easy way of recognizing a May-fly, and it 
 can be referred to the Order by its soft body, transparent wings, its un- 
 ceasing flight during its short existence, and by the fact that it may be 
 seen always with a large number of its own species. 
 
 This is the first instance we have met in our descriptions of large 
 societies of the same insect coming to perfection at the same time, and 
 sporting together for a few hours, and then the whole of them ceasing 
 to exist almost at the same moment. This is one of the curious facts
 
 INSECT PETS. 21$ 
 
 about May-flies. They never have anything to do with the land or its 
 nhabitants when alive, but when they die they are swept up in large 
 numbers and used for manure. All their childhood and much of their 
 old age is spent under the water, for it is said they live two or three years 
 as swimming caterpillars or larvae, and moult or change their skins, 
 though not their form, twenty -one times. Thus they spend all their 
 youth under the water, until their wings arrive, and then their grown-up 
 life is passed in playing over its surface. In this last stage their only 
 object is to lay their eggs : these are dropped in two yellow packets in 
 the water, and then sink (if the fish permit) to the bottom. Here they 
 change to a curious sort of larva, with feet, gills, and a tail. Not being 
 of a very active disposition, the first business of the young larva is to find 
 a comfortable house, and without much delay it burrows two passages in 
 the mud. These two openings are made to unite at the bottom, and as 
 the greatest space is here, the individual who is builder, landlord, and 
 tenant enters, and rests at the point where the two passages meet. These 
 circular burrows have been a puzzle to many people who know the lazy 
 habits of the larva, and it has been suggested that the entrance and exit 
 are formed thus, to save the creature from the awkwardness of turning 
 round. I do not think this reason will answer, because, if saving trouble 
 was the object, why should it not make one large hole, and then there 
 would be no turn either ? There is another reason from which we may 
 all take a lesson, I think. By the arrangement of the burrows the water 
 enters at one hole, reaches the insect, who inhales the fresh supply, 
 derives a certain benefit from it, and then, exhaling it, drives it behind 
 him, and out the other way. Thus the water, which is of the same use 
 to the gill-breathing creature that air is to us, is constantly supplied from 
 a fresh source, and is not mixed up with the impure water that has been 
 once used, as it would be if there was but one entrance and no exit. 
 
 My opinion is that these creatures teach a lesson in ventilation which 
 might be followed by some others who have fewer legs and no gills. 
 The little tenant changes its skin many times, as I have said, but retains 
 its gills always ; and when it slightly changes its form to the pupa state, 
 the gills are not cast off. When this change takes place the wings can 
 be seen through the outer skin, and on the first warm day it comes to the 
 top of the water, and throws off the thick coat of the chrysalis. Then, 
 with some difficulty, it uses the half-liberated wings and reaches the edge 
 of the stream, where it settles on the leaves or stalks of a plant. Here 
 comes the final change : the sun dries up the membrane left round the
 
 216 THE OVS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 insect, and it slips off in two pieces at the sides close to the wings, and 
 the liberated insect starts off at once to seek some new friend who is 
 already disporting itself in the air. 
 
 The gills, which have hitherto remained through every change under- 
 gone by the insect, have now disappeared, and our little friend, who is 
 now an air-breather, is supplied with wings, .which have been sometimes 
 called aerial gills. It must be realized that these external air-providers 
 act in both instances as locomotive organs, for they are in constant motion 
 whenever the insect guides itself through the air or the water ; but gills 
 are of more service than wings, because they last two or three years, and 
 the wings and the perfect insect live only for four or five hours. Of what 
 use are the May-flies ? To tell a very solemn truth, I do not know of any 
 pretty service that they are as May-flies, but artificial imitations of them 
 tempt many fish into danger. There are many girls who read this book 
 who know the difficulties of making a Dun-fly well enough to satisfy the 
 critical eye of a grown-up brother. For my own part, I do not believe 
 hungry fish are nearly so difficult to deceive as the anglers try to make 
 us believe, or they would never be caught by dead flies, much less by 
 artificial ones. To copy natural conditions is the golden rule of the 
 amateur fishermen, and as May-flies seem to appear and disappear in the 
 most sudden manner, there is not much doubt about the way their final 
 departure is managed. Those which fall dead on the land are swept up 
 for manure, but those who die after depositing their eggs on the water 
 are immediately snatched by the fish, who may be seen waiting near the 
 surface for their favourite delicacy. A ravenous fish sometimes swallows 
 a hook with the morsel, and these pretty insects thus serve the double 
 purpose of food for fish and aids to the angler's sport. From the first 
 moment to the last of their lives there seems a constant succession of 
 change in their bodies, and the final one from a water to an air-breathing 
 creature must be the most wonderful of all. Just imagine what a wonderful 
 change is undergone at the moment it emerges from the water. For two 
 years at least it has been a mud-feeding, grovelling insect, with but little 
 beauty or grace, and no movement but a jerking wriggle that cannot be 
 really called swimming, and then with the smallest effort it finds itself 
 poised on the golden Vallisneria or lovely white water-lily, with wings 
 more delicate than the petals of either, and the power to move through 
 the air in any direction. One can almost suppose such a mere upstart 
 giving itself airs, and saying to the flowers, "Really I lived at the bottom 
 of the water with you for a long time, and thought you important indi-
 
 INSECT PETS. 217 
 
 viduals, but now we have both grown out of it I seem to be a very superior 
 creature, for I go where I please, while you remain always in one place." 
 There would certainly be some truth in this, but I do not believe flowers 
 and insects have divided interests, and it is more probable that our little 
 friend is at first frightened at his new appendages, and clings to the lily 
 until his strength increases, when they chant together the praise of the 
 glorious sunshine which has kissed them into life. 
 
 Leaving the May-flies, we must turn to their more beautiful but less 
 amiable relations, the Dragon-flies, and the rules given for distinguishing 
 Neuropterous insects apply here very well. This insect has a biting 
 mouth as well as the Beetles, Earwigs, and Cockroaches, and it would be 
 worth while to consider how we might know a Dragon-fly's head from a 
 Beetle's if we found them separated from their respective bodies. 
 
 The enormous eyes, covering nearly the whole of the head, would be 
 the first remarkable contrast ; and if these were closely examined, the 
 shape of the facets would be found different in both insects. This we 
 will consider when insects' eyes are to be studied ; but we will search at 
 present only for broad distinctions, and these are best seen in the 
 mouth. The beetle's mouth, with which we are already familiar (p. 197), 
 shows all the appliances for mastication externally mandibles, maxillae, 
 and their palpi. The lower lip and palpi and the upper lip are in many 
 species visible without dissection. This is not the case with the Dragon- 
 fly. At first we notice only two large lips, and the lower one looks a 
 most powerful weapon. Upon closer observation two square-looking 
 mandibles show between them ; but this is all the external mouth exhibits. 
 As we are not very learned entomologists, we will be satisfied with the 
 outside, only adding that within the mouth the organs are similar to those 
 of the beetle, with the addition of an instrument, which, for want of a 
 better term, is called the tongue. The rudiments of the ligula exist in 
 Colcoptera, but are not sufficiently defined for us to [talk about. Why 
 should not the two insects have their mouths exactly alike? This impor- 
 tant question wants thinking about ; and to give a fair judgment we must 
 take a beetle that lives upon insects, for these are the only food of the 
 Dragon-fly. We have already determined that beetles walk more than 
 they fly ; and Dragon-flies never walk at all if they can help it. Here, 
 then, comes a reasonable inference one will find its food on the ground, 
 the other in the air ; the beetle must work its way through the ground or 
 upon it, and when its prey is found, it must be held by the force of the 
 hard external mandibles and maxillae. But the Dragon-fly is quick on
 
 218 THE OYS' AND GIRL& BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 the wing, larger very often than its prey, who are soft-bodied, tender 
 morsels, that may be transferred at once within the mouth and swallowed 
 without danger to digestion. This well-developed mouth is well used ; 
 and it is a great mistake to kill Dragon-flies, who do good work for us in 
 clearing the air of many thousands of smaller creatures, who would be a 
 great nuisance if some quick-sighted creature did not destroy them. 
 
 Dragon-fly Perfect Insect. 
 
 Beautiful blue Damsel-flies, "Demoiselles," are amongst the names for 
 these insect monsters, but " Devil's-darning-needles," or the old English 
 term of "Dragon," is certainly more suited to their nature, if not to their 
 appearance. Not that we know exactly what dragons are, but then these 
 insects equal in savageness and bloodthirstiness any fable ever invented, 
 and this name may be much nearer the truth than any of us have 
 imagined. 
 
 Their brilliant colours and gauzy wings cause them to be much admired; 
 but one cannot exactly conjecture the use of such gay clothing to an in- 
 sect whose food depends upon its success in hunting down its prey. One 
 cannot suppose the colour a means of defence, because birds will capture 
 both duller and brighter objects. Is it possible that their beauty tempts
 
 INSECT PETS. 219 
 
 some inquisitive insect near them, who pays the penalty of the fascination 
 by death ? Evidently the colours serve some useful end to the insect, for 
 their beauty is universal, and some foreign species have nearly six inches 
 of this rainbow brilliancy. Our own species are very large ; it is not un- 
 usual for a Dragon-fly to be found who will be three and a half inches 
 long. There are no very small insects throughout the Neuroptera, and 
 in England there are not many different families. 
 
 Of the good character of Dragon-flies I have very little hope of finding 
 any example, and I know nothing about them which will introduce any 
 useful moral into their history. Probably there is more fun in watching 
 them than the sober-minded respectable insects who crawl sluggishly over 
 the leaves, and run only from the first enemy who attacks them. "Their 
 courtship is a scene of general bad behaviour and violence," writes an 
 eminent entomologist, and he finds nothing but treachery and spiteful- 
 ness in their whole conduct. Fortunately, the life of a perfect insect is 
 not a very long one, although it lives to a good old age when compared 
 with the May-fly, whose existence can be reckoned by minutes. It is said 
 Dragons live several weeks, but my own experience would certainly limit 
 their existence to eight or nine days, but I have not seen enough of them 
 to give a positive opinion, for it is easy to be deceived when judging from 
 a specimen that has lived under conditions necessarily artificial. 
 
 The female dies soon after she has deposited her eggs on the stalk of 
 some water-plant, and the future history of her unprotected children is 
 extremely curious. Placed close to a running stream of water, there seems 
 but a slight hope that each egg will have the good fortune to go through 
 all stages of its existence, and the chances are so much against them that 
 many thousands perish. In the mud at the bottom of the water the eggs 
 change into larvae, and they resemble in this state their young cousins, 
 the May-fly larvse, who are already reposing in their burrows. But there 
 is an important difference in structure : the Dragon-fly larva has no ex- 
 ternal gills, and converts five plates at the end of its body into a breath- 
 ing apparatus. The larva draws the water into its body by moving in a 
 direction which sets free the edges of these five plates ; a valve within 
 transfers the water into a position which puts it in close connection with 
 the blood in the creature's body. Something is given from the water to 
 the blood, which is called oxygen, and the blood gives to the water a gas 
 which it no longer needs, and this exchange once effected, the used water 
 is expelled a considerable distance, and the insect forced through the 
 water. Their larvae are very active, and need no burrows to live in; but
 
 220 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 one can easily trace the motive which prompts the larva of the May-fly to 
 build its home so that the used-up water can escape when we see these 
 insects using a powerful apparatus to drive it away from them. Their 
 ravenous disposition soon develops, and the lower lip of the larva in some 
 species is a powerful instrument of attack. This is hardly to be doubted 
 when we are told on good authority that they attack and eat small fish. 
 
 When the pupa (or chrysalis) this term is only used to make clear 
 that the third state of the insect is meant is ready to make the final 
 change, it creeps up the stalk of a plant, and remains there perfectly still 
 until the skin splits on the thorax ; the head is then drawn back, and the 
 insect sets itself free, after the manner shown in the drawing, leaving the 
 
 Dragon-fly Perfect Insect changing. 
 
 case of its whole body on the stem. This is the prettiest part of its his- 
 tory ; but it goes on flying and eating all it can find, with just as much 
 voracity as it previously did when it went swimming through the water. 
 In this last metamorphosis the poets and moralists have found many pegs 
 to hang pretty stories and useful lectures upon ; but my business must 
 not touch on imaginary beauties. I am only a special pleader in defence 
 of these much-abused insects, and claim for them only a fair share of 
 politeness, and as much consideration as would be awarded to the birds. 
 I have said that the May-fly may pity the fixed condition of the water- 
 lily ; but how very sorry the Dragon-fly must be for its companion insect, 
 if it has the power to reflect upon the fearful deprivation of a mouth
 
 INSECT PETS. 221 
 
 which the other suffers. One can imagine no greater sorrow for our 
 quick-flying Darning-needle than a loss of appetite or the absence of prey. 
 
 V. CAD-BAIT CADDIS-FLIES. 
 
 EVERY one knows the odd little creatures who are so useful to the anglers, 
 so that a few words will tell the story of their absurdities. If there be 
 anything more comical in nature than the proceedings of a Caddis-worm, 
 I certainly do not know where to find it. They are amusing without being 
 immoral, and this is more than one can say for some other creatures who 
 are also great fun to watch. Hermit-crabs look ridiculous enough when 
 walking about with whelk-shells on their backs, but one can never help 
 the uncomfortable sensation that they have been burglars and murderers; 
 one has a conscientious objection to laugh at an individual who has ob- 
 tained a freehold property by eating the original owner. A Caddis-worm 
 does not fall to such a depth of degradation, for he only appropriates the 
 house of the water-snail, and carries its living tenant about with him. 
 This seems to be attended with discomfort to the struggling victim, and 
 I have been often tempted to take the cad from the water and release 
 the unhappy mollusk ; upon second thoughts I have decided not to 
 interfere, and as I should probably injure the Caddis-worm more than 
 help the snail, I neglect the opportunity of aiding one animal at the 
 expense of another. These worms, which are commonly called Cad-bait, 
 find themselves inhabitants of the water when they leave the egg, and so 
 far resemble the Dragon and May-fly larvae. But from this point of its 
 life it behaves differently from either of the other water-babies. Without 
 hesitation it sets to work to protect itself from any natural enemies who 
 may be prowling about with good appetites. "Ah," sighs the poor un- 
 protected larva, "a soft worm like me is just the thing such creatures as 
 trout and perch eat. I will just make myself an unpleasant morsel." 
 And then she sets to work, and carries out her resolution with such good- 
 will that any creature attempting to eat her would have good courage 
 and better digestion ; even then such game would be hardly worth its 
 capture. 
 
 Different species of Caddis have different tastes in architecture, and 
 may be known by the materials and fashion of their houses, just as well 
 as the old Greeks and Romans. One species prefer leaves of grass, 
 and taking four or five of them, will fasten them together with delicate 
 threads to form a long case open at both ends. Another takes rushes, 
 and unites the pieces with a kind of glue in such a pretty fashion that
 
 222 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 its house belongs to a very regular order of architecture ; another has 
 fine sand curiously packed together ; and a fourth, old pieces of stick. 
 But those that I know best are utterly unscrupulous, and take sticks, 
 leaves, pebbles, and snails to carry out their defensive works. The ridi- 
 culous part of the proceeding is that the occupants of the shells are alive, 
 and have a great wish to move one way, while the Caddis, whose property 
 they are, persistently takes them in an opposite direction. The worst of 
 
 i. Caddis-fly. 
 
 2. Caddis-worm magnified. 
 
 3. Caddis-worm and case. 
 
 it is they can never get free, unless it be true that each time the Caddis 
 grows too big for the old case, she makes a new one from fresh materials. 
 This has been proved to be her plan, but not in a way that helps the 
 snails much. Caddises who were originally content with homes of leaves 
 and rushes, as they grow older, seize animals and sticks, that they may 
 have stronger defences. The bottom of a clear pond on a fine day, it 
 there are Cad-bait in it, is as much fun as an aquarium at the Crystal 
 Palace. At the bottom of the water are seen little masses resembling- 
 wood, pieces of straw, or moving stones : catch some of these in a fine 
 hemp-gauze net, and when you first look at them, you will believe that 
 mud and stones are the only prizes obtained. Hold the net quietly just
 
 INSECT PETS. 223 
 
 below the surface of the water, and watch anything that appears like a 
 symmetrical mass. Presently, a little head peeps out at one end of it ; 
 not seeing or smelling any danger, six little feet soon follow, and then 
 part of a long thin body. Then the case clears itself of the surrounding 
 mud, because it is fastened to the end of the worm's body by two hooks, 
 and begins to move solemnly about in the net. Shake the net, or drop 
 something into the water, and in a moment the little being draws back 
 into the case, and looks a lifeless object, nor does it again venture forth 
 until fairly sure that peace is restored. 
 
 This kind of amusement is harmless enough, if there be no fishermen 
 about, but there is little chance of the worms again touching the bottom 
 of the pond if any anglers know where they are to be found. A wise old 
 sportsman who thought himself a match in craftiness for any salmon, 
 trout, pike, or perch, in any river within the four seas, wrote a book to 
 inform other fishermen of the wonderful things he discovered. Amongst 
 these is an account of the use of Caddis-worms, which he says are very 
 tempting to fish ; if he had not called them pipers, cockspurs, straw- 
 worms, ruffcoats, sand-flies, grannums, cinnamon flies, and silverhorns, 
 his directions would be clearer to the non-fishing part of the community, 
 although I daresay the other part understand him quite well. However, 
 it is easy to imagine that the fish are soon caught when they see the 
 tempting worm unprotected by any vegetable or animal abominations 
 n the way ot cases, and for this reason Cads are very popular bait for 
 anglers to use. 
 
 It may be asked what becomes of the old cases ? Now, we are not 
 quite sure about what happens just at this time, but we can guess, 
 because there is a large limestone rock where the Caddises who lived 
 long ago have left their story. Some thousands, possible millions, of 
 years ago, a great deal of water was forced from the country of Auvergne 
 in France. How this happened does not matter to us just now, but it 
 left behind it the sediment or mud which is under all rivers and brooks. 
 This has hardened into a mass of rock called limestone, and when 
 pieces of it are broken away, it is found to contain numbers of these 
 Caddis-worm cases such as we find now. It is so long ago since this 
 rock was under water, that there are no stories written in the world of 
 what happened then, and only these unwritten ones of the Caddis-worm 
 cases help us to guess how things went on. Fancy what clever little 
 atoms they are ! all that long time since they knew exactly the best sort 
 of houses to live in, and we have never discovered this important fact
 
 224 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 for ourselves ; even the right way to warm our homes is amongst the 
 mysteries of the future. But if a Caddis were really as intelligent as it 
 ought to be, surely it would have found out something after all these 
 years ; but no, it is the most conservative creature, and declines the 
 privilege of letting the old order give place to new, either in its life or 
 its architecture. This, you know, is very provoking, and not at all what 
 Mr. Darwin, Prof. Huxley, and all the sensible part of the world expect 
 Everything ought to be capable of improvement, even Caddises, and so 
 we must hope they may some day find themselves in circumstances that 
 will cause them to add new conveniences to their houses, if they want 
 them. One thing is certain : they helped to make that limestone rock, 
 but only because they could not avoid it ; and just the same thing may 
 be said of the old cases of the Caddises now : a really industrious creature 
 is a rock-builder like the corals, but these things leave their cases behind 
 them, and the rock makes itself, which is a very different thing. 
 
 One thing Caddises are very careful about : their houses must be fairly 
 easy to carry ; to make sure of this they have many contrivances to regu- 
 late the weight of them. They manage to adapt themselves to the quality 
 of the element they are in ; the same species behaving differently in the 
 same pond when any change occurs in the water. In a " Fairy Tale for 
 a Land Baby " there is a fact which illustrates this, and we may be sure 
 that the author saw it himself, although he did not tell us the reason for 
 it in a fairy tale. Of course we can find a cause now for the curious 
 proceedings he relates : 
 
 " Tom went into a still corner, and watched the Caddises eating dead 
 sticks as greedily as you would plum-pudding, and building houses with 
 silk and glue. Very fanciful ladies they were too : none of them would 
 keep to the same materials even for a day. One would begin with some 
 pebbles, then she would stick on a piece of green wood, then she found 
 a shell and stuck it on too ; and the poor shell was alive and did not like 
 at all being taken to build houses with ; but the Caddis did not let him 
 have any voice in the matter, being rude and selfish, as vain people are 
 apt to be ; then she stuck on a piece of rotten wood, then a very sweet 
 pink stone, and so on until she was patched all over like an Irishman's 
 coat Then she found a straw as long as herself, and said, ' Hurrah ! 
 my sister has a tail, and I '11 have one too ;' and she stuck it on her back 
 and marched about with it quite proud, though it was very inconvenient 
 indeed. And then tails became all the fashion among the Caddis-worms 
 of that pool, and they all toddled about with long straws sticking out
 
 INSECT PETS. 
 
 22$ 
 
 behind, and getting between each other's legs, and tumbling over each 
 other, and looking so ridiculous that Tom laughed till he cried." 
 
 Now we can see that this straw was stuck on as a sail to help the Caddis 
 along; something in the water or in the materials was uncomfortable, 
 and by way of making the best of it, the Caddis stuck on a straw. A leaf 
 or part of a rush is sometimes used instead, but some object of the kind 
 is an absolute necessity, as her home must be light enough to carry 
 about. So much for the home, but now for the food. Truly, I think 
 the word " cad," as boys commonly use it, to express some mean and 
 grasping companion whose motto is, " Get what you can, never mind by 
 what means," must have been taken from these worms. Anything vege- 
 table or animal that comes in their way they will eat with as little scruple 
 as they would take a living snail to put on the roof of their house. They 
 are most certainly " cads," and I can find no excuse for their selfish con- 
 duct ; and if the word has not been adapted from them, it might be. 
 
 After a time this roving, piratical life ends, and the Caddis comes to 
 its pupa state. This is interesting to us who watch it, but I doubt if it 
 be so pleasant to the insect. When she is sensible that a really serious 
 life ought to commence, the Caddis moors her case to some heavy pebble 
 or firmly-rooted plant ; then she puts a grating over each end of her case 
 before she finally loses the use of her jaws and legs. She is now deter- 
 mined to make no more additions either of snails, straws, or leaves, but 
 has a most firm intention to make her toilette, and appear in the upper 
 world as a modest, neat, and well-dressed insect. To accomplish this, 
 intruders must be kept out, and water let in. The two gratings effect 
 this, and are at the same time defences and ventilators. The water 
 comes in one way, is carried by the imitation gills in and out of the 
 creature's body, and finally sent out at the other end. This precaution, 
 not to breathe the same water twice, is a common instinct in all the 
 insects we have studied. Having thus prepared her home, the little 
 worm folds up her legs and draws her head close to her breast, and soon 
 covers herself over with a soft pink skin. She remains quiet and help- 
 less for some time, until she finds herself provided with all the appliances 
 of a perfect insect under the soft skin. Upon the outside of this, at the 
 head, are two powerful jaws, and these she uses to break down the 
 grating at one end of the house ; then she comes out and swims about 
 for a while with great energy. See how she has improved. Before she 
 could only walk at the bottom of the water, now she can swim in it, and 
 presently she will be able to walk, swim, and fly. When the weather
 
 226 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 suits her, she comes to the surface, and lying on some grassy bank, the 
 sun dries up the delicate skin, which then soon splits by the movements 
 of the being within it. Poor thing, she feels very delicate and sickly for 
 a moment when the air first rushes into the gills, which are now inside 
 her : it is really as terrible an alteration for a moment as we should feel 
 if plunged suddenly beneath the water. Mrs. Caddis soon gets accus- 
 tomed to the new sensation, and pausing only for a few moments to get 
 a breath of air, instead of a breath of water, she spreads her soft wings, 
 and flutters, rather awkwardly at first, over the clear surface of the pond. 
 Now is the time for us to find out which Order to put her in; and 
 we cannot wonder that these insects puzzled the clever patient people 
 who thought it of the greatest importance to put them in the right 
 place. 
 
 The Caddis-fly has four wings ; so far she is like the other insects we 
 have studied ; but the two front ones are different from the two back 
 ones, and this makes a difficulty at once. Has the creature wanted to 
 copy beetles, cockroaches, and grasshoppers ? These two front wings are 
 covered with soft brown fur, but the others are transparent membrane, 
 like those of Dragon and May-flies. She has six legs, by whose long 
 tipped spurs she can walk ; and by means of the fringes on them she can 
 also swim a little ; but this privilege of swimming I do not think she uses 
 until she is looking* for a safe place to lay her eggs. This is the last act 
 of her life ; and the memory of her own early days prompts the good 
 little mother to put her children where they may get plenty of food and 
 building materials. Think how much nicer she is than the careless May- 
 flies and Dragon-flies, who just drop their eggs on the water, not caring 
 if they sink, or are dried up by the sun, or are eaten by the fish. Our 
 brave Caddis risks all dangers and there are many for her in the water 
 by going quite a foot below the surface and swimming from leaf to leaf 
 until she finds one suited for the little.green gelatinous packet she intends 
 to put on it. Soon after this she dies, for, like the May-flies, her whole 
 business as a flying insect has been to carry her eggs to some place where 
 provisions are plentiful. This is a necessary precaution, because if they 
 always grew up in the same place they would cause the supplies to run 
 short. So much occupied has she been that from the time of losing her 
 pink skin she has never eaten anything, for Caddis-flies have no mouths 
 and no sensation of hunger. If she does not die a natural death, she is 
 quite sure to be seized in her weak helpless condition by a hungry fish. 
 Pretty much disgusted he is too when he has eaten her, for as she has
 
 INSECT PETS. 227 
 
 never had any food and has laid all her eggs, she is only a bony skeleton, 
 and is very much more a nut-shell than the soft sweet kernel within it. 
 
 There are some learned people in the world who would say that Caddis- 
 flies ought not to be put in our Order Nenroptera at all, but have a fresh 
 one all to themselves. Two very wise people, named Linnasus and Fabri- 
 cius, decided that Caddis-flies, May-flies, and Dragon-flies were all closely 
 related, and I follow their example, because they knew as much about 
 insects as could be found out when microscopes, lenses, gas-lamps, rail- 
 roads, and electric telegraphs were not invented. Mr. MacLeay, who 
 came many years afterwards and had all these things to help him, said 
 they were both wrong. As we want to make use of our own eyes, with 
 a true love for the insects themselves, instead of the science, we follow 
 the old fashion instead of the new, as it is more easily recognized. 
 
 VI. WHITE ANTS. 
 
 WE must now take a long step in advance of our former position, and 
 have a peep at some foreigners. I would not bring them in at all, only 
 their conduct causes our own good little ants to be scandalized. These 
 new creatures are called White Ants, and live in warm countries, but 
 have nothing to do with real ants, who are closely connected with the 
 bees and wasps. White Ants are Neuroptera, but do not live separate 
 lives like those we have studied. No sooner do the insects we have seen 
 leave the eggs than each one sets up a business for itself, and has nothing 
 to do with its own brothers or sisters. The child of a White Ant is dif- 
 ferently brought up : a nurse, a nurseiy, and food are all prepared for it. 
 and the greatest care is taken to keep enormous colonies in proper order, 
 They are the most destructive and the most interesting insects in the 
 world ; but may they always keep a respectful distance from us ! Their 
 homes are as large as small cottages, and they are governed with a pre- 
 cision that would be a model to any human institution. They live to- 
 gether in these hills in countless numbers, and are united by interest 
 and affection in preserving their community from attack, and in de- 
 fending their queen if any misfortune destroy the dwelling, which is a 
 marvellous piece of industry, and shall be described before the tenants. 
 
 This erection is as large as a haystack, when built by the tropical species. 
 The ground floor is the most important part of it, as in the centre of the 
 hill at this part is the royal chamber. Into this the workers carry an 
 insect who is in a perfect condition, having legs, wings, and all the 
 
 152
 
 228 
 
 THE BOYS* AND GIRLS* BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 proper attributes of a Queen Ant. Then she brings with her a husband 
 much smaller than herself, but with better wings. He is not of much 
 importance^ in [fact, is^only king-consort, and the queen would be in a 
 
 i. Male White Ant. 2. Female who has lost her wings. 3. Soldier. 4. 
 {The queen is not drawn, as she is only No. 2 enlarged. ) 
 
 Labourer. 
 
 strange colony alone, if he were left out. The new subjects take them 
 both prisoners, shut them up in this centre chamber, and order the 
 queen to lay eggs. Round this apartment are arranged numerous arched
 
 INSECT PETS. 229 
 
 chambers, which serve for magazines and nurseries. As the cares of the 
 workers increase, new rooms are added to the building, and connected 
 always by passages, galleries, and staircases. This goes on until the ant- 
 hill, or rather ant-mountain, is as high as an English haystack. We cer- 
 tainly do not want the African species to visit us, for their houses would 
 take up too much room ; there are, however, better reasons for keeping 
 them at a distance than the space their colonies would occupy. 
 
 There are five kinds of individuals in each colony, and it has been 
 almost decided that they are thus marked off in social rank : The king, 
 who is only a male with wings, is kept a prisoner with the queen. This 
 unfortunate lady is a perfect insect, who once had four wings like her 
 husband, but finding them inconvenient, she lost them as soon as she 
 commenced her reign. Now the poor thing lays eggs incessantly, some- 
 times as many as sixty a minute, and eventually has 80,000 children. It 
 she is not as badly off as the " old woman who lived in a shoe," I do not 
 know where her equal exists. After the king and queen, the military force 
 is of the greatest importance. This is represented by a set of creatures 
 very much like the queen, only they never have wings, and their heads 
 are enormously large in proportion to their bodies. These heads have 
 powerful jaws, which come very energetically into action when anything 
 goes wrong in the colony. Next in rank are the labourers, who do every- 
 thing that is needed for everybody. These industrious creatures are 
 nurses, woodcutters, purveyors, builders, and everything else, but they are 
 so ugly ! Indeed, there is nothing pretty about any of them, and those 
 insects who are fifth on our list are the labourers changed into pupae, who 
 are waiting for their final metamorphosis into perfect insects, when they 
 will have wings and fly by myriads from their old colony. When this 
 happens, misfortunes follow to the inhabitants of the district near them; 
 thousands enter by doors and windows, extinguishing the lights, smother- 
 ing the table-cloth, sticking to the butter, falling into the sugar, and all the 
 other miseries which attend a visit from them quickly follow. A few hours 
 finds these insects in a most pitiable condition : their wings have fallen off 
 like the petals from a flower, and with them their courage has gone also. 
 True ants, who are not half their size, soon kill them : the frogs, the birds, 
 the beasts, and human beings capture them by thousands, and one and all 
 for the same purpose. Men, beasts, birds, and fish, have mouths and pro- 
 bably some sense of taste. Who then can wonder that the White Ants are 
 eaten when they have the flavour of sugared cream and almond paste? I 
 wonder an enterprising French confectioner has not found them out and
 
 230 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 sent us some Creme des Termites (this is what scientific people call them), 
 or White Ants d la Vanille for bonbons. A traveller, who had eaten many 
 of them, tells us he found them of a most delicate flavour and very nourish- 
 ing, and that the natives mixed them with flour to make pastry. The 
 Africans parch them over a fire and eat them as we do comfits. 
 
 Now I am sorry to say that I must leave my character of apologist 
 general for insects, and tell the plain unvarnished truth about White 
 Ants. They are destructive, vicious, thievish, ferocious, useless (ap- 
 parently), and impudent. If I could think of anything worse to say I 
 would, because they have done such serious damage to us poor humans. 
 The only excuse for them is that they always work in the dark, and so 
 anxious are they to do this, that if they feel under a moral obligation to 
 eat the whole of a chair or a book, they cover it with a kind of cement 
 which hardens. Inside this they commit their ravages, and you have a 
 cast in white ant-clay of your favourite story-book or easy chair. It 
 really is not fiction, but an unfortunate fact, that they mistake timbers of 
 houses and furniture for their native hills, and carve out passages in them 
 in a few hours. It is known that the owner of a room went out for a 
 few days, leaving it comfortably furnished with good solid furniture, and 
 returned to find it apparently as he left it. But the difference, though 
 unseen, was soon felt. The first chair he touched crumbled to pieces in 
 his hand, the back parted from the seat, the legs fell on the ground, 
 breaking like rotten wood ; the tables and sofas were all in the same con- 
 dition ; the looking-glass was plastered to the wall with cement, and the 
 frame eaten up. A great traveller lost a pipe of fine old Madeira because 
 these creatures took a fancy to the cask. The writer of the most inte- 
 resting account of them that we have lost his microscope because the 
 White Ants had a turn for scientific work, which they displayed by join- 
 ing the brass-work and glasses with cement and then eating the wood. 
 Enormous trees are reduced to the finest dust by their perseverance, and 
 retain their branches and twigs like solid trees until the first wind 
 scatters them with as much ease as it would smoke. Some one suggests 
 that this is the use of their wood-eating propensities ; these trees are so 
 large that they would block up streams if drifted into them in a solid 
 state, and White Ants thus serve the natives by making their wood rotten. 
 This seems to me a very unsatisfactory apology, but as a poor excuse is 
 better than none, we will give these foreigners the benefit of it and leave 
 them, merely altering the title of our article to Insect Pests so far as the 
 White Ants (Termites) are concerned.
 
 BEES AND BEEHIVES. 
 
 231 
 
 BEES AND BEEHIVES. 
 
 "Where the bee sucks, there suck I." 
 ' The bee is small among the fowles, yet doth its fruit pass in sweetness." 
 
 ( HOSE who live in glass houses must not 
 throw stones;" but as there is no rule 
 without exception, we throw it out as a 
 suggestive inquiry to any of our captious 
 young friends whether the little winged 
 dwellers in glass hives, exemplary in all 
 the relations of life and faultless in their 
 social and moral qualities, may not be 
 privileged to have a fling in any direction. 
 " Not at me, if you please," tartly replies 
 our wiry friend, whose indefatigable in- 
 dustry bears testimony to the fact that he 
 learned to some purpose when a child the 
 infantine ditty, " How doth the little busy 
 bee," &c. " Not at me, if you please. I 
 mind my own business. I am up early 
 and late, never trouble myself with othe 
 
 people's concerns, and no one can accuse me of idleness ; and the hoards 
 I have laid up against hard times are plain proof that I gather honey all 
 the day, and sometimes half the night too." 
 
 None of the sweetest, we fear, if it smacks of the tone and temper 
 wherewith it is proclaimed. It may sometimes be found to be but lost 
 labour that we haste to rise up early, so late take rest, if our worldly store 
 lack the mellow sweetness of an abundance culled from earthly flowers 
 under the sunshine of a heavenly blessing among the unselfish fellowships 
 and countless charities of life, which are as the pleasant hum of bees in 
 the sultry air of a summer's day of toil. But not being ourselves the 
 denizens of a glass house, we will leave that stone for our winged friends 
 to fling. 
 
 " Not at me, surely not at me," cries a second, with careless confidence. 
 " I was never out of temper in my life ; I take things easy. ' Live and 
 let live, 5 'Care killed the cat;' and if I cannot get things to my mind, I
 
 332 THE BOYS 1 AND GIRLS* BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 never fret ; I e'en let them pass. ' It will be all the same a hundred 
 years hence,' if things are all at sixes and sevens now." 
 
 Ah, good friend free-and-easy, bathe as you may in the waters of self- 
 approval, I think we shall yet find a vulnerable point, even in that happy- 
 go-lucky style of yours. What work will you ever accomplish, what edifice 
 rear, that will not bear the marks of such careless ease ? In the hive ot 
 glass it is all sixes and no sevens. Very particular gentlemen are these 
 builders of a suitable residence and storehouse for their colony and their 
 queen. Destitute of any apparent guide of measurement, what need have 
 they of inch rule, of compass, or artificial hexagon ? The eye, the mind 
 whatever that may be in the insect world the hand, all work in fault- 
 less union, and produce a result as marvellous in its exact proportions as in 
 ^adaptability to the several needs of the architect ; and if, in the material 
 fabric of their city walls, there be a strength and adhesiveness inseparable 
 from a degree of bitterness to the taste, the sweetness and abundance of 
 the store within those walls invite us to leave to its winged workers the 
 task of flinging this stone at the slovenly and the careless. 
 
 " Not at me," sternly ejaculates a third. " I am particularity itself. I 
 see to it with my own eyes, and if the work done by my orders is the 
 thousandth part of an inch awry, I have it all undone. Those that work 
 for me must make straight work of it, and look sharp, or I come down 
 upon them short and sharp." 
 
 Sharper truly than that sting for which the colonists of the hive find no 
 such use. No task-master is theirs, no idle hands, no careless workers > 
 each works for all, and all enjoy the fruit of the labour of each. Except- 
 ing the royal lady, who, engrossed by cares maternal, sits apart in the 
 spacious chamber constructed for her by her loving subjects, all work in 
 harmony. Each one knows his task, and though man knows not to what 
 tribunal of conscience their fidelity may be referred, or by what meed of 
 self-approbation rewarded, we have yet to hear of one among the Bees 
 who will bind heavy burdens on others which he refuses to touch himself. 
 So, in some interval of leisure from their more immediate duties, some 
 speculator among them on human systems may fling this stone also. 
 
 " Not at me," exclaims Number Four. " I work as hard as any. Ex- 
 ample as well as precept is my motto, and I carry it out, and never tell 
 any one to do that to which I am unwilling to put my own hand. Gladly 
 should I take a little relaxation, or breathe a breath of fresh air now and 
 then, if I felt it consistent with my duties to others to enjoy for myself 
 what I deny to them."
 
 BEES AND BEEHIVES. 233 
 
 Then go to the Bees, thou slave to the desk and the wheel. Where 
 would be the sweetness of their honey, the strength of their wax, the 
 buoyancy of wing, and that cheerful hum where the elasticity and health 
 of their busy insect life, were not fresh air and sunshine a part of their 
 daily life, a material element in their existence? Nay, more, the first 
 hours of their daily round of activity are spent outside the hive; and with 
 the nectar of the flowers they imbibe the breath of early morn and the 
 first freshness of reviving nature. The day-spring is to them truly the 
 spring of the day's activities. Their first flight is upwards, their earliest 
 effort heavenward. Those pupils of nature's instincts alone return to their 
 indoor life about the hour when worn and exhausted men and women 
 creep forth from their imprisoned life, to breathe the noxious dews of 
 evening, the staleness of an atmosphere from which the vital energy of 
 sun and oxygen have been withdrawn, and return to add the fatigue and 
 oppression of night to that of the day before resuming the diurnal toil in 
 the narrow hexagonal cell of their daily labour. Yes, fling that stone 
 from your airy height, ye happy living things, that mount on the morning 
 breeze and scent the early odours of the dewy flowers. Ye may find a 
 vulnerable point in many a son and daughter of leisure as well as in the 
 person of the mechanic, the student, or the man of business. 
 
 " Not at me, not at me, for I hate artificial life and all that belongs to 
 it," gladly exclaims the child of the country. "Give me the simple Hum- 
 ming Bee in its home in the wild woods, where it makes honey for its 
 own wants alone, enough for its family requirements, and never invites 
 the covetous propensities of rapacious man to stifle their young lives and 
 rob their winter store." 
 
 Ah, there you remind us of the best that can yet be said of these 
 faultless creatures. No useless hermit colony, with self and selves for 
 the end and object of their labours ; they never stop short when they 
 have built their comb and gathered honey for themselves alone. As the 
 summer is prolonged, and their sphere is enlarged, so are their efforts ex- 
 panded, that other beings, often their most cruel enemies, may share the 
 sweet results of their toil. Unspoilt by artificial life, and, so far as we 
 can see, utterly unchanged in their simple habits and lives of active use- 
 fulness by all the refinements of cultivation, the Bees inhabiting the most 
 delicate of glass hives in the loveliest of gardens are as busy as the Bees 
 before the Flood, as united in their action, and as ready to quit the homes 
 of luxury at the call of their leader, as if they were the first Bees on whom 
 the necessities of exertion, of union, and of forethought had devolved.
 
 234 THE BOYS' AND CIXLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 Humbly and contentedly they betake themselves to the rudest shelter, 
 and seek in the wildest retreats of nature as in the richest garden the 
 nectar concealed alike under the simplest petals and the fragrant cluster. 
 Too active, too happy, and too kindly to fling a stone metaphorically 
 or to use literally their sting while unprovoked, their pleasant humming 
 falls on our ear as one of those soothing sounds in nature, like the plash- 
 ing of the waterfall, the sough of the wind among the trees, or the music 
 of the 
 
 "hidden brook 
 In the leafy month of June, 
 That to the sleeping woods all night 
 Singeth a quiet tune ;" 
 
 which harmonize with good and sacred thoughts, and suggest alike to the 
 contemplative and the active mind the combination of their respective 
 gifts in a useful yet not thoughtless existence. 
 
 But the Bee was not born to hum only ; it only hums to beguile its 
 work. Let us watch the little tribes as they pass to and fro from their 
 hive this morning. Fear not their stings if we stand aside and do not 
 put ourselves in the way of the busy citizens. If some human monster 
 will obstruct their passage and corne between them and their storehouse 
 gate, and does not move on at the sound of an angry buzz, the way must 
 be cleared, even at the expense of an occasional sting. So let us keep 
 to the side, and they will be far too busy to turn from their labours to 
 examine, still less to molest us. 
 
 First of all we see some half-dozen loitering idly about the door. No, 
 not idly, for see how they scrutinize each fresh arrival, as if to say, " Have 
 you brought home a proper load of honey, or have you only been at 
 play ? " But this is not their chief duty. They may be only making a 
 passing salute, inquiring of their returning friends about the state of the 
 weather or the flower crop, whether the white clover is plentiful or the 
 lime-trees are exuding honey well. They are there to warn off intruders. 
 If we approach too near in front, one of these sentries will dash forward 
 with an angry buzz, and if we do not wisely take the hint, the brave little 
 soldier will soon return with a reinforcement from the guard-room to 
 enforce the command. Horses, dogs, and other animals understand this 
 threatening buzz very well, and soon retire. But their smaller foes are 
 not so easily repelled. The sentinels touch with their antennae every 
 creature that tries to creep in, exactly like a soldier on guard demanding 
 the pass-word. Now hornets, wasps, and moths, who, like human beings, 
 do not make honey, have a very sweet tooth, and know where the nectar
 
 BEES AND BEEHIVES. 235 
 
 is stored. They often try to pass the barrier, and, being individually 
 stronger than a Bee, would succeed were not the sentinel speedily rein- 
 forced. We may often see dead wasps laid in front of the hive, and 
 sometimes can witness a pitched battle, though the intruder is generally 
 driven off and seeks safety in flight, like a robber with a bad conscience. 
 When the guard is relieved at night the door is often barricaded with a 
 wall of propolis and wax to keep out the night-flying moths. Slugs are 
 not so easily warned off, and will sometimes creep in more from stupidity 
 than from mischief. When this happens the Bees kill it, and, unable to 
 drag it outside, plaster it over with a coating of propolis, the resinous wax 
 with which they line their dwelling, and leave the mummy at the bottom 
 of the hive. If it is a snail which has intruded, they send him within his 
 shell by a single sting, and then wall him in, and cement his living tomb 
 to the floor with its mouth downwards. 
 
 But the Bees who are passing and repassing the sentries are not all 
 laden alike. Some of them have little yellow or red tufts on their legs, 
 others have none. But all who return are laden. There are three sub- 
 stances required in the hive pollen, or bee-bread, the food of the youngest 
 larvae j wax to make the combs ; and honey for the support of the com- 
 munity. Those with tufts on their legs have been collecting the pollen 
 from the stamina of flowers, which they carry worked into lumps, and 
 retained by the hairs on their hind legs. The purveyors of honey and 
 wax carry their stores,, drawn from the nectar of flowers and the sweet 
 juices of trees, in their throats. 
 
 I'o understand how the pollen is carried, we should examine the hind 
 leg with a microscope. We shall then see that the upper joint is flattened, 
 and its edges surrounded with stiff hairs, which form a sort of basket, 
 into which the powder is put by the action of a sort of brash of short 
 hairs which covers the lower joint. When the Bee enters a flower, it 
 takes a plunge among the pollen, covering its whole body, and then 
 brushes itself down into the basket on its thigh, till a good-sized ball is 
 formed. If it cannot complete its load in one flower, it will always seek 
 out another of the same kind ; but never on any account will it mix the 
 pollen of two different kinds of flowers, unless by accident. Thus we 
 always see the ball of a uniform colour, red, yellow, and white pollen 
 being never mixed. When the pollen-bearer has entered the hive, it 
 pushes its burden into a cell, and another Bee follows, and kneads up the 
 mass with its jaws, packing it tightly down. 
 
 The honey-gatherers and the wax-gatherers for these are really the
 
 236 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 same draw in the juices from the flowers by their trunk, which serves 
 as a mouth and a pump, through which the liquid passes into the first 
 stomach, and thus is carried to the hive. But often the labourer does 
 not wait to disgorge itself into the cell, but, on arriving at the door, 
 opens its throat, when another Bee, perhaps one more aged and feeble, and 
 less capable of field work, though perfectly fit for domestic toil at home, 
 receives the sweet load and discharges it into the storehouse. Of course 
 the workers feed themselves while they are out, and often give a supply 
 to their friends by the way. They also feed those employed on the 
 combs by going to the place when they are working and stretching out 
 their trunks. The other Bee inserts the end of its trunk, and sucks up 
 
 the offered honey without having to leave its work. But how is the 
 wax supplied ? This was long a problem, till it was discovered that wax 
 was a secretion, or rather an exudation formed in very thin layers 
 between the plates of the abdomen of Bees. That it is in some way 
 made from honey Huber ascertained, because Bees fed only on pollen 
 did not secrete it, and those fed on honey or syrup did so. 
 
 Let us now follow the workers inside the hive. And here, if we have 
 not got a glass hive through which to watch, we must be content with a 
 peep by the eyes of others. Just beyond the sentries are stationed those 
 who relieve the purveyors from the field. Others are busy in cleaning 
 and sweeping out the bottom of the hive, others in storing honey or bee- 
 bread, more still in forming new combs, and many others in tending and 
 feeding the young larvae in the breeding-cells, or waiting on the queen. 
 For all these working Bees, industrious though they be as labourers, 
 assiduous as nurses, are toiling not for their own for they never are 
 either fathers or mothers but for their brothers and sisters. As with 
 the wasps, so among Bees, there are three sexes the drones, or males, 
 who are only hatched in summer, and neither work nor sting ; the queen,
 
 BEES AND BEEHIVES. 237 
 
 of whom there is only one at a time in each commonwealth ; and the 
 mass of the community, or workers, who are in reality females stunted 
 in their growth, and differently fed and housed in their infancy. So far 
 they resemble other Hymenopterous insects, as the ants and wasps; 
 but in the origin and government of the little commonwealth, which 
 each hive in reality is, they differ much from their nearest cousins, the 
 wasps. 
 
 The female, or Queen Bee, is far less active than the queen wasp. 
 Very few people not bee students have ever seen a Queen Bee. Unlike 
 the lady of the yellow bands, she takes no share in the founding of a 
 new colony. She never works from the day of her birth to her death. 
 She is worshipped like an Eastern potentate, in the strictest seclusion, 
 indulged and petted, instead of going forth with the first warm rays of a 
 spring morning, like some hardy Norseman of old, to found new colo- 
 nies, and lay the foundations of a busy city. Nor is she to be blamed 
 for this. Her form and nature forbid the effort. Though her body is 
 twice the size of that of a working Bee, her wings, unlike those of the 
 wasp, are very short, and can only bear her up for a little time with 
 great effort, while her abdomen is far too heavy to enable her to move 
 about with ease. 
 
 But how, then, is a new colony to be founded ? Here comes in a 
 wise provision of Nature's God to meet the case of the Bees. They 
 build no houses for themselves. The time which the wasp must devote 
 to the preparing, fortifying, and enlarging of the walls of its house, the 
 Bee, relieved of this labour, expends on the collection and preparation 
 of food for the winter. The one perishes with the early frost ; the others, 
 huddled together, and securing warmth by their crowded numbers, are 
 ready to recommence their labours with the opening of the first crocus 
 of spring. In a state of nature the Bees find hives in clefts of the rocks, 
 in hollow trees, and sometimes in holes in a dry sandy bank. There they 
 find dwellings ready made to hand, and quite as convenient as the most 
 comfortable straw hive or the most neatly finished wooden box which 
 their owners provide for them in servitude, though not in captivity. We 
 see how Bee nattfre remains the same through all generations, how the 
 new swarm will get into a chimney, a hole in the wall, the eaves of a 
 house, or under the thatch, the hereditary instinct having never been 
 lost, through thousands of generations of hive-homes. Still the Bee has 
 no strong prejudices, and when the bee-keeper has provided a comfort- 
 able hive, and smeared it well with sweet syrup, the queen, if once she
 
 238 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 has dropped into her quarters, and found them warm and sweet, is not 
 disposed to assert her right to choose her own residence, but settles 
 down at once, the monarch of all she surveys within. 
 
 In many respects the hives which man provides suit the Bee taste 
 better than most of the homes they could find for themselves. In the 
 first place the Bee likes neatness and symmetry, and the combs can be 
 formed more evenly and regularly than in a shapeless hole. Then the 
 holes in the rocks have often large openings, which it is very difficult to 
 build up sufficiently to prevent the intrusion of many unwelcome visitors. 
 Experience, too, has taught men in different countries to provide hives 
 suited to the climate. The English straw hive is made for warmth, and 
 is well thatched with an extra covering in winter, to prevent the frost 
 benumbing the little prisoners. I do not think the Bees like the wooden 
 hives so well as the old-fashioned straw ones, unless they are double- 
 cased and very well sheltered, for they are much colder. But they have 
 no objection to a wooden box to work in in summer, with a thatched 
 house above it, to which the whole family retire when the summer season 
 is over. In North Africa, where warmth is not required, and where the 
 Bees are in fact wild, and allowed to roam end choose for themselves, 
 the Arabs hang up in the trees rolls of cork bark with a cork lid, and 
 quite open at the bottom. The Bees have the instinct readily to choose 
 these, because they are safe from prowling intruders, who, unless they are 
 winged, cannot get into the hive, which is suspended from a bough ; 
 while if any winged thief attempt to fly in at the bottom, there is an 
 army of defenders ready to dash down upon him, and give him a lesson 
 in honesty. Thus I have seen an incautious bird, which has earned its 
 name of bee-eater from its partiality for devouring Bees and wasps 
 (Mcrops apiaster}, skimming like a swallow and snapping up the workers 
 as they returned heavy-laden with sweets, till at length, hovering too 
 closely under the hive, a myriad of indignant soldiers dashed out together, 
 and whether they stung him or not I cannot say, but he soon sheered off 
 thoroughly humiliated, and came back no more. These cork hives are 
 also cool, so that the combs do not melt under the shade of the tree in 
 summer, though they keep out the winter rains. 
 
 In Palestine, where the climate is still hotter, the bee-keepers have 
 devised a yet cooler fashion of hive. They make a large pipe or cylinder 
 of clay, about two feet in diameter and more than a yard long, open at 
 the ends. They smear it inside with honey, and when they have shaken 
 the swarm into it, they lay it flat on the ground, and plaster up each end
 
 BEES AND BEEHIVES. 239 
 
 with clay, leaving only small front and back doors, into which no mouse 
 can creep. They generally heap about twenty-one of these hives in the 
 shape of a pyramid (for they keep vast numbers of Bees) in a tier of six 
 at the bottom, diminishing by one each row. The whole are then plas- 
 tered over with earth and clay, and as they stand in the yard look very 
 like a hen-house. At both ends are stuck up a number of boughs, the 
 more prickly the better, for the double purpose of assisting the laden bees 
 to alight, and of protecting the entrance and the neighbourhood from 
 " bee-eaters," winged or creeping ; for lizards as well as birds are among 
 their enemies there. When summer is nearly over, the Syrian bee-master 
 begins to help himself. This he does on the principle of " live and let 
 live." With face and hands well muffled, he removes the clay from one 
 end of the tube, and with an iron hook pulls out the combs one by one, 
 handling them carefully, as the hook detaches them from the top of the 
 hive. If there are any young or bee-bread, he carefully cuts off that por- 
 tion of the comb and replaces it in an upright position. He takes care 
 to leave enough honey for the winter store, only removing the combs at 
 one end. The next year he opens the other end, so that the Bees are 
 compelled to renew them every two years, and they never become 
 clogged, as in our old hives, with the cast-off skins of larvaj till they are 
 too small for use. These Bees must have the bump of locality largely 
 developed, for though I have seen a pyramid of seventy-eight hives, I 
 never noticed the busy Bees at a loss to find their'own. Lighting on the 
 bushes every minute in swarms, each, after a minute's pause, went direct 
 to its own home, though there was as little to distinguish one from 
 another as in the rows of houses in some new suburban street. 
 
 In tropical countries again, as in India, there are Bees which dispense 
 with hives altogether, and which hang their combs openly under pro- 
 jecting ledges of rock, generally in the deep ravines of rivers, where they 
 are secure from all enemies except winged ones, and these we must sup- 
 pose they manage to keep off by a large standing army, for the soldiers 
 must be increased in proportion as the position is exposed. 
 
 But how is the colony formed ? How is a new kingdom established ? 
 Here the natural increase of the population acts along with the instinct 
 of the queen. No queen can endure a rival near her throne; but the 
 working bees, careful to provide against accidents, and maintaining that 
 " the king never dies," take care each spring to rear a few female eggs 
 in cells on the edges of the comb, very solid, and much larger than the 
 others, and to feed the larvse in these cells with food different from that
 
 240 THE BOYS' 1 AND GILLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 supplied to the workers, being heavier and sweeter. This alone, along 
 with the greater space of the cell, is enough to form a queen instead of 
 a worker. "When the queen larvae are nearly ready to leave their cells, 
 they make a peculiar noise, which very much disturbs the peace of mind 
 of the reigning queen. She rushes over the combs in a fury, endeavour- 
 ing to tear the young queens out of their cells ; but each is guarded by 
 a body of workers, who, at other times so respectful to their monarch, 
 now venture firmly to resist her. This is more than arty lady, accus- 
 tomed always to have her own way, can endure. She rushes about dis- 
 tracted, and even frenzied ; drops eggs anywhere, regardless of the use 
 of waxen cells ; and runs over the bodies of the workers, as they cluster 
 
 Queen Bee Cell. 
 
 on the combs. None so mean to do her reverence none draw aside 
 and stand respectfully in file on either side as she passes, after their 
 ordinary habit she has lost her guard of honour, and is indeed a deposed 
 sovereign in her own palace. But though her subjects seem for the 
 moment to be rebellious, it is rather a panic than a conspiracy which has 
 seized the community. They so far forget themselves as to strike their 
 royal lady she so far descends from her dignity as to run a Malay 
 muck, striking every one she meets. This only aggravates the tumult. 
 Every worker as it returns laden from the field is seized with the excite- 
 ment, and runs about with pollen on its legs or honey in its stomach, 
 never thinking of depositing its burden, but, smitten by the epidemic of 
 confusion, joins the general scramble. At length the queen finds her 
 way to the door, and rushes forth to cool her fury in the open air. It is 
 only the second time in her life that she has ever left her palace. But 
 now it is for ever. But she is not alone. She finds thousands of her 
 subjects still devoted to her, chiefly the elder and more experienced, who
 
 BEES AND BEEHIVES. 
 
 241 
 
 prefer to follow the fortunes of their self-expatriated sovereign rather 
 than run the risks of republican anarchy in their native hive. One 
 breath of fresh air seems enough to calm their ruffled spirits. The queen 
 cannot fly far, and, following the guidance and example of some of her 
 devoted attendants, she settles on a branch or in a cavity of a tree, rock, 
 or building. The swarm collects around her. That extraordinary cluster 
 is formed of one row of insects hanging on, with another and another 
 suspended by their fore legs hooked in the extremities of the hinder legs 
 
 Swarm of Bees. Festoon of Wax-workers. 
 
 of those above them, till the first row seems to have to bear a weight a 
 hundred times that of their own body. Then when the cluster has been 
 shaken into the hive provided by their owner, if only the queen have 
 been enclosed with the others, without the delay of an hour they betake 
 themselves to form combs and to arrange the furniture of their colony, 
 evidently feeling that, so long as they have their queen with them, they 
 are no exiles. They can quit their country, but not their allegiance. If, 
 however, they find that too many have left their old home, and that the 
 swarm is needlessly large, a portion will return in two or three hours. 
 
 But now how are they to go to work, supposing we have them safely 
 encased in their empty hive ? The old queen has many eggs to lay, and 
 
 16
 
 242 
 
 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 these must not be wasted. There is no time to lose, and combs must at 
 once be found. Here comes into play the most marvellous part of the 
 Bees' constructive instinct. The workers who have fed themselves on 
 honey attach themselves in a row by their fore legs to the hive, and hang 
 motionless, while others hook themselves on to their hind legs by their 
 own fore legs, and others again hang on to them, till a long chain is 
 formed, and looped up by the different chains joining at the bottom. 
 Thus they all patiently wait, till they have secreted plates of wax between 
 the scales of their abdomen. As soon as a Bee finds it has a plate of 
 wax ready, it leaves its place in the ranks, takes the wax between its 
 
 Commencement of Comb. 
 
 mandibles, kneads it, and fixes it to the top of the hive. This done, it 
 at once goes off to the fields for Ji fresh supply of honey. Others follow 
 with their wax ; and when there is a sufficient quantity deposited to work 
 with, the masons come forward, hollow out the shapeless lumps, and 
 mould the bottom of the first cells. Fresh supplies are brought, and 
 soon the comb begins to take its shape; the hexagonal cells, of the 
 thinnest possible consistency, being all laid horizontally, back to back. 
 
 
 Sections of Honeycomb Cells. 
 
 While some are extending the foundation of the comb right across the 
 hive for Bees always lay their foundations at the top and work downwards 
 more wax-producers are adding little lumps of wax, like masons' 
 labourers bringing materials for the comb-builders, who without rule or 
 compass fit all with the most minute exactness, and the work proceeds 
 with wondrous rapidity, several thousand cells being sometimes formed
 
 BEES AND BEEHIVES. 243 
 
 in a day. One set of Bees shape out the bottom of the cells, roughly 
 moulding the six sides. Others, whom we may call finishers, succeed 
 them, and beat out the wax with their mandibles till it is as thin as tissue- 
 paper, and plane down all the roughnesses. In a day or two there is 
 accommodation provided for the eggs which are the hope of the colony, 
 and pollen and honey are being collected for their support so soon as 
 they hatch, which is in about seven or eight days after. But the cells are 
 not all of the same size. About a tenth of them are larger than the others, 
 though of the same shape. These are for the drones or males, and it is 
 strange that the instinct of the queen, who creeps over the comb attended 
 by her servants, and lays an egg in each cell, knows at once the difference 
 between a male and a female egg, and drops each into its intended place. 
 But the eggs of the Queen Bee no way differ from those of the workers. 
 It is not till the swarm has been housed for a week, that the Bees build 
 a few thick circular cells projecting from the edges of the comb, to receive 
 eggs which are to be royally reared, so as to provide against any calamity 
 befalling the reigning sovereign. It is a large hive which contains twenty 
 of these cells, and the queen only drops an egg into them at intervals, 
 lest too many claimants should emerge at once. 
 
 But let us now return to the old hive, and see what has taken place 
 there since the departure of the old queen on her voyage of discovery. 
 The young queens whose threatened advent so alarmed her, have not 
 yet left their nursery. Nor will the nurses who courageously defended 
 their charge allow them to do so yet. As they break through their waxen 
 lid, they build it up again, but pass a little honey through an opening, to 
 keep the young lady quiet till they see fit to let her come forth. No 
 sooner has she emerged, than, like some Eastern potentate, she inaugurates 
 the new reign by searching out and slaying her nearest relations, rushing 
 from one queenly cell to another, and trying to kill the imprisoned inmate. 
 The nurses vigorously resist, and if the hive has increased sufficiently to 
 cast off a second swarm, she is allowed to follow the example of her mother 
 and lead forth another party of emigrants. If not, she is permitted to 
 glut her jealousy on those furthest advanced towards maturity. She tears 
 open the cell, and at once stings the helpless prisoner. As soon as she has 
 gone in search of another victim, the workers also enter the cell, and drag 
 out the carcase of her slain rival. When all are slain, the queen remains 
 quiet, and devotes the rest of the season, till the approach of winter, to 
 the laying of eggs, at the rate of two hundred a day. But in a month or 
 two a new massacre begins. At the approach of autumn, economy be- 
 
 16 2
 
 244 
 
 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS^ BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 comes the cry. There must be no eaters who are not workers, and the 
 helpless, stingless males, whose work is done, have to be got rid of. The 
 drones are pursued from one part of the hive to another, set upon by the 
 workers, and stung to death. Their carcases may then be seen strewn by 
 hundreds on the ground near the hives, where they have been dragged 
 out and dropped. Not even the larvae or pupae of the drones escape. 
 The cells are torn open, the young ones pierced, their juices sucked, and 
 the bodies thrown out. It is only if any accident has happened to the 
 
 Tongue of Worker Bee. 
 
 Sting and Poison-bag of Worker Bee. 
 
 queen, and the nurses are carefully rearing some half a dozen in royal 
 cells, from whom to choose a successor, that the drone pupae are allowed 
 to live. If a queen perish or is lost, and there are no royal cells, or none 
 with eggs in them, the workers at once build several proper cradles and 
 remove some of the newest laid female eggs into them to be reared for 
 the throne. The moment the first hatched comes forth, she is at once 
 surrounded by crowds of courtiers, who brush her, lick her, serve her with 
 honey, and attend her every movement, while all stand aside respectfully 
 in file as she passes to and fro. 
 
 Such is Bee life. And who can throw a stone at either its policy, its 
 industry, or its architecture? Yet these busy insects are not toiling for 
 themselves alone. Their labour is consciously for the community, 
 unconsciously for us also. The supply they store in summer is far more
 
 BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES. 245 
 
 than is needed for their own wants. Why, then, should we not be content 
 with a share, and leave the hive to work for us another year ? We all 
 laugh at the man who killed the goose that laid the golden eggs. Yet 
 this is exactly what too many bee-keepers do in England. Instead of levy- 
 ing a tax on all their hives, they leave some untouched, and destroy the 
 heaviest and the best worked by suffocation. This is one reason why we 
 have so few Bees compared with most foreign nations. To smoke their 
 Bees is a barbarism which would horrify the Syrian or the Greek. It is 
 very easy to get the honey without killing a Bee, or running the risk of a 
 sting. Seventy years ago it was discovered that the smoke of powdered 
 puff-balls lighted under the hive will stupefy the whole swarm for some 
 minutes, so that the hive can be examined, and the combs with virgin honey 
 cut out, the pieces with young Bees and pollen being left or replaced. The 
 same effect is just as easily and safely produced by chloroform ; and the 
 bees recover without any injury so long as they have not been too long 
 exposed to it. Let us hope ere long bee-keepers will learn to combine 
 humanity with profit, and will as soon think of smoking their Bees as of 
 burning their hayricks. 
 
 BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES. 
 
 TV/I" OST people know a Buttercup when they see it. Grown-up people, 
 1V - 1 - I mean for, of course, boys and girls do ; but there are not many 
 of the G.-U.P. who care for flowers, except the lovely ones that grow in 
 gardens and greenhouses; those we are going to talk about are generally 
 left for the benefit of the cows and the children. Do not be alarmed 
 and think you have a great deal more to learn about these when you 
 know something of a Buttercup. Not so, for the general principle is the 
 same in all the plants, from the great oak to the tiniest weed. The dif- 
 ferences of classes and species will not come under our notice, as we are 
 only going to find out how they grow. How a Buttercup has a power of 
 discernment is tolerably well known to little folks; but in case any of you 
 should not be aware of it, follow my directions carefully, and you can prove
 
 246 THE BOYS AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 for yourselves. Gather the largest and brightest yellow Buttercup you 
 can find, then hold it closely under the chin of your companion (supposing 
 it is not papa or your big brother, who may have long beards), and if the 
 colour is reflected there, you will find out that he or she is very fond, pro- 
 bably too fond, of butter. 
 
 It has always puzzled me to know why things grow, and why dirty- 
 looking bits of stick should come up out of the ground changed into 
 beautiful flowers and fruit. When I was a wee child I would ask, " Why 
 does that little plant grow into a big bush, mamma?" and I always received 
 the same answer, " G d makes it grow, dear." This was, of course, true 
 enough; but what I really wanted to know was this, " God tells that plant 
 it is to grow, and it grows; how does the plant do it?" When I was old 
 enough I tried to find out for myself, and, with the aid of a large micro- 
 scope and some difficult books, succeeded in learning a few of the wonder- 
 ful ways in which the dark little root begins the work of forming pretty 
 flowers for us to look at. But before I go on any further I shall stop to 
 say, that what I am going to teach you is both wonderful and interesting, 
 and because it is both of these things, I shall not try to tell it you in the 
 form of a fairy story, or in any of the clever pretty ways in which you learn 
 so much; for I know I am talking to really sensible children who do not 
 want to have knowledge given them as though it were medicine covered 
 up in marmalade, at least this is what I always think when I find pretty 
 stories written for the sake of teaching things that we should all be glad 
 to know about without having them given us dressed up in a tale. I 
 don't find fault with the tales, you know, only it seems making believe the 
 knowledge is nasty, like the medicine, if it is put into one. Now, as it is 
 nothing of the sort, you shall have a scientific lesson all to yourselves, 
 just like grown-up people, and with no pretence that you will not take it 
 unless covered up with the sugar or jam of a fairy book. 
 
 Before I could learn anything about the flowers, I had to get some, 
 and I have three Buttercups with roots here on the table. Nothing very 
 wonderful in that, you say : the one I hold in my hand is just like others 
 you could find, it has a root, a stalk, and leaves, that is all. Nothing 
 very unusual, certainly ; but somebody says that it has a flower, and that 
 the flower has yellow leaves, and little yellow things in the middle. This 
 looks true, so I must not contradict you until I give you a good reason 
 for understanding that every part of a flower is a leaf, in fact, everything 
 that the stalk and branches bear are leaves. You all admit that a plant 
 is pretty, and only the root is at all repulsive ; so our first business must
 
 BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES. 247 
 
 be to find out what the delicate green leaves and stalk want with such an 
 ugly appendage. 
 
 If I give you a pot of mould and this Daisy, and say, " Plant this," 
 I believe every one of you would do it; probably not one of you would 
 put the flower in the ground, and the root upwards. " How silly ! " 
 those boys think ; " any muff knows plants won't grow unless the roots 
 are in the mould." 
 
 " Exactly so," I reply ; " but, then, why not ?" The three Buttercups 
 before us must help us to find out. The first that is lying on the table 
 I pulled up out of the croquet lawn this morning. It is withered and 
 dried ; the leaves look unhappy and shrivelled up ; the yellow petals 
 have fallen off, and, to all appearance, poor thing, it is quite dead. 
 
 No. 2 was taken up yesterday and put in water. This looks quite 
 bright and bonny : the buds have opened, and the flowers are capable 
 of finding out the important fact I mentioned, if any one likes to come 
 here and have their chin examined. " Of course, the water keeps it 
 alive," say the boys, who always know so much more than girls or think 
 they do. But I quite agree with them this time, that it is owing to the 
 water the one plant is in better condition than the other ; and it would 
 be possible to revive No. i by supplying it freely with water. We 
 have thus learnt one fact : plants drink. How they drink is our next 
 business. Do I proceed with the Buttercup as I should with a thirsty 
 child ? If you were dying of thirst it would not be much use taking 
 you near a glass of water, unless some one was there to put it into your 
 mouth ; and that is just the case with the fainting Buttercup ; but I do 
 not put the water into its mouth, " contrariwise," as Tweedle-dee would 
 remark, I put the mouth or mouths into the water. Thus we have found 
 another fact : plants have mouths which are all over the roots, but these 
 mouths are not like yours ; for you bring water or tea or coffee close to 
 you, and open your mouth to receive it that is all ; the action is on your 
 part, and with all animals it is the same ; but you might throw Pussy's 
 saucer of milk over her for a long time, and it would not do her so much 
 good as if she drank it. Observe, I say " not so much good," because 
 she would have some benefit, although it would probably be very little. 
 People who are very ill, and who from some reason cannot eat or drink, 
 may be kept alive for a time by having milk or soup baths, but of course 
 do not live long upon it. Now, if our skins were quite like the roots 
 of plants, the nourishment supplied to them from the outside would 
 get into our bodies, and we could exist, perhaps, without solid food.
 
 248 7 HE BOYS' AND GIRLS* BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 The root of a plant, before it is put in the ground, is like a dry sponge, 
 which soon almost doubles its size when put in water. A root also 
 absorbs the moisture which surrounds it, by means of the tiny holes with 
 which it is covered ; these are the outside cells, and as soon as they are 
 filled they burst the thin wall that separates them from the next, which, 
 when filled, does the same to the next cell, and this goes on until the 
 whole root is softened. But, you will say, merely absorbing moisture 
 would not make new roots and leaves ; it would only make larger 
 parts that already exist, there must be something beyond passages for water. 
 
 If I cut this sponge in any direction, it is full of tiny cupboards, 
 something like a honeycomb ; and, indeed, the root of a plant cut open 
 is more like honeycomb than sponge, for every cell is full of a substance, 
 or rather a liquid, which is food for the plant. This is composed of 
 different elements that are for the most part too difficult to come into 
 my work at present ; but one of them is simple enough, and this we will 
 try to understand. I cut open a large potato, and a very thin slice of 
 it will show you, in the cells not burst with the knife, numbers of tiny 
 things that scientific people call granules, and these are starch, which is 
 the food of all plants. I hear you making another objection. " Plants 
 can't live on starch," you say. Perhaps they cannot entirely, just as you 
 could not live on arrowroot altogether ; but then you like it sometimes, 
 and it is very nice and very good, too, for sick people. "Oh! but 
 then arrowroot is so different." It may be, but I know that arrowroot 
 and potato starch are the same thing, and contain the power of helping 
 the plants to live throughout the cold winter ; that it is found in every 
 root, and is kept in tiny cupboards which vary in size and shape with 
 the growth and habit of the plant. We have now found another fact : 
 plants require food. The starch stored up during the winter dissolves in 
 the warmth of the spring, and pushes the fibres out into the moist earth 
 to find more nourishment than is contained in the simple root. Now for 
 the answer to the question I asked when I was a little girl, for it is that 
 I am telling you. 
 
 Here is a root -fibre, but it has to be magnified before one can 
 at all see what the inside of it is like. The real fibre, this brown 
 thread, looks too delicate to push its way into the hard earth, and one 
 expects it to break very soon in working its way round the stones in the 
 ground. So it is, and but for a method of restoration that renews the 
 outside sheath, there would be little hope of our having many wild 
 flowers.
 
 BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES. 249 
 
 You see round the outside edge the layer of cells that bear the hardest 
 work; and as this gets worn and withered, by forcing through the 
 moulds, it is replaced by a fresh set of cells from the interior of the fibre 
 on the " growing point," represented by a dark spot. This dark spot is 
 a collection ot cells packed closely together, and of slightly different 
 forms from the outside ones. 
 
 We have already noticed that a root has neither leaves nor buds, and 
 avoids the light, and that where the fibres start from there is a thickened 
 part of the root, called by gardeners " the stock," and the stem and 
 lower leaves spring from the upper part of this. One could almost fancy 
 the little cells that are swelling and growing here hold solemn councils 
 as to which of them shall make root-fibre and dive into the deep dark 
 earth, and which of them shall come upwards to seek the light and be 
 dressed with pretty green leaves and yellow flowers. This is only fancy, 
 however, for the fact is that the earth's moisture passed into the root ot 
 the Buttercup, filling up the outside cells, and then bursting the thin 
 partitions that separated them from the next, and causing new divisions 
 to grow up. This process is perpetually repeated as the plant pushes 
 forward. We have now partially learnt what goes on in the root and 
 root-fibre, so we will now examine the stem that soon makes its appear- 
 ance aboveground. 
 
 A piece of wood shows, on a large scale, what I want you to see : that 
 is, bundles of fibre with soft matter between them. The soft matter is 
 called cellular tissue, and is the part of plants I have been endeavouring 
 to make clear to you. We will now take a piece of boiled rhubarb to 
 examine how veins similar to those in the trunks of trees are formed ; 
 for this will show us a part of the process of development that may be 
 traced from the poorest weed to the most lofty tree. Now, if I ask you 
 to tell me any particular characteristic of a piece of cooked rhubarb, you 
 will most likely say it is " stringy;" and this is what we want to find out, 
 namely, the difference between the cells which are distributed over the 
 whole plant, and the " stringiness " of this new condition which we find 
 in the stem. 
 
 I now divide one of the thick strings into separate parts, just as I should 
 a piece of grass or straw, and I find that this, like the rhubarb pulp or 
 the potato root, is also full of little cells ; but, besides these, there are 
 long tubes having their sides curiously marked with delicate threads, that 
 run in a spiral direction, or in the shape cotton will form that slips off a 
 new reel. But rhubarb tubes are a thousand times more delicate than
 
 250 THE BOYS' 1 AND GIRLS' 1 BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 cotton, so how tiny must be the veins and cells of the Buttercup ! Just 
 at first, in the baby plants, there are none of these veins or fibres to be 
 seen ; they are in this respect very like human babies, who only have 
 gristle for bones. These fibres are formed in plants by a set of cells 
 placed one above the other, and, as these break, the passage is formed 
 through which the moisture passes, and collections of these tubes close 
 together form the woody fibre of trees. This you may easily understand 
 by watching a man chop wood : he is careful always to notice which way 
 the fibres go, and then puts his hatchet so that it shall split between 
 them and not across them, for he knows it would cause him double 
 labour to try to cut through the outside coating of the fibre, when his 
 hatchet will go easily through the soft part or cellular tissue. 
 
 We have now found out one of the things with which we started, namely, 
 that a flower lives longer in water than on the dry table, because it re- 
 quires drink, and it absorbs this in its cells and vessels ; also, we have 
 learnt that the root being the cupboard where the food is kept, and 
 which cannot be used by the plant until it is dissolved, it would be no 
 use to leave that outside and put the flower in the ground, moisture being 
 necessary to soften the starch contained in the cells. There are many 
 plants that can live and grow entirely in water; but, as we are only 
 talking about a general principle, they do not need any special descrip- 
 tion here, as the cellular and vascular system is the same throughout the 
 vegetable world. 
 
 To complete this little sketch of the growth of the Buttercups we must 
 ask why they die. For, if continually absorbing water would support 
 life, there would be hardly a limit to their length of days. Even flowers 
 in pots do not live long in a room, but soon turn yellow, and shrivel up, 
 although they are continually kept moist. Let us look about for the 
 cause, and almost without an effort the reason of the short life of plants 
 in close rooms will reveal itself. 
 
 Why is the sunny side of the greenhouse steamy ? Why is the shade 
 over the ferns wet inside ? Again, there is a similarity between you and 
 the plants, for these perspire profusely, and this process is called by 
 botanists "transpiration," but it means sweating or perspiring. The 
 moisture taken up by the root is given off all over the plant, just like 
 peispiration from the skin of human beings, and it is when this happens 
 to too great an extent that flowers die. It is also this which causes the 
 vapour on the inside of the glass, and accounts for the sunny side showing 
 it first. The hot dry air tempts the plants to put forth their own moisture
 
 BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES. 251 
 
 as rapidly as possible ; and this transpiration goes on so quickly in a dry 
 room, or in the open air when it is very hot, that the power of absorption 
 in the root cannot keep pace with it. 
 
 In this chapter we have only spoken of the food and drink of the plant, 
 and why from these being supplied it lives and grows ; but there is yet 
 another resemblance between animals and plants that has not been 
 mentioned. Plants breathe. They have on the surface of the leaves tiny 
 holes, through which the air enters into the cells ; and this and the action 
 of the light upon them makes the pretty colours we are all so fond of. 
 The green of the leaves is contained in the cells, and can be separated 
 with care from the other things I have spoken of. Plenty of fresh air is 
 as necessary for a flower as for a child ; and, indeed, not only are the 
 former particular about its being fresh air, but even then they only just 
 take in that part of it which they like best. This is called carbon by the 
 chemists. But, dear me! it is time to leave off; for if chemistry is added 
 to the botany, I am sure everybody will be quite puzzled. So I shall 
 leave the breathing and colouring for another time. 
 
 II. 
 
 IN our last chapter I promised to find a way of explaining to you where 
 the plants keep their pretty colours, and also how they use the cells on 
 their leaves as mouths to take in air. 
 
 To begin with the first of these things, it is tolerably clear to us that 
 green is the favourite dress worn by the plants during the spring and 
 summer. 
 
 But these green clothes are not put on for prettiness, nor even for tidi- 
 ness, but serve a much more wonderful purpose, that we shall find out 
 when we talk of the breathing of the leaves. 
 
 Just now, however, we will try to learn what this green really is, and 
 will look at ordinary leaf-cells under the microscope. When these are 
 killed in such a manner that the contents of the cell separate from the 
 cell-wall, you find it is not an entirely green thing at which you have been 
 looking. In the midst of a fluid comparatively colourless you see minute 
 green specks, which is the true colouring matter. These little specks or 
 granules are called by the botanists chlorophyll, and are contained in the 
 leaf-cells of almost all the ordinary plants. Chlorophyll is rather a long 
 word and not English, so we must ask the boys, who always understand
 
 252 THE BOYS* AND GIRLS* BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 Greek, to tell us what it means. You see it is a very good thing some- 
 times to have boys and girls together, because then they can help each 
 other. Two short Greek words make up our long one, the first, x\wpos, 
 meaning green, and the second, (f>v\\ov, a leaf. These tiny green granules 
 that make the world such a pretty place to live in are entirely dependent 
 upon the sunlight for their existence. 
 
 If you try to grow a plant in the cellar you can prove this, for it will 
 be a most sickly-looking affair. Not only does it refuse to grow into a 
 healthy flowering plant, but it obstinately objects to be even green. 
 
 The roots manage very well without light, and wear dingy brown colours, 
 or we should be obliged to plant them in that topsy-turvy fashion I once 
 suggested. Chlorophyll in the form of granules is not the only way in 
 which it is developed. There is another kind that you may as well know 
 of, although it is unlikely you will find out the plants who prefer this 
 material for their clothes ; they are principally water-plants that have the 
 green part of their cell contents as a jelly-like substance. This has no 
 very positive shape, although it sometimes lies like a ring across each 
 cell, and now and then will arrange itself as a spiral ribbon. But in the 
 granules I first mentioned is found the common form of chlorophyll, and 
 it is to the action of the light we owe the green beauty of the fields and 
 woodlands. 
 
 I talk of these green specks very much after the fashion in which I 
 might describe things as large as an elephant, and not at all like the atoms 
 they are, so I must try to give you an idea of their insignificance. Did 
 you ever think how little leaves weigh in comparison with the trunks and 
 branches ? Yet the difference between these is infinitely less than that 
 between the separated grains of chlorophyll and the rest of the cells. 
 The whole of the green granules that make the foliage of a great tree so 
 beautiful could be put quite easily into a tea-spoon, and are so light you 
 could almost blow them away. 
 
 Flowers are not green : where then do they keep the scarlet, the blue, 
 and the white that we all love to see and to gather ? 
 
 The cell formation we have talked of so often is not confined to one 
 part of the plant, so you know that in the petals or flower-leaves these 
 little cases will be found just as in the root and the stalk. It will not 
 surprise you then to hear that the brilliant colours of geraniums and roses 
 result from nearly all the cells being filled with one kind of colouring 
 matter. Paler-coloured and striped flowers have colourless cells inter- 
 mixed, which are consequently less noticed than the others.
 
 BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES. 253 
 
 Some of you may ask how the leaves of a begonia growing in a 
 greenhouse could show two colours at the same time on one leaf, not in 
 patches of colour but apparently mixed up together. Cells being arranged 
 in layers, this is easy to find out, because one layer of cells is filled with 
 red and another with blue, so that the two give a pretty effect. 
 
 As I want you to notice the things you are near to, I shall not stop to 
 describe any of the wonders that live in the conservatories. These will 
 come to us in the books we shall be able to read when we are grown-up 
 people too stiff and rheumatic to pick up Buttercups or to make Daisy 
 chains. It will be very nice then to remember that we learnt all about 
 these when we were very little, and it will help us to know always that 
 there is sometimes the most to learn when there is nothing very remark- 
 able to be seen. 
 
 There are some wonders in every garden, however, so before we give 
 up the flowers I wilt tell you of one of them. 
 
 Everybody has seen what is called a white blossom. I could easily 
 mention half a dozen that are known as white. What do you think I 
 have to do if I want to know whether a flower is or is not pure white ? 
 Put on your spectacles, some of my pert little people think. Well, per- 
 haps I shall when I am old enough, but at present my eyes are a pair of 
 very useful blue ones, so I do not put anything of the sort upon them. 
 I place the white pink or the rose on white paper instead, and very quickly 
 discover that to obtain a pure white blossom I must go somewhere else 
 for it. Delicate, pure white flowers are so scarce, however, that I only 
 know of one that has the merit of perfect whiteness. It is of this one 
 that I am going to tell you. 
 
 Unlike the half green or pale cream-coloured ones that pass for white, 
 and that have colouring matter contained in their cells, the lily has nothing 
 but air in the rnidst of its cellular tissue. I wonder if the people who lived 
 years ago, and who were always trying to find something upon the earth 
 to realize their idea of perfect purity, knew of this wonderful fact ? You 
 might easily believe they did, because they always dressed the altars 
 dedicated to the Virgin Mary with lilies, and even now the children prefer 
 to carry these flowers in the Roman Catholic festivals to any others. 
 Whether the ancients were scientific enough to know that the lily had 
 only cells filled with air to make it so beautifully white I cannot tell, but 
 it is quite evident they were artistic enough to discover the difference 
 between the pale-coloured flowers and the white ones. 
 
 How plants breathe is almost a prettier thing to tell you about than
 
 254 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 the little green specks in the cells, and is, so far as I am going to explain 
 it, quite as easy to understand. 
 
 Have you ever pulled a leaf to pieces by splitting it from edge to edge ? 
 I had before I was very old, so I shall suppose that there is hardly any 
 one reading this who has not often pulled the skin off the geraniums. 
 Very often you have, no doubt, taken out the little caterpillars who live 
 between the upper and under surface, so that you know very well what I 
 mean by the skin of the leaves. This skin I shall call for the future the 
 epiderm, and you must try to recollect that by this word I only mean the 
 very outer covering of the cells within. This.epiderm keeps the rest of 
 the leaves protected, and is generally quite smooth. There are many 
 varieties of leaves, and your eyes, I am sure, are quite bright enough to 
 distinguish the rough from the smooth ones without any of my help. 
 Scattered over this epiderm are pairs of small cells not touching each 
 other closely throughout their entire length, but having just their ends in 
 contact. By this means there must naturally be a part of the surface 
 opening freely to the cells containing the chlorophyll and starch under- 
 neath. 
 
 Let us cut the leaf through in another direction and see to what this 
 opening leads. Only to a larger cavity underneath, as we expected. This 
 little chamber, that reminds one of a mouth behind two lips, is a space 
 between the growing cells, where the air first enters on its way through 
 the rest of the plant. These openings are named stomata, and, like the 
 mouths of animals, are able to open and shut. I think if these stomata 
 were a little less particular it would be more convenient to the people who 
 want to take care of their flowers. Just imagine, for instance, the stomata 
 shutting themselves up as tightly as possible when the season is too damp 
 or too dry to please them. I am so sure, however, that they know what 
 sort of air the plant requires upon which they grow, that I shall say good 
 bye to the Buttercups and their breathing fancies. 
 
 But wait, little plant, for if I let you off like this, where are the next 
 year's flowers to come from ? You must promise me that next year the 
 meadows shall grow Buttercups, or what will become of the cows ? The 
 Buttercup gives no answer, so I must tell you how the flowers take care 
 that the fields shall never be without them. 
 
 When we were looking at the root of the plant, we knew very well that 
 the brown little thing was not the very beginning of a new plant. We 
 guessed that this root had in some way grown out of something, but it 
 was not any part of our work then to find out what it had really started 
 from.
 
 BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES. 255 
 
 Now, however, the case is altered, and the lovely way the little plants 
 are first formed and carried to their resting-place is the prettiest of all the 
 pretty things that I have taught you. When the Buttercup was freshly 
 gathered, you told me that it had a yellow flower and tiny little things in 
 the middle of it that could not possibly be leaves. You are wiser now, 
 though, and understand that whatever the root and branches bear are 
 leaves. Of course I do not mean that yellow and scarlet petals are green 
 leaves cut into a different shape or dyed a different colour, but that all 
 parts of the flower, whether petals, stamens, or pistil, have cells, vessels, 
 stomata, and epiderm, just like the foliage of the plant. I can see that 
 you still have a little doubt about the yellow things in the white lily with 
 which you made baby's face so ugly ; and even if you admit the things 
 upon which the yellow dust grew to be leaves, you are not at all inclined 
 to do the same for the yellow dust. Well, you shall keep doubting if you 
 like until I have finished, and then you will have to give it up altogether, 
 for the little powder has the means within it of making the next year's 
 plants. 
 
 The Buttercup stamens with their anthers are too small for us to see, so 
 we will take the lily to show us the pretty good way in which the flowers 
 are helped to take care that the world shall never be without them. The 
 pollen or yellow dust is a collection of cells differing from those in every 
 other part of the plant. Instead of being enclosed all together in a skin 
 or epiderm, they rest on the outside quite separate from each other and 
 from the plant. They are apparently useless, and it is difficult at first 
 sight to find for what purpose these atoms came. You see, all we have 
 learnt at present has seemed to prove that it is the sole business of cells 
 to fill up with air and moisture, break into each other, and make a growing 
 plant. This the cells that make the pollen-grain cannot effect in their 
 present state, because there is nothing to keep them together. But, just 
 think of it ! all next year's flowers depend upon what becomes of this 
 yellow dust. If it were not for these the flowers would never have fruits 
 or seeds. At present each little grain is covered while the flower is opening 
 with a delicate skin, and then as the flower expands another covering 
 grows. This one has in some plants little rough things upon it, that help 
 to hold it in the resting-place it finds. But in spite of having a slight 
 external protection, they have no power of growth by themselves. They 
 might grumble with some justice, one would think, at their hard fate in 
 being exposed to the windy weather, when their brothers and sisters are 
 all carefully covered up. But the pretty soft dust knows very well that
 
 256 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 if it could find its way to the centre of the flower, there would be a home 
 for it, and that moisture to feed it and protection from the scorching sun 
 are waiting to help its growth. The difficulty is to find the road to this 
 cosy place. Who should you think helps these little atoms to plant 
 themselves where they may grow into real seeds ? 
 
 The insects who steal stores of honey from the fully-opened flowers 
 are the true nurses to the pollen-grains. Bees are busy collecting their 
 winter food, so they fly upon, and in, and round about the blossoms, 
 never considering for a minute what an untidy mess their furry bodies will 
 be in. They are very soon all over dust, and while they are enjoying 
 their breakfast and looking after their own business, I will tell you what 
 kind of home it is to which the baby cells are carried. 
 
 Growing from the centre of the flower is a green tube, and at the lower 
 part of this there are little egg-shaped bodies, which in time become seeds. 
 And at the top this green stalk or tube spreads into pointed leaves called 
 the stigma. 
 
 But you must understand, the cradle at the base of the tube, and the 
 egg-shaped bodies or ovules in it, are of no more use by themselves for 
 next year than the dry-looking little grain upon the anthers. 
 
 The bees, we may suppose, have by this time finished their work, and 
 by their fussing buzzing way of doing it have carried some of the yellow 
 atoms on to the spreading stigma. This removal does not at first seem 
 to have improved their position, but after a little the moisture on the 
 stigma induces the yellow visitor to come into the tube, and presently, 
 safely away from the wind and the rain, it finds the little ovules, which at 
 once begin the business of growing into real seeds, a thing which could 
 never have happened if the bees had objected to spoiling their clothes. 
 
 As the ovule and the pollen-grain grow up, the flower-leaves die away. 
 This is clearly the case with the peas and beans, for when they are fit to 
 gather, the blossoms are all gone. The cradle, or ovary, and the true 
 seeds are in this case easily separated, and I dare say you know pretty 
 well what happens to the latter. 
 
 Sometimes, however, seeds and ovary are both eaten, as with French 
 beans and gooseberries. 
 
 In many of the common flowering plants the ovary does not grow fast 
 enough in proportion to the impatient seeds within it. So the poor thing, 
 which is now very little better than a dried skin, bursts open, and the 
 grown-up ripe seeds are scattered abroad by the wind. Once upon the 
 ground, there is no guessing where they may spring up ; and although I
 
 ANTS AND ANT- HILLS. 257 
 
 get cross with mere weeds for starting in my garden beds, I am forced to 
 admit that this method of planting is a very good thing. Little folks who 
 love wild flowers must be very thankful that there is this way of managing, 
 for I do not believe any one would take the trouble to gather and plant 
 the pretty things in the hedgerows. Fruits which have this propensity 
 to let their children break away from home and start in business for 
 themselves are called dehiscent. 
 
 Having told you how plants drink, dress, breathe, and take care of the 
 years to come, I ought to tell you how they talk. I do not really know 
 that they do talk anywhere but in fairy books, and as I could give you no 
 idea how they do it, except that reason which the Tiger Lily gave to 
 Alice in Wonderland, I think it will be as well not to try to explain ; for 
 I am determined to tell you only those things that I know to be true. 
 
 ANTS AND ANT-HILLS. 
 
 " IVT THER ! l have been to the ants > and * sat down on a little 
 
 ^ mound to consider their ways, and and they 'ye stung me !" 
 exclaimed a youth of small dimensions, rushing into the house, rubbing 
 his arms and ankles, and trying to brush off the angry insects from his 
 neck and ears. 
 
 "As might have been expected, with less wisdom on your part than 
 on theirs-^when you have been sitting, like a huge giant, on the top of 
 their newly-built house, crushing it in, with all its long galleries and 
 beautiful gateways, its upper and lower stories, its nurseries, cellars, and 
 grand central hall. Poor little insects ! how could they think that a 
 child who was able to destroy their work of weeks had really come to 
 learn a lesson, and to take an example from their tiny selves ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, mother ; but I did want to know about them. Was it 
 not enough to provoke any one ? I was so vexed at being wakened up 
 when I was sleepy ; and then for nurse to be always saying the same 
 thing, ' Go to the ant, thou sluggard ! ' I thought at last I would go and 
 watch them, though I am not a sluggard, and see if they did not get a 
 good sleep when they wanted it, without being forced to get up like me.' 
 
 "And so you went, when you had been out. of bed a few hours, and 
 
 '7
 
 258 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 had had a good breakfast, to see whether the ants were as early risers 
 as yourself! If you had been up with the sun, and could have seen the 
 inside of that busy little ant-hill, instead of crushing it with your weight, 
 you might have seen the careful and diligent nurses who live in the 
 upper stories of that wonderful house, very early astir, and going to call 
 their young masters down below. You might have seen them tapping 
 them with their little antennae, which look like horns, as much as to say, 
 ' Time to get up, the sun has risen ! ' and then waking up the little baby 
 ants, and carrying them up through the long galleries that lead to the 
 top of the ant-hill ; and then so carefully laying them outside that the 
 bright rays of the sun might warm them and help them to grow, as to 
 be an example to many human nurses, who stand talking and leave their 
 babies in the cold." 
 
 " Now, mother, I do believe you are only inventing a fable to tease 
 me. How can anybody tell what those little creatures do underground? 
 And, besides, I am very sure you would be angry with nurse if she took 
 me and baby out in the sun, and without a parasol, too, to put over 
 baby's head." 
 
 " I assure you the nurses of the little baby ants are very careful not to 
 leave them in the heat of the sun after the very early morning. As soon 
 as the air gets warm and the sun is hot, they carry them into the rooms 
 near the top, where the rays have penetrated, and where the warmth can 
 still reach them. But the older ants can bear the sun, and like to feel its 
 rays ; and though they are very industrious, yet, as they begin work with 
 the dawn, they take a little rest sometimes in the heat of the day, and 
 lie heaped together in the sunshine. But do not be surprised if I still 
 tell, by-and-bye, about some ants who do walk about with green parasols, 
 and " 
 
 " Stop, please, mother, do ! I am sure you are only laughing at me. 
 But I really should like to hear something true about ants. Are they 
 like bees that make honey ? " 
 
 " They make no honey, nor do they build such curious combs as we 
 see in the bee-hives, but in their own way they are just as wonderful ; 
 though, as we are told, they have no guide, overseer, or ruler. I always 
 think they are intended rather as an example to older people, who have 
 to provide for themselves and their families with diligence while they 
 have health and strength, than for children, who are guided, ruled, and 
 overseen by their parents, and have everything provided for them 
 without any trouble of their own."
 
 ANTS AND ANT-HILLS. 259 
 
 " Oh, but the little baby-ants must be just like us, because you say 
 they have nurses too." 
 
 " Yes, in one way they are. Just so long as they cannot run alone, they 
 are dressed like the young children in the East, or like the babes which 
 the Indian squaw hangs behind her back or on a peg in her tent. They 
 have natural swaddling-clothes. They are wrapped up so tightly in their 
 larva-covering that no legs can be seen ; only a head and wings can be 
 traced through the transparent skin in which they are folded. Of course 
 you know they begin life by being an egg; but they are hatched in a fort- 
 night, and then the nurses take such care of them to keep them clean, 
 to brush and comb and shampoo them that very soon they begin to be 
 ready for the next change. If you could only look at the tiny insects, 
 the nurses, through a microscope, you would see on all their legs some 
 very fine soft hairs, which they use as brushes, and a spur close by, which, 
 if needful, we may imagine can do the work of a comb. The shampoo- 
 ing is done by working about, kneading, and distending the thin skin 
 which covers their limbs, till it is ready to open and let them go free. 
 Then they wind a curtain of silk round their own little bodies, and go 
 to sleep, to wake up full-grown ants, without guide, overseer, or ruler." 
 
 " Then does every little ant do everything for itself?" 
 
 " In that respect they are the most wonderful animals you ever heard 
 of. They do everything so exactly in order, and all together all know- 
 ing their own business and doing it that one would imagine they had a 
 commanding officer or a king to order them about every movement." 
 
 " Indeed, mother, if they can work as well without a king as they 
 wound without a sword, I think they are very well off without one. They 
 look just like a regiment of soldiers." 
 
 " A regiment of officers they are, for each one understands as well as 
 another the order of march and a soldier's duties. They never fear 
 danger, but advance in their order of battle with the greatest firmness, 
 the advanced guard wheeling round to the wings every five minutes to 
 make room for others to come forward in their place. Myriads may be 
 sometimes seen pouring forth from two rival cities, and meeting half-way 
 between their respective habitations, equalling in numbers the armies of 
 two mighty empires. Though they occupy only two or three square feet, 
 yet the picture they present is that of a field of battle between contend- 
 ing nations of men." 
 
 " But what have they to fight with ? Do they sting each other, as 
 they stung me ? " 
 
 17 2
 
 260- THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 " The ants, like men, have different kinds of weapons. But though 
 there are many kinds of ants in foreign countries that have stings in their 
 tails, and are called Myrmica, our common ants have no sting, but they 
 have large mandibles or nippers, with which they bite you. They are 
 called Formica. There are many hundreds of species both of Myrmica 
 and Formica spread over all the countries in the world. We have a 
 great many kinds in England, the Black Ant, Brown Ant, Red Ant, 
 and others. The way in which our ants fight when they come to close 
 quarters is by seizing each other with their nippers, and when they have 
 hooked themselves on to each other, struggling till the weaker is 
 dragged away. If another soldier comes up, he will seize his comrade, 
 and so help to pull away the other. They are so bitter against their 
 enemies that they will sooner suffer themselves to be torn in pieces than 
 let go their hold. Some kinds will attack others that are twice as big as 
 themselves, trusting to their superior numbers, and going two against 
 one. In these battles, when the strength of the two soldiers is equal, 
 they will tug away at each other, and, each squeezing his enemy, will 
 roll in the dust, and lie till reinforcements come up. Sometimes six or 
 eight may be seen tugging in a chain on each side, pulling with all their 
 might, till some more come up on one side than the other, and the 
 weaker are dragged into captivity. 
 
 " But they have other weapons besides such force. When two ants 
 grapple, they raise themselves on their legs, and turn their bodies up in 
 front, squirting a venom from the extremity of their abdomen against 
 the face of their foe. This poison is well known to chemists, and is 
 called formic acid. Thousands of ants may be seen in battle shooting 
 this poison at one another, which has a strong odour, and is as destruc- 
 tive among them as gunpowder is to us. 
 
 " This sort of battle is like crossing bayonets, but very often the army 
 throws out skirmishers before coming to close quarters. When they see 
 their enemies but cannot reach them, they stand up on their hind feet, 
 press their abdomen between their legs, and shoot simultaneously and 
 with force some jets of their formic acid at the foe. This is exactly like 
 the archers of old, or the musketry of modern battle. After the engage- 
 ment, thousands of dead and mangled strew the ground, but far more 
 are led away as prisoners ; for the ants are very fond of making prisoners, 
 as you will hear soon, and all the time of the fight crowds are to be seen 
 hurrying up with reinforcements on each side. 
 
 " They chiefly attack after the fashion of the wicked slave-traders
 
 ANTS AND ANT-HILLS. 261 
 
 among men a kind of ants called, from their colour, the Negro Ant ; 
 and when they succeed in making them prisoners, they bring home their 
 slaves, and employ them in all menial offices ; only with this exception, 
 that the ants are always their own dairymaids. But that I will tell you 
 about by-and-bye. At present I will give you the account of those who 
 have seen the attack and defence, and the droves of slaves being con- 
 ducted to the ant-hill of the successful combatants ; only telling you, to 
 begin with, that they are also like the old Highlanders and the Border 
 marauders, or cattle-lifters ; and that these attacks are frequently made 
 with a view of possessing a herd of cows, on the milk of which they feed 
 with so much delight." 
 
 " Oh, tell me first about the dairy, and then about the fighting for the 
 cows ! What do you mean by that ? The cows must be very tiny ones." 
 
 " You have often seen the little green insects that crawl up the stems 
 of the rose-trees. They are called aphides, and these little creatures are 
 the cows, which yield a sweet juice much delighted in by the ants, which 
 keep their cows in all sorts of ways. 
 
 " There is a species of Yellow Ant, which does not roam much about, but 
 lives chiefly on the milk of its herds, which it keeps underground like 
 the unhappy cows of some of the London dairymen at the bottom of its 
 citadel ; and an ant-hill is more or less rich in proportion to the number 
 of its flocks. There are many other kinds of cowherd ants. Some take 
 less trouble than others with their cows, and, being active and good 
 climbers, run themselves up the branches on which are the aphides; and 
 milk them there. Others take so much pains as to make a little tunnel 
 of earth from the foot of the tree to their nest, in which they carry home 
 the cows] underground, without being seen or disturbed by other ants. 
 Other kinds again make sheepfolds or stalls for their cattle, apart from 
 their own nests. They build with earth round the stems of plants little 
 houses, round within, and as smooth and hard as these ingenious little 
 plasterers can make them. These folds are of the shape of a funnel, 
 sometimes of a ball, with a vesy small hole at the bottom for the ants to 
 go in and out. Other ants will make a little hollow ring of earth and de- 
 cayed wood mixed into hard plaster round the branch of a tree on which 
 are their aphides, which they carry down to this prison, and then visit 
 them from the inside of the tree, by passages through the bark without 
 coming outside. 
 
 " Their way of milking is very curious. The body of the aphides or 
 plant-lice is very soft and tender, and they have a proboscis by which
 
 262 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 they adhere to the leaf or plant. For fear of bursting them, the ant strokes 
 them and caresses them with its antennae very gently, until the creature 
 loosens its hold, when the ant gently carries it away. There are two 
 horns near the tail of the aphis, which exude the sweet juices of the plant 
 on which it has been feeding. The ant begins by stroking down its cap- 
 tive and flattering it with its antennae or feelers, and then strikes these 
 horns gently, when a little honey-like drop is voluntarily exuded. This 
 the ant takes up with the end of its feelers, and conveys to its mouth. 
 
 " But they not only capture, they actually breed their cows as well. 
 They take the greatest care of their eggs, gather them up carefully, keep 
 licking them and moistening them, and glue them together with a' sort 
 of gum from their own saliva, as the parent would have done if she had 
 been free, and so they hatch generations of captives within their ant-hills. 
 They also collect food and bring it to them, lest their cows should go dry 
 for want of grass." 
 
 " But you said the ants kept slaves too. I should like to hear about 
 their negroes." 
 
 " I do not wonder, for I think of all the marvellous things that have 
 been discovered in the ant-world, this is the most marvellous of all. But 
 I must tell you how it was first discovered. It had puzzled many people 
 who had gone to the ants and considered their ways, why it often hap- 
 pened that there were two kinds of ants Black ones and Red ones to- 
 gether in the same ant-hill. Huber, a great French naturalist, who made 
 many wonderful discoveries about ants, at length discovered that one par- 
 ticular kind, which he called the Amazon Ant, did nothing but fight, and 
 he found also that in the nests where there were two kinds, there were 
 never any male or female ants, but only workers of the Black sort. For 
 I should tell you that just as there are three kinds of bees, the queen, 
 who always stays at home, the drones or lazy gentlemen, and the workers, 
 who are are females that never lay eggs, so it is with the ants also, only 
 that their ladies are not queens, and there are a great many of them in 
 one nest. 
 
 " Now, the Amazon Ants have mandibles or pincers, which have no 
 teeth of curved shape like those of most other ants, but are straight, and 
 are consequently more like spears or swords than hoes and rakes, such as 
 the other kinds have. Their business is fighting, and they want servants 
 both to build their houses and take care of their children. Accordingly, 
 every evening, a little before sunset, they set out like the kidnappers in 
 Africa against a negro village, to surprise some industrious ant-hill in the
 
 ANTS AND ANT-HILLS. 263 
 
 neighbourhood, which their scouts have reconnoitred and reported on. 
 They surround the fortress, and then all rush upon it together. The few 
 Black Ants that stand sentry at the entrances are soon overpowered, and 
 the robbers rush at once to the rooms where the eggs and young ones 
 are, seize them and carry them off, never taking any males or females. 
 They bring them home and hand them over to the slaves they already 
 have of the same kind. These slaves have evidently got quite accustomed 
 to their life and fond of their masters, for they show great joy when pri- 
 soners are brought, and are very sad when the Amazons have failed. They 
 run to meet them, relieve them of their precious load, take care of the 
 young; they shampoo them, undress them, take off their swaddling- 
 clothes at the proper time, and feed them. The Red children of the 
 Amazons and the Black captives are brought up together and live like 
 brothers. Not only do the slave ants do all the work of the nursery ; 
 they build and repair the castle, and they are sent out after the cows, and 
 bring back the captives for their masters to milk. However, they always 
 get their share. In fact, they keep the key of the pantry, for they open 
 and shut all the doors of the castle and of the rooms in it every night 
 and morning ; and they will sometimes help the Amazons, with whom 
 they have lived, in fights against their own kind." 
 
 " But" how can ants know one another ? They look all exactly alike, 
 at least all Red Ants do, and all Black Ants the same." 
 
 " That is another curious thing about the ants. Not only do ants of 
 different kinds fight, but often ant-hills of the same species will go to war, 
 yet the soldiers never mistake between a comrade and an enemy. Huber 
 once kept a number of ants from one nest for four months in his house. 
 At last some of them escaped and met some of their old companions. 
 They were seen to make all sorts of signs of joy, to kiss each other, stroke 
 one another down with their feelers, take hold of each other with their 
 mandibles, and then, after visiting their old nest together, they came out 
 in great crowds, the escaped prisoners showing the way, till they found 
 the place where their old comrades were confined, got at it, and took the 
 whole of them home with them." 
 
 " But surely if all this be true, ants must be able to talk to each other, 
 and tell their friends all they know ? How can they make one another 
 understand?" 
 
 " Well may you ask, and in fact they have such strange power ot com- 
 municating information to every friend they meet, that the word 'anten- 
 nate' has been invented to express the dumb language of the ants. They
 
 264 THE BOYS' AND GILLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 ' are seen to touch each other in all sorts of ways by their antennae, and it 
 is no doubt by signals thus made, and instinctively understood by all, 
 that they communicate. When one ant touches the antennae of another, 
 it instantly stops, and goes in the direction its informant wishes. But we 
 have not yet been able to read this dumb alphabet." 
 
 " Well, I really think after this I could believe that ants carried para- 
 sols; though they seem to be always toiling, fighting, or working." 
 
 " There are a great many kinds of ants, and they all have different habits 
 and ways of building. The Parasol Ants only live in South America, and 
 make nests of a different kind of architecture from any we see here. 
 They use leaves to thatch the domes which cover the entrances to their 
 underground homes. If they did not thatch these portions, they would 
 be washed away by the heavy tropical rains, which would enter and drown 
 the young ones.' In order to provide leaves for thatch, they go out in 
 immense hosts, select a tree to their fancy, and ascend it in long files. 
 Each one places itself on the surface of a leaf, and with its sharp scissor- 
 like jaws makes a nearly semicircular incision on the upper side; it then 
 takes the edge between its jaws, and by a sharp jerk detaches the leaf. 
 Sometimes they let the leaf drop to the ground, when they are gathered 
 and taken away by another relay of workers, but generally each marches 
 off with the piece it has cut out, holding it over its body by its jaws; and 
 as they follow file close to each other, not an ant can be seen, but the 
 procession looks like a long line of animated leaves on the march. Some- 
 times a great: heap may be found of circular pieces of leaf about the size 
 of a sixpence, left on the ground away from any ant-hill. But if we wait 
 long enough we shall see a whole relay of workers come back to the 
 place, and not a leaf will be left behind. When they reach their homes, 
 they cast the leaf down on the hillock, when another set of workers 
 place it in position, fastening each leaf down with a little pellet of 
 fine earth kneaded by themselves, and which act like pegs to keep the 
 leaf fixed. These ants make such enormous nests underground, that 
 they have been known to undermine and destroy the embankment of a 
 large reservoir. 
 
 " Other ants make hillocks in the woods several feet high. Most ants 
 in this country make the lining of their rooms and passages of blades of 
 stubble, small fragments of wood, minute pebbles, and whatever sub- 
 stance they meet with which they can carry, and so they often pick up 
 grains of corn. The ants which make hillocks still have the greater part 
 of their nests underground. Some sorts make only one entrance, with
 
 266 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK' OF SCIENCE. 
 
 long winding passages to their halls and nurseries. Others, like our Red 
 Ants, have many entrances open to the air, in the turf." 
 
 " But does not the rain get in ?" 
 
 " No ; for they take care to have doors, and every evening, or when- 
 ever it is wet weather, they barricade themselves. They bring little 
 beams and la*y them across the gallery, then they place others on the 
 top of them crosswise, and finally they employ pieces of dry leaves, very 
 broad, to cover the hole. When the last gates are shut, sentries are 
 placed behind them, to guard and watch over the safety of the rest. At 
 sunrise the barricades are removed, and the passages opened for the 
 workers ; but if the weather be rainy, the gates remained closed. Their 
 earth roofs are laid upon little beams ; and as they carefully knead the 
 earth in pellets and moisten it with rain-water, and then dry it in the sun, 
 it is exactly like brick-making, and the sun-dried bricks turn the rain very 
 well. Even if it should penetrate in very wet weather, the ants are 
 pretty safe in their larger rooms, which are lower down, and where they 
 generally live. 
 
 " Other ants are called Mason-ants, because they use only earth pellets 
 or sun-dried bricks, without mixing stubble and Wood, and hollow out large 
 vaults in the ground, often many stories deep, with a labyrinth of galleries 
 and passages. Their chisel is their teeth, their compasses are their 
 antennae, and their trowel their fore feet. The larger rooms are sup- 
 ported by solid pillars of earth. Those different stories have their dif- 
 ferent uses. The upper ones are chiefly reserved for the larvcc or young, 
 that they may be near the warmth of the sun ; but when its heat becomes, 
 as they think, too great for the little ones, they are carried downstairs to 
 the halls. If the rain gets in, the upper stories are still dry, and all the 
 colony mounts to the higher chambers. There are sometimes forty 
 stories in one nest. 
 
 " But Masons, Bricklayers, and Thatchers are not the only handicrafts- 
 men among these marvellous insects. There are Carpenter-ants, which 
 hollow out the inside of trees. They will seize upon an oak or a willow, 
 and completely scoop out many square feet without the life of the tree 
 being at all affected. The stories and galleries are innumerable and 
 very small, separated only by partitions left in the wood, not nearly so 
 thick as fine cardboard, and here and there a little column standing. 
 These supports are thickest at the top and bottom, just as in human 
 architecture. Every pillar has a base and a capital. 
 
 " And now we may forgive the ants for all their bites, after the won-.
 
 ANTS AND ANT-HILLS. 267 
 
 derful facts we have learnt from going to them and considering their 
 ways." 
 
 I think my readers may not object to stay a little longer, and hear one 
 or two stories about the ants, some of which have come under my own 
 knowledge. In some countries ants are very numerous. The Fire-ant 
 of Brazil in South America, not larger than our Red Ants, sometimes 
 multiplies so as to drive the people out of the villages ; and when the 
 rivers rise, or the wind blows the swarms into the water, their dead bodies 
 may be seen washed on shore in heaps, looking like a deposit of black 
 earth, for many miles. They undermine whole villages, and fill the 
 houses like an Egyptian plague, disputing every fragment of food with 
 the people, and even destroying clothes to get the starch out of them. 
 The only way to keep anything safe is to hang it in baskets by cords 
 from the ceiling, and to steep these cords in a very strong solution of dis- 
 agreeable oil, which the ants cannot abide. To sit at peace, the legs of 
 the chair must be rubbed with this oil, and the legs of your footstool must 
 also have been steeped in it. 
 
 In some seasons, in the island of Bermuda, there is a little Red Ant 
 which is as great a plague, only that it does not bite very severely. 
 At these times you cannot take a step anywhere without crushing 
 hundreds of these little insects. The cedar-trees of Bermuda, a kind 
 of juniper which grows all over the island, are covered with a sort of gum, 
 of which the ants are very fond, and every tree is covered with long 
 lines of them, one line marching regularly up and the next as regu- 
 larly down, like files of soldiers. Sometimes I have counted more 
 than a hundred files on the stem of a single tree. Those ants are 
 scattered all about the rooms of the houses ; but when there is nothing 
 particular going on, you can only see an ant wandering about here and 
 there on the floors, the wall, or ceiling of the room. But put a plate of 
 butter on the table ; if it is not very far from the side of the room, you 
 will see a lonely ant on the wall stop. It will turn itself in all directions, 
 as if to calculate how to reach the plate. When it has reconnoitred for 
 a few minutes, it runs down, touching every ant it can meet on its way. 
 Every ant that is touched passes the message to others. Some of them 
 will run across the floor and out of the room. Very soon you will see an 
 ant climbing the leg of the table, followed by two or three more, and in 
 less than half an hour there is a long line of hungry insects streaming in- 
 cessantly from the door, up the table, and on to the butter-dish. I have 
 often cleared the ants away, and then put the plate on the stand which
 
 268 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 hung over the table from the ceiling. The ants would run about, look 
 up at the dainties out of reach, make circles about as if very much con- 
 fused, all touching each, other with their feelers, and then on a sudden 
 they would make a line of march down the table-leg. But they were 
 not so easily got rid of. In a few minutes a black thread was seen rising 
 up the wall, along the ceiling, and down the cord on to the swinging 
 stand. Happily for our dinner, this ant dislikes train-oil very much. 
 So in the autumn each leg of the dinner-table stood in a little leaden cup 
 of train-oil, and our chairs were likewise planted in saucers of train-oir. 
 When we did this, our dinner was safe. 
 
 But even this troublesome little ant did us many a good turn. The 
 most annoying pest in Bermuda was a great red cockroach, four times 
 as large as the English one, and with a very disagreeable smell, with which 
 it scents everything it touches. It eats far more than the ant, and devours 
 leather, cloth, and every sort of animal substance. But the ants are very 
 fond of eating cockroaches ; and though it would take two hundred ants 
 to weigh as much as one cockroach, they kill and devour thousands of 
 them. Of course one or two ants could do nothing with it. But when- 
 ever they find a cockroach standing still, or eating, or in its hole, they 
 collect in myriads, and without disturbing it completely surround it. On 
 a sudden the little army rushes on its prey. The victim is instantly 
 covered. For a few minutes a struggling mass of ants is seen being 
 moved along, but each is hard at work with its teeth: the cockroach is 
 soon eaten alive, and nothing left but a horny skin, and the hunters are 
 off to search for another. 
 
 In other countries, among the forests of Sweden and Switzerland, 
 where there are many lofty ant-hills, they serve for a compass to the 
 traveller who has lost his way by night or in the fog. Their nests are 
 always made from east to west, with their peak at the east end, which is 
 very steep, while the ridge slopes gently down to the nest. Thus when 
 there is no sun to guide him, the wayfarer knows in what direction to 
 travel by considering the ants. The Swiss also make lemonade from the 
 Yellow Ants, by putting a piece of sugar into their nests, on which the 
 insects at once squirt their acid to melt it, and it is taken out thus 
 steeped in formic acid, and tastes like lemon. 
 
 There is a story told of an ant, which reminds us of- the story of Robert 
 Bruce and the spider, and which teaches us the same lesson set forth by 
 an ant which lived 600 years ago. It is in the Life of Tamarlane, the 
 Tartar prince, written by an Arabian historian. That terrible conqueror
 
 ANTS AND ANT-HILLS'. 269 
 
 was once forced to take refuge from his enemies in a ruined building. 
 As he sat alone there many hours, and was almost in despair, his atten- 
 tion was attracted by an ant carrying something larger than itself up a 
 high wall. He counted the efforts it made to gain its end, and found, 
 that sixty-nine times its burden fell to the ground, but the seventieth time 
 it reached the top. 
 
 " This sight," he said, " gave me courage at the moment, and I have 
 never forgotten the lesson it taught me." 
 
 So when we have anything to do which is difficult or troublesome, but 
 which we ought to do, let us go to the ant, go on trying, and we shall 
 generally succeed at last. 
 
 However, the ants can play as well as work. A famous traveller, who 
 considered the ways of the ants in South America, says : " Their life is 
 not all work, for I frequently saw them leisurely employed in a way that 
 looked like recreation. When this happened the place was always a 
 sunny nook in the forest." He had been watching an army of ants on 
 the march, and had noticed that while the main body carried burdens, 
 the pioneers went before to make the road, while others with larger heads 
 than the rest were the officers, and trotted alongside without even carry- 
 ing anything. But they kept a sharp look-out, and often went out on 
 either side to see that no enemies were lurking near. "The main column 
 of the army and the branch columns at these times were in their ordinary 
 relative positions ; but instead of pressing forward eagerly and plundering 
 right and left, they seemed to have been all smitten with a sudden fit of 
 laziness. Some were walking slowly about, others were brushing their 
 antennae with their fore feet ; but the drollest sight was their cleaning 
 one another. Here and there an ant was seen stretching forth first one 
 leg and then another, to be brushed and washed by one or more of his 
 comrades, who performed the task by passing the limb between the jaws 
 and the tongue, and finishing by giving the antennas a friendly wipe." 
 
 Some ants are like drones, and never work at all. These are the male 
 and female ants, and have wings, which none of the workers have ; but 
 they are very kindly treated, and are not turned adrift like the drones. 
 They may often be seen in September flying about in great swarms, and 
 tumbling to the ground together ; but the female ants, which are the 
 largest of all, as soon as they are going to lay eggs, lose their wings, 
 which they loosen off their corslet, and then their kind nurses carry 
 them home again to their nests. Sometimes, when they think the ladies 
 'are too fond of gadding about, they take hold of them in the nests and
 
 270 THE OYS> AND GIRLS' 1 BOOK OP SCIENCE. 
 
 cut off their wings, so that they cannot escape. But they are very 
 affectionate to them : they carry them from room to room according to 
 the weather, bring them food, and each lady ant has about a dozen 
 servants, who are always stroking and kissing her, and when she dies 
 they will remain for several days brushing and licking her body before 
 they will take her out and bury her, or rather bear the body to some 
 distance from the ant-hilL 
 
 Ants, wonderful as they are, have many enemies. There are ant- 
 thrushes, ant-eaters, and ant-lions. Quadrupeds, birds, spiders, insects, 
 all join in waging war upon their armies. The ant-lion, however, is not 
 a lion, but an insect, which makes pitfalls for the ants in the sand. It 
 chooses a place where the sand is very dry and loose, near the ants' 
 track. Then it scoops out a funnel with steep sides, and buries itself 
 at the bottom. It has a large pair of jaws, which it sticks up just at the 
 point of the funnel, but on a level with the sand, so that they cannot be 
 seen. Ths ants in their travels pass the pitfalls. One of them slips 
 on the soft sand, and comes scrambling to the bottom, as we should do 
 in running down a gravelly hill. The moment it is there, the jaws are 
 lifted and it is seized and devoured, and the trap repaired for the next 
 incautious wanderer. 
 
 I have said nothing here about the White Ants, of which we often read, 
 but of which theie are happily none in England, because they are really 
 not ants at all, but belong to anothei class of insects altogether, the 
 Neuroptera, of which the dragon-flies are a family found in this country. 
 The true ants belong to what are called Hymenoptera, and are in the 
 same class as bees and wasps. 
 
 ROOKS AND THEIR RELATIONS. 
 
 " "\ 1 7"HY will you always draw your woods and trees with such flat 
 * * tops ? Look out of the window, and take a lesson from 
 nature, and the trees in Dr. Yesterday's young copse. They have all 
 round tops, if they don't stick right up into the sky, in a lively aspiring 
 sort of way. But you have drawn on your imagination for yours, which
 
 ROOKS AND THEIR RELATIONS. 271 
 
 look as if they had had their crowns stolen or their heads bitten off," 
 said a pert brother, peering over his sister's shoulder, while she sat busily 
 sketching an old manor-house, half hidden by forest trees, enlivened by 
 a flight of dark birds, and occasionally raised her head to look dreamily, 
 not at the landscape before her, but apparently at something in the 
 clouds, or far beyond the horizon. 
 
 Very provoking, doubtless, she felt it, that her work was so little ap- 
 preciated by the fidgety youth by her side, who generally seemed to feel 
 equal to the task of criticising, when he could not rival, the work of others. 
 
 He now wound up his remark by the cruel suggestion, " I suppose 
 after all it 's because they are easiest to draw so and you 're quite right, 
 Polly, take it easy." 
 
 He probably knew by experience how to elicit an answer when other 
 methods failed, by rousing his sister's feeling on a tender point. 
 
 " Who takes it easy now, by jumping at a conclusion instead of coming 
 at it by a little roundabout common sense ? " replied she. " And while 
 you are about it, you might give me credit for a good active reason, 
 instead of a lazy one. Do you suppose / would waste my time over those 
 modern half-grown twigs that never saw the last century? Mine are good 
 old ancestral trees, of a sublime aristocratic contour, that have had their 
 heads duly bitten off year after year." 
 
 " Then I was right, after all ; only, as you have not made a bargain 
 with me to ask no more questions, as the American gentleman whose 
 leg had been bitten off did with his companion of the irrepressible curi- 
 osity : like his questioner, I would give my head, if it was worth your 
 acceptance, to know who bib them off. Our aristocratic old grandfathers 
 never kept slaves with shears, to mount the trees year after year and trim 
 them all so straight, and at the same time so easy for you to draw." 
 
 11 The nibbling process was doubtless far easier than my task under 
 the battery of your nonsense. It went on from generation to generation 
 of those black gardeners trained to the business, who have been there, 
 father and son, for six hundred years. They bite off the twigs every 
 autumn and spring, and use them for repairs." 
 
 " Sound teeth the old fellows must have had ! But I 'd thank them 
 not to meddle with my trees. I would give them their dismissal very 
 soon, tooth and nail, if they had been my gardeners for twice six hundred 
 years." 
 
 " Sooner said than done would that ceremony have been, I fancy," 
 said the sister. "They seem, at least, my Rooks I mean \hsfamily I
 
 272 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 was thinking of, that had the care of the trees I was trying to draw 
 seem to have had a kind of freehold residence, that none could dispute 
 with them, though their title-deeds might be rather unintelligible to you 
 and me. But I like old times and old places, old families and old gar- 
 deners too, so long as they act as these have done, doing credit to their 
 old traditions, and keeping up the family honours by bringing in with 
 every new generation a fresh supply of young energy and new industry 
 to add freshness and vigour to the old ancestral prestige. They have 
 never gone down in the world, and I don't think they ever will for ever 
 so short a time, except to rise again the better for it ; and they never 
 think it beneath them to provide for themselves and their young ones 
 by honest labour. There is not a busier, happier, or more lively family 
 in the world, who keep together better, or who, having sense enough to 
 do nothing without caivs, are more likely to make a noise in the world." 
 
 "The ancient gentlemen might have more taste, I think, and better 
 use for their teeth, too, I should think, if they are in so good a way of 
 earning their bread, than to nibble off the tree-tops. I suppose they do 
 it all the more, now that the fashion is exploded of trimming the yew- 
 trees and hollies into peacocks ; but if they can show cause for that, I '11 
 forgive them, and 
 
 " Listen to them listen and look there," said his sister, suddenly, as 
 a flock of noisy Rooks, which had just been disturbed, came sailing by, 
 and the eyes of the youth, mental and bodily, opened a little wider than 
 they had done, to take in his sister's meaning. 
 
 " All very well, the romance of Rookdom and flight of fancy. I '11 
 forgive all that, including the very decrepit pun, and give the old fellows 
 credit for being very aristocratic, and holding their own, and keeping 
 themselves up in the world, and even looking down upon poor wingless 
 bipeds like ourselves. But why call them gardeners, or talk of honest 
 work in the same breath with such a set of mischievous, rapacious thieves? 
 I should call them freebooters, outlaws, banditti, Bashi-bazouks any- 
 thing in the irregular cavalry line. Don't you remember, even the old 
 song makes it a settled matter between the human and the winged Robin 
 Hoods to part the day and night between them ? 
 
 ' The chough and crow to roost are gone, 
 
 The owl sits on the tree ; 
 Arouse ye then, my merry, merry men, 1 &c." 
 
 "A very unequal division of the spoil they made, nevertheless. What 
 would Robin Hood or Friar Tuck have said to the feast on a few
 
 ROOKS AND THEIR RELATIONS. 273 
 
 of corn or slices of potato or even a savoury caterpillar with red spider 
 sauce ? And yet I fancy the British public would have gladly compro- 
 mised with the archers of Sherwood Forest, for the loss of a fat buck 
 whenever he wanted it, and a few of the gold pieces of which travellers 
 used to be disendowed by him for the benefit of the poor, if he had 
 turned his talents as successfully as our black .friends up there to ridding 
 the land of noxious creatures, whose depredations are far more to be 
 dreaded than their own." 
 
 " Now, if there is any knight-errantry of that sort among them, I shall 
 try to look up to them a little more, and perhaps take a leaf a green 
 one, I suppose it must be out of their book by-and-bye. But you Ve 
 fought well, you Ve earned a truce, and I '11 leave you to your flat tree- 
 tops and tall chimneys, and I '11 find out if there 's anything worth 
 reading to you about these champions of the give-and-take principle 
 which Robin Hood and the Rooks seem to have hit upon, though in 
 rather a lawless way." 
 
 "I think you'll find they are not the only impromptu takers and givers 
 in nature. It is a principle that prevails largely in creation and yet not 
 lawlessly. Laws that man can neither make nor decipher keep up that 
 wonderful balance in nature, and enlist an obedient compliance from 
 the creatures, which neither human laws, prisons, nor revolutions have 
 ever accomplished among reasonable beings." 
 
 " On the contrary, reasonable beings like to amuse themselves, and 
 leave society and their account-books to balance themselves the best 
 way they can. But here are some stories about Rooks, Jackdaws, and 
 other cousins of theirs, which will be a very good accompaniment to 
 your romantic and aristocratic pencil. 
 
 " The wise men of Greece used to think the owl, Minerva's bird, the 
 emblem of wisdom and learning. They had a far higher opinion of the 
 owl, whose effigy adorned their coins, than had the parish clerk,, who, with 
 wizened face buried in his stout rector's cast-off wig, gave out 
 
 1 Like to an owl in ivy-bush, 
 That frightful thing am I. ' 
 
 But if the Greeks had been better naturalists, and known a little more 
 about the Rooks and their relations, they would certainly have honoured 
 them before the moping solitary bird of the night. The owl keeps him- 
 self and all his wisdom, if he has any, to himself. He is like a solitary 
 savage in the forest, who knows nothing of society, its laws and regula- 
 
 18
 
 274 1HE BOYS* AND GIRLS' BOOK Of SCIENCE. 
 
 tions, but lives only for himself. The Greeks ought to have taken the 
 Rook, for if ever there was an aristocratic republic in the world like their 
 own, it is to be found in the tops 01 those tall trees. The Rooks under- 
 stood the laws of property, and acknowledged hereditary settlements 
 long before man had discovered feudal tenure or forty-shilling freeholds. 
 The old folk at home maintain undisputed possession of the same forked 
 branch which has been the flooring whence many a family has hopped 
 into the world. The young folk have to seek a settlement for themselves, 
 and must build their new home by their own labour. But young Rooks, 
 like young men, very often make a bad start in life, and invest their 
 labour on bad security. A gale of wind dissipates their fortune, and the 
 sticks they have toiled to gather are scattered in a moment. They try 
 to start again with borrowed capital. ' The old folk have plenty of sticks ; 
 we may as well take a few whilst they are away at work.' But father 
 Rook keeps a good account of his building materials. Listen to that 
 solemn ' caw, caw,' from the topmost bough when he returns about an 
 hour before sunset. See now how the old parliament Rooks gather round 
 him, and listen how they groan forth their caws in chorus as mother 
 Rook tells how she has been robbed ; then there is a pause the jury 
 are considering their verdict. On a sudden there is a universal jabber, 
 the assembly darts off to the neighbouring tree, and, in a few seconds, 
 the nest of the dishonest young pair is scattered to the winds. Depend 
 upon it, Rookdom knows nothing of the law's delays, but their republic 
 is administered with prompt justice between Rook and Rook. There 
 is no toleration among them for the doctrine that ' he should take who 
 has the power, and he should keep who can.' It is even said that an 
 incorrigible offender has been strangled by his fellows ; but, as I have 
 not seen this, I will not assert that the republic admits of capital punish- 
 ment, though I have often seen audacious offenders pertinaciously driven 
 into banishment, and compelled to settle apart in a penal colony. 
 
 " We said the Rooks were true aristocrats, and they have shown their 
 dislike of human revolutions, for they were so dissatisfied with the over- 
 throw of the old regime in France, that at the Revolution they nearly all 
 quitted the country, and comparatively but few have returned to it. This 
 is really true, only prosaic people have explained it by the fact that the 
 trees which surrounded the old chateux were nearly all cut down, and so 
 their inhabitants had to seek for new quarters. In the same way the Turks 
 tell us that the storks are true Mohammedans, because they nearly all left 
 Greece after the War of Independence, the reason being that the stork,
 
 ROOKS AND THEIR RELATIONS. 375 
 
 like the Rook, knows his friends, and that, while the Mussulman cherishes 
 him on religious grounds, the Greek, with no such scruples, dislikes his 
 litter, and robs his nest, when he claims to share the roof with its pro- 
 prietor. 
 
 " The Rooks appear to have some strange law as to continued occu- 
 pancy. As soon as their young are fledged, unlike their cousins the Jack- 
 daws, they desert their homes, and take for a time to a vagrant life, like 
 the civilized Red Indian, who cannot forego his three months' hunting 
 in the year, or like the Londoner, who rushes down to Margate or Rams- 
 gate. In the summer the Rook loves his country ramble, and, Arab-like, 
 roosts at night wherever he has happened to find food and sport. But as 
 the days begin to shorten he revisits the ancestral trees, and by the end 
 of September the whole republic has gathered at head-quarters, and with 
 deafening cawings continued till past the sunset hour, we may fancjt the 
 rival story-tellers are recounting their summer adventures, each striving 
 to outdo his fellow in tales of prowess and of wonder. And now, in asser- 
 tion either of freehold or tenant right, each begins to repair his nest. It 
 can surely be for nothing else, for when the spring bids them prepare for 
 domestic cares, not a shred of the old nest is left, but the new home is 
 carefully formed from its very foundation with fresh tough twigs, judi- 
 ciously selected, and twisted off the growing trees long before the owners 
 of the soil have thought of opening their eyes, and beginning their morn- 
 ing work. 
 
 " But the Rook knows the proverb, ' The early bird catches the worm.' 
 Early to bed and early to rise, he is content with four hours' sleep in 
 summer, though he has no objection to a siesta at noon. But he seems 
 drowsy when he first gets up; and as he leaves his perch before sunrise 
 for the potato-field or the meadow, he sails sluggishly along, too sleepy 
 to utter a single croak. But he has a long day's work before him; he 
 has many miles to travel before his household and himself are supplied 
 The farmer need not be jealous of him, for though he may swallow a 
 few ears of corn, or munch a new potato, he never yet destroyed a crop, 
 and his vegetable food is merely sauce for the thousands of grubs which 
 he destroys. Worms and caterpillars are his staple, and he walks quietly 
 about the field, always facing the wind, lest his feathers be ruffled, piercing 
 the soil for a worm, or digging up the root of a plant at which a cater- 
 pillar is gnawing. He has done no harm to the agriculturist by uprooting 
 his grass, for wherever he has plucked it there was a worm at the root, 
 and his thrusts have checked further mischief. 
 
 1 8 2
 
 276 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 11 Where the land is tilled, and consequently looser, so that the grubs 
 are more deeply buried, the Rook, from his habit of thrusting his bill 
 into the earth, wears away the feathers of his face, and thus, while in 
 England the young Rooks are feathered to the nostrils, the old ones are 
 bare up to the eyes. But in countries where subsoil ploughing is not in 
 vogue, and where the ground is consequently so hard that the insects do 
 not bury themselves deep, the Rook has no opportunity of shaving his 
 face by rubbing it in the earth, but continues, as in Asia Minor and Syria, 
 to grow his natural beard and moustache. 
 
 " The Rook seems to consider that he is a friend of man, and ought 
 to be treated as such. The finest trees will not induce him to nestle far 
 from human habitations ; and, where trees are scarce and men are many, 
 he will put up with rather indifferent and even unlikely quarters. There 
 are, at the present moment, four or five rookeries in London itself, and, 
 until a few years ago, there was a little rookery between St. Paul's and the 
 Thames, in the very heart of the City. But there the Rooks' last retreat 
 has yielded to the advance of improvement, for a new street has been cut 
 through his quiet refuge in the garden of Doctors' Commons. There, 
 in the centre of the busy City, I have counted thirteen kinds of birds 
 secure from guns and gamekeepers. Attached, however, to the society 
 of law, the Doctors' Commons Rooks have accompanied their unfledged 
 neighbours, and have settled down in the Temple Gardens. When 
 attracted by human society, the Rook will sometimes adopt a more arti- 
 ficial foundation for his nest than his native tree. For years a pair estab- 
 lished themselves on the vane of the tower of the Exchange, in Newcastle, 
 and supplied Bewick with one of the favourite subjects of his pencil. A 
 similar attempt was lately made in the City of London, on the vane of St. 
 Olave's Church, and Rooks have built between the wings of the dragon 
 of Bow Church. They had no fear of the City churches being demolished 
 then. But, like the herons, the Rooks understand a notice to quit in the 
 shape of cutting down trees. Baron Ravensworth lost his heronry through 
 the cutting down of a single tree amongst the many on which these noble 
 birds had established themselves. But the Rook does not wait for the tree 
 to be felled. He has noted human manners and customs, has pondered 
 on the laws of cause and effect, and either the instinct or the inherited 
 wisdom of Rookdom has ascertained that, when a piece of bark has been 
 pared from a tree, the axe will shortly do its work; and consequently, 
 when an elm has been thus scored, the rooks will at once cease from 
 building on it.
 
 ROOKS AND THEIR RELATIONS. 277 
 
 " The Rook is not without his enemies, and the chief of these is the 
 agricultural economist. He sees the Rook in a corn-field, and shakes 
 his fist at the 'thief who is robbing his granary. But have patience: 
 the Rook, like other tax-gatherers, is not popular when he calls for the 
 rates; but if the tax-gatherer has soldiers, and policemen, and judges, 
 and ironclads, to show for his money, so our friend reminds us that if for 
 one month he tries a vegetable diet, he has saved you acres upon acres 
 of corn by his unwearied consumption of grubs and wireworm for eleven 
 months of the year. 
 
 " Like most old families, the Rooks have various relatives and hangers- 
 on not quite so respectable as themselves. Foremost among these is the 
 Carrion Crow, who imitates his cousin so well that a careless observer might 
 easily mistake him for the gentleman himself; but his coat wants the 
 beautiful purple velvet gloss, and, though as shining as the other, is of a 
 more sombre hue. 
 
 " When he opens his mouth, his note betrays him, for he has aban- 
 doned the deep croak of the Raven, without attaining the cheery caw of 
 the Rook. Again, he is a skulking, sneaking fellow, a solitary, lonesome 
 ghoul, who seeks his unclean diet without a fellow, and gorges himself 
 whenever he has a chance. 
 
 "The Rook never acknowledges the relationship, and the Carrion Crow 
 builds.a lonely and untidy hovel, unlike the Rook, heaping up any rubbish 
 that may come to hand, generally on a fir-tree in a secluded corner of a 
 plantation. On a foundation of rotten sticks, it plasters a layer of fresh 
 earth, and then for her young seem less hardy than the Rook's adds 
 a thick lining of wool and hair, which it plucks from the backs of sheep 
 and cattle. 
 
 " But, though devoted to his young, he is a cruel fellow, this Carrion 
 Crow; he will watch the new-born lambs on the hill-side, and, for once, 
 calling in the aid of two or three brother ruffians, will tear out its entrails, 
 and pick out its eyes, before the mother has time to defend it. But he 
 carries a guilty conscience with him, and seems aware that man is every 
 where his enemy. Look at those Rooks marching with a dignified gait 
 at the ploughman's heels, and picking the grubs out of the fresh-turned 
 furrow, they are conscious of their merits then, and know that the poli- 
 tical economist has no jealousy of their presence in that field. But where 
 is the Corby, as the Carrion Crow is called in the North ? He is skulking 
 on the other side of the hedge, or more likely three or lour fields off, 
 more wary than even the Rooks in harvest-time, for he knows that he
 
 ROOKS AND THEIR RELATIONS. 279 
 
 will never have a friend's welcome. And yet he is a. wag in his way, for 
 when he is once tamed, and become familiar with man, there is no bird 
 in nature, not even the parrot or the magpie, more fearless, or fonder of 
 a joke. 
 
 " One in Edinburgh was evidently in the interest of the shoemakers, 
 for his delight was to peck at the heels of every barefooted urchin he 
 came across, and the more frightened they were, the more delighted was 
 he. They have also a wonderful memory : like the bear, they are in the 
 habit of burying the portion of the carcase they cannot eat at the time. 
 A tame Crow was once seen cunningly burying a dead mole in a garden : 
 he smoothed the earth so cleverly over the spot, that the sharpest eye 
 could not have detected the grave. He was then shut out of the garden 
 for a week, when, on the door being opened, he instantly hopped to the 
 spot, and exhumed the savoury morsel. 
 
 " Far better known is another poor relation of the Rook the impu- 
 dent and familiar Jackdaw. He seems to be aware that there is a sort 
 of immunity afforded to the Rook, of which he has not the smallest 
 scruple in availing himself. You scarcely ever saw a flock of Rooks 
 unaccompanied by a number of their chattering cousins, whose sharp 
 'chak, chak' may be at once distinguished from the more dignified 'caw' 
 of their leaders. 
 
 " Where towers and rocks are scarce, the Jackdaw often builds his nest 
 under the protection of the Rooks, and I have seen in my garden a 
 Jackdaw's nest thrust in the fork immediately under the platform of the 
 Rooks, while a few inches below the starlings had secured a snug hole. 
 In fact, the Jackdaw is a pert and loquacious little fellow, ever cheerful, 
 always on the alert, and ready either for business or frolic. He is not so 
 respectable as his big relation, but is at least the most pleasant of the 
 family, and very fond of society. But he prefers towers to trees, and is 
 particularly addicted to our English cathedrals. He has established 
 himself in St. Paul's Cathedral; he once succeeded in setting fire to York 
 Minster, and he inhabits many buildings in London, Edinburgh, and all 
 our great cities. He can, however, dispense with human society, and is 
 equally fond of ruined castles or desolate sea-side cliffs. If need be, he 
 can even descend to a rabbit-hole, and, among other unlikely spots, he 
 has established a colony on the giant stones of Stonehenge. He nibbles 
 no twigs for the perennial repair of his nest, which, when he gets inside 
 a tower, is an enormous cumbrous structure. I fear he has robbed many 
 a poor washerwoman of her character, for he is particularly attached to
 
 280 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK Of SCIENCE. 
 
 caps and lace for the lining of his home. In one nest was found a piece 
 of lace, a worsted stocking, a silk handkerchief, a frill, a child's cap, and 
 various other articles. In fact, he has an ungovernable propensity for 
 carrying off articles which are of no use except to the owner, certainly not 
 to him. For his foundation he prefers as much ready-prepared timber 
 as he can find lying about in the haunts of men. 
 
 " The late professor of botany at Oxford prided himself upon a mag- 
 nificent collection of grasses. Now, as grasses are, of all plants, the most 
 difficult to distinguish when out of blossom, each was carefully marked 
 by a neatly painted label; but from time to time the labels disappeared. 
 So useless a theft perplexed the worthy professor, and, for a time, the deed 
 was attributed to undergraduate mischief. A watch was kept ; but, when 
 the gardener appeared in the morning, the labels that were safe overnight 
 had disappeared, evidently by ghostly hands, for there was not a foot-mark 
 on the beds. At length, in the interior of Magdalen Tower, it was dis- 
 covered that a pair of Jackdaws, wishing to raise their nest two or three 
 feet above a disused staircase, had established it on a pile of several hun- 
 dred labels, which they had collected long before the gardener had turned 
 out of his morning watch. 
 
 "The Rook has one more relation, the prince of his clan, very different 
 in his habits, and whom we in England rarely see. How many in a 
 thousand ever heard a Raven's croak ? To see him at home now, we 
 must travel to the Orkneys or the Hebrides. The pairs that remain in 
 England might almost be counted on the fingers, but so long as he was 
 allowed to remain, the Rook was not more faithful to his breeding-place, 
 and many a * Ravenscliff ' and old ' Ravenstree ' remind us of the spot 
 where for ages, year after year, their brood was reared. 
 
 "In this country at least they are not fond of the society of their fellows, 
 for the young are invariably sent out into the world to seek their fortune 
 far away from the parental home, and, if it were not for the enmity of 
 gamekeepers, the Raven would soon again become a familiar sight in most 
 districts of England. It must be necessity, and not moroseness, which 
 makes him so unsociable, for his carrion food is here but scarce; not so 
 in warmer climates, where he becomes as sociable as the Rook. Thus, 
 about the Mosque of Omar, in Jerusalem, hundreds of Ravens, of our 
 species, nightly congregate. They seem to have learned that the Moslem 
 veneration for sacred places makes them there quite secure. Of all the 
 birds of Jerusalem, the Ravens are the most characteristic and conspicuous. 
 They are present everywhere to eye and ear, and the odours that float
 
 THE LUNAR HALO. 281 
 
 around remind us of their use. The discordant jabber of their evening 
 sittings round the mosque is deafening. All the cousins are collected. 
 The caw of the Rook and the chatter of the Jackdaw unite in attempt- 
 ing to drown the hoarse croak of th- old Raven, but, clear above the 
 tumult, rings out the more musical call-note of the Brown-necked Raven. 
 We used to watch this great colony, as, long before the city gates were 
 opened, they passed, in the grey dawn, in long lines, over our tents to 
 the northward, the Rooks, in solid phalanx, leading the way, and the 
 Ravens, in loose order, bringing up the rear. Before retiring for the 
 night, popular assemblies of the most uproarious character were held in 
 the trees of Mount Olivet and the Kedron, and not till after sunset did 
 they withdraw in silence, mingled indiscriminately, to their safe roosting- 
 places in the sanctuary. On a wet day and there was some wretched 
 weather at Jerusalem the Rooks would determinately set out on their 
 travels, but the Ravens stayed at home, sitting about by twos and threes 
 among the olive-trees, generally in silence, but now and then croaking a 
 doleful remark on the weather, or warning from their neighbourhood the 
 draggled Jays, whose soft plumage was no better protection, in such a 
 downpour, than a lady's evening muslin. Posted as sentries round the 
 down-trodden city, they seemed like the ghosts of old patriot heroes 
 groaning over its decay." 
 
 THE LUNAR HALO. 
 
 HERE are some phenomena of nature which suggest false ideas. 
 * For instance, when we look at the broad expanse of ocean on a 
 moonlit night, and see a path of glory on its surface, directed towards 
 the moon's place, we seem to be assured by the sense of sight that that 
 broad track is illuminated while the waters all around are dark. A little 
 consideration, however, assures us that the impression is a false one, that 
 in this case seeing is not believing. The moon's rays really illumine the 
 whole surface which lies before us, and we fail to receive light from other 
 parts than the track below the moon, not because they receive no light, 
 but because the light which they receive is not reflected towards us. An 
 observer, stationed a mile or two towards the right or towards the left of 
 our station, see; a different track of light, while the part which seems 
 bright to us seem ; dark to him.
 
 282 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK. OF SCIENCE. 
 
 The rainbow is another phenomenon of this deceptive kind. We seem 
 to see an arch of many colours suspended in the air, and when we learn 
 that it is due to the presence of drops of water in the air, we are apt to 
 infer that where we see the red arch there are drops lit up with red light ; 
 where the yellow, green, or violet arch, that the drops are aglow with 
 yellow, green, or violet light. But in reality this is not so : the same 
 drops which seem green to us will seem red to another observer, violet 
 to another, and to yet other observers will show none of the prismatic, 
 colours, but only the dull grey colour of the cloud on which the rainbow 
 
 seen. We have here a pretty emblem of the varied aspects which 
 events of the same real nature present to different persons, or according 
 to the different circumstances under which the same person may see 
 them. One shall see events in rosy tints, or with the freshness of spring 
 hues, or with the melancholy symbolled by the 
 
 1 ' deeper indigo (as when 
 The heavy-skirted evening droops with frost) ; 
 
 / 
 
 while to others the same events shall show only the ordinary tints of 
 commonplace life. 
 
 The lunar halo is one of the phenomena thus deceptive to the view. 
 We see all around the moon a circle or arc of light, nearly white, though 
 sometimes faint tints of colour can be perceived in it, while the space 
 within the circle seems manifestly darker than the space outside. The 
 appearance of the halo as seen under favourable conditions is shown in 
 the picture on the next page. In this country the dark space round the 
 moon is not generally so well seen as in countries where the air is clearer. 
 But this is in reality the characteristic feature of the halo, as its name 
 shows ; for the name is derived from a Greek word signifying threshing- 
 floor (the old threshing-floors being round), and thus naturally describes 
 a round space relatively clear, surrounded on all sides by a ring of aggre- 
 gated matter. 
 
 We seem in looking at the lunar halo, then, to see the moon at the 
 centre of a dark space, surrounded by a ring of bright particles, outside 
 which again are particles not quite so brightly illuminated as those form- 
 ing the ring, but more brightly than those within the ring. 
 
 But in reality this impression, which, so far as the sense of sight is 
 concerned, seems forced upon the mind, is entirely erroneous. There is 
 no real distinction between the space which looks dark all round the 
 moon, the space beyond which does not look dark, and the ring between
 
 THE LUNAR HALO. 
 
 283 
 
 the two spaces which looks bright These are all equally illuminated by 
 the moon, in the same sense, at least, that we say the surface of a moon- 
 lit sea is all equally illuminated, neglecting slight differences which do 
 not concern the point we are specially dealing with. Precisely as the 
 path of light on the ocean is not a real path of illumination, bounded on 
 either side by dark spaces, so the ring of light round the moon is not a 
 real ring of light, bounded on one side by a less bright region, and within 
 by a dark space. 
 
 The Lunar Halo. 
 
 Here it may be worth while to notice how the particular illusion here 
 considered has deceived even scientific men. 
 
 It had been noticed by Tyndall, in certain experiments, that a very 
 sensitive measurer of heat, when placed under the moon's rays, gathered 
 together by a powerful condenser, seemed to indicate cooling rather than 
 heating, as we should expect On this a French student of science 
 pointed to the darkening under the moon where the lunor halo is seen
 
 284 THE BOY? AND GIRL? BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 as evidence that our satellite possesses a certain power of clearing away 
 vaporous matter from the air. " On pent dire" he said, speaking of the 
 dark space within the halo, " que la lune ouvrealors une porte par laquelle 
 s'echappe le calorique que Faction solaire a emmagasine dans les couches in- 
 ferieures." " One may say," that is, " that the moon then opens a door 
 through which the heat escapes, which the sun's action has stored up in 
 the lower layers " (of the air). It will be manifest, if we remember that 
 a lunar halo can often be seen at the same time from stations hundreds 
 of miles apart, that there can be no such opening of clear air. For the 
 cloud layer in which the halo is formed is but a few mile's above the 
 observer ; and, therefore, if one observer saw a circular opening in this 
 layer, with the moon at its centre, another, a hundred miles from him, 
 would see the space in a very different direction. The moon would not 
 only not be at the centre of the space for this second observer, but would 
 not be visible through the space at all. Moreover, the space could not 
 possibly seem round to both observers ; if it seemed round to one, it 
 would look like a very flat oval of darkness (almost a mere line) to the 
 other. 
 
 The real explanation of the lunar halo is very different. When you see 
 such a halo, you may be certain that there is, high up in the air, a layer 
 of light feathery cloud the cirrus cloud, as it is called composed of tiny 
 crystals of ice. These crystals, as we know from those which in winter 
 sometimes fall (not as snow, but as little ice-stars), have all a definite shape. 
 They are in fact little prisms of ice, with angles like those of an equilateral 
 triangle. These little prisms deflect the light which falls upon them, 
 just as one of the drops of a chandelier deflects any light which falls upon 
 it. If you hold a prism-drop of a chandelier between the eye and a light, 
 you will see that the prism looks dark ; it is really lit up, but it sends the 
 light away in such a direction that the eye receives none. Now move it 
 gradually away from the line of sight to the light, and at a certain dis- 
 tance it appears full of light; or, to speak more correctly, it sends the light 
 it receives directly towards your eye. Beyond that position it again looks 
 dark, but not so dark as when it was nearly between the eye and the light. 
 
 The little crystals of ice perform the same part with respect to the 
 moon, when we see a lunar halo. Those between us and the moon, or 
 within a certain distance from the line of sight to the moon, are, in reality, 
 lit up by the moon's rays ; but they send off those rays in such directions 
 that we do not receive the light Thus, all the space lying towards the 
 moon, and for a certain distance all round, looks dark. But, at a certain
 
 THE LUNAR HALO. 285 
 
 distance, these little crystals send us light. If we could see them sepa- 
 rately, they would seem to be full of light. That is the distance where 
 ice-crystals of their known shape act most favourably in deflecting light, 
 that is, send off most for all the varying positions (not places) they can 
 be in. At greater distances, a small proportion send us light. Thus, at 
 that distance we have a ring of light, and outside the ring we have a 
 gradual falling off in the quantity of light. 
 
 But the reader will be apt, perhaps, to say, How can all this be proved ? 
 No one has ever been among the ice-crystals of the feathery clouds when 
 they are performing this work. When Coxwell and Glaisher made their 
 highest ascent, the feathery clouds seemed almost as high above them as 
 ever. Nor, if any one could reach those clouds, could he see the ice- 
 crystals at their work. Yet there are few points about which science is 
 more certainly assured than about this explanation of the halo. For we 
 know the shape constantly assumed by ice-crystals : we know according 
 to what precise law ice bends rays of light falling upon it ; hence we can 
 calculate quite certainly where, if ice-crystals make the halo, its rings 
 should be seen. And the halo has the precise position thus calculated 
 from the known law of optics, and the known facts about ice and ice- 
 crystals. The diameter of the halo should be, and is, about eighty times 
 the apparent diameter of the moon, or somewhat less than half the arc 
 which separates the point overhead from the horizon. 
 
 There is, however, yet stronger evidence. Haloes form around the 
 sun as well as round the moon, in fact, more frequently. Solar haloes 
 have so much more light in them that we can recognize varieties of tint. 
 Now, it follows from the laws of optics that, for the red part of the sun's 
 light, the halo ring should have a smaller diameter than the halo ring 
 for the violet part, intermediate colours having their corresponding inter- 
 mediate halo rings. Thus, the halo ring, as a whole, should be rainbow- 
 tinted, red on the inside, then orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and 
 violet ; and these colours are shown (under favourable conditions) in 
 this order. 
 
 The student looking out for haloes, solar or lunar, must be careful not 
 to confound them with solar and lunar coronas, that is, not the corona 
 of astronomy, but rings of light around the sun and moon, much smaller 
 than the true halo rings. What I have said above about the size of the 
 true halo will suffice to prevent such a mistake. Coronas are not nearly 
 so easily, though they have been quite as thoroughly, explained by science, 
 as haloes.
 
 286 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 It is singular to observe how utterly unlike the interpretation of the 
 halo by the science is from the natural interpretation. The observer 
 would say, There surely is a dark space all round the moon, and round 
 that a ring of light, I see these things, and seeing is believing. Science 
 says there is no dark space, and there is no ring of light ; while the eye 
 of science perceives something where the lunar halo shines which ordi- 
 nary vision cannot recognize. Up yonder, many miles above the earth, 
 science sees millions of crystals of ice, carried hither and thither so 
 light are they by every movement of the air. Science sees these ice- 
 crystals deflecting the rays of moonlight, sifting the red rays from the 
 orange, and these from the yellow, yellow from green, green from blue, 
 blue from indigo, and indigo from violet. Science, in fine, perceives pro- 
 cesses taking place in those higher regions of air compared with which 
 the most delicate analyses of the laboratory are utterly coarse and im- 
 perfect. 
 
 There is a purer and nobler poetry in the lunar halo as thus under- 
 stood than in its mere visible phenomena, attractive and beautiful though 
 these are. Idle indeed is the fear that the interpretation of this 
 special mystery of nature will leave the number of nature's mysteries 
 diminished by one. On the contrary, for the one mystery explained many 
 deeper mysteries are suggested. The phenomena discernible by the sense 
 of sight are explained, but only by bringing into the range of a purer and 
 more piercing vision phenomena infinitely more wonderful. If one could 
 see through some amazing extension of visual power, or if even the 
 imagination could adequately picture the rush of light-waves oi all orders 
 of length upon the line of crystal breakers, their deflection in all direc- 
 tions, their separation into their various orders of wave-length ; if one 
 could perceive the actual illumination of the ice-crystals, even where they 
 seem dark to us, and the continual fluctuations of the troubled sea of 
 ether between the crystal breakers and the earth below, the scene would 
 infinitely transcend in interest and mystery, the picture would be infinitely 
 more suggestive of solemn thoughts, than the scene beautiful though it 
 doubtless is presented by the halo-girt moon to ordinary vision. Truly 
 they know little of the real meaning of science who regard it as depriving 
 natural phenomena of their effect on the imagination, as robbing Nature 
 of her poetic influence.
 
 COALS AND COLLIERS. 287 
 
 COALS AND COLLIERS. 
 
 HPHE exact date when coal began to be used as a fuel is very uncer- 
 * tain. The appearance, it not the use, of the mineral must have 
 long been known in districts where it was already exposed, and presented 
 itself on the surface. According to good authorities, it was used in Eng- 
 land in 852. In 1259, King Henry III. granted the privilege of digging 
 coals to certain parties in Newcastle. In seven years more, coal had 
 become an article of export, and was termed sea-coal; and in 1306, so 
 extensive was the use of coals in London, that Parliament complained to 
 the King of the various vapours by which they polluted the atmosphere; 
 and, in consequence, proclamation was made against their further use 
 during the sitting of the House, lest the health of the knights of the 
 shire should suffer during their residence in the metropolis. 
 
 In Scotland, coal was known and probably used at a very early date. 
 Chalmers, the antiquary, informs us that coal was worked at Bo'ness by 
 William de Verepont before the end of the twelfth century, and that a 
 tenth part of the coal was paid to the monks at the Abbey of Holyrood. 
 
 The principal coal countries in the world are six Great Britain, Bel- 
 gium, the United States, France, Russia, and Austria. In Great Britain 
 the coal formation amounts to 11,856 square miles, yielding 35,000,000 
 tons a year; in Belgium the area of coal is 518 square miles, and the 
 number of tons annually produced is 4,960,077 ; in the United States 
 the coal-fields are not less than 133,132 square miles, but they are worked 
 only to the extent of 4,400,000 tons a year ; in France the space is 1,719 
 square miles, and the yearly number of tons 4,141,617; the extent of 
 the coal formation in Russia and Austria is not known, but the yearly 
 out-put in the former is 3,500,000 tons, and in the latter 659,340. Thus 
 there are produced from the great coal-fields of the world no les than 
 fifty-two million six hundred and sixty-one thousand and thirty-four tons. 
 It will be seen at once how large is our own share of this gross total. 
 Of the whole thirty-five million tons yielded by our collieries, we export 
 2,728,000, leaving the remainder for domestic and manufacturing pur- 
 poses. The number of persons employed in our collieries is about 
 170,000; and the capital invested is not less than ^12,000,000. 
 
 It will also be at once seen how much Great Britain owes to coal as 
 the means of its material prosperity. The astonishing increase of Glasgow,
 
 2S8 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 Manchester, Birmingham, Leeds, Sheffield, and Newcastle-on-Tyne, must 
 be attributed to the presence and working of coal in their vicinity. Near- 
 ness to coal-fields has exercised a far more important influence on cities 
 and towns than many would at first suppose. Take only one example 
 that of the small central coal-field of England. Its area scarcely equals 
 that of one of the larger Scottish lakes, and yet that limited coal-field 
 has made Birmingham a great and flourishing town, the first iron depot 
 in Europe, and filled the surrounding country with crowded towns and 
 villages. One is amazed as he thinks only of what the coal from the 
 Staffordshire fields has done how many thousand steam-engines it has 
 set in motion, how many thousand railway trains it has propelled, how 
 many million tons of iron it has furnished, raised to the surface, smelted, 
 and hammered. 
 
 What is coal ? It is now generally admitted to be the product of de- 
 composed vegetable matter; and there are two ways of attempting to 
 account for the fact that such immense quantities of it have been brought 
 together. Some suppose that the plants from which it was formed grew 
 and died on the spot where the coal exists, and that a bed of coal must 
 at first have resembled a peat-bog. Others are of opinion that the vege- 
 table matter was swept from the land into estuaries or lakes by floods 
 and streams. This latter is called the drift theory. It is difficult to ac- 
 count for such immense accumulations of vegetable matter spread over 
 surfaces so extensive in either way. But the vegetable origin of coal, at 
 all events, has been almost universally admitted. 
 
 Hugh Miller, in his own wonderful manner, thus supposes the forma- 
 tion of coal. He says " Imagine a low shore, thickly covered with 
 vegetation. Huge trees of remarkable form stand out into the water. 
 There seems no intervening beach. A thick hedge of reeds, tall as the 
 masts of pinnaces, runs along the deeper bays, like water-flags at the edge 
 of a lake. A river of vast volume comes rolling from the interior, dark- 
 ening the water for leagues with its slime and mud, and bearing with it to 
 the open sea reeds and fern, and cones of the pine, and immense floats 
 of leaves, and now and then some bulky tree, undermined and uprooted 
 by the current. We near the coast, and now enter the opening of the 
 stream. A scarce penetrable phalanx of reeds, that attain to the height 
 and well-nigh the bulk of forest trees, is ranged on either hand. The 
 bright and glossy stems rodded like Gothic columns ; the pointed leaves 
 stand out green at every joint, tier above tier, each tier resembling a 
 coronal wreath or a ancient crown, with the rays turned outwards, and we
 
 290 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS 1 BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 see atop what may be either spikes or catkins." And so proceeds the 
 eloquent geologist. The decay of all this great growth was the origin 
 of coal. 
 
 This amazing vegetable growth lived before man was made. It flourishes 
 and decays on the face of the earth age after age, and furnishes thus the 
 means of comfort and useful art for man when he shall in countless years 
 be formed. The plants and trees of those periods were of enormous 
 dimensions, as may still be seen from fossil remains of some of them. 
 
 When it is attempted by geologists to explain how coal was formed, 
 they are obliged to hazard certain speculations or opinions. The sand- 
 stone, shale, and limestone connected with it, must all have been formed 
 under water, and the coal on land perhaps in a marsh the bottom 
 being raised by the depositing of four fathoms of sandstone and shale, 
 which were formed of the material swept down from the neighbouring 
 land till a bay or gulf appeared, which shoaled into a tract of marshy 
 ground. Upon this forests grew for a thousand years, and the decay of 
 these made a thick stratum of vegetable material. The land then sunk 
 suddenly or gradually under water to a great depth, and remained there 
 for ten thousand years, perhaps, till a fresh deposit of sandstone and 
 shale took place, the pressure of the weight of which, aided by water, 
 turned the vegetable stratum into coal. The bay may be supposed to 
 have been raised again for the process of making the earth as we now 
 find it was going on, and many underground fires were burning, and oc- 
 casioning numerous convulsions there was again a marsh, resulting from 
 the decayed vegetation which had once more flourished. By a process 
 similar to the first, another bed of coal was formed and so the work 
 proceeded for thousands of ages. It is believed from the testimony of 
 the rocks that the land must have sunk in this way at least thirty times, 
 and descended more than 3,000 feet. 
 
 The total thickness of coal in the English coal-fields is generally about 
 fifty or sixty feet. This total is in most districts divided into twenty or 
 more beds, each varying from six feet to a few inches thick ; and the coal 
 alternates with from twenty to a hundred times as great a quantity of 
 sandstones and shales these deposits being very variable in all coal 
 districts, while the most regular are those of coal and ironstone. The 
 entire thickness of this mass of coal, iron, sandstone, and shale, in al- 
 ternating strata, may be estimated at about 1,000 feet, which is about its 
 average in South Staffordshire ; but the difference is very considerable 
 in the various coal-fields. The great coal-field of Northumberland and
 
 COALS AND COLLIERS. 291 
 
 Durham, for instance, consists of eighty-two beds, of alternate layers of 
 coal, sandstone, and slate-clay; and these, taken together, make an 
 average of 1,620 feet of thickness, which, however, varies in different parts. 
 In this mass the distinct beds of coal number between thirty and forty 
 the thickness of the whole being about 45 feet there being eleven 
 seams which are not workable on account of their thinness. The two 
 most important beds are the High Main and the Low Main, the one 
 being 360 feet below the other, and the thickness of each averaging 
 about 6 feet. 
 
 The great coal-field which stretches from South Yorkshire, Notting- 
 ham, and Derbyshire very much resembles that of Newcastle. It extends 
 from the north-east of Leeds nearly to Derby, a distance of more than 
 sixty miles. The number of seams is about thirty, and they vary from 
 6 inches to 1 1 feet. The total thickness of coal is about 80 feet. The 
 South Lancashire coal-field commences in the north-west of Derby- 
 shire, and goes on to the south-west of Lancashire, having Man- 
 chester nearly in the centre. The South Staffordshire or Dudley coal- 
 field is specially important on account of the extensive ironworks which 
 it maintains, and is in length about twenty miles from north to south, 
 and, in its greatest breadth, about seven miles. One portion of it is 
 distinguished by the presence of one continuous bed of coal 30 feet 
 thick, which is styled the main, or ten-yard coal, which is made up of 
 thirteen different seams, some being close to each other, and others 
 separated by thin bands of shale. Which is called the carboniferous 
 limestone, and the old red sandstone, are entirely wanting in this coal- 
 field ; and this is believed to indicate that the coal strata of Dudley must 
 have been formed in a fresh-water lake. 
 
 The various coal-fields of the country are to be found in widely dif- 
 ferent parts of England and Wales, Scotland, and Ireland the working 
 of them being largely dependent upon the industrial character of the 
 population, and the spirit and enterprise of the proprietors. If one were 
 to take a map of Great Britain a geological one, of course he would 
 find four great patches in England, Wales, and Scotland. In Ireland the 
 coal-fields are considerably scattered. But, in the parts of the country 
 which have been named, he would see one in Scotland, lying between 
 Fife and Ayr, and Edinburgh and Stirling the Fife and Ayr portion 
 naturally including the district around Glasgow; another in England^ 
 lying between Berwick and Durham, and far reaching into Northumber- 
 land ; the third would occupy a great part of the centre of England ; 
 
 19 2
 
 292 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 and the fourth would extend from Monmouth towards Pembroke and St. 
 David's. 
 
 It must be understood by the youngest ot our readers that coal is not 
 always found lying in flat layers, as the leaves of a book or the "courses" 
 of stone or brick in a building. No. By means of many underground 
 commotions, the coal and the other stony material with which it is always 
 associated have been so broken up that this valuable mineral is to be 
 frequently found descending aslant from the surface almost, and may 
 then be met with in the form of a basin ; but coal may always be counted 
 upon in certain company. Just as in a book of twenty volumes you may 
 always know where to look for the fifteenth, so among the various rocks 
 which accompany coal one may be always sure, if it be there, to find it 
 in its own place among them. It may not be there, or there may be no 
 great quantity of it ; but if it can be discovered in that locality, it will, 
 without fail, be found in its own place. In many coal-fields there are 
 " slips " and " dykes," which stand nearly, if not altogether, upright, and 
 separate the portions of the seam from one another, thus occasioning 
 much labour in carrying on the working of the mine. Yet these walls 
 of separation are often useful. In case of fire in a pit, for example, they 
 not seldom stop the conflagration, and so prevent a vast amount of mis- 
 chief, and great loss of life and property. 
 
 A coal district is not generally the most beautiful not even by nature. 
 When Providence gives wealth below ground, the beauty above is usually 
 but scanty. But the working of the mineral necessarily makes the face 
 of nature even less comely. In such a district one sees, as the most con- 
 spicuous objects, tall engine-houses, and taller chimneys, pouring into the 
 sky dense clouds of smoke, which hide the whole landscape, such as it is. 
 There are groans and whistlings and unearthly sounds everywhere, which 
 noises proceed from pulleys, and gins, and railways employed in the 
 raising and carrying away of the coals. As you approach nearer to New- 
 castle or to Glasgow in which latter place coal is largely employed in 
 the smelting of iron these smokes and fires increase upon you, and you 
 feel as if you had passed into another world. 
 
 " Sinking " for coal is an interesting process ; and, from certain sure 
 indications which cannot be mistaken, the men who are employed in it 
 can understand, with great accuracy, what progress they make. They can, 
 indeed, tell what strata they have gone through in their boring, and what 
 likelihood there is of trouble and expense fiom water in the working ot 
 the future pit. The pits are usually worked in chambers or rooms, with
 
 COALS AND COLLIERS. 293 
 
 pillars of coal left to support the roof, or on the panel system, which 
 requires less of the valuable mineral to be allowed to stand. The floors 
 of these chambers are, it may be well believed, by no means level, neither 
 are such apartments always well ventilated. Towards the bottom of the 
 shaft ponies are employed, in almost all pits, to drag the " hutches " to 
 the point from which they ascend, and the invaluable " Davy lamp " has 
 been the means of saving very many lives from the fatal effects of foul 
 air. Water, breaking in from old workings, has been one of the most 
 disastrous causes of death, harrowing accounts of which, notwithstanding 
 all precautions, now and again distress the community in connection 
 with this dangerous employment. 
 
 The extent of the galleries of some of the older coal-pits of the North 
 is very great. The Killingworth mines must have nearly 160 miles of 
 galleries ; and at the Howgill pits, not far from Whitehaven, the mining 
 has been carried more than 1,000 yards under the sea, and at least 600 
 feet below its bottom. The deepest pit in the kingdom is that at Monk- 
 wearmouth, near Sunderland. To the Bensham seam it is 265 fathoms, 
 and to a reservoir of water fifteen fathoms more in all 1,680 feet; that 
 is to say, it is seven or eight times as deep as the London Monument is 
 high, or in depth as much as four times the height of the dome of St. 
 Paul's. 
 
 The principal work in the coal-pit is that of the hewer, and his toil is 
 very great, his confined position making it worse. He is generally bathed 
 in perspiration and enveloped in coal-dust. The best hewers have learnt 
 to do their work quickly, and it is curious to watch them shifting their 
 postures, and strangely adapting themselves to the exact form or figure 
 suitable to the bringing down of the coal with advantage and speed. The 
 pits are generally hot, to the extent of a degree of temperature for every 
 fifteen yards down, as compared with that at the surface, and this, too, 
 makes the toil of the workmen more exhausting. Pits must be worked, 
 in some instances, both night and day, and this is managed by so chang- 
 ing the sets of men that the night-shift, which is generally disliked, is 
 fairly distributed amongst them all. In the discipline of pits much care 
 is usually taken of the condition of the air, the amount of water, and 
 other particulars in regard to the workings themselves, as well as in 
 respect to the lamps and the conduct of the men; and yet, in spite of all, 
 frightful accidents now and again occur. 
 
 The houses of the pitmen are generally erected either by the proprietors 
 of the colliery, or by companies who speculate in the building and
 
 294 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOR OF SCIENCE. 
 
 let them to the coal-owners at from ^3 to 4 per annum. Of these 
 cottages there are three kinds, as a rule those which contain two 
 rooms on the ground floor only ; those which contain one room on the 
 ground floor, and a loft above ; and those which have two rooms below 
 and a loft above. It being necessary that the dwellings should be near 
 the pits, when a pit is worked out the houses are abandoned, and then 
 present a most dismal appearance. Generally speaking, these dwellings 
 are in rows, and the rows are again to be found in pairs. Such villages 
 are not usually remarkable for their cleanliness. The furniture in the 
 cottages themselves is very dissimilar, some of them having showy and 
 apparently costly articles, and others only what is extremely dingy. The 
 personal dress of both men and women is often loud and gaudy. The 
 pitmen having an unlimited command of coals by merely paying a 
 nominal price for carriage, the fires in their houses are tremendous. 
 
 Education is still far behind among the colliers, although, in this re- 
 spect, a vast improvement has set in, since the prohibition of very young 
 children from working in the pits. This has frequently been aided by 
 the generosity of the masters ; and the Education Act may be expected 
 to carry the progress still further. There are Sunday schools and chapels 
 at most villages, the same building being frequently used for all such 
 purposes. The population of a village varies from 500 to 3,000. As to 
 religion, colliery villages are cared for, in some instances, by clergymen 
 of the Church, and in others by Independents, but most of all by the 
 various sections of the Methodists. This is the case in England more 
 than in Scotland. In the latter, the usual denominational distinctions 
 are more prevalent. The attendance, both North and South, is mode- 
 rately commendable. Temperance societies have done much for these 
 people. 
 
 The character of colliers, as a rule, is reckless. Men who are exposed 
 to great risks, like sailors and colliers, seem apt to be so. Colliers every- 
 where are given to intemperance and gambling, but especially in the 
 South. In the North it is by no means so much so ; and there a man, 
 not rarely either, may be found willing to forego his self-indulgence that 
 he may be able to buy a book. Some colliers and colliers' children have 
 creditably risen in the social scale by their own efforts. George Stephen- 
 son was a collier, and went into the pit at six or seven years of age ; the 
 celebrated mathematician, Dr. Hutton, was originally a hewer of coal ; 
 and not to mention others who might be named, Thomas Bewick, the 
 celebrated wood-engraver, was the son ot a collier. He used to say
 
 WILD FLOWERS. 295 
 
 that his earliest recollection was that " of lying for hours on his side, 
 between dismal strata of coal, plying the pick with his little hand, by the 
 glimmering light of a dirty candle." 
 
 The strikes of colliers have been well-nigh their ruin. The accidents 
 they suffer from are manifold and disastrous. There are consequently 
 many poor families in almost all colliery villages poor headless fami- 
 lies, and poor disabled men and these are generally well cared for by 
 their neighbours. We ourselves have known such men, and they have 
 been kept in comfort : among them one man who, by the falling in of 
 the roof, was confined, along with others, a prisoner for eleven days, his 
 tfnly subsistence being the oil of his lamp. With care he was brought 
 round, but never could work ; yet he never knew want. 
 
 WILD FLOWERS. 
 
 TV /[" AGNIFICENT as florists' flowers are, I am of Perdita's opinion, 
 *** that the 
 
 " art which in their piedness shares 
 
 With great creating Nature" 
 
 makes them far less interesting than Nature's wildings. I love to wander 
 wild-flower hunting. Not to carry off the pretty creatures in captivity in 
 a candle-box, partly because I am too lazy to cany one, partly because if 
 I had one crammed with specimens, I should not be learned enough to 
 give them dog-Latin names in a hortus siccus, which seems to me a very 
 dry garden ; but to see them where Nature has sprinkled them smiling 
 up from the green grass, instead of crucified on whitey-brown paper.* 
 
 Very few townsfolk, I fancy, except professed botanists, are aware of 
 autumn's wealth in wild flowers. Spring and summer are supposed to be 
 almost exclusively their seasons. On this clear, calm, balmy morning^ 
 when the little wind that wanders is warm and soft as the down beneath 
 a swan's wing, and the island can be seen resting like a lavender cloud 
 
 * " And 't is and ever was my wish and way 
 To let all flowers live freely, and all die 
 Whene'er their genius bids their souls depart 
 Among their kindred in their native place." 
 
 LANDOR.
 
 2g6 THE OYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 on the verge of the gently heaving, spangled sea, let us, then, stroll from 
 the Downs to the shore, and note what wild flowers we can find upon 
 our way, now that the year is " growing ancient," although not yet " on 
 the birth of trembling winter." 
 
 If we were in Ireland, in Kate Kearney's country, we might claim 
 those arbutus-blossoms dangling over the shingle wall of the parsonage 
 garden as wild flowers. How exquisitely the white blooms like fairies' 
 waggon-bells and the round, rough, reddening "strawberries" contrast 
 with their own evergreen foliage, and the glossy leaves of the fig-trees 
 making " a green shade " behind. If the strawberry-tree is a doubtful 
 wilding in the parsonage garden, an undoubted native has invaded it 
 the white bell-bind. To an outsider its enamelled vases seem as noble 
 a wild flower as our isles produce ; but John, the parson's gardener, in 
 spite of his quasi-clerical character, swears fiercely at the strangling "weed " 
 which twines and chokes like a legion of Laocoon-snakes, however he 
 may try to grub it out. This evening primrose, with its last night's yel- 
 low blooms, not yet aware that ere another night comes they must die, 
 no doubt is a truant from the garden ; it has planted itself, certainly not 
 for concealment's sake, in a roadside patch of lilac-blossomed mallow. 
 Up one little flight of worn wooden steps, and down another into the 
 churchyard, which in some places is almost choked with yarrow, rubbing 
 its white and pink heads against slanting gravestones, black-grey as if 
 they had been blasted, or nodding its heads at one another over long, 
 green, rotten grave-boards, buttoned with little brownish-yellow funguses. 
 In one corner, with a party of the parson's bees buzzing round it their 
 hum almost the only sound in that still place there is a clump of hairy- 
 leaved, blue-blossomed borage ; and in another a pigmy fir-plantation of 
 nettles in bloom, with here and there a miller-like fleshy, juicy, floury 
 goosefoot lifting its stiff flower-plume above them. Tiny buttercups 
 are scattered over the graves, and the rabbits on the adjoining Downs 
 must find pasture there to their hearts' content, or surely they would have 
 nibbled down, long before this, the sow-thistles in blossom at the base 
 of the chancel's yellow-plastered wall. On the older church walls, of stone 
 and shingle, patched with unplastered brick, tiny blue speedwell peeps, 
 fairy-eye-like, between its downy leaves, the straggling wild lettuce dis- 
 plays at all angles its little yellow flowers, and creeping mother-of-thou- 
 s ands drapes the hoary masonry with its purple leaves and blossoms. 
 The ivy which now helps to hold together the old walls it has loosened, 
 and which has climbed up to the weather-board turret, in which we can
 
 298 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 see the bell waiting silent until next Sunday, has just began to flower. 
 The robin that lit upon the inky yew, and began to sing upon that 
 gloomy perch, flies off as we pass, even before its brief, plaintively-cheerful 
 song is finished. We sidle through a V-like opening in the green, grey, 
 silver-and-orange lichened churchyard wall, and find ourselves upon the 
 springy Downs, where the only roads are tracks whose turf has lost a little 
 of its elasticity. It would be almost impossible to take a step here with- 
 out crushing a harebell, did not the slender wires of stem and pale blue 
 drooping blooms often refuse to be crushed, and rise up again from 
 beneath the heavy tread like the frail human creatures who so often bear 
 affliction better than their stronger fellows. Daisies, and dandelions, and 
 groundsel are out here as they are everywhere else almost. 
 
 Lady's-tresses (why so called I do not understand) lift their spires of 
 tiny white blossom. The scabious, whose rootlets the Devil is said to 
 have bitten off, seems to get on very well without them, if we may judge 
 from its show of flourishing blue heads we see about, us ; and sheep's- 
 bit has similar flowers upon its hairy stems ; and if we were to seek for 
 it, no doubt we could find the hairy shepherd's-purse in flower, and, 
 perhaps, we might find the hairy greenweed's and the hairy thrincia's 
 yellow blossoms. The yellow- wort's pale blooms are drinking in the 
 sunshine, as if they wanted to improve their complexion. Mint and 
 thyme are pouring out their warm fragrance. The gentian's purple 
 blossoms are basking in the genial heat like the yellow-wort's pale ones. 
 Out of pink, purple, and white-blossomed heather, and golden-bloomed 
 furze and broom, rabbits scurry, hares gallop, with laid-down ears, car- 
 rion crows rise sullenly, and moorfowl fluster in startled and startling 
 haste. Pick that sprig of furze which seems to be covered with red cob- 
 web mind you don't prick your fingers. Look into the red-tangle 
 skeins, and you will see the buff blossoms of the dodder. Here is another 
 parasitical curiosity, this leafless brown stick of broom-rape, with its 
 brown flowers that could scarcely have appeared less flower-like when in 
 full bloom than now when, wilted, they make their stem look like a 
 blighted Aaron's rod. Where the Downs swell up into abruptly scarped 
 cliffs, we find the shrub-like tree-mallow in imperial magnificence of 
 purple bloom, and the bloody cranesbill also arrayed in rich attire. We 
 turn inland again, after looking out on the laughing sail-flecked waters, 
 and craning over to have a peep at the still moist sands they have left, 
 turned by the alchymic sun into dazzling gold, and crunching plentiful 
 fat mushrooms beneath our feet, wander again, but downwards, over the
 
 WILD FLOWERS. 299 
 
 deliriously lonely Downs. Whom have we met, or rather have we seen 
 in human form ? One white-smocked shepherd, carrying a poetical crook 
 across his shoulder, and smoking an unpoetical black pipe with his 
 shaggy dog sauntering beside his sauntering master, but glancing up at 
 him for orders, like an officious usher eager to prove his raison d'etre by 
 pouncing upon his " principal's " pupils. But no pouncing was needed. 
 Tranquilly spread, strayed, stopped, and again gathered themselves to- 
 gether the grazing sheep, mildly tinkling their musical bells. We watch 
 the shadows of the few passing clouds flit over the Downs as we watched 
 them change the colour of the less undulating sea. 
 
 In our downward course we suddenly come upon a thatched, shingle- 
 built cottage, and discover that we have reached the limit of unenclosed 
 ground. Hawksbeard waves its yellow blossoms on the cottage's dark 
 thatch ; and the hedge-bank that divides the garden from the Downs is 
 bright with the big golden blooms of hawkweed, foiled by toothed purple- 
 spotted leaves. " There 's no road this way," says the deaf old man work- 
 ing in the garden, at last turning round from his spade of whom, in 
 crescendo tones, we have been asking our way. " There ain't no road ; but 
 you can come in by the house, if you like, and than go along the field, 
 and through that bit o' wood, and that '11 take yer into the lane." In 
 the garden hedge, on the other side, honeysuckle is opening its second 
 blossoms, and in the ditch a bristly teazel lifts its terrified-looking hair- 
 on-end white head. In the fields we pass feathery-leaved, brilliantly red- 
 bloomed pheasant's eye, hemp-nettles, red, white, yellow, and pale purple, 
 strong-scented lilac-blossomed mint, and purple-blossomed wound-wort. 
 
 On the bank up which we clamber, to creep through a hole in the 
 hedge into the wood, we brush against the downy-leaved mullein's spikes 
 of purple-stamened golden flowers, and the yellow blooms of the "washed- 
 out "-looking ploughman's spikenard. 
 
 Inside the wood a little clump of golden-rod makes sunshine in a shady 
 place ; bees have found out their autumn favourite, and hum around it a 
 cheerful hymn of praise. Put your arm before your face, and charge up 
 the bank through these serried ranks of purple-headed plume-thistle, and 
 now for a leap down into the lane. Here the ditches are choked with 
 the rough leaves of the forget-me-not, sprinkled with blue-and-yellow 
 stars. Farther on we see the yellow buttons of the bur-marigold, the 
 bright blooms of the untidy-looking rag-wort, the persicaria's rose-red 
 spikes, the green spikes of water-pepper, the stars of star-wort floating 
 just beneath the surface of the standing water, the pinkish-white panicles
 
 300 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 of the arrow-head, and, though these are not flowers, but only flower like 
 in their look, the clustered coral berries of the cuckoo-pint, spotted arum, 
 wake-robin, or lords-and-ladies, to give it its dear old childhood's name. 
 The flossy seeds of the traveller's-joy that drapes the hedges look still 
 more flower-like. The white " lilies," as the country folks call the flower 
 in this part of the world, of the convolvulus, also hang from almost every 
 other spray over the yellow toad-flax. 
 
 Up and down stepping-stones projecting from the ivy-mantled grey 
 wall into a pasture tufted with the gracefully serrated leaves and white 
 blossoms of dropwort, and patched with purple-mottled medick out in 
 yellow bloom. In the damper pasture beyond the burnet waves its mul- 
 berry-like flowers, and the sodden banks of the big pond in the bottom, 
 which is almost choked with pond-weed and plated with duck-weed, are 
 red with streaks ot water-wort. 
 
 Over a superannuated axletree doing duty for stile into a turnip-field, 
 at the farther side of which two sportsmen and their pointer are solemnly 
 at work, looking, if one may judge from their attitudes at this distance, as 
 if they thought the marking and bagging of game the whole duty of dogs 
 and men. We, however, are on the look-out for flowers, not birds. We 
 find the blue-bottle blossoming again as brightly as when the vanished 
 corn rustled over its faded fellows in the next field, and the shepherd's- 
 needle's white flowers, set off by its vividly verdant leaves. The reapers 
 and the gleaners are gone, but we can still find a harvest in the next great 
 stubble-field, in the middle of which an old black mill with canvas sails 
 stands idle, restfully watching the great stacks around which it may have 
 to grind ; tiny white blossoms of slim corn parsley, gleaming corn mari- 
 golds, purple and yellow toad-flax, and purple snapdragon. 
 
 We cross, by a plank bridge, a little stream. Moneywort not the kind 
 with golden blossoms, set off by silk-purse-like green, which gave, I sup- 
 pose, the plant its name, but one with almost pallid little flowers grows 
 here and there upon the banks in ravelled skeins, lilac-blossomed mal- 
 odorous hair)' mint grows in thick clumps, and blue-blossomed skullcap 
 vies with it in height. 
 
 The plank takes us into a close-cropped croft, on which red cows are 
 tranquilly chewing the cud. About the trees which shade the green 
 churchyard, from which the meadpw is divided by a low grey wall, towers 
 a twisted spire with a rusty lightning-conductor, its gilt weathercock flash- 
 ing, its grey shingles gleaming in the autumn sunshine. The grey vicarage, 
 a grey farm-house and grey farm-buildings, that have a look in their
 
 WILD PLOWERS. 301 
 
 antiquity of not having been always dedicated to secular purposes, hem 
 in the croft on another side. Round the old well bloom a few purple 
 heads of meadow-saffron, and just outside the wall of the farm-garden 
 some yellow-bloomed St. John's-wort has planted itself. Those dirty- 
 white umbels by the hedge yonder are the blossoms of the unfragrant 
 meadow-pepper, which is said to give a bad taste to butter. 
 
 Through the quiet churchyard, with a peep into the quiet church, 
 standing, hushed from Sunday 10 Sunday, in the midst of the graves ot 
 the many generations who have worshipped in it; into the thatched, 
 gabled, pargeted village-street, in which the only living being that we 
 can see is a dog sound asleep in the sunny middle of the road. The 
 place makes one think somehow of an Arctic summer midnight. Up 
 such another lane as has already been described, and through a white 
 gate at a level railway-crossing. The metals glitter in the sun, so trains 
 must pass to keep them polished ; but the place is so still, the white- 
 haired, brown-skinned toddlers who stand staring in silence at the door 
 of the pointsman's cottage, with eyes and mouth vicing in wide-openness 
 at the passing strangers, are such genuine little rustics that it is hard to 
 realize that panting, screaming locomotives and rumbling, rocking, jerk- 
 ing long lines of carriages rush past here from busy, noisy London. 
 
 Over a run-dry canal, its swelling green banks dotted with daisies, and 
 on to a somewhat dreary spread of waste ground. Wormwood grows here 
 in bushes of smooth-surfaced leaves, plumed with dim yellow flowers and 
 fluffy-leaved, purple -blossomed, unfragrant horehound. Here, too, we 
 find the white blossom of the black nightshade. 
 
 Where two roads cross upon this bit ot waste there stands what was 
 once a four-armed finger-post. One of its arms has been broken, or has 
 fallen off, almost close to the post. The fragment that remains gives 
 
 merely the undirecting direction, "To ." The one' inscribed "To the 
 
 Sea " might have been better spared, since, before we follow its guidance, 
 we can begin to smell the brine. 
 
 On the right there is a bit of bog. The green and white leaves and 
 pink blossoms of buttervvort, and the milk-white-veined blossoms of the 
 grass of Parnassus, beautify the normally dismal quagmire. Thence our 
 road runs between marshes on each side, dotted with ragwort and purple, 
 crimson-blossomed red-rattle. Where the marsh becomes salt-marsh we 
 find flower-spiked arrow-grass, green-blossomed glass-wort, purple and 
 yellow sea-starwort, sea-wormwood in blossom, and the delicate pink- 
 passing-into-red blooms of the marsh-mallow.
 
 302 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS* BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 Where the sand that has blown over the sea-wall has been flooded we 
 find white-bloomed wild celery and shiny-blossomed cudweed, and round 
 about on the sandy mound that for the present protects the land grow 
 pink-flowered hare's-foot-trefoil and fleshy-leaved flowering sea-plantain. 
 
 If we live to visit the place thirty years to come, perhaps we may find 
 seaweed on the flat where now we have found land flowers. The sea, 
 breaking itself so gently against the almost sand-buried " groynes," looks 
 harmless enough now, but in time of storm it rushes over the sea-wall on 
 which we stand, and for many and many a year has been eating away this 
 coast, as a silkworm scallops a mulberry-leaf, or a hungry boy a slice of 
 bread and butter. 
 
 BEES AND THEIR BUSINESS. 
 
 T WAS very idle ; there is at this present moment no manner of doubt 
 * about it; but why Dr. Watts should have written that tantalizing 
 poem, to be the delight of governesses and the torture of children, I know 
 not. I am sure his little story has not at all the effect the good old man 
 intended, either from the manner of its application or the general dislike 
 people have to insects. There is one comfort, however, in this order 
 Hymenoptera : we have got to a real sting at last, for if bees and wasps 
 are despised, they are also very much feared, and can certainly make 
 themselves felt if they are injured. Before describing the family of Bees, 
 I shall tell you an amusing incident, which made a lasting impression on 
 my mind when a child. One warm summer afternoon, when even the 
 birds could only get up enough courage to make a plaintive " tweet," 
 " tweet," and children could not find any to work sums or write dicta- 
 tion, our governess was unusually energetic. It was a way she had to be 
 blind to physical incapability, and to put every ill-learnt lesson to the 
 score of idle wilfulness. Finding us all incorrigible, she went to the desk, 
 and lectured the whole school on the advantages of gathering mental 
 honey when we were young, and quoted solemnly the hymn I have men- 
 tioned. We were all listening, or looking out of the window, when a 
 burring, whirring sound, like the last vibrations of an organ-pipe, came 
 on our ears ; the instrument producing this sound flew in at the window, 
 and went straight to the desk, and made an effort to find honey in the 
 flowers of the lecturer's cap. No sooner was the innocent creature per-
 
 SEES AND THEIR BUSINESS. 303 
 
 ceived than the oration ended, and our governess uttered a scream which 
 might have been heard all through the street, covered her head up in the 
 first antimacassar she could find, and, seizing the hearth-broom, buffeted 
 the " nasty thing " out of the window. She resumed her exhortation 
 when this was accomplished, but had too much respect for our common 
 sense to again revert to the Bees as an illustration. Philosophers say 
 that example is better than precept, and the result of the lecture was 
 that we despised the industry as much as our teacher the insect. 
 
 The advantage of " improving each shining hour " was not very clear 
 at that moment ; but when we went home to find unlimited supplies of 
 honey for tea, there seemed a bare chance that Bees were not such very 
 bad things after all ; and it is the honey that brings me to the chief busi- 
 ness of this history. Amongst all the useful things that insects make for 
 us, there is certainly not one which has been longer known and better 
 appreciated than honey. But the curious part of the story is, that the 
 children everywhere seem to like it. Indians and Africans, French babies 
 and English children, can one and all eat the food which the Bees pro- 
 vide, not for them, but for their own use in the winter. Now, there is a 
 general opinion that only one kind of honey supplies all this feasting. 
 But this is not so, for the Bees who make honey for us visit different 
 species of flowers, and honey from Yorkshire moors is different in flavour 
 from that which the southern Bees make from the cultivated garden 
 blossoms. Honey from the northern moors has a flavour of the smell of 
 the heath-plant that supplies it. That expression sounds like nonsense, 
 but nothing else describes the relation between the flowers and the honey. 
 Green honey has a curious appearance, but when first collected is prettier 
 than English honey. The Isle of Bourbon gives this curious product, 
 but I do not think any one has found out why it should be this colour. 
 It is sweet and fragrant, and is as useful as our own. 
 
 I have said that honey depends for its flavour upon the fact that it is 
 collected from different flowers, and it is grievous to relate that Bees are 
 utterly unscrupulous about the choice of flowers : with their strong legs 
 and pushing heads, they thrust themselves into the very centres of a rare 
 petunia or a delicate iris, and the most anomalous results follow in the 
 variation of the plants. To force their way into open blossoms is fair 
 and reasonable enough, but if our friend the Bee cannot get in one way, 
 he finds another for himself. Over fifty buds of a magnificent fuchsia were 
 destroyed in one day by a party of Bees, who found their way into the 
 greenhouse through an open window. Without the smallest hesitation
 
 304 THE BOYS* AND GlRLS* BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 they bit the bud half through with their mandibles, and abstracted the 
 honey. It is perhaps a familiar fact to every one, that the buds of these 
 flowers are perfect nectaries until completely opened. The juice or 
 nectar in the cups of many other flowers can be easily obtained ; the so- 
 called " tears " of the crown imperial, and the drops which hang from 
 the petals of the cactus, are useful reservoirs for the Bees. But intelligent 
 as they are, they make sad mistakes sometimes, and collect material from 
 poisonous blossoms. In 1790 the Bees of Philadelphia gathered honey 
 from a plant in the neighbourhood, which had been more than usually 
 
 uxurious, and such serious illness followed when the honey was eaten 
 that it was generally reported the city had been attacked by the plague. 
 The drink called mead, which is made from honey, is getting so very 
 countrified and old-fashioned, that by the time the children who read 
 this work have changed into men and women it will be almost forgotten. 
 Nevertheless, many labouring men of my acquaintance in a country 
 village know no other beverage throughout the winter than this, and are 
 very much stronger, and much more sober, than their neighbours. I 
 would not wish to imply that mead has not 'the power to intoxicate, for 
 it is quite different, and a wine-glassful of strong mead will have an effect 
 upon people who are not used to it, that is as powerful as brandy. 
 When one remembers how much fighting and quarrelling went on in olden 
 days amongst our Saxon forefathers, there seems a strong probability that 
 the Bees were indirectly to blame. Bees made honey, the people made 
 mead, and the drinking of this had not always a soothing effect. But it 
 is not the mead alone which does this, for there is somewhere in England 
 a specimen of honey from the Black Sea that retains the powers of 
 
 ntoxication. 
 
 The only well-known product of a bee-hive, besides honey, is the golden 
 wax which forms the comb ; this the Bees make by some peculiar pro- 
 cess within them, and hold in plates between the rings of their abdomen. 
 A Bee laden with wax shows golden-coloured stripes upon the under sur- 
 face of its body. Cells of many plants contain waxy secretions from 
 which Bees may obtain the materials for this, but it is supposed that the 
 buds of the hollyhocks supply wax, as well as the bark of the poplars, 
 from which they collect a sort of resin that they convert into paper to 
 line their nests with. This is a substance made of wax and resin, and is 
 perfectly waterproof. Wild Bees cover their nests with it, but the domes- 
 ticated Bee knows better than to take so much trouble. These have 
 found out by experience that the hives provided ior them are satis-
 
 BEES AND THEIR BUSINESS. 305 
 
 factory, and therefore but a small proportion of propolis, or bee-paper, is 
 found in them. 
 
 The fourth material which these indefatigable little insects gather is 
 the pollen from the flowers. This is not to supply them with honey, 
 which is the usual fib told by ignorant nurses to little folks. This yellow 
 dust is only gathered to be mixed with the honey to feed the tiny larvae. 
 Bee nurses know that too much honey is not good for children, and set 
 us human folks an example, by giving their own babies a mixture of 
 pollen flour and honey, called bee-bread. These little pellets of paste 
 are carried directly into the stomach of the Bee, and are then disgorged 
 to put in the cells where the young larvae are hatched. This is a curious 
 fact when we know that the honey becomes honey without ever entering 
 the stomach of the Bees. 
 
 If we attempt to watch a hive as soon as a new swarm is swept into it, 
 we shall see how they commence operations. There seems at first only 
 confusion ; in a few minutes they arrange themselves. One party flies 
 out of the hive and begins the business of collecting propolis, another 
 party brings back to the hive wax, and a third keeps watch over the queen. 
 The occupants of a hive are as various as those in a white ant-hill, but 
 they do not look so different. A queen Bee, a worker, and a male Bee, 
 cannot be distinguished at a glance, but a very little examination shows 
 the difference between them. Then there are the larvae and the pupse 
 imprisoned in the tiny cells. All these individuals exist by hundreds in 
 the hive, except the queen, and she is alone in the glory of reigning over 
 such a busy community. But in our new hive there are at present only 
 the workers and the queen ; of drones or male Bees there are but very 
 few, if any, and they very .soon die. After a few hours, a shapeless but 
 thick-looking packet of wax is formed from the side of the hive. This is 
 the commencement of the new comb. Two sculptor Bees begin upon 
 one side of it and form the first cell, and two others work at the back of 
 it, and the two cells are thus placed with their bases to each other. 
 
 But this comb, which is first formed, is not to contain honey, but the 
 eggs which the queen Bee is generally prepared to put in them within 
 thirty-six hours after the first swarming. She goes over about 1 2,000 cells, 
 and after putting her head into each one to see that there are no intruders, 
 she deposits an egg separately in each. Several worker Bees attend her 
 and close up the cells and the tiny egg within them. In the meantime 
 other cells are completed, which are to form storehouses for the food of 
 the young larvae. So careful are the Bees to make sure of their pollen-
 
 306 7 HE ZOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 paste or bee-bread, that they do not attempt to collect honey until a suf- 
 ficient amount of pollen has been gathered. As soon as the little eggs are 
 hatched, and the worker Bees perceive it, they take some pollen-paste and 
 a little honey, and transform it into a little pellet. One is dropped into 
 every cell that contains a living larva. After them come other Bees, each 
 bearing the pellet of bee-bread, and they may be seen to put their heads 
 into each cell as they follow the others, so that no one shall be over- 
 looked or forgotten. In those cells on the edge of the comb, the pollen- 
 paste which is given to the larvae has an acid taste, and the Bees which 
 are brought out from these cells are the new queens. It is one of 'the 
 most wonderful things in any history that the food which is supplied to 
 the insect causes it to become either a female or a worker Bee. Would 
 it not be a comfort if all the idle people in the world could be made 
 workers by having the right sort of food given them ? I know many 
 people to whom I should supply it, if I could first find it for myself. 
 
 Finally*, a third class of cells are built, which have thickened edges, and 
 in these the winter store of honey is deposited ; each cell is then sealed 
 over with wax in a manner familiar to every one who has seen new comb. 
 Some cells are left open, and these contain the honey for public use, and 
 are refilled when empty. 
 
 The young larvae are fed until the time arrives for them to change into 
 the pupa state. Then they perform their first work, and spin a delicate 
 silken case for themselves. No sooner does the worker Bee discover what 
 is going on than it closes the little insect, who is now a pupa, in a waxen 
 cell, by putting a lid upon the top of its home. It is enclosed until its 
 perfect metamorphosis is accomplished, and the mandibles of the perfect 
 insect are first used to bite through the waxen lid of the cell. The new 
 Bee then comes out and joins with the other workers in the labours of % the 
 hive. But in the royal cells the proceedings of the workers are only the 
 same up to a certain point: when the larva in one of these cells attempts 
 to bite its way out, the workers forbid it to appear, and seal it with a deli- 
 cate transparent membrane. The little prisoner makes a distinct sound 
 with its wings as a protest against such cruel treatment, but of course it 
 has to submit. After a time it puts out its tongue against the sides of the 
 cell, and the workers, perceiving this, cut a little hole in the lid, insert some 
 honey, and again closely wax up the cell. This proceeding is sometimes 
 continued for several days, and then the prisoner is set free, but only par. 
 tially, for if she attempts to go near the cells of other workers, she is bitten 
 and pulled back by the attendant nurses. This is a necessary precaution,
 
 BEES AND THEIR BUSINESS. 307 
 
 for it is rather a bad feature in Bee history that the females of the hive 
 are so quarrelsome. The reigning queen would kill her successor if she 
 found the slightest chance of doing so, and it is only the lookers on (the 
 neuter Bees) who can prevent one queen killing the other. 
 
 The new queen is kept a prisoner until a sufficient number oi workers 
 are set free from the cells ; and then, the hive being too hot and too 
 crowded, a party sallies forth, led by the new queen, or the old ; and a 
 swarm on the nearest tree is the result the queen, remaining in the hive, 
 having peaceful possession until another female is hatched, when the old 
 proceedings are repeated. But, in saying that the hive is too hot, I am 
 reminded that Bees have as great an idea of ventilation as any other 
 animals, vertebrate or invertebrate. A party of Bees stand always on the 
 floor with their heads towards the interior of the hive ; these move their 
 wings backwards and forwards in one direction ; and another party stand 
 with their heads towards the door, also with their wings in a constant 
 state of vibration. Thus the air is kept constantly circulating in the hive, 
 and the whole of it is thoroughly ventilated. Perhaps a prettier thing to 
 watch is the care which the Bees have for each other. When a Bee returns 
 from its wanderings after a circuit of two or three miles, and when its 
 tiny wings ache with flying, and its legs are stiffened by the load they are 
 bearing, it finds plenty of help in its home. Loving friends come 
 clustering round it, and, with the tiny brushes on their front legs, 
 take the pollen from the weary Bee into their own mouths arid quickly 
 lighten her of her load. When the hive is very busy, if the new 
 home-comer is not noticed, she will plant her two fore feet firmly on 
 some object, and summon the 'assistance which is at all times willingly 
 rendered. 
 
 The chief character by which the Bees may be known, and, indeed, the 
 whole order Hymenoptera, is their wasp-like waist : this many people call 
 the stalk. It is a character so marked in the wasps that I need not dwell 
 upon it, except to point out that it may be distinguished in swarms of 
 tiny insects who are very commonly called flies. 
 
 Hymenoptera have four wings two large front ones, and two smaller 
 at the back ; when in flight, the hooks on the front margin of the back 
 wings catch the edges of the front ones, and they have, when flying, 
 apparently but one wing on each side. As soon as they alight on the 
 flowers, or are at rest, the wings are unlocked and fold on each other. 
 One very important addition in the structure of the Bees is that they 
 have a sucking and a biting mouth. All the other insects have t\vo
 
 308 
 
 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 mandibles and a moderate under lip. Bees have, on the contrary, sharp 
 but not very large jaws, and a long projecting proboscis formed by the 
 under lip. This is rolled up, when they fly, in a little cavity between the 
 thorax and head, and it is wonderful to any one who first discovers the 
 length of it, how so perfect an instrument can be packed in so small a 
 compass 
 
 Back view. Front view 
 
 A Worker Bee's Hind Leg. 
 
 The last and most important appendage is the triangular plate formed 
 upon the third joint of the worker Bee's posterior leg. This plate is 
 polished and smooth at its base, is fringed upon each edge with long 
 hairs, and forms a pocket to retain the gathered pollen. Who would 
 have expected an insect to have had a pocket to use, and one that is of 
 as much importance to them as a pouch to a kangaroo ? 
 
 There is a difference in the use, however : the kangaroo carries the 
 baby and the food for it in the same bag, while the Bee, for good reasons,
 
 STEAM AND THE STEAM-ENGINE. 309 
 
 leaves the babies at home, and carries only the food for them in this 
 elegant little pannier. 
 
 In spring days, when the insects first come out to visit the crocus : 
 blossoms, they may be often picked up in a half-torpid condition from 
 the cool winds. This little plate is seen loaded with yellow pollen, which 
 the hair fringe supports, and the whole insect may be closely examined 
 by curious people before the warmth of the hand has restored the Bee 
 and enabled it to fly away. 
 
 STEAM AND THE STEAM-ENGINE. 
 
 OTEA.M is the name given in our language to the visible moist vapour 
 ^ which arises from all bodies which contain juices easily expelled 
 from them by heats not sufficient to burn them. Thus we say, the steam 
 of boiling water, of malt, of a tan-bed. It is distinguished from smoke 
 by its not having been produced by burning, by its not containing any 
 soot, and by its being condensible into water, oil, or inflammable spirits, 
 or liquids composed of these. We see it rise in great abundance from 
 certain bodies when they are heated, forming a white cloud, which 
 diffuses itself and disappears at no great distance from the body from 
 which it has been produced. In this case the surrounding air is found 
 to be loaded with the water or moisture which have produced it ; and 
 the steam seems to be completely soluble or lost sight of in the air, com- 
 posing, while thus united with the air, a clear atmospheric fluid. Yet, 
 in order to its appearance in the form of a cloud, its mixture with the 
 air seems to be necessary. If a tea-kettle boils violently, so that the 
 steam is formed at the spout in great abundance, it may be observed 
 that the visible cloud is not formed at the very mouth of the spout, but 
 at a small distance from it, and that the vapour is perfectly invisible when 
 it first escapes from the kettle. This is rendered still more evident by 
 fitting to the spout of the tea-kettle a glass pipe of any length, and of as 
 large a diameter as we please. The steam is produced as abundantly 
 with the pipe as without it, but the vapour is transparent and colourless 
 throughout the whole length of the pipe ; nay, if this pipe communicate
 
 310 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 with a glass vessel terminating in another pipe, and it the vessel be kept 
 sufficiently hot, the visible steam will be produced as abundantly at the 
 mouth of this second pipe as before, and the vessel will remain quite 
 transparent. The visibility, therefore, of the matter which constitutes 
 the steam seems to require that it should be mixed with the external air. 
 
 When steam is produced, the water is gradually reduced in bulk in the 
 tea-kettle, and will soon be totally expended if we continue to keep it on 
 the fire. It is reasonable, therefore, to suppose that this steam is nothing 
 but water, changed by heat into an aerial, or, as it is called, an elastic 
 form. If so, we should expect that the abstraction of the heat from it 
 would leave it in the form of water again. Accordingly, this is fully 
 verified by experiment ; for if the pipe fitted to the tea-kettle be sur- 
 rounded with ice, or any cold substance, no steam will issue, but water 
 will continually trickle from it in drops ; and if the process be conducted 
 with the proper precautions, the water which we thus obtain from the 
 pipe will be found precisely equal in quantity to that which disappears 
 from the tea-kettle. Steam is, therefore, the matter of water converted 
 by heat into an elastic vapour. 
 
 We are most familiar with steam when it rises violently rom heated 
 water in the process of ebullition, or boiling. The observance of steam 
 at this stage is highly instructive, and its production and appearance may 
 be studied with advantage by examining it in a glass vessel placed over 
 a strong lamp. When heat is first applied, a rapid circulation of the 
 fluid is the result. The water at the bottom, being first heated and ex- 
 panded, becoming lighter than the rest, rises to the top, and is replaced 
 by the current of colder water descending, to receive in its turn a further 
 increase of heat. By-and-bye, small globules of steam, formed on the 
 bottom and surrounded by a film of water, are observed adhering to the 
 glass. As the he'at increases, they enlarge. In a short time several of 
 them unite, form a bubble larger than the others, and, detaching them- 
 selves from the glass, rise upwards in the fluid. But they never reach 
 the surface ; they encounter currents of water still comparatively cold 
 and descending to receive from the bottom their supply of heat, and, 
 encountering them, the bubbles are deprived of their heat, shrivel up 
 into their original bulk, and are lost among the other particles of water. 
 In a short time the mass of the water becomes more uniformly heated ; 
 the bubbles, becoming larger and more frequent, are condensed with a 
 loud crackling noise, and at last, when the heat of the whole has reached 
 the point which is known as 212 Fahrenheit, or the boiling-point, the
 
 STEAM AND THE STEAM-ENGINE. 311 
 
 bubbles from the bottom rise without condensation through the water, 
 swell and unite with others as they rise, and burst out upon the air as 
 steam, of the same heat as the water from which they are formed, and, 
 pushing aside the air, make room for themselves. 
 
 The singular sounds produced from a vessel ot water, exposed to heat 
 previously to boiling, have attracted attention. The water is then com- 
 monly said to be simmering or singing, and when this takes place it is 
 because the vessel is boiling at one place and comparatively cold at 
 another. This noise is most distinctly heard when the fire or flame ap- 
 plied is small and its heat intense, when the vessel is large and the water 
 deep ; for in that case the entrance of the heat will be "more rapid than 
 the circulation can convey to the remote particles of fluid, and so 
 bubbles of steam will form more quickly at one place, and be rapidly 
 condensed, than can be the case at another. The degree of speed with 
 which such bubbles follow one another will regulate the pitch of the sing- 
 ing tone. This peculiar phenomenon is to be observed in the greatest 
 perfection when we have attached a slender pipe to a close boiler pro- 
 ducing steam, and carried its open mouth, of the diameter of one-eighth 
 or three-sixteenths of an inch, down below the surface of cold water in a 
 glass jar. When the mouth of the steam-pipe is held just below the 
 surface of the water, the steam issues in great rapidity in small bubbles, 
 producing an acute tone ; and, on the other hand, when the pipe is held 
 at a considerable depth, the concussions become more violent and loude^ 
 their intervals of succession greater, the tone is lowered, and finally, the 
 shocks become detached, and so violent as to shake the glass and sur- 
 rounding objects with much force. On this subject Professor Robinson 
 observes, that a violent and remarkable phenomenon appears if we sud- 
 denly plunge a lump of red-hot iron into a vessel of cold water, taking 
 care that no red part be near the surface. If the hand be now applied 
 to the side of the vessel, a forcible tremor is felt, and sometimes strong 
 thumps. These arise from the collapsing of very large bubbles. If the 
 upper part of the iron be too hot, it warms the surrounding water so 
 much, that the bubbles from below come up through it uncondensed, 
 and produce ebullition without concussion. The great resemblance of 
 this tremor to the sensation which is experienced during the shock of an 
 earthquake has led many to suppose that earthquakes are produced in a 
 similar manner an opinion which is by no means unlikely. Any ob- 
 struction on the bottom of a boiler on the inside for example, a piece 
 of metal or a stone introduced among the water may produce a succes-
 
 312 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 sion of small concussions by the sudden condensation of gas collected 
 around it. 
 
 The permanence of the boiling-point is one of the most remarkable ot 
 the phenomena of ebullition. When water has once been brought to 
 boil in an open vessel, it is not possible to make it sensibly hotter, how- 
 ever strongly the fire may be urged or its intensity increased. This fact 
 is very striking, because we know that heat continues to be thrown in 
 exactly as fast as before the boiling-point ; and that in that case the heat 
 of the liquid also rose rapidly, wh'ereas now it has altogether ceased to 
 increase'' If a thermometer of mercury, air, oil, or metal be placed in 
 this water when it is cold, the temperature will constantly increase, and 
 expand the matter of the thermometer, as heat is supplied, until the 
 water boils ; and then, whether it boil slowly or rapidly, with a strong 
 fire or a gentle one, the thermometer will continue to stand at the same 
 point. This point is so well known that it furnishes our standard for the 
 comparison of temperatures, and is the same on all thermometers, being 
 called the boiling-point, although it is differently numbered on each, 
 being called 2 1 2 on our common thermometer, or Fahrenheit's, 80 on 
 Reaumur's, and 100 on the Centigrade thermometer. 
 
 It is also to be observed that the temperature of the steam arising from 
 boiling water is the same as that of the water from which it is produced, 
 and remains equally invariable, so that all the steam issuing from water 
 boiling at 212 is itself at 2 1 2. The knowledge of this fact assists in 
 accounting for the disposal of the heat which the fire gives out during the 
 time of ebullition or boiling, for it is manifest that the heat is all the while 
 carried off by the large volumes of steam, at a temperature of 2 1 2, that 
 are diffused through the air; and therefore an increase of heat in the fire, 
 instead of increasing the heat of the water, only increases the volume of 
 the steam thrown off and the quantity of heat carried away. This is 
 proved by a very simple experiment. Take a strong glass flask, place 
 water in it, and a thermometer among the water, and let it be held over 
 a lamp until the water boil, and the thermometer will be observed rising 
 till it reaches 212, when the steam will begin to escape rapidly from the 
 neck of the flask. These remarks apply only to steam in open vessels. 
 Let the flask now be corked tightly and the heat continually applied, and 
 it will be observed that the thermometer does not now stand at 2 1 2, but 
 rises rapidly from that point up to 220 and 230, showing that the free 
 escape of the steam into the open air is what keeps down the heat at 
 212, or the boiling-point. If the heat be still applied, the experiment
 
 STEAM AND THE STEAM-ENGINE. 313 
 
 may be made still more instructive by suddenly pulling out the cork of 
 the flask, when the vapour will instantly rush out in a large volume and 
 the thermometer sink down to 212, showing that all the excess of heat 
 was formerly, and is now again, carried off by the steam into the air. 
 
 Thus, water placed on the fire soon rises to 2 1 2, and a thermometer 
 plunged into it remains at this point, however long it boils, if the vessel 
 be open ; but if the vessel be provided with a steam-tight cover, the tem- 
 perature of the liquid may be much increased, according to the strength 
 of the vessel. The force of the confined steam is in such cases enormous, 
 and experiments of steam under high pressure or confinement are hazard- 
 ous, unless the vessel be of great strength. The Marquis of Worcester 
 burst a cannon by this means, and the frequent explosions of steam-engine 
 boilers is a familiar instance of the same fact. Dr. Black and Mr. Watt 
 heated water in a strong copper vessel to 400, and in some of Perkins's 
 experiments lead was melted in water subjected to strong pressure and 
 closely confined, yet in an open vessel we cannot heat water to more 
 than 212. 
 
 In one of Dr. Black's beautifully simple and conclusive experiments a 
 vessel containing some water at a temperature of 50 was placed on a 
 red-hot iron plate; in four minutes it began to boil, but it required twenty 
 minutes to convert the whole into vapour. In the first four minutes it 
 had acquired an increase of 162 of temperature, and as the heat was 
 uniform during the whole time of the experiment, it must have received 
 an equal quantity of heat during the whole interval, or, during the other 
 sixteen minutes, 810 must have flowed into it, yet during the whole time 
 a thermometer in it rose no higher than 2 1 2. Black naturally inferred 
 that this large quantity of heat which disappeared had entered into the 
 vapour in a latent form, or in a form which is hid from the thermometer. 
 Dr. Black was the discoverer of the doctrine of latent heat. 
 
 It appears that the reason why water boiling and exposed to the air 
 does not reach a higher temperature than 212 is that the steam which is 
 raised by any additional heat carries that additional quantity of heat 
 along with it into the air. The intelligent inquirer may naturally here 
 ask why water requires to be heated up to 212 before it will throw off 
 its heat and vapour into the air why steam does not rise equally strongly 
 from water at 200 or 180. The answer is that the force of the heat is 
 not sufficient to enable the steam to make its way against the pressure of 
 the air until it reaches this point. When the pressure of air on the sur- 
 face of the water is artificially diminished the steam does actually rise,
 
 3H "HIE BOYS' 1 AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 and the water bubbles and boils with great violence at temperatures far 
 below 212. It is only when the surface of the water is exposed to the 
 full pressure of the air in an open vessel that it is prevented from rising 
 in vapour at temperatures lower than the usual boiling-point. If the 
 surface of the hot water be protected from the pressure of the air by being 
 placed under a glass shade, and the air be removed from the inside of 
 the shade by an air-pump, the water may be made to boil at all tempera- 
 tures below 212. 
 
 Dr. Black, by means of a series of experiments undertaken by him and 
 by his friend Mr. Watt, inferred that when water is converted into steam, 
 it unites with 940 of heat, which the thermometer does not indicate; or, 
 in Black's mode of expressing it, that quantity becomes latent in the 
 steam. This determination nearly agrees with the experiments of 
 Lavoisier, who estimated the quantity which thus disappears at 1,000 
 Fahrenheit. 
 
 The invention of steam as a moving power is claimed by various 
 nations ; but the first extensive employment of it, and most of the im- 
 provements made upon the steam-engine, the world indisputably owes to 
 England and America. Steam-engines in their infancy were known as 
 " fire "-engines. As early as 1543, a Spanish captain, named Blasco de 
 Garay, showed in the harbour of Barcelona a steamboat of his own in- 
 vention. An Italian engineer, G. Branca, invented, in 1629, a sort of 
 steam windmill. The steam, being generated in a boiler, was directed 
 by a spout against the flat vanes of a wheel, which was thus set in motion. 
 
 In England, the first notices we have of the idea of employing steam 
 as a propelling force are contained in a small volume, published in 1647, 
 entitled " The Art of Gunnery," by Nat. Nye, mathematician, in which 
 he proposes to " charge a piece of ordnance without gunpowder," by 
 putting water instead of powder into the gun, ramming down an air-tight 
 plug of wood, and then the shot, and applying a fire to the breach " till 
 it burst out suddenly." But the first successful effort was that of the 
 Marquis of Worcester. In his " Century of Inventions," the manuscript 
 of which dates trom 1655, he describes a steam apparatus by which he 
 raised a volume of water to the height of forty feet. This, under the 
 name of " fire-waterwork," appears to have been actually at work at Vaux- 
 hall, in 1656. Sir Samuel Moreland, in 1683, submitted to Louis XIV. 
 a machine for raising water by means of steam. The first patent for the 
 application of steam power to various kinds of machines was taken out 
 in 1698, by Captain Savery. In 1699 he exhibited before the Royal
 
 STEAM AND THE STEAM-ENGINE. 315 
 
 Society a working model of his invention. His engines were the first 
 used to any extent in industrial operations. They seem to have been 
 employed for some years in the drainage of the mines in Cornwall and 
 Devonshire. The essential improvement in these engines over those 
 which had formerly been in use, was the introduction of a boiler, sepa- 
 rate from the vessel in which the steam did its work. One vessel, in all 
 former engines, had served both purposes. He made use of the con- 
 densation of steam in a close vessel to produce a vacuum, and thus raise 
 the water to a certain height, after which the force of steam pressing upon 
 its surface was nvide to raise it still further in a second vessel. In all 
 attempts at pumping-engines hitherto made, including Savery's, the steam 
 acted directly upon the water to be moved, without anything intervening 
 or coming between. This was now to be changed. To Dr. Papin, a 
 celebrated Frenchman, is due the idea of \he piston. It was first used by 
 him in a model constructed in 1690, when the cylinder was still made to 
 do duty also as a boiler; but, in an improved steam-pump invented about 
 1700, he used it as a dividing medium, which floated on the top of the 
 water, in a separate vessel or cylinder, and the steam, by pressing on the 
 top of it, not on the water itself, forced the water out of the cylinder at 
 the dther end. The next great step in advance' was made about 1705, 
 in what was called the "atmospheric" engine, and which was invented 
 conjointly by Newcomen, Cawley, and Savery. This machine held its 
 own for nearly seventy years. The naming of a few particulars respect- 
 ing this engine will enable the least mechanical of our readers to under- 
 stand the application of steam as a propelling force. In this engine the 
 piston, which is a steam-tight valve, moved up and down in a cylinder, 
 into which steam was admitted from a boiler directly below it. This 
 cylinder was connected with the boiler by a pipe provided with* stop- 
 cock, for cutting off or admitting the steam. The steam, rushing into 
 this receptacle, drove up the piston, or steam-tight valve, to the top of it, 
 and the piston, being connected by a rod with abeam, moved it upwards, 
 and thus worked as a pump, or, by accommodation and other arrangement 
 and application, as a propeller of wheels, or pinions, or machinery. A 
 dash of cold water was then thrown into the cistern, into which the steam 
 had thus been permitted to rush. This condensed the steam, and created 
 a vacuum, and this brought down the piston to the bottom, under the 
 pressure of the external atmosphere, and, of course, with it the rod and 
 the beam with which it was connected. The cock was then turned to 
 admit fresh steam below the piston, and thus the motion began anew, and
 
 STEAM AND THE ^TEAM-ENGINE. 317 
 
 the working of the engine proceeded. The opening and shutting of the 
 cocks was at first performed by an attendant, but subsequently a boy, 
 named Humphrey Potter (to save, it is said, the trouble of personal 
 superintendence), devised a system of strings and levers, by which the 
 engine was made to work its own valves. In 1717, Henry Beighton, a 
 Fellow of the Royal Society, invented a simpler and more scientific 
 system of "hand-gear," which rendered the engine completely self -acting. 
 During the latter part of the time which elapsed before Watt's discoveries 
 changed everything, Smeaton brought Newcomen, Cawley, and Savery's 
 engine to a very high degree of perfection. 
 
 The next essential improvements in the steam-engine were those of 
 Watt, which began a new era in the history of steam power. 
 
 James Watt produced from the atmospheric engine of Smeaton the 
 pure steam-engine, which he left to us in its present state of high improve- 
 ment. He was the man who lowered the scale of expense in favour of 
 the fire-engine, when it was a more costly power than that of horses, 
 except when fuel was extremely cheap. In his hands it ceased to be an 
 atmospheric engine, and became wholly a steam-engine, capable of being 
 applied to any purpose, on a much larger scale, and at much less expense 
 than the power of horses. He reflected that, " in order to make the best 
 use of the steam, it was necessary, first, that the cylinder should always 
 be maintained as hot as the steam which entered it ; and secondly, that 
 when the steam was condensed," or again reduced to water, " the water 
 of which it was composed, and the injection itself, should be cooled down 
 to 100, or lower where that was possible." The means of accomplishing 
 those objects occurred to Mr. Watt in 1765. The separate condenser 
 was to be distinct from but in connection with the steam-cylinder, and 
 into this the steam from the cylinder was to flow all the operations of 
 condensation being performed by surrounding it with cold water, or by 
 injection, or both. The water which would necessarily accumulate in 
 the condenser, Mr. Watt proposed to remove by means of a pump. " It 
 next occurred to me," he says, "that the mouth of the cylinder being 
 open, the air which entered to act on the piston would cool the cylinder, 
 and condense some steam on again filling it. I therefore proposed to put 
 an air-tight cover on the cylinder, with a hole and stuffing-box for the 
 piston-rod to slide through, and to admit steam above the piston, to act 
 upon it instead of the atmospliere. There still remained another source 
 of the destruction of steam, the cooling of the cylinder by the external 
 air, which would produce an internal condensation whenever steam
 
 318 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 entered it, and which would be repeated every stroke. This I proposed 
 to remedy by an external cylinder, containing steam, surrounded by 
 another of wood, or of some other substance which would conduct heat 
 slowly. When once the idea of the separate condensation was started, 
 all these improvements followed in quick succession." 
 
 It would be inconsistent with our limits to enter into any description 
 of the constructive details of steam-engines. The principle of their power 
 is here indicated all besides is an affair of rods, and cranks, and beams, 
 and pinions, and adaptation to the purpose which is intended to be served. 
 Since Watt's time great improvements have been made in the construction 
 of engines, but the application of the steam power has been essentially 
 the same down to the present day. 
 
 The uses to which steam power has been directed are very varidXis and 
 manifold. At first this force was employed chiefly in the pumping or 
 raising of water. Then it was used for purposes of manufacture and 
 locomotion. Very early in the history of steam locomotion projects were 
 formed for running steam carriages on common roads, each carriage to 
 have passenger accommodation as well as steam power. In this depart- 
 ment of invention there has been much ingenuity displayed by many 
 skilful men in England, France, and America, but commercially all the 
 different modes of promoting steam passenger traffic on common roads 
 have been failures, and therefore within the last quarter of a century such 
 inventions have been intended for the traction of heavy loads rather than 
 passengers, and even in this direction such engines have not come into 
 extensive use. The passenger carriages cannot, however, be said to have 
 themselves failed. Sir Charles Dance ran such a carriage between Glou- 
 cester and Cheltenham in 1831, doing the nine miles in fifty- five minutes, 
 having made 400 trips without an accident. In the same year, Mr. 
 Hancock began running his steam carriage, called " The Infant," regu- 
 larly between London and Stratford; and some time afterwards, Mr. 
 Scott Russell ran his invention between Glasgow and Paisley. The 
 probability is that, especially in connection with tramways, we shall ere 
 long see a renewal of attempts to propel carriages on common roads by 
 means of steam. 
 
 With the application of steam power to the purposes of our great 
 manufactories, of railway locomotion, and of the propulsion of ships, all 
 are so familiar that it is not needful to dwell upon it. The peculiar work 
 which has to be done by locomotive engines requires that they should 
 occupy little space, and much skill has been shown in their construction
 
 OUR IRONCLADS. 319 
 
 and adaptation. Many of these are very powerful and very beautiful. 
 Railways and locomotive engines on them were first brought into use 
 in this country in the northern coal districts. The first steamer on the 
 water was the Comet, which was constructed by Mr. Robert Bell, of 
 Helensburgh, for passenger traffic, on the Clyde. What .an amazing 
 advance has been made since those times from the coal- waggon and 
 its poor engine to the saloon carriage of her Majesty, and the "flying" 
 engine which suitablyaccompaniesit; from the Comet to the Great Eastern, 
 the Cunard liners, and the great war-ships 1 It is as if the nation would 
 now stand still and be paralysed without steam and the steam-engine. 
 
 One of the most remarkable instances of the application of this power 
 is to be seen in the steam-hammer, which can be so adjusted and worked 
 that a watch may be placed under it, and the ponderous machine brought 
 down upon it with such nicety that it is simply touched without having 
 even its glass broken, while at the same time there is possessed by it a 
 power which can weld tons of red-hot iron into a solid mass with the 
 utmost ease and facility. Probably the largest steam-hammer in the world 
 is that at Woolwich, which is used in the manufacture of large cast-steel 
 guns. Of similar dimensions and power is the hammer at Perm, a town 
 in the north-eastern part of Russia. The metal to be operated upon by 
 these leviathan hammers is melted in vast furnaces, sometimes in several ; 
 that in Russia has connected with it no fewer than fourteen. Its anvil 
 block weighs considerably more than 500 tons, and it was several months 
 before the casting \vas cool enough to be uncovered and turned over. 
 
 But it would t.ike volumes to tell of the wonders of steam and of the 
 uses to which it is applied. Steam and coal and iron are the principal 
 material means which have made this country great, and no country in 
 the world is equal to this in the skilful manner in which it employs them. 
 
 OUR IRONCLADS. 
 
 *T^HE time was when people used to speak with confidence of the 
 -* " wooden walls of old England," meaning thereby the great oak- 
 built war-ships. But that time has now passed and gone. We now 
 trust to ironclads.
 
 320 THE HOYS' AND GIRLS^ BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 The idea of strengthening the sides of ships, so as to render them 
 capable of resisting attack, is, however, nearly as old as the art of naviga- 
 tion itself. From the time of the Norman freebooters, who protected 
 themselves by ranging their bucklers along the sides of their vessels, 
 down to the present, all nations have sought by means more or less per- 
 fect to make their ships impenetrable, and to render them invincible in 
 battle. The first attempts at making ironclad vessels were made by the 
 Normans in the twelfth century, when they put an armature or belt of iron 
 around their vessels, just above the water-line. This belt was terminated 
 by a spur, which answered the purpose of a ram. In some instances this 
 armature was converted into a curtain of iron or brass, reaching above 
 the bulwarks, for the protection of the combatants. The crusaders of 
 the twelfth and thirteenth centuries protected their ships in a similar 
 manner. Pedro of Aragon, in 1354, ordered the sides of his ships to be 
 covered with leather or raw hide, to protect them against what were 
 called incendiary compounds. Andrea Doria, who commanded in the 
 expedition against Tunis in 1535, had one vessel in his fleet plated with 
 lead, which was furnished by the knights of St. John of Jerusalem ; and 
 at the battle of Lepanto 1 5 7 1 many of the Genoese ships were strength- 
 ened by blindages, or bulwarks, composed of heavy beams, old sails, 
 cordage, and other material. In 1782 the Chevalier d' Argon, on the 
 suggestion of M. de Verdun, at the unsuccessful siege of Gibraltar, con- 
 structed and used ten floating batteries having their tops bomb-proof, 
 and their sides protected by parapets six feet thick, composed of hard 
 wood, reinforced by cork, wood, leather, and bars of iron. These floating 
 batteries carried 214 guns of large calibre, of which seventy-two were 
 reserves, and for several hours, at close range, they withstood the heavy 
 fire of artillery concentrated upon them. They yielded finally only to 
 red-hot shot, and all but one were burnt or blown up. 
 
 Some experiments were made at Metz and Gavres for the purpose of 
 determining the power of different materials to resist penetration, in 
 consequence of which General Paixhans recommended that the French 
 vessels of war should be strengthened by plating them with iron ; but 
 this recommendation was rejected by the Board of Naval Construction 
 in 1841. In 1835 Mr. John Podd Drake had proposed to the English 
 Naval Department the protection of the machinery of steam men-of-war 
 by iron plating 4! inches thick, and in 1841 he promulgated the idea of 
 ironclad blockading-ships. The successful employment of ironclad float- 
 ing batteries, by the English and French, against the forts in the Baltic,
 
 21
 
 322 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 at the time of the Crimean War, called special attention to the import 
 ance of vessels so protected; and at Toulon, on March 4th, 1858, the. 
 French Government began the construction of the Gloire, an iron-plated 
 screw frigate of the first class. From that day wooden ships gave way 
 to a new class practically impenetrable to the projectiles of artillery, and 
 endowed with speed and sea-going qualities equal to those which they 
 were destined to replace. The science of ordnance and gunnery also 
 received a new impulse, inasmuch as guns of larger calibre and greater 
 penetrating power became necessary. Every subsequent improvement in 
 the construction of ironclad ships has been followed if not preceded by 
 a corresponding improvement in artillery, and in no branch of human 
 industry have greater ingenuity or more persistent effort been displayed. 
 
 Shortly after the Gloire was begun, the French laid the keels of several 
 other vessels of a similar description. The construction of these ships 
 was looked upon by all maritime nations as betraying an intention on the 
 part of Napoleon III. to make France the principal naval power of the 
 world, and was regarded by England as a direct challenge, which could 
 only be properly met by the construction of a fleet of still more formid- 
 able vessels. Accordingly the Admiralty ordered the building of the 
 Warrior, and shortly afterwards of the Black Prince, Defence, and Queen. 
 These ships were the forerunners of a new fleet entirely of ironclads, 
 built at an enormous cost, but making good the position of England as 
 the first naval power of the world. The example of France and England 
 was soon followed by other European powers. Austria undertook the 
 construction of two frigates, and Italy of two corvettes in 1860. 
 
 Up to this time all the efforts of constructors had been directed to the 
 building of vessels after the old patterns, simply using iron instead ot 
 wood, or to strengthening the wooden walls of old ships, without any 
 essential modification of form or change of model. But the outbreak ot 
 the civil war in the United States gave a fresh impulse to invention in 
 this direction. The seizure of the important points on the Mississippi 
 iver, below Cairo, enabled the Southerners to erect batteries, and to stop 
 navigation, and rendered it necessary for the Northern fleets to be 
 accompanied by ironclads. Such vessels were, therefore, constructed 
 and employed, several of them having turrets with guns. 
 
 The Southerner shortly after the commencement of hostilities, seized 
 the navy-yard at Norfolk, in the harbour of which the wooden frigate 
 Merrimac had been scuttled and sunk. They raised her, cut down her 
 sides, and converted her into an ironclad ram, which they called the
 
 OUR IRONCLADS. 
 
 323 
 
 Virginia. She was covered with railroad iron, laid on an oak backing, 
 and was well armed with powerful guns. This great and formidable ship, 
 after having engaged and sunk several war-vessels of the enemy, was 
 encountered on the gth of March, 1862, by the Monitor, a novel ship, 
 constructed by John Ericssen, ot New York, which, after a brief but 
 remarkable combat, disabled her and drove her back to Norfolk. This 
 combat marks one of the most notable epochs in naval warfare, and 
 changed the character ot naval construction throughout the world. The 
 essential feature of this vessel was a revolving turret, composed of wrought- 
 iron plates, an inch thick, bolted together till a thickness of 8 inches had 
 been obtained. 
 
 The results of this combat were far-reaching in effect. All maritime 
 nations addressed themselves actively to the transformation of their old 
 wooden steamships, wherever they were sound, by cutting down and 
 plating their sides, and to the building of monitors, as well as ironclad 
 frigates. Mr. E. J. Reed, Secretary of the Society of Naval Architects, 
 was called, in England, to the post of chief constructor, and began at 
 once a radical modification of the naval marine. In 1 863, the Better ophon, 
 representing the ideas which Mr. Reed had carried into the English 
 Admiralty, was put upon the stocks, and the Warrior and others soon 
 followed. Ironclad ships are substantially of two forms or types : those 
 in which the batteries are protected by armour laid upon the walls of the 
 ships, such as the Warrior, Hercules, and Bellerophon ; and those carry- 
 ing their batteries in turrets, such as the Glatton, Thunderer ; Devastation, 
 and Alexandra. These ships are also divided into classes, according to 
 their fitness for cruising, defending harbours, guarding coasts, or operating 
 upon rivers and lakes. While there is a certain amount of similarity in 
 all the vessels of each class, there are also many differences in details 
 according to the intended use. 
 
 The Warrior is armed only at the middle with 4*- -inch plates, while 
 both bow and stern, including the steering-gear, are exposed to shot 
 and shell. In all the more recent English ships this central battery or 
 "box" has been enlarged by a continuous belt of armour, extending from 
 stem to stern, and protecting the region of the water-line and steering- 
 gear. 
 
 The Warrior's armour is of uniform thickness ; but in recent ships 
 the most vital parts, such as the region of the water-line and over the 
 machinery, have been further protected by thicker armour, additional 
 backing, and iron bulkheads fitted inside. The Warrior possesses only 
 
 212
 
 324 THE BOYS AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 broadside fire : all the latter vessels have their fighting capacity increased 
 by bow and stern fire of greater or less extent. The Warrior has only 
 her main-deck battery armour-plated : recent ships have a protected 
 upper-deck battery. The Warrior has her guns well spread out : later 
 ships carry their battery concentrated, and composed of much heavier 
 guns. The Warrior was made extremely long, with a view to speed : 
 recent ships are much shorter in proportion, and are handled more easily. 
 The Warrior has a single-skinned hull and comparatively light framing : 
 later ships are double-skinned, with deep strong framing, and water-tight 
 compartments. The armour of the Warrior, as already stated, is only 
 4| inches thick : that of the Bellerophon is 6 inches, of the Hercules g 
 inches, of the Hotspur 1 1 inches, and that on the sides of the monitors, 
 Glatton, Thunderer, and Devastation, is 1 2 inches, while their turrets are 
 14 inches. Presuming that the resistance offered by armour-plates to 
 penetration varies as the square of the thickness, which is approximately 
 correct, the armour of the Bellerophon is nearly twice as strong as that of 
 the Warrior, of the Hercules about seven times, of the Hotspur six times, 
 of the Glatton seven times, and of the turrets of the latter nearly ten 
 times. The guns, rifled, used by the Warrior, weigh 4f tons, those of 
 the Bellerophon 12 tons, of the Hercules 18 tons, of the Glatton 25 tons, 
 while those of the Tlnmdercr and Devastation weigh 30 tons. 
 
 The necessity of carrying such armour and guns, and of firing ahead 
 and astern, as well as from the broadside, has rendered essential many 
 changes in the sizes, forms, and arrangements of the sides, decks, and 
 batteries of armoured ships. The introduction of twin screws, and the 
 necessity of having light-draught vessels for coast and harbour defence, 
 have also led to further differences. When the first English ironclads 
 were constructed, the most powerful guns used were 68-pounders, or 
 8-inch smooth-bore guns. The Americans then used 9 and xo-inch 
 guns, and 4^-inch armour-plating was deemed sufficient when properly 
 backed and supported. This thickness of armour, backed in various 
 ways, forms the protection of a large number of the English and French 
 ironclads. In the first iron ships, the Warrior, Black Prince, Achilles, 
 Defence, Resistance, Hector, and Valiant, the 4^-inch armour was backed 
 by 1 8 inches of teak, fitted outside the hulls; and in the wooden ships 
 the armour was bolted on the outside of the planking. 
 
 In the Minotaur class the plating was increased to 5^ inches, but the 
 backing was reduced to 9 inches, so that practically the sides of the 
 latter class are of the same strength as those ot the Warrior class. In
 
 OUR IRONCLADS. 325 
 
 the Seller ophon the armour-plating is 6 inches, and the backing 10 inches, 
 but it is still further strengthened by having the skin-plating \\ inch 
 thick, or nearly an inch thicker than in the older iron-built vessels. The 
 armour of sea-going broadside ships has, according to some of our best 
 authorities, reached its greatest thickness in the Hercules, which has g-inch 
 armour at the water-line, 8-inch on the most important parts of the broad- 
 side, and 6-inch on the remainder, with teak backing 10 and 12 inches 
 thick outside the i|-inch skin-plating. Below the lower deck, and down 
 to the lower edge of the armour, the spaces known as the " wing pas- 
 sages " are rilled in with solid teak backing, inside of which there is an 
 iron skin f- inch thick, supported by vertical frames 7 inches deep. The 
 total protection in the region of the water-line, therefore, consists ot 
 u| inches of iron, of which 9 inches are in one thickness, and 40 inches 
 of teak backing. The trial of a target at Shoeburyness, constructed to 
 represent this part of the ship's side, proved that it was impenetrable 
 to the 6oo-pounder rifle gun. But the maximum thickness of armour 
 carried must not be considered to have been yet attained. 
 
 Coast-defence vessels and rams have been built to carry 1 1 and 1 2-inch 
 armour, and ships have recently been constructed for sea-going purposes 
 to carry 15, 18, and 20 inches of armour, either in turrets or broadsides. 
 There can be little doubt that as improvements are made in the manu- 
 facture and working of heavy guns, corresponding additions will be made 
 in the thickness of armour. It is hardly possible, indeed, to foresee in 
 what way the competition between guns and ships will terminate. The 
 armour of iron-built ironclads in the British navy ranges from 4^ inches 
 in thickness to 12 inches; the backing from 9 inches to 18 inches; and 
 the skin-plating from \ inch to \\ inch. The wood-built ironclads have 
 armour of from 4^ inches to 6 inches, with a thickness of side of from 
 29^ inches to 31^. 
 
 In the earlier English ironclads the armour extended over a portion ot 
 the broadside only, as in the case of the Warrior, whose length is 380 
 feet, and the armoured portion only 213 feet, leaving the extremities of 
 the ship entirely unprotected. At the ends of the armoured portion, 
 iron-plated bulkheads are built across the ship, making with the side 
 armour a central or "box" battery extending to a little more than 6 feet 
 below the water-line. This box battery, or partial protection, is also 
 adopted on the Black Prince, Defence, and Resistance, but has been modi- 
 fied by the addition of a belt of plating extending from the upper to the 
 main decks, before and abaft the broadside armour, on the Hector and
 
 326 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 Valiant. The main deck on which the guns are worked is thus protected 
 throughout its entire length, but the extremities between wind and water 
 are exposed. Both these plans of disposing the armour were considered 
 unsatisfactory, and in the Minotaur and converted ships of what are 
 called the Caledonian class, the " complete protection system," in which 
 the armour extends from stem to stern, and 6 feet below the water-line, 
 was adopted. This system is now followed in nearly all the monitors 
 and turret-ships in all the great navies of the world. 
 
 The extraordinary development in the power of ordnance has led not 
 only to increased thickness of armour, but to different modes of placing 
 it. In the Bellerophon and Hercules, and in other large ships of the 
 British navy, an arrangement of the armour consisting of a middle course 
 between the Warrior and Minotaur has been adopted. The Achilles, a 
 ship of the Warrior class, has had the water-line-belt added. This plan 
 of plating is known as the central battery and armour-belt system. In 
 this arrangement the great weight of the armour and battery is amidships, 
 and the ends of the ship are not overloaded, as in the complete protection 
 system. 
 
 The offensive powers of ironclads, in common with those of other ships 
 of war, are measured by the number and power of their guns, the rapidity 
 with which they may be loaded and fired, and the facility with which 
 they may command all points within range. The wooden frigates of the 
 British navy in use before the construction of ironclads carried 32- 
 pounders and 68-pounders. But now, in the new style of vessel, ordnance 
 of a much heavier description is employed. The Thunderer, the Devasta- 
 tion, and other ships, have 30-ton guns ; while the great ironclads and 
 turret-ships more recently built are armed with 8i-ton guns, and even this 
 last is not by any means likely to be the largest which may soon be 
 employed. 
 
 A few words ought here to be said about iron-clad rams. The intro- 
 duction of steam men-of-war gave rise to numerous proposals for reviving 
 the ancient method of naval warfare, that of disabling or sinking an 
 enemy by ramming ; and when the Gloire and the Warrior were built, 
 their bows were designed, strengthened, and projected with this object 
 in view. In all succeeding ironclads, more or less efficient provisions 
 have been made to adapt the bows to the same purpose ; and it is now 
 the decided opinion of naval officers that every ironclad should be an 
 unexceptionable ram. The victory of the Austrian over the Italian fleet 
 at Lissa, in 1866, was in a great measure due to the services of the
 
 OUR IRONCLADS. 327 
 
 Austrian ship Ferdinand Max, which rammed and sunk the frigate Re 
 d' Italia, and damaged other ships severely. In order that a ship may 
 be efficient as a ram, it is essentially necessary that she should be swift 
 and handy under steam, so as to enable her not only to overtake her 
 enemy, but to hit her directly and squarely in the side. These qualities 
 are incompatible with either great size or great length. Hence the ram 
 should have moderate dimensions and proportions, in combination with 
 powerful machinery, twin screws, and improved means of steering. A 
 new description of torpedo ram has been proposed, which will be very 
 destructive. This vessel has been designed and is in course of prepara- 
 tion for the British navy. It will be heavily armoured, but will carry no 
 guns, and thus will be unlike any war-ship now in existence. 
 
 The number is constantly receiving additions, but the following table 
 shows the latest ascertained strength of the ironclad navies of the 
 world : 
 
 Aggregate 
 number 
 of guns. 
 
 761 
 357 
 79 
 166 
 307 
 
 MS 
 61 
 
 69 . 
 1 80 
 
 23 
 127 
 
 121 
 6 4 
 
 24 
 2,384 
 
 At present there are several great turret ships, ironclads, in course ot 
 being added to the British navy the Inflexible, the Alexandra, the 
 Nelson, the Ttmeraire, and others. The cost of each such ship is between 
 ^400,000 and ^500,000, and in some instances it is more. These 
 later vessels have usually their turrets covered with 18 inches of iron, 
 the sides of their citadels being coated with 24 inches of metal, while 
 under the water-line they are protected with 16 inches of armour-plate. 
 They carry, each, several 8i-ton guns, which are so placed in the turrets 
 
 COUNTRIES. 
 
 Number of 
 ships. 
 
 c8 
 
 
 44 
 
 
 6 
 
 
 ii 
 
 Italy 
 
 22 
 
 
 7 
 
 Holland 
 
 2O 
 
 
 6 
 
 
 25 
 
 Sweden and Norway 
 
 13 
 
 22 
 
 
 2 
 
 United States 
 
 48 
 
 Brazil 
 
 18 
 
 
 
 
 6 
 
 General tctal ... 
 
 310
 
 328 THE BOYS^ AND GIRLS* BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 that they can be turned in any direction. The engines are from 8,000 
 to 10,000 horse power, and the whole of this can be brought to bear 
 upon the ram. 
 
 Many of our readers will recollect an occurrence which happened some 
 years ago, which proves the destructive force of the ram even when brought 
 to bear upon a powerful enemy. In this instance, however, the vessel 
 which was sunk was a friend and not a foe. As the Channel fleet, con- 
 sisting of five ironclads and a yacht, was cruising on the ist of September, 
 1875, ff tne coast of Wicklow, in Ireland, the Iron Duke, in a fog, 
 drove her ram into the Vanguard, accidentally, and sunk her. The two 
 ships were twins, of the same dimensions, and armed in a precisely 
 similar manner. The Vanguard was a fine ironclad vessel of 6,034 tons, 
 carrying fourteen guns. She was launched in 1870, and cost ^350,000; 
 but as she sank, with armament and fittings on board, her value was 
 over a half a million of money. Her armour is 6 inches thick, the back- 
 ing 10 inches, and the skin-plating an inch and three-quarters. The 
 hole made in her side by the collision was 1 5 feet by 4. She was built 
 in water-tight compartments, but the doors were not closed, and the 
 water rushed in by tons ; and had it not been for the bravery and pre- 
 sence of mind of one of the crew, who rushed down and turned off the 
 steam, there must have been an explosion and great loss of life. All 
 on board were quickly transferred to the depredator the Iron Duke 
 about twenty minutes only being required for the operation, when the 
 Vanguard whirled round two or three times and then suddenly sank in 
 deep water. And there she still lies. This incident shows what mighty 
 machines these ironclad rams are, when they can thus injure even one 
 another. 
 
 BULBS. 
 
 A MONGST what may be called the curiosities of commerce, the 
 ** trade in Dutch flower-roots may certainly have a place. About 
 Autumn the advertising columns of our gardening periodicals are 
 crammed with notices of the arrival of these bulbs from Holland, and the
 
 BULBS. 329 
 
 shop windows of our nurserymen and seedsmen are filled with the well- 
 known, brown, dry-looking roots. 
 
 Of late years this branch of the business of our nurserymen has very 
 much increased ; the spread of a taste for gardening amongst all classes, 
 together with the prevailing system of summer bedding, which has led 
 to a similar plan of treatment of spring flowers, so far, at least, as this is 
 capable of being done, has been the means of causing a greater demand 
 for these bulbs. Under the general term of Dutch bulbs the nursery- 
 man includes such spring flowering plants as the snowdrop, crocus, tulip, 
 hyacinth, jonquil, narcissus, polyanthus, gladiolus, &c., immense quantities 
 of which are annually brought to this country from Holland, where they 
 are extensively grown on large farms or plantations for the special 
 purpose of exportation. We propose here to give a few remarks on the 
 history and cultivation of the four first-named plants, which form col- 
 lectively and individually the large proportion of the Dutch bulb trade. 
 The Snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis) belongs botanically to the same natural 
 Order as the narcissus or daffodil, namely, the Amaryllidece. It is one of 
 the earliest harbingers of spring, opening its pure white blossoms some- 
 times as early as January, but mostly in February and March. It has a 
 wide distribution in Central and Southern Europe, and was considered 
 by Gerarde to be a native of Italy. It has been known in England, how- 
 ever, from an early period, and was cultivated before Gerarde's time ; so 
 long, indeed, has it been in cultivation, that it is by some considered as 
 a native plant. The name, Snowdrop, is said to be derived from the 
 similarity of the drooping flower to the eardrops worn by ladies in the 
 sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. In some parts of Gloucestershire 
 the flowers are still known as Candlemas bells, on account of their open- 
 ing about Candlemas Day (Feb. 2). 
 
 The Crocus, of which several species are cultivated, belongs to an allied 
 natural Order the Iridece, to which the gladiolus and iris or flag belong. 
 The only British species is Crocus nudiflorus, the flowers of which are 
 bright purple, opening in the autumn, and not in the spring. Crocus 
 vernus, the flowers of which are either purple or white, is a spring-flower- 
 ing species, but it is only naturalized with us, and is rare, occurring only 
 in certain parts of the kingdom. From this latter species many of the 
 cultivated garden sorts have been obtained ; several other species, how- 
 ever, are much used : Crocus sativus is the most important in an economic 
 point of view, as it is the plant from which the saffron of commerce is 
 obtained, and which is composed of the yellow stigmas of the flowers.
 
 330 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS' 1 BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 It is not a native of Britain, but its cultivation was early introduced at 
 Walden in Essex, where in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries it v'as 
 so largely grown that the place was afterwards called Saffron-Walden. 
 By the early Greeks and Romans saffron was used not only in medicine 
 but in cookery, and by the ladies as a cosmetic and for dying their hair 
 An old writer remarks that " saffron hath power to quicken the spirits, 
 and the virtue thereof pierceth by-and-by to the heart, provoking laughter 
 and merriness ; and they say that those properties come by the influence 
 of the sun, unto whome it is subject ; from whome she is ayded by his 
 subtill nature, bright and sweet-smelling." At the present time saffron 
 is used chiefly as a colouring and flavouring ingredient, and is imported 
 principally from Spain, France, and Italy. The Tulip is a well-known 
 and very important spring plant, as it is suitable both for the open beds 
 and for window gardening. One species only (Tulipa sylvestris) is found 
 in this country, and this is a doubtful native, being considered by some 
 botanists to have originated from discarded roots or bulbs of Tulipa 
 Gesneriana, the species from which the numerous varieties of the florist 
 have emanated. Norfolk and Suffolk are the only two counties where 
 it possibly may exist in a wild state. It belongs to the natural Order 
 Liliacece, familiar examples of which are to be found in the onion, aspa- 
 ragus, and the lily itself. The history of the Tulip is very remarkable : it 
 was introduced to this country in 1577, having been first made known by 
 Conrad Gesner, a native of Zurich, after whom the species is named, in 
 1559. The plant is said to have been originally brought from the Levant. 
 
 It was not till about the middle of the seventeenth century that Tulips 
 became known as important articles of trade, after which they became 
 the centre of much speculation, as much as 2,500 florins, and in some 
 cases even 4,600 florins, are recorded as having represented the estimated 
 value of a single root, the money changing hands without the bulbs being 
 actually seen, or perhaps even in existence. They were objects merely 
 of a speculative mania similar to that of railway scrip. They have always 
 had much care bestowed upon them by florists, and at the present time 
 there are hundreds of named varieties. 
 
 The most generally admired, perhaps, of all the spring bulbs is the 
 Hyacinth, known to us now chiefly for window and pot culture, and ad- 
 mired for its massive spikes of flowers. Numerous varieties, of all shades 
 of colour, and with single and double flowers, are brought to us yearly 
 from Holland, where, like the tulip, crocus, snowdrop, and other bulbous 
 plants, they are cultivated to a very large extent. The origin of the
 
 BULBS. 
 
 331 
 
 numerous forms we now possess is supposed to be Hyadnthus oricntalis 
 a plant growing about Aleppo and Bagdad. A near ally to it is the 
 Bluebell, which forms, as it were, a blue carpet to our woods in the spring ; 
 this is the Hyadnthus nonscriptus of Linnaeus, though it is now known 
 to us as Sdlla nutans. The trade with Holland in spring-flowering bulbs, 
 as we have before said, is of very great importance, immense quantities 
 being sent yearly at the close of the summer season to our nurserymen 
 and florists ; and at the end of the year bulb sales by auction regularly 
 take place in London. 
 
 That the cultivation of bulbs in Holland for exportation is a profitable 
 business is evidenced from the fact that land near Haarlem suitable for 
 Hyacinth-growing is worth about ^200 per acre, and it is in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Haarlem that most of the bulb farms are situated. It is 
 estimated that the Hyacinth culture alone occupies 100 acres of land, and 
 that from 400 to 500 acres more are planted with various other kinds of 
 bulbs. It would seem that the low-lying Dutch lands, together with the 
 moist atmosphere, are peculiarly suitable to this branch of culture. And 
 in the preparation of a new bulb-ground care is taken to raise it just 
 above the level by which it might be inundated, as a great deal of the 
 land is flooded at certain seasons. The soil is composed of a large pro- 
 portion of sand. A good deal of animal manure is mixed with it, but 
 the bulbs are never put in the ground the same season that the manuring 
 takes place. Potatoes are usually planted, which are said to grow to an 
 enormous size, but of very poor quality, so that they are usually sold for 
 feeding cattle. The ground occupied by Hyacinths one year is the next 
 year planted with tulips and crocuses, and the third year either with 
 narcissi, or, perhaps, again with potatoes. 
 
 On a large bulb farm the fields are formed into squares by closely- 
 clipped hedges, which not only break the force of the winds, but prevent 
 the sand from driving on to the plants, and so injuring them. The 
 Hyacinth-beds are between three and four feet wide, and the bulbs are 
 planted in rows about six inches apart, and covered with about three or 
 four inches of soil. The different kinds of bulbs are kept together in 
 masses, the colours of the flowers forming a most beautiful picture in the 
 landscape. The bulbs are planted in September and October, and the 
 beds are covered in winter with a layer of reeds to protect them from 
 the frost. April is the period for flowering, and the flower-spikes are 
 mostly taken off just at the time they are fully blown, and before they 
 begin to wither, which practice is said to strengthen the bulbs and to
 
 332 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 make them more marketable. The flower-spikes, after being cut off, are 
 of no value, but are thrown into heaps in the corners of the field. The 
 bulbs ripen early in June, at which time they are taken out of the ground, 
 and laid in the sun to dry, with their roots uppermost ; they are next 
 covered with dry sand for ten or twelve days, and the rootlets and leaves 
 taken off; after which they are finally dried in the drying-house a 
 building fitted up with shelves, and through which air is allowed to enter 
 and circulate freely. The bulbs are afterwards sorted, packed in the dry 
 husk of buckwheat (Fagopyrum escttlentum), an excellent material for 
 packing where absolute dryness is necessary, and sent to England early 
 in August. 
 
 Bulbs naturally increase by small bulbs being formed around their base, 
 which production is of course taken advantage of by the growers in 
 Holland, and when the young bulbs are of a sufficient size they are 
 taken off and planted separately ; but this natural process does not pro- 
 duce sufficient bulbs to meet the requirements of the growers; they 
 therefore have recourse to the following methods of propagation : The 
 lower part of an old bulb is partially scooped out in a concave lorm ; 
 this cuts through, and exposes the edges of the imbricated scales of 
 
 Hyacinth bulb with the base scooped out, showing the production of young bulbs. 
 
 which the bulbs are composed; they are then laid on the beds and 
 covered with dry sand, and, after exposure for several days, are taken to 
 the drying-house, where they are kept till autumn, and then planted in 
 the ground. From the many edges of the scales young bulbs are formed 
 in far greater numbers than if the old bulb had been left to itself.
 
 CATS, DOGS, AND OTHER HOUSEHOLD PETS. 333 
 
 Another plan, and one by which larger bulbs are produced, is to cut the 
 old bulb across in four or five places, treat it as just described, and from 
 the edges of the cuts young bulbs will appear ; these young bulbs, after 
 removal from the parent, take three years or more to bring to perfection 
 that is, before the period of blooming. New varieties are raised from 
 
 Hyacinth bulb cut across the base, for the purpose of increasing the production of young bulbs. 
 
 seed, which is a much more tedious operation, and, as it is similar to 
 that of other plants, need not be recounted here. Sufficient has been 
 said to show that spring flowers have a practical as well as a poetical 
 aspect, and that, in these days of extended trade and commerce, those 
 things which are apparently of little value are often of great importance. 
 
 CATS, DOGS, AND OTHER HOUSEHOLD PETS. 
 
 ONE of the great advantages of having your dog extremely young is 
 that he will grow up among the other pets in the house, and treat 
 them almost as if they were other dogs. There is no necessary antagonism 
 between animals in an artificial state. A dog which will hunt wild rabbits 
 can be taught to take no notice of tame ones, and a most singular fact is 
 recorded in Daniel's " Rural Sports " of a pack of foxhounds which used 
 to pass utterly unnoticed a tame fox which was chained in the yard. It 
 is often, however, difficult to make old cats and dogs agree, but the cat 
 is generally the aggressor.
 
 334 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 Puppies and kittens are naturally playfellows, and will acquire a very 
 strong affection for one another ; and it is wonderful how much boisterous 
 play a kitten will take from a young dog. Occasionally a yell will be 
 forced out of it at some extra rudeness, yet it submits to very much which 
 must be extremely disagreeable from pure affection and complacency. I 
 have seen a large retriever whose great delight was to carry about a kitten 
 in his mouth. He was so gentle, however, that the kitten liked to have 
 it done, and would corne to him and ask for it. I have known a dog also 
 fight furiously in defence of his own cat. In short, the old proverb ot 
 people " living like cat and dog " may be rendered utterly nonsensical by 
 the commonest care and sense. I repeat that it is sometimes difficult to 
 make an old cat unused to dogs an agreeable companion, but there are 
 noticeable exceptions. I left my dog in the care of a lady once whose 
 old cat had scarcely ever seen a dog, yet the friendship struck between 
 them was so great that the cat would leave her kittens in charge of the 
 dog ; and when the dog was brought into the house run over, the cat 
 licked its face until it died, and after it was buried in the garden tried to 
 dig it up again. 
 
 We now come to a more difficult subject, that of cats and other domestic 
 pets. Some amiable and excellent cats, those with peculiarly sharp heads, 
 cannot be kept from birds by anything short of cruelty. In " Sandford 
 and Merton," I think, the amiable Mr. Barlow cured the cat of going at 
 the birds by placing a heated gridiron in front of the cage and letting the 
 cat burn itself. We hope that he burnt his own fingers in this cruel experi- 
 ment, but that is not recorded. Such remedies are not justifiable on any 
 grounds. It you have a " bird " cat and birds, you must do one of two 
 things : give the cat away to some one who does not keep birds, or hang 
 your birds up out of reach. The latter remedy is extremely objectionable, 
 because your birds do not get so tame as if they stood on a table. They 
 are frightened if you put your face close to them, and you miss half the 
 pleasure of having them by not seeing their innumerable pretty and 
 characteristic ways. Tame canaries, for example, when habituated to 
 being close to you, are among the most amusing and clever of animal 
 companions. Some are occasionally exhibited on the Thames Embank- 
 ment, at Charing Cross, and in Air Street, Regent Street, which seem to 
 do almost everything but talk. They are perfectly free during perform- 
 ance, and are accompanied by a large and sleepy cat, not, however, of 
 the bird sort. 
 
 Again, take those wonderful birds, the manikins ; you might as well not

 
 336 THE SOYS' AND GIRLS BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 have them at all as hang them up to the ceiling. What makes them so 
 valuable is not their song, for that is nothing, but the unutterable absur- 
 dity of their behaviour, which is as fantastic as any monkey. The pair 
 will be sitting quietly, when the cock bird makes a curious little " wheetle" 
 in his throat, which is all the song he knows. At once the hen bird pre- 
 tends that she has never heard it before ; she looks down and up, and in 
 every direction, to see where this lovely sound comes from. He makes 
 the noise again, and she discovers where it comes from, and gets into a 
 state of admiration and delight. The last act in the farce is her looking 
 down his throat while his bill is open to see how it is done. As regards 
 white mice, dormice, and jerboas, you must mind the cat very carefully; 
 and as to jerboas, with all their beauty I do not think that they are worth 
 keeping. They are an expensive and delicate little beast, and give much 
 more pleasure to curious friends than to yourself. They have no character 
 and no brains ; they are quite as great fools as the kangaroo, or any other 
 marsupial, but they have not got the lumbering, stupid affection which 
 the kangaroo has for his master. Of marsupial pets the koala is the most 
 ridiculous and the oppossum the most intelligent, but of course they have 
 never been brought alive into this country, as their food is unprocurable. 
 
 Dormice are very poor fun, and white mice very little better; still, they 
 are very pretty and harmless, while the white mouse shows very consi- 
 derable intelligence. The white mice will do things for the Italian boys 
 which they will not do for us, but then they are handling them all day 
 and half the night. These boys procure them in England, I am told, 
 and they are very common in some warehouses. The other friend of 
 the Savoyard boy, the marmot, is, I believe, a most entertaining and 
 excellent companion, but I never had one, and so cannot speak of it. 
 
 The squirrel is really a charming little fellow, but you must get him 
 young or he will be too wild for you. The best way to get him is to buy 
 him in the streets off a man's arm, then you are sure that he is tame ; it 
 you buy one out of a cage, the chances are that you will never be able 
 to let him loose with any comfort, and you must always remember that 
 if you catch a recalcitrant squirrel without thick gloves on, he, with those 
 little front teeth of his, will bite you pretty hard. It is difficult, how- 
 ever, to make a squirrel love you with any sort of love save "cupboard" 
 love. He has very few brains, and those of no very high quality, behind 
 that receding forehead of his : the most he ever thinks of you is that you 
 are a movable tree to be climbed up, and to furnish nuts without any 
 effort on his part. Still, his ways are so charming, nimble, and graceful,
 
 CATS, DOGS, AND OTHER HOUSEHOLD PETS. 337 
 
 that he is worth having until you are tired of him. It is a very good 
 and well-trained dog which will. not hunt a squirrel; their rapid nervous 
 motion brings out every hunting instinct in the dog. But then, on the 
 other hand, it must be an extremely imbecile squirrel which allows a dog 
 to catch it. The question is not between the dog and the squirrel, for 
 the squirrel can take care of himself. The question is between you and 
 your parents or guardians about the breakage of furniture. Looking at 
 the matter as a whole, we do not entirely recommend squirrels. They 
 climb up too much, and your sister's neck and a bedpost are alike to 
 them ; they require to get to the top of everything, and put their claws 
 in pretty sharply in doing so. Cats never seem to take any notice of 
 them, save that of making some excuse for removing from their company, 
 with dignity combined with scorn. 
 
 I now pass to another very popular pet, " the restless cavy." That is 
 the scientific name of the animal, as I discovered once in the Zoological 
 Gardens at Clifton, where the name was written up outside a cage which 
 seemed to contain nothing, but which certainly contained something alive, 
 because a noise came from the interior, as of somebody trying to sing and 
 making a mess of it. With the courage of my nation, I borrowed a para- 
 sol, and got over the enclosure, determined to face this strange wild beast 
 or die. After poking into the den of this unknown animal for some time, 
 out came three guinea-pigs. My science had been at fault, but my courage 
 was beyond question. 
 
 Guinea-pigs are so called because they do not come from Guinea, but 
 from Malacca, and because they have no possible connection with any 
 kind of pig. They are pretty, comical little things, and show a trifle of 
 affection and intelligence. They are very cleanly, and will live on any- 
 thing edible, even refuse which the more stupid rabbit will cast away. 
 The most amusing thing about them is the noise they make. Possibly, 
 the nearest description of it is that of " outgribing," given by Humpty 
 Dumpty, in " Alice through the Looking Glass : " " Something between 
 bellowing and whistling, with a kind of sneeze in the middle." However, 
 we cannot give a better simile for their noise than that. I had a very 
 small one, who was extremely musical, but he went the way of all my 
 guinea-pigs : he was killed by the rats. 
 
 The most extraordinary thing is that a great number of people believe 
 that guinea-pigs will prevent rats coming near the place. My experience 
 is that, next to rabbits, no animals are so likely to be attacked by them. 
 Neither dogs nor cats will, I think, touch them ; at least I speak under 
 
 22
 
 338 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 correction. You cannot make friends with a guinea-pig, as I believe you 
 can with a rat, but he is an inoffensive little fellow, who really does his 
 best ; and which of us can do more ? 
 
 I have alluded to the rat, the most intelligent, the most cunning, and 
 the most disgusting of rodents. Tradition says that they can be tamed, 
 but I should think it impossible. There seems to be an instinctive hor- 
 ror between the rat and the human race ; we cannot set down the dreadful 
 reason here, though it is undoubtedly a sound one. Our young friends 
 must not for a moment confound the house-rat with the innocent water 
 rat, or vole, an animal by no means so common as it was a few years ago. 
 In rowing along the upper Thames, the most of the rats which you see* 
 on the banks are house- rats, which take to the water-side in summer-time. 
 The vole, the " ditch-dog " of Shakespeare, you seldom see. The " old 
 grey rat " of the same passage in " Lear " is now an extinct animal, at 
 least I have never seen one. The present, or " Hanover " rat, has de- 
 stroyed him. Household rats must, in the most humane manner possible, 
 be destroyed ; a dog which would not go at one is worthless. 
 
 Now we get naturally from those clever and horrible animals, the rats, 
 to their victims, that is to say, to those most foolish of created beings, 
 rabbits. The money that is spent on these animals, both wild and tame, 
 is very considerable. The wild ones show some instinct of self-preser- 
 vation, the tame ones none at all. We have nothing to do with wild 
 rabbits ; that is a political question between farmers and landowners. 
 We have only to do with tame ones. I have, at intervals, kept tame 
 rabbits for about thirty years, and I can safely say, with a clear conscience, 
 that I never saw the remotest glimmer of understanding in any one ot 
 them. They seem to exist only by instinct, while their very closely- 
 related cousin, the hare, develops qualities, both in the wild and tame 
 state, almost equal to those of the fox. Our forefathers taught hares to 
 play on the tabor (see Harleian Collection of MSS., about A.D. 1400; 
 also Ben Jonson's "Bartholomew Fair," A.D. 1610; again, the hare ex- 
 hibited at Sadlers Wells about 1780). Cowper, the poet, and his hares 
 are well known, but no one ever made a rabbit do anything except run 
 away. No one ever dreams of making a pet of the more intelligent 
 hare, and yet no one will hesitate to keep the foolish rabbit. Why is 
 this ? The answer is simple. One hare is like another, but the varieties 
 of rabbits procured by selection and inter-breeding get in fantastic beauty 
 and quaintness as near the limits of human imagination as do those of 
 the dog or the pigeon. The smut-nosed Himalayan rabbit is the same
 
 CATS, DOGS, AND OTHER HOUSEHOLD PETS. 339 
 
 animal as the great black lop-ear, or the wild rabbit of the fields ; so the 
 fantail pigeon is nothing but a developed blue rock, and the bloodhound 
 is nothing more than a larger and differently coloured black-and-tan 
 terrier. The rabbit has the power of developing into extraordinary forms, 
 and so has become, what is called in the language of the day, a " fancy " 
 animal ; the hare, apparently, has not this faculty at all. 
 
 Of course I wish to say nothing against the keeping of rabbits ; it is a 
 good thing to have animals about you, for it is good to think that there 
 are creatures weaker, and yet, in their way, stronger than yourself. Yet as 
 you get on in age, rabbits get more and more unsatisfactory. The eternal 
 contemplation of utterly selfish noodles is not always pleasant, and you 
 may rest assured that if you were to die to-morrow, your pet rabbit would 
 never miss you, so long as he was fed, any more than your horse would. 
 
 The habits of these animals are by no means agreeable in detail. A 
 few hints may be necessary. Never, for instance, attempt to look at or 
 touch the young ones until they begin to show for themselves. Give 
 them mostly dry food, but always let them have water besides greenstuff 
 Take them up always behind the ears, and do not squeeze their bodies; 
 see that they are continually fed, and judiciously ; and lastly, when you 
 are tired of them, sell them to some one who wants them, and spend the 
 money on something more satisfactory. 
 
 The best of all rabbits in my opinion are the Himalayan : they seem 
 to show some grains of sense (were such a thing possible), and they are 
 certainly the prettiest of all rabbits. But when you have said the best 
 about these animals as pets, what are they ? Mere stupid crawling crea- 
 tures. The meanest fowl or pigeon which ever strutted or flew about 
 your house is worth fifty of such things. Dogs, cats, fowls, and pigeons 
 are worth having ; rabbits I hardly think are. 
 
 Before I tell you about fowls and pigeons, I will finish the "residuum" 
 of pets. Lizards, especially the green ones, which you can get at 
 Kennedy's in Covent Garden, smell ; and they get into your bed and 
 your shoes, and frighten your sisters. Snakes are an utter mistake : they 
 get away and are reported lost at head-quarters, and then the maids 
 refuse to go to bed and give warning. Tortoises are always missing, and 
 getting found in strange places late at night, giving alarms scarcely in- 
 ferior to that of fire; while monkeys are, on the whole, a terrible nuisance, 
 from their habit of getting up early in the morning and waking every one. 
 We are all happier, not to mention our friends, without those pets which 
 I have mentioned in the " residuum." 
 
 22 a
 
 SUMMER GRASS. 
 
 sharpening of the scythe very much like the guinea-fowl's cry 
 is not a musical sound in itself, and yet from its suggestiveness it 
 blends into harmony with the natural melodies of its season. It tells us 
 that summer is really come, and the news is confirmed by the luscious 
 aroma that comes wandering from the house on the dew-cooled air in the 
 early morning, when the little birds are beginning to chirp and twitter in 
 the rippling leaves, and dropping to the ground in search of their early 
 breakfasts, and distant barnyard cocks are giving and answering challenges. 
 
 The very names of grasses seem to tell of green seas of cool juiciness, 
 becalmed, or billowing softly, in alternate sunshine and shadow, against 
 hedges laden with blossom : rye-grass, oat-grass, yarrow, timothy, ever- 
 green meadow, wood-meadow, trefoil, white clover, red clover, lucerne, 
 bent, dogstail, foxtail, cocksfoot, sheep's-fescue. And then the flowers 
 that gleam in the grass and, under the dog-roses, on the hedge-banks, and 
 the lush herbage in the ditches in which jars, barrels, baskets, and babies 
 are laid to be out of the sun ! Approaching bareness gives a touch of 
 sadness to corn-harvest, autumn fruit-picking, and hopping; but the cut 
 grass will spring again and yield another crop, while all around there is 
 a rich abundance of nature not yet mature, but on the very brink of 
 passing into ripeness, like a lovely maid on the eve of her bridal. "Pas- 
 toral farms " are " still green to the very doors." Yes, haysel and contem- 
 porary early fruit-picking seem to me the pleasantest of the year's farming 
 festivals. One can feel towards them as a schoolboy does towards the 
 first days of his summer holidays, delightful in themselves, and with 
 other delights beyond. 
 
 The grasses form one of the most interesting of Orders. What is the 
 bamboo but a grass, a grass that grows a foot and a half a day, and towers 
 into a tree, which supplies those who seek its shade with food and drink, 
 buckets and ear-rings, bowls and baskets, blinds and brushes, bows and 
 arrows and umbrellas, blow-tubes, flutes, guitars, cloth, paper, combs, and 
 chairs ? 
 
 What is the sugar cane but another great grass, which was taken into 
 cultivation in China and the South Seas before authentic history began ? 
 The almost as graceful maize, yielding both sugar and grain, is another. 
 Sorghum, and rice, and millet, our English cereals, lemon-grass, pampas-
 
 SUMMER GRAbS. 341 
 
 grass, the common reed, used instead of laths by West of England 
 plasterers, the plant that yields canary-seed, are all grasses. 
 
 But the grass that I like best is the English pasture-grass which I 
 have named, or its equivalents abroad, waving or being cut down in its 
 full summer beauty. Grahame, to whom few will now allow the name of 
 poet, has, at any rate, left two picturesque lines 
 
 " The scythe lies glittering in the dewy wreath 
 Of tedded grass, mingled with faded flowers." 
 
 Grass occurs in some of the most poetical passages in the Bible. Moab 
 said to Midian that they would be licked up by Israel as the ox licketh 
 up the grass on the field. " My doctrine shall drop as the rain, my speech 
 shall distil as the dew, as the small rain upon the tender herb, and as the 
 bhowers upon the grass." " He shall be as the light of the morning, 
 when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds ; as the tender grass 
 springing out of the earth by clear shining after rain." 
 
 "As the grass on the housetops" is Isaiah's graphic simile for a 
 withered people. " He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass," 
 sings the Psalm ot Solomon; and in another key, the io3rd, "As for 
 man, his days are as grass ; as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. 
 For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone, and the place thereof shall 
 know it no more." 
 
 Wordsworth, addressing a butterfly, says 
 
 ' ' We '11 talk of sunshine and of song, 
 And summer days when we were young, 
 Sweet childish days that were as long 
 As twenty days are now. " 
 
 Most of us have such " historians of our infancy." One of mine is 
 sorrel waving its rusty spikes above summer grass. Having mentioned 
 Wordsworth, let us try to call to mind as many places as we can in his 
 poems in which summer grass is growing. We might spend a summer 
 hour in a way less profitable as well as pleasing. From the ending of 
 May to the beginning of July is our season. It is in summer, or at any 
 rate, late spring grass, that little Sister Anne is doing her work of waste 
 and ruin on the strawberry-blossoms. Summer grass is just stirring on 
 the green graves to which the little cottage girl takes her little porringer, 
 and sits down and eats her supper there. The grass of Barbara Lewth- 
 waite's lamb is summer grass, for the green corn all day is rustling in its 
 ears. It is on May grass that the two idle shepherd boys sit, trimming
 
 SUMMER GRASS. 343 
 
 their rusty hats with staghorn, whilst the fallen lamb, bleating back to its 
 mother, is swimming round and round the black pool at the foot of the 
 Force of Dungeon Ghyll. It is on a July evening that the homely priest 
 of Ennerdale rises from the long stone seat beneath his cottage eaves, 
 and goes to speak with Leonard of the dead who lie buried beneath the 
 stoneless turf of his little churchyard. The noticeable man with large 
 grey eyes plucks long blades of summer grass to make his pipes. It is 
 over summer grass that ill-fated Ruth wanders, playing on her hemlock- 
 stalk, whose music at evening in his homeward walk the Quantock wood- 
 man hears ; and all the summer long it is of grass she makes her couch. 
 It is summer grass whose rustling afflicted Margaret dreads to hear. 
 Her apprehensions come in crowds; the very shadows of the clouds 
 have power to shake her as they pass. The grass waves as sadly in 
 summer as in winter about the straggling heap of unhewn stones in 
 Greenhead Ghyll, about which a few sheep stray, while kites are sailing 
 overhead all that remains to tell that, and the oak, beneath which the 
 sheep used to be clipped of the family of three who once lived in the 
 " Evening Star," which, through the silent hours, was made by the 
 mother's industry to murmur as with the sound of summer flies. Over 
 summer grass the robin chases the butterfly, whose wings in crimson are 
 dressed, as bright a crimson as his own ; when he is adjured, as the 
 pious bird whom man loves best, to love him or leave him alone. Sum- 
 mer grass makes green the seven little islands where the seven lovely 
 Campbells sleep ; and the stream that flows out of the lake sings mourn- 
 fully oh ! mournfully the solitude of Binnorie.* 
 
 Summer grass and summer flowers grow in the lovely dell where no 
 bird builds, no bee sucks, for there the Danish boy plays his harp and 
 
 * " The stream that flows out of the lake, 
 
 As through the glen it rambles, 
 Repeats a moan o'er moss and stone 
 For those seven lovely Campbells." 
 
 Compare, in Hawthorne's "Scarlet Letter": 
 
 "But the little stream would not be comforted, and still kept telling its unintelligible 
 secret of some very mournful mystery that had happened or making a prophetic lamenta- 
 tion about something that was yet to happen within the verge of the dismal forest 
 
 The dell was to be left a solitude among its dark old trees, which, with their multitudinous 
 tongues, would whisper long of what had passed there, and no mortal be the wiser. And 
 the melancholy brook would add this other tale to the mystery with which its little heart 
 was already overburdened, and whereof it still kept up a murmuring babble, with not a 
 whit more cheerfulness of tone than for ages heretofore."
 
 344 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 warbles the songs that make the far-off flocks listen, and the mountain 
 ponies prick their ears. 
 
 " Calm and gentle is his mien, 
 Like a dead boy he is serene." 
 
 Poor Susan hears the thrush sing at the corner of Wood Street, and a 
 river flows on through the vale of Cheapside ; and in its midst she sees 
 green pastures in the summer glory. Green with snmmer grass are 
 Yarrow's holms, and sweet is Yarrow flowing. Home-bred kine are 
 grazing in Burn-mill meadow, and the swan on still Saint Mary's Lake 
 floats double, swan and shadow. About the baby's mossy grave, beside 
 which, in her scarlet cloak, sits in all weathers the lonely woman, moan- 
 ing, as she remembers the long ago time when summer leaves were 
 green 
 
 "Oh, misery! Oh, misery! 
 Oh, woe is me ! Oh, misery ! " 
 
 there for full fifty yards around the grass still shakes upon the ground. 
 The summer grass has vanished from the well, beside which the cruelly 
 hunted hart had slept in summertide, whose waters he stirred with the 
 last deep groan he breathed ; but on grass fall the shadows of the Fur- 
 ness foxglove-bells, in which bees murmur by the hour, far more con- 
 tented than hermits with their cells. 
 
 Old Adam whistles his way up the Haymarket, thrusting his hands 
 into the waggons and smelling at the hay, and thinking of the fields he 
 so often has mown, but must never mow again, down in pleasant Tilsbury 
 Vale. Right across Bolton's verdant sod, towards the very house of God, 
 comes gliding in with lovely gleam, serene and slow, soft and silent as a 
 dream, the solitary White Doe of Rylston. The Wanderer tells of Mar- 
 garet's husband seated at his loom ere the mower was abroad among 
 the dewy grass, and of Margaret pacing to and fro through many a day 
 of the warm summer, from a belt of hemp that girt her waist spinning 
 the long-drawn thread, upon 
 
 " that path, 
 
 Now faint, the grass has crept o'er its grey line." 
 
 Over the rough mountain summer grass comes the Solitary, dealing his 
 words of comfort, and strings of ripe currants from a cabbage-leaf, to 
 the sobbing little mourner. 
 
 " They to the grave 
 
 Are bearing him, my little one," he said, 
 " To the dark pit, but he will feel no pain. 
 His body is at rest, his soul in heaven."
 
 ABOUl A CATERPILLAR. 345 
 
 If the " Excursion " is sometimes prosy, nevertheless its 
 
 ' ' fragrant air its coolness still retains, 
 The herds and flocks are yet abroad to crop 
 The dewy grass." 
 
 And elsewhere, although he does talk as if, for him, a glory had passed 
 away from earth, to the grass, Wordsworth, more than any other poet, 
 has given an enduring splendour. 
 
 ABOUT A CATERPILLAR. 
 
 >D be a butterfly, happy and gay ! " 
 But who, if he could help it, would be 
 a caterpillar? And yet, as an old 
 saying hath it, "We must creep before 
 we can go. We must walk before we 
 can fly ; " a decree significant of the 
 beginnings and endings of more lives 
 than are dreamed of in the philosophy 
 of creeping things in general. 
 
 Look at the crawling, munching 
 creature, contented and happy 
 enough, satisfied with its lot, while 
 that lot is cast on a good large cab- 
 bage-leaf, or, with hundreds of its 
 fellows, swarming on the leaves of a 
 young gooseberry-tree or a field ot 
 turnips. Repulsive being ! its very 
 contentment is revolting. We would fain inspire it with a few sentiments 
 of a more exalted nature, and give it something to exist for, some object 
 to sigh, to struggle for, and in vain to grasp. Yet what longings, what vain 
 ambitions can ever equal the real future that lies before this despised being? 
 whose life yet is unvaried by dreams of airy flight, or by any anticipations 
 of his future ; when he shall leave his present lowly condition to soar far 
 beyond his present ken, mounting aloft on rapid wing, or balanced for a 
 moment on the fair cup of the flower whose nectar he sips in passing, in
 
 346 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 place of now slowly munching the leaves, or sleeping on the remains of 
 his heavy repast. 
 
 For the present to eat and to sleep seems to be the lot of these poor 
 crawlers. But look within. There is far more than meets the eye. Beneath 
 that mean form, its gaudy exterior and strange appendages of legs, ot 
 scales, and of teeth, a process is being carried on, a formation completing, 
 a perfection advancing, contrasted marvellously with its exterior existence, 
 and yet growing out of it, sustained by and assimilated from diet of the 
 most unlikely unkind the cabbage-leaf, disintegrated by a course of equal 
 marches round its narrowing edge by the creature, whose rapacious tooth 
 devours every inch that its feet can tread, the potato-field ravaged by the 
 invading myriads, or the leaf and root of the forest tree. Yes, the future 
 imago is forming now. Days of monotonous toil, of diligent accretion, 01 
 patient preparation, and of tedious torpor in the antechamber of mortality, 
 shall result in that lovely winged thing, that shall float on the zephyr, 
 and glitter in the noonday light, the wings, the antennae, the exquisite 
 plumage of various hues, the inconceivable lightness t)f the freight they 
 bear, all wondrously contrasting with the form they left behind; and surely 
 if colour, like sound, have its various waves and notes, that thing of beauty 
 shall waft a song of praise to Heaven with every movement of its wings. 
 Ah, yes ! like that, and something more not alone happy and gay, but 
 blest for ever, " I 'd be a butterfly," and gladly pass through the ordeal 
 of all the strange, painful, and distressful vicissitudes that may prepare 
 and form my fortune, for not to flutter for a day and perish in a night 
 shall we arise from our imprisoning cell. 
 
 1 ' The grovelling worm shall find his wings, and soar as fast and free 
 As the transfigured one, with lightning form : " 
 
 no ephemeral moth born but to die, rather to know no end, and leave 
 mortality behind. 
 
 Yet, apart from parables, which kindle our hopes and enthusiasms, an 
 inexorable philosophy still ask the question, which, so far unanswered, 
 we may fairly leave to wiser heads, as to the uses of the caterpillar race 
 in the economy of nature. Born to devour, and to be devoured in large 
 proportion, it may satisfy the curiosity of some, that caterpillars furnish 
 a savoury food for robins, and that the use of the robin is to devour the 
 caterpillar, which he does right manfully, at the rate of three hundred for 
 his breakfast ; but it answers nought to the inquiries of those who seek 
 a final cause in each atom of creation. The only end it seems to serve
 
 ABOUT A CATERPILLAR. 347 
 
 is what some call by the hard name of a " transposed end," an end crop- 
 ping up in the path of its destiny and interrupting it much in the way 
 that a child gathers daisies and fulfi s their transposed end of his amuse- 
 ment by hanging them in a chain round his neck. The caterpillar fulfils 
 the transposed end of its existence, in the way of animal nutrition (though 
 it never live to be a butterfly), albeit the good of man be never apparently 
 reached, for he neither eats the caterpillar that devours the cabbage, nor 
 does he even eat the robin that swallows the caterpillar that devours the 
 cabbage ; nay, further, the " transposed end " of the caterpillar affects man 
 in the shape of a blight ; for when the caterpillar eats the leaf, the fruit 
 is rendered worthless by the absorption of the juices that should have 
 fed the leaves. Then, what is the use ? Could the caterpillar speak as 
 well as eat and why should it not ? only it was sent into the world not 
 to talk, but to do its duty perhaps it might retort the query: Have you, 
 my caustic friend, my utilitarian investigator, made the important discovery 
 what you were sent into the world to do, and are you doing it ? The 
 use you '11 find but by-and-bye ; and, meanwhile, accept a suggestion very 
 practically exemplified by our company of crawlers, as to a complete 
 disentanglement from an old skin or a bad habit, for which an effort is 
 required, that might have seemed in anticipation impossible. It is thus 
 described, and is too interesting not to record at length : 
 
 " There is a phenomenon in the life of caterpillars which we ought to 
 point out, and which has attracted the attention of the most illustrious 
 observers. All caterpillars change their skins many times during their 
 life. It is not indeed enough to say that they change their skins. The 
 skins or cases they cast are so complete that they might be taken for 
 entire caterpillars. The hairs, the cases of the legs, the nails with which 
 the legs are provided, the hard and solid parts which cover the head, the 
 teeth all these are found in the skin which the insect abandons. What 
 an operation for the poor little animal ! The work is so enormous, so 
 troublesome, that one cannot form a just idea of it. One or two days be- 
 fore this grand crisis the caterpillar leaves off eating, loses its usual activity, 
 and becomes motionless and languid. Their colour fades, their skin dries 
 little by little, they bow their backs, swell out their segments. At last 
 this dried-up skin splits below the back, on the second or third ring, and 
 lets us have a glimpse of a small portion of the new skin, easily to be 
 recognized by the freshness and brightness of its colours. 
 
 " ' When once the split has begun,' says Re'aumur, ' it is easy for the in- 
 sect to extend it; it continues to swell out that part of its body which is
 
 348 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 opposite the split. Very soon this part raises itself above the sides of the 
 split ; it does the work of a wedge, which elongates it : thus the split soon 
 extends from the end or the commencement of the first ring, as far as the 
 other side of the end of the fourth. The upper portion of the body which 
 corresponds to these four rings is then laid bare, and the caterpillar has 
 an opening sufficiently large to serve it as an egress, through which it can 
 entirely leave its old skin. It curves the fore part, and draws it backward; 
 by this movement it disengages its head from under its old envelope, and 
 brings it up to the beginning of the crack ; immediately upon this it raises 
 it, and causes it to go out through this crack. The moment afterwards 
 it stretches out its fore part, and lowers its head. There now remains for 
 the caterpillar nothing but to draw its hinder part from the old case. 
 
 " This excessively laborious operation is finished in less than a minute 
 The new lining which the caterpillar has just put on is fresh and bright 
 in colour. But the animal is exhausted by its fast, and the efforts it has 
 made, and requires a few hours in which to regain its equilibrium." 
 
 Apparently the caterpillar is an adventurous being, much addicted to 
 attempting and never failing to accomplish the most difficult feats of the 
 acrobat. Having, as we have just seen, succeeded in turning himself inside 
 out, there are species which attain the yet more difficult art of suspending 
 themselves head downwards or by the middle of their bodies before com- 
 mencing the operation of forming the cocoon. The operation is attended 
 with considerable difficulty, and is one of which a mathematician might 
 be proud. It had escaped the observation of many naturalists, although 
 the little creature which so successfully performs it is one of the most 
 common of our English caterpillars, the little Vanessa urlica, common on 
 the stinging-nettle, and distinguished by numerous black specks on its 
 dusky body. The plant on which they feed seems to afford too insecure 
 a support for the intended chrysalis, and the insect, on the approach of 
 its transformation, quits its usual resort and seeks some more convenient 
 point of suspension, where in the following manner it commences opera- 
 tions. Threads are laid, in most admired disorder, as a covering to the 
 surface of the body from which it desires to hang. To this earliest layer 
 afresh labyrinth of silken threads is added, covering a smaller surface, and 
 so on, ever contracting the extent whilst thickening the central mass, and 
 thus forming a little mound of loosely-woven fiore just firm enough to bear 
 the weight about to be imposed upon it. If we had contrived such a 
 mechanical device, should we not have cast about rather for a hook or a 
 thorn to hang from, and woven the loop on the body to be suspended ?
 
 ABOUT A CATERPILLAR. 349 
 
 But the hook is there before, and has already answered many useful pur- 
 poses, before this last, to the body of the caterpillar. 
 
 The membranous feet of the little creature are armed with tiny hooks 
 of various lengths, with the aid of which it suspends itself. By wriggling 
 contractions and elongations of its body, it pushes the hindermost legs 
 against the hillock of silk so firmly as to entangle them in its meshes ; 
 it is then seen to " let go " and fall securely into a vertical position. It 
 hangs there, but not idly, sometimes as long as twenty-four hours, engaged 
 in the sober, staid operation of "splitting its sides " with labour not 
 with laughter and when split, in folding downwards like a cast-off gar- 
 ment the striped and dusky skin, bristling with ebony spines, in which it 
 crawled so long. No longer useful to its possessor, this garment must 
 be not only folded into the smallest possible space, and gradually, by 
 means of continued contortions, pushed upwards till it covers only the 
 narrowest end of the chrysalis remains in statu quo. And how shall this 
 be done ? Let Blondin live and learn. The creature has neither legs 
 nor arms, and must yet set itself free from the skin and reach the threads 
 from which it is suspended. Its supple body has a contractile power 
 which supplies the office of the limbs. Between two of its segments the 
 insect seizes a portion of the folded skin so firmly as to support the entire 
 body. It now curves slightly the hinder parts, and draws the tail entirely 
 out of the sheath in which it was enclosed, and for an instant reposes 
 before freeing itself entirely from the encumbrance. Curving the part 
 below its tail, so that it can seize the thread to which it holds on, it gives 
 its body a violent shock, which makes it spin round many times on its 
 tail with great rapidity. During these pirouettes the chrysalis is acting 
 against the skin, and the hooks of its legs fray the threads and break 
 them or disentangle themselves. If unsuccessful in this effort, it begins 
 to twirl itself in the opposite direction, and rarely fails the second time. 
 It is from the golden hue of this chrysalis, which is sometimes brown 
 with golden spots, and sometimes entirely golden, that the term chrysalis 
 (from xptaios, golden) was suggested to the ancient naturalists. From this 
 chrysalis emerges in due time and that very short the common, but 
 most beautiful, tortoiseshell butterfly. 
 
 The yet more common and less richly tinted Pieris brassica is in its 
 transformations a still more accomplished acrobat. It forms, like its 
 neighbour of the nettle, a labyrinth of silk to hang from, but seems to 
 prefer a horizontal to a perpendicular position, and acts accordingly, after 
 having hooked itself firmly by the nails of the hinder feet to the point of 
 suspension.
 
 350 THE OYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 This caterpillar possesses the power of turning back its head on to its 
 back after having lengthened its body to a certain point, and, with its six 
 legs in the air, of reaching to its fifth ring. It can also, by bending side- 
 ways, bring its head, with the thread-spinning apparatus which is below, 
 opposite and near to one of the membranous legs. The caterpillar begins 
 operations by fixing on this point a single thread, the first of those that 
 are intended to tie it up securely. 
 
 But how can it throw the thread over its head? The problem is almost 
 as difficult as a boy's first essay when he has mounted his knickerbockers 
 and must get his braces over his shoulders. It contrives to catch hold of 
 the thread with its head, and, drawing it to the other side, it forms a loose 
 loop over its doubled body. Having seen that this loop is firmly attached i 
 on both sides, it wriggles its head a little farther back, spins another thread 
 from its tail, which it firmly attaches on the opposite side, and then, by 
 a jerk, contrives to pass the thread over the crease between its head and 
 neck. Again and again it repeats the same operation, until it has formed 
 a loop strong enough to bear its weight, when it completes its somersault, 
 and, in little more than a day, its transformation into the chrysalis is 
 complete. 
 
 But many other caterpillars are not content with fastening their horny 
 case to a branch or a rock. Before performing the feats we have described, 
 they spin their houses of silk, in which they may undress and sleep, with- 
 drawn from the vulgar gaze. Some work in communities, and make one 
 large cocoon like a great silken bag supply the dressing-room for a large 
 family. Others gum together a case of leaves ; some take to masonry 
 instead of carpentering or spinning, and gum together a shell of earth or 
 mortar, kneaded with silk, and finely plastered within. If disturbed before 
 they have completed their transformation, they will put out their head, and 
 gather little grains of earth, which they entangle in silky threads, until the 
 gap is completely closed. 
 
 Others again, especially in Australia, roof their abodes with shingle, 
 after the fashion of our New Zealand colonists ; little bits of bark being 
 cut, and placed together with all the regularity of an experienced slater. 
 In fact, there is no human mechanical art which may not find its prototype 
 in insect architecture. Lake dwellings, cave men, bark huts, wigwams, 
 woven tents, diving-bells, clay houses, existed long before man adapted 
 the materials around him to the varied conditions in which he sought to 
 make his home. In these varied dwellings, whether of the finest silk or 
 he roughest masonry, the^once grovellingj caterpillar rests, sometimes
 
 THE ACANTHUS. 351 
 
 only a few weeks, sometimes a year, till it emerges in due time to a new 
 existence, in which, careless of food or clothing, it flits from flower to 
 flower, its only care being now the reproduction of its species ; and, 
 having laid its eggs, a few showers or a windy day close the chapter 01 
 existence of the spangled butterfly. 
 
 THE ACANTHUS. 
 
 it is not every one who, on looking at a column in a 
 building, is reminded of a tree, it is impossible, when once the 
 suggestion is made, not to see that there is some connection between 
 the two things. The simple pillar represents the trunk; the capital 
 stands for the foliage. Take a roof: support it by trunks of trees; 
 put a flat piece at the top, and another flat piece at the bottom, and you 
 have a Tuscan column. We may conjecture that the idea of fluting a 
 column came from grooves in the bark, and the idea of a more orna- 
 mental capital might be easily generated in the mind of some one who 
 noticed, as it held up a roof, a tree-stem round the top of which leaves 
 were sprouting. I saw such trees in a timber-yard the other day, and 
 stood long in the street to admire them there they were, column and 
 capital, ready for the architect's hand to imitate in stone. We know as 
 a matter of fact that the Greeks, at an early stage of their history, used 
 to erect buildings entirely of wood, and that some of th2se were in no 
 way distinguished except by that circumstance from certain other build- 
 ings in stone. 
 
 In the case of the architecture of Egypt the imitation of a tree is so 
 plain so " frank," to use the language of art criticism that the palm 
 or the lotus stands visibly before us in the supports ot the temples. In 
 the more refined architecture of Greece, the imitation is less frank, but 
 the eye is more pleased. In the Ionic capital we see plainly the curl of 
 the leaf, but we cannot fix the particular tree or plant. It so happens, 
 however, that in the most ornate of the known orders of Grecian archi- 
 tecture we can unmistakably trace the acanthus a well-known plant, for 
 the most part growing as a weed, though some of its species are kept in 
 hothouses, and the ordinary plant is grown in gardens for the beauty of 
 its leaf, and out of regard for the use it has served in art.
 
 THE MICROSCOPE. 353 
 
 It is said that the Corinthian capital too familiar an object to require 
 description was suggested by seeing an acanthus growing under a slab 
 of stone laid on the trunk of a tree ; but we do not need the story, be 
 it fancy or fact. When once it was understood that foliage was to form 
 the capital of a column, almost any step towards the use of any parti- 
 cular leaf was easy. The acanthus is used in Gothic as well as in 
 Grecian capitals. It is a noticeable fact that in Gothic, the capital is 
 ornamented less in proportion as the rest of the building becomes what 
 is called florid. In other words, there is usually much more leafage in 
 the capital of Early Gothic than of Late Gothic. 
 
 There is no reason, considering the endless variety of beautiful forms 
 in nature, why fresh types of capital should not be invented and used. 
 The persistent use of a few fixed types, age after age, is an example of 
 the tendency of things to keep on in particular lines of imitation till 
 some change is violently made. In the general characteristics of the 
 column (of whatever order) considered as the support of a building, no 
 change can well be made. That a column should be broad at the base 
 and taper towards the top (even if there be a slight bulge in the middle) 
 is not only reasonable and natural imitation of a tree ; it is obedience 
 to the law of mechanics which tells us how to get the greatest amount 
 of sustaining power out of a pillar. 
 
 THE MICROSCOPE. 
 
 "\ \ 7"E very much wish to do our young readers a good turn. Most of 
 * * them, happily, have fathers and mothers, and bachelor uncles and 
 maiden-lady aunts perhaps, and some have even big brothers. It is a 
 most amiable weakness when such estimable relatives have a habit of 
 giving presents, to the younger ones. A microscope is a really capital 
 thing for a present. Suppose that some of our elder friends try it. Most 
 certainly they would find it yield a large return of gratitude, amusement, 
 and instruction. 
 
 The instrument known as the microscope derives its name from two 
 Greek words, /txt/cpos, "small," and O-KOTT/W, "to view" that is, to see or 
 view such small objects as, without its aid, could not be seen. The 
 
 2 3
 
 354 THE BOYS^ AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 honour of the invention is claimed by both the Italians and the Dutch ; 
 but the name of the inventor is unknown. 
 
 If we consider the microscope as an instrument of one lens only, it was 
 probably known at a very early period ; nay, to some extent, even the 
 ancient Greeks and Romans must have been acquainted with it. At all 
 events, spectacles were used as early as the thirteenth century; and, as 
 the glasses of these were made of different convexities, and consequently 
 of different magnifying powers, it is not unnatural to suppose that smaller 
 convex lenses were made, and used for the examination of minute objects. 
 " Burning-glasses " are spoken of at a very early date. These, of course^ 
 were magnifying glasses or microscopes of the simplest kind. There is 
 in the French Cabinet of Medals a very ancient seal, beautifully executed, 
 whose history can be traced very far back, and the engraving upon which 
 is so minute that it is not all visible to the naked eye. The conclusion, 
 therefore, is that both in the making of it and the reading of it, magnify- 
 ing or microscopic glasses were employed and were necessary. 
 
 Sir David Brewster, at a meeting of the British Association in 1852, 
 showed a plate of rock crystal worked into the form of a lens, which had 
 been recently found among the ruins of Nineveh. Sir David was a high 
 authority on such a subject, and he maintained that this lens had been 
 intended for optical purposes, and that it never had been a mere personal 
 ornament. 
 
 It is not difficult to fix the period when the microscope first began to 
 be generally known, and to be used for the purpose of examining minute 
 objects ; for, although we do not know the name of the first inventor, we 
 are acquainted with the names of those who first introduced it to public 
 notice. Zacharias Jansens and his son are said to have made microscopes 
 before the year 1590. About that time the ingenious Cornelius Drebell 
 brought one made by them with him to England, and showed it to William 
 Borrell and others. This particular instrument was possibly not strictly 
 what is now called amicroscope, but rather a kind of microscopic telescope. 
 It was formed of a copper tube six feet long and one inch in diameter, 
 supported by three brass pillars, which were fixed to a base of ebony, on 
 which the objects to be viewed by the microscope were placed. 
 
 The single or simple microscope was invented and used long before 
 any other. Even with that the beautiful forms of invisible nature were 
 brought to view. This instrument consisted of a single lens of great mag- 
 nifying power, which greatness of power made the field of view very small. 
 Any of our young readers may, in a limited measure, realize for himself
 
 THE MICROSCOPE. 355 
 
 the sort of instrument which this was, by borrowing his grandmother's 
 spectacles, and using one of the eyes as a magnifier, only remembering 
 that the power of the single microscope lens was very high. 
 
 About the year 1665 small glass globules began to be occasionally 
 applied to the single microscope, instead of convex lenses. Looking 
 through these, instead of looking through the formerly used lens, an im- 
 mense increase of magnifying power was obtained. In the Philosophical 
 Transactions for 1696 Mr. Stephen Gray describes an experiment which 
 carried him further than he had reached even with the globules. He tells 
 us that he took on a pin a small portion of water which he knew con- 
 tained some minute animalcules ; this he laid on the end of a piece of 
 brass wire, till there was formed somewhat more than a hemisphere of 
 water ; on then applying it to the eye, he found the animalcules enor- 
 mously magnified, for those which were scarcely discernible with his glass 
 globules with this appeared as large as ordinary-sized peas. 
 
 Dr. Hooke thus describes the method of using this water-microscope : 
 
 "If," he says, "you are desirous of obtaining a microscope with one 
 single refraction, and consequently capable of procuring the greatest 
 clearness and brightness any one kind of microscope is capable of, spread 
 a little of the fluid you intend to examine on a glass plate ; bring this 
 under one of your globules, then move it gently upwards till the fluid 
 touches the globule, to which it will soon adhere, and that so firmly as 
 to bear being moved a little backwards and forwards. By looking through 
 the globule you will then have a perfect view of the animalcules in the 
 drop." 
 
 The construction of the single microscope is so simple that it is sus- 
 ceptible of but little improvement, and has therefore undergone few 
 alterations, and these have been mostly confined to the manner of mount- 
 ing it, or to additions to its apparatus. The greatest improvement this 
 instrument has received was made by Lieberkuhn, of Berlin, about the 
 year 1740. It consists in placing the small lens in the centre of a highly 
 polished speculum of silver, by which means a strong light is reflected 
 upon the upper surface of an object, which is thus examined with great 
 ease and pleasure. Before this it was almost impossible to examine small 
 untransparent objects with any degree of exactness ; for the dark side of 
 the object being next the eye, and also overshadowed by the proximity 
 of the instrument, its appearance was necessarily obscure and indistinct. 
 Lieberkuhn's instrument was simply a piece of brass tube, about an inch 
 long and an inch in diameter, which was provided with a cap at each 
 
 232
 
 3$6 THE BOYS* AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 ' s- 
 
 extremity ; the one end being fitted with a double-convex lens of half an 
 inch in focal length, while the other carried a condensing lens three- 
 quarters of an inch in diameter. With this instrument the inventor made 
 many important anatomical and other observations. It is still much used 
 for botanical purposes, in which case it is commonly fitted with a short 
 handle. 
 
 Leeuwenhoeck's microscopes were rendered famous throughout all 
 Europe by means of the numerous discoveries he made with them. His 
 instruments were all single, and fitted up in a very convenient and simple 
 manner. Each consisted of a very small double-convex lens, let into a 
 socket between two plates riveted together, and pierced with a small hole. 
 The objecf was placed on a silver point or needle, which, by means of 
 screws adapted for that purpose, might be turned about, raised, or depressed 
 at pleasure, and thus be brought nearer to, or removed farther from, the 
 glass, as the eye of the observer, the nature of the object, and the convenient 
 examination of its parts required. 
 
 It will be observed that the simple or single microscope is so called, 
 not because it has necessarily only one glass, it may have several, as we 
 have seen, but because it looks at objects directly, without the interven- 
 tion of a reflector. 
 
 The three first compound microscopes that attract our notice are those 
 of Dr. Hooke, Eustachio Divini, and Philip Bonnani. In the compound 
 microscope it is the image which is contemplated instead of the object. 
 A reflector is used, and the magnifying power is immensely increased. 
 Hooke published an account of his instrument in 1667 ; a description of 
 Divini's microscope was read at the Royal Society in 1668; and Bonnani 
 issued a detail of the peculiarities of his in 1698. Sir Isaac Newton aided 
 in the progress of discovery in regard to the microscope as well as the 
 telescope; and onward to 1812 many distinguished names were added 
 to the already lengthy roll of skilful men who had made improvements in 
 the instrument. In 1812, with Dr. Wollaston, began a career of advance- 
 ment which has been much more rapid than any that preceded it. Among 
 the eminent men who have contributed to this result may be named Sir 
 David Brewster,Frauenhofer, Selligues, Chevalier, Amici, Sir John Herschel, 
 Professors Airy and Barlow, and others. Celebrated makers have aided 
 much in this progress, and several English firms produce instruments 
 which are unequalled in the world. Indeed, within the last forty or fifty 
 years, by this means our sense of sight has been improved almost into 
 a new faculty.
 
 THE MICROSCOPE. 357 
 
 But it would be a great mistake to suppose that the possession of an 
 efficient microscope is the sole requisite for the perception of the inex- 
 haustible stores of beauty and of contrivance which this instrument is 
 capable of disclosing to our view. The possession of a microscope 
 scarcely constitutes a microscopist any more than does the acquisition of 
 a musical instrument render its possessor a musician. Both the hand 
 and the eye require to be instructed by habitual care and practice. 
 
 As seen through the microscope, the various departments of animal 
 and vegetable life are full of beauty, and in their minutest details exhibit 
 a completeness and a finish infinitely transcending the most exquisite and 
 admired works of art. The scale of a sole, for example, is a marvellous 
 pattern of regularity and delicacy. It is a kind of web, with a number 
 of small points at one end, which fasten it to the body of the fish. Indeed, 
 the scales of every fish are more beautifully woven than any texture which 
 is found in the finest handiwork of man ; and the different varieties have 
 all peculiarities which are exclusively their own. Equal regularity and 
 beauty are found in the structure of the feathers of birds, in the fibres 
 of the flesh of animals, in the grain of the several kinds of wood, and in 
 the forms of different salts and crystals. The dust on the wing of a moth 
 or a butterfly, a single particle of which is so minute as to be invisible, 
 is seen, when magnified, to be a beautifully-formed feather, and exhibits 
 the most delicate and admirable arrangement in all its parts. In a moth 
 there is a configuration entirely distinct from that of a butterfly, although, 
 as seen by the naked eye, they seem to be very much alike ; each has 
 feathers different from those of the other, and every species has its own 
 peculiarity. 
 
 To those who are possessed of microscopes, the following list of objects 
 may be serviceable : The scales of fishes ; the dust on the wings of 
 butterflies, moths, gnats, flies, and other insects ; the flea, and mites in 
 cheese ; the eels, serpents, or little worm-like animals found in vinegar 
 and paste ; the animalcules existing in infusions of pepper, as well as of 
 hay, grass, flowers, and other vegetable substances ; the eye of the house- 
 fly, the dragon-fly, and of various other insects ; the legs of spiders ; the 
 claws of beetles ; the wings of small flies ; the eye of a lobster ; slices of 
 broom, lime-tree, dogwood, and oak ; transverse sections or cross-cuttings 
 of plants of various kinds ; the leaves of trees, plants, and flowers ; the 
 fibres of a peacock's feather, and the feathers of other birds ; the human 
 hair, the hair of a mouse ; the sting of a bee ; the stings of a nettle ; the 
 small insects which infest flowers, fruits, and trees ; seeds ; mouldiness ;
 
 358 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 sponge ; flakes of unmelted snow; the tails of fishes, and the webs between 
 the toes of frogs, in which the circulation of the blood maybe distinctly seen. 
 
 By means of the microscope we are brought into acquaintance with new 
 living tribes in prodigious numbers, which, from their minuteness, would, 
 without it, have escaped our observation altogether. How many of these 
 invisible tribes there may be throughout the air, the waters, and the earth, 
 is still unknown, but they doubtless far exceed the number ot all other 
 classes of living creatures combined. 
 
 The variety of animalcules is inconceivable. The forms of many of them 
 are strikingly peculiar. They fight, they go in armies as if under the 
 command of leaders. Ditches and pools also afford beautiful vegetable 
 forms which are invisible to the naked eye, and these are perfect in their 
 construction as the most gigantic trees. The unpopular little animal, the 
 flea, appears a very beautiful and curious creature when examined by the 
 microscope. It may be magnified with a very ordinary instrument to 
 the extent of eight or ten inches in length, and a corresponding breadth. 
 It is adorned with a curiously polished coat of armour of hard shelly scales, 
 neatly jointed and folded over each other, and studded with long spikes 
 somewhat like the quills of a porcupine. The general appearance of the 
 insect is that of a beautiful piece of variegated tortoise-shell. Its head is 
 furnished on each side with a beautiful and quick round black eye, behind 
 which are cavities which are supposed to be its ears. Its apparatus for 
 wounding and sucking, as well as its six many-jointed legs for leaping, are 
 all distinctly visible. It can leap a hundred times its own length. Mites 
 are crustaceous creatures, with a head which is small in proportion to the 
 body. They have each two small eyes, and six and sometimes eight legs, 
 each of which terminates in two hooked claws. It has a sharp snout, and 
 a mouth like that of a mole. It would take 91,120,000 mites' eggs to 
 equal in size one pigeon's egg. 
 
 In all creatures the eye is a striking object, but as seen through this 
 instrument the eyes of insects are so peculiar as to excite our highest 
 admiration. On the heads of beetles, bees, common flies, butterflies, and 
 other insects, may be perceived two protuberances, which contain a pro- 
 digious number of small transparent hemispheres, placed with the utmost 
 regularity, in lines crossing each other like latticework. These are a 
 collection of eyes, which, like so many mirrors, reflect the images of 
 surrounding objects. In some insects there are many thousands of them. 
 The farina of flowers looks to the naked eye like simple dust, but when 
 magnified it is seen to be finely constructed, and of great variety according
 
 THE MICROSCOPE. 359 
 
 to the character of the plant to which it belongs. Leaves are among the 
 most delicate and gorgeous forms in nature. The leaf of the box is 
 supposed to contain upon its two sides as many as 344,180 pores; and 
 the back of a rose-tree-leaf looks as if diapered with silver. The cross-cut 
 slices of plants or trees exhibit the most variegated and wonderful arrange- 
 ment. A piece of human skin is marvellous in its mechanism. Ten 
 thousand of the fine threads of a spider's web are not so thick as a human 
 hair a fineness this which is beyond our conception. 
 
 A small needle, highly polished, when viewed with a high magnifying 
 power, appears neither round nor flat, but full of holes and scratches, and 
 as broad and blunt at the point as the end of a poker. On the other hand, 
 the sting of a bee, or the proboscis of a butterfly or a flea, appears, when 
 examined by the microscope, to be formed with the most surprising 
 beauty and regularity. The sting of a bee shows a polish without the 
 least flaw, blemish, or inequality, and ends in a point too fine to be dis- 
 cerned. On submitting the microscope to the edge of a very keen razor, 
 it appears as broad as the back of a very thick knife, and is rough and 
 full of notches. The finest cambric or silk that human skill can pro- 
 duce resembles ill-made twine or ropes, and seems scarcely fit to be 
 used as a door-mat, whereas the silkworm's web appears perfectly smooth 
 and shining, and everywhere equal. 
 
 How wondrous are the facts with which this instrument makes us 
 acquainted ! When we look through this small tube, a new world of 
 beings, before unseen and unsuspected, start into view, presenting the 
 most unaccustomed forms, and performing, with monstrous organs, evo- 
 lutions the most startling and grotesque, such as our imagination never 
 pictured in its wildest moments. These beings are constantly around 
 us; everything swarms with their tiny vitality; they dart through each 
 pool of water ; they bask in myriads upon a blade of herbage ; their germs 
 float constantly through the atmosphere ; they even increase so rapidly, 
 and have so abounded, that their remains form solid strata of the earth's 
 surface. Yet, without the microscope, their existence must have been for 
 ever imperceptible to our senses, and therefore unknown. The disclosures 
 of the telescope, as it sweeps the heavens and shows to us an infinitude 
 of worlds and systems reaching into incalculable space, scarcely more 
 display the omnipotence of creative power than does the microscope 
 directed to the narrow sphere of a drop of water from a pond, or a particle 
 of the herbage which grows upon its bank " a universe within the com- 
 pass of a point."
 
 WATERY WASTES. 
 
 "\JOTWITHSTANDING the numerous geological changes which 
 * ^ have been, at various periods of the earth's history, rung upon its 
 surface, there appears to be no law in physical geography more persistent 
 than that which bids " the waters be gathered into one place," so that 
 the " dry land may appear." Nearly three-fourths of our planet's sur- 
 face is covered by water, chiefly, of course, as seas and oceans. On 
 the remainder a little more than one-quarter of the entire area, and 
 much of that inaccessible as mountains, or bound in realms of eternal ice 
 poor humanity is nursed as in a terrestrial cradle. This limited space 
 is the grave-yard not only of our own race, but that of every species of 
 animal and plant, terrestrial and marine, which has come into being since 
 the Lord commanded " the waters to bring forth abundantly ! " It is a 
 little space contended for by untold millions of living creatures besides 
 men. The rocks over which the soils are strewn, and whose produce 
 feeds this various creation, are themselves huge sepulchres " written within 
 and without " of the life that has been. Even with regard to our earth 
 as a planet, there is a Plan and a Purpose silently but surely being worked 
 out during the slowly rolling ages ! 
 
 It is the fact that, as a rule, the water is separated from the land, which 
 enables terrestrial life to exist so abundantly : wherever we have a " Ser- 
 bonian bog " kind of mixture, there do we find that both animals and 
 plants are few and undiversified. But the operations of physical geography 
 are like the delicate mechanism of a well-constructed and highly senstive 
 watch. The slightest variation of the " regulator " causes it to run either 
 too fast or too slow. So is it with the terrestrial portion of the earth's 
 surface. The immense vapours lifted by solar heat from the surface of 
 its vast waste of waters, are carried by the winds and drifted against 
 mountain-sides or hill-summits. They there condense into rain, trickle 
 down as mountain torrents, run together as rills and rivulets, join each 
 other and form rivers', and anon they find themselves once again part of 
 the huge volume of oceanic waters whence they were originally raised. 
 Like the diurnal revolutions of the earth on its axis, which go on through 
 a practical eternity of time, all things earthly revolve in cycles. The 
 process just described has been going on after the same invariable order 
 ever since God commanded the " dry land to appear."
 
 WATERY WASTES. 361 
 
 In spite of the general law to which we have made allusion, that the 
 water and the land should remain separated, the boundaries of the two 
 are liable to a constant change. As a rule, it is the former which attacks 
 the latter. Agencies far away removed may bring about an unsettlement 
 of the mutual relationship, although there can be little doubt that man is 
 a great interfering agent. His power for good and evil can be made 
 manifest in the natural as in the moral world. As the area of dry land 
 is only as one to three of that of water, it follows that the latter is always 
 in a state representing that of an invader, and the former in that of defence. 
 The fairest lands may be inundated and temporarily destroyed. Even 
 in England we have had evidence repeatedly of the devastative power of 
 water. Those terrible results of the bursting of the Holmfirth Reservoir 
 in 1851, and of that at Sheffield in 1864, will have had too vividly im- 
 pressed upon people's minds the destructive forces held in check wher- 
 ever there are water-works. " Fire and water," says an old proverb, 
 "are good servants, but bad masters ! " Notwithstanding the wonderful 
 manner with which the physical geography of the greater part of Europe 
 has been subdued by man, his conquest has not been effectual. Every 
 spring, news comes to us of the chief rivers overflowing their banks, and 
 laying waste much of the fertile lands they traverse. It would almost 
 seem as if the violence of waters poured down European rivers were 
 greater than formerly. The question we have to ask is, whether man can 
 really affect the arterial drainage of the country he inhabits? In many 
 respects, it will be held that this is a most important subject for discus- 
 sion. Apart from the actual destruction of property which takes place, 
 we must not forget the actual physical and mental suffering which 
 ensues. Those who have visited an inundated town, and seen the low- 
 lying and poor parts of it so flooded that boats plied up the narrow and 
 unsightly streets, and relieved the terrified and agonized inhabitants who 
 had taken refuge in the upper rooms, will readily grant that, much as 
 we have subordinated the forces of nature, we have not yet conquered 
 them. At intervals of a few years we hear of floods in the south of 
 France, especially in the neighbourhood of Toulouse, when scores of 
 people are killed, cattle destroyed, property annihilated, and the hard 
 earnings of a thrifty people vanish like vapour in a single night ! Can 
 nothing be done to stay this kind of thing ? Are we to be year after year 
 the victims of physical geographical circumstances of this kind ? If the 
 waters are not separated from the dry land, whose fault is it that the 
 Divine fiat is not strictly carried out ?
 
 WATERY WASTES. 363 
 
 This brings us to note a few of the great floods which have become 
 historical through the great destruction both of life and property which 
 took place through their agency. It is to be doubted, however, whether 
 the more insignificant occurrences of every winter and spring are not, in 
 the long run, more devastator}'. Almost every country watered by large 
 . rivers has a fluvial history of catastrophes associated with them. As the 
 magnitude of a river is dependent upon the area of the watershed and 
 the varying amount of the fall, it follows that the magnitude of river-over- 
 flows, or inundations, is usually proportionate to the size of the rivers 
 themselves. Every year there are immense inundations in the valley ot 
 the Amazon and in the valleys of its tributary rivers. These are regarded 
 as part of the Amazon river system, and a peculiar fauna and flora is more 
 or less adapted to these conditions. The floods of our Indian rivers are 
 also commensurate with the great magnitude of the streams, those of the 
 Ganges being almost annual in their occurrence. The overflows of the 
 Nile are historical, and occur as regularly as the return of summer. Such 
 inundations as these can hardly be called cataclysmal. In the case of the 
 Nile, the fertility of Egypt depends upon it ; and an ancient system ot 
 agriculture has sprung up in that country thoroughly adapted to the physical 
 effects produced annually by the Nile floods. As these inundations always 
 occur where the land is lowest lying, and as the waters cover the low-lying 
 land when they are discoloured with the muddy matters brought down 
 by the rains from the higher grounds, it follows that in course of time such 
 inundations create their own natural checks. Every year a thin layer of 
 alluvium soil is strewn over the areas occupied by the inundations, and 
 thus the low-lying or swampy land is eventually raised high enough to 
 confine the swollen waters of the rivers to their natural channels. It was 
 an ancient saying that " Egypt was the gift of the Nile," and geological 
 investigation proves that the annually added loams brought down by that 
 river are some hundreds of feet in thickness. In every river valley we 
 have peculiar black soils known as alluvium, and these are known to be 
 the accumulated sediments brought down in the course of ages by the 
 adjacent rivers. 
 
 Rivers, therefore, may be recuperatory in their action, as well as de- 
 structive. But it is astonishing what even drops of rain-water can do when 
 combined. Sir Charles Lyall mentions that when he was travelling in 
 Georgia and Alabama, in 1 846, he saw hundreds of valleys commenced 
 where the ancient forests had been cut or burnt down. There can be 
 little doubt that there is a distinct connection between the rain-fall and
 
 364 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 mean temperature of a country, and the number of trees the latter may 
 possess. Trees are magnificent regulators of climature. They are to it 
 what the pair of revolving " governor-balls " are to a stationary engine. 
 When the engine is going too fast, the "governor-balls" distend, and 
 " throttle " or compress the aperture whence the motive steam-power is 
 issuing. When the engine is working slowly, the balls droop, and so open 
 the valve as to allow more steam to issue. The same with the woods and 
 forests of a country. When the rainy seasons are on, every tree and plant 
 absorbs some of the moisture, and stores it away in its own tissues. It 
 thus prevents great quantities from flowing off the surface, and gathering 
 into rills and rivulets, and so swelling the main rivers as to cause them to 
 overflow their lowest-lying banks. During periods of drought, the leaves 
 of the same forest give out the moisture they consumed into the atmosphere, 
 and so prevent its being as dry and parching as it otherwise would have 
 been. During the hours of night, also, the surfaces of the leaves become 
 colder than the air, and thus the moisture contained in the latter is con- 
 densed upon them as dews. In many parts of Arabia this is the only kind 
 of waterfall with which the parched earth is visited. 
 
 The destruction of woods and forests, therefore, is always attended by 
 an alteration of climate for the worse. It becomes more irregular. There 
 are now alternate periods of rain-fall, and consequent floods, and ot 
 droughts. No country in the world has been so altered in this respect 
 as the United States, for in no other has there been so much clearing of 
 forest land within the last two centuries. In Italy great destruction of 
 forests has taken place, and the summers are now more arid and hot in 
 consequence. The reader will find in the Hon. G. Marsh's, " Physical 
 Geography as influenced by Human Action," a long list of parallel cases, 
 where men have unconsciously modified the climate of the country in 
 which they dwelt. Sometimes this is for the better, as in the case of the 
 fen districts of Cambridgeshire. These, which were watery wastes during 
 the times of the early Norman kings, are now well drained; and rich 
 crops smile and wave where once unbounded sheets of water stretched 
 from horizon to horizon, only varied by islands of water-reeds. The 
 temperature of the fen country is ten degrees higher than it was when 
 undrained. The same fact is characteristic of the neighbourhood of 
 Bolton, in Lancashire. The bogs and moors are drained and under 
 cultivation, and the heat of the sun, once expended in lifting the waters 
 from the surface by evaporation, is more usefully exercised in warming 
 the land, and in thus promoting the growth of corn. Man, therefore,
 
 WATERY WASTES. 365 
 
 may " be a co-worker with God," even in his influence to modify for the 
 better the climate of his native land ! If it be a good thing to cause 
 two blades of grass to grow where only one grew before, we hold that it 
 is equally wise to plant trees where none grew before. Our English 
 towns are often dreadlully unlovely, when they might be rendered bright 
 and cheerful by such " boulevards " as we see in continental towns, as 
 well as in those of North America. There is a tendency for us to re- 
 cognize this fact, and tree-planting is taking place among us more than 
 it ever has done. Let us thoroughly recognize its importance, in that 
 trees not only beautify our towns, but they remove carbonic acid, and 
 give out oxygen where that beneficent gas is most needed. Moreover, 
 we have seen that the regularity of the order of climatal changes is much 
 affected by the extent of arboreal growth ; so that by planting more trees 
 we may incidentally be the means of decreasing those floods and inun- 
 dations we have been considering. 
 
 How the surface of the ground can be cut up by the heavy rains which 
 take place after extensive forests have been cut down, is well shown in 
 LyelFs " Principles." In Georgia, where the land was cleared of forest 
 in 1826, the surface was quite level. Cracks began to occur in the 
 ground when the latter was bared of timber. In these the sudden rains 
 washed, so as to widen the walls, and wear them backward, until, in a 
 short space of twenty years, a chasm had been formed nearly sixty feet 
 deep, three hundred yards long, and from seven to sixty yards wide. 
 In the neighbourhood of hills and mountains, in the northern hemisphere 
 at least, the occurence of extensive peat-bogs may arrest the rapid flow 
 of surface rain-water, and thus prevent floods ; although the presence of 
 these bogs must make the climate colder. In the north of Ireland we 
 have most extensive peat-bogs, always soaked with water like a sponge. 
 At the base of the highlands of Scotland, and of the Welsh and Cam- 
 brian mountains, we have extensive areas occupied by swamps. The 
 rain-water trickling down the hard and imporous rocks would gather into 
 rapid torrents, and be poured suddenly into the valleys, if it were not for 
 the arresting power of these swamps. As it is, the sources of the rivers 
 are usually from these bogs, where the excess of water is slowly and con- 
 stantly given out Nature works in many ways, and we have seen that 
 much of the devastation of floods may be due to the thoughtlessness of 
 man himself, in cutting down the forests which regulate the climate of a 
 country, or in indolently neglecting to plant those trees which Providence 
 has so plainly utilized as agents for good.
 
 ANIMAL DEFENCES. 
 
 A NY person v.ho has had the opportunity of observing closely the 
 ** habits and private life of animals must have often been astonished 
 at the manner in which various creatures often combine, either for their 
 mutual protection or mutual benefit. 
 
 We have, fortunately, had many opportunities of watching the conduct 
 of various creatures in their native homes, and the delight that any lover 
 of nature experiences in thus contemplating the wise acts of the animal 
 creation far exceeds the savage joy of the mere slaughterer or sportsman. 
 
 Hours and days have been happily passed whilst watching the skilful 
 golden oriels weaving their retort-shaped nests among the pendent 
 branches which overhang an African stream. Often have we enjoyed a 
 good laugh as we witnessed the futile attempts of an inexperienced grey 
 monkey to grasp the nests of these birds and extract the eggs, attempts 
 which almost always resulted in giving the adventurer a ducking. Whether 
 we examine the skilled details of work shown in a beehive or ants' nest, 
 the combined efforts of a pack of wild dogs to hunt down their prey, or 
 the architectural skill of a village of beavers, we may invariably find traces 
 of that same great Wisdom which holds a planet in its orbit and makes 
 the world a sphere. 
 
 There are many creatures, however, to which we are not accustomed 
 to attribute any special powers of skill or combination, and which we 
 usually regard as stupid and almost unworthy of notice. Thus, who 
 would be disposed to believe a rat a very clever fellow in his way, and 
 able to plot and carry out a most formidable rebellion against a tyrant ? 
 Yet such a case happened within our own experience. 
 
 A friend of our own, a skilled naturalist, possessed a cat, which was 
 rather old, though still strong and active. This cat was a terror to a 
 colony of rats which inhabited the neighbouring pig-styes, banks, and 
 hedgerows. Many a rat was brought by Pussy, and deposited with great 
 pride at her master's feet. 
 
 During several weeks this sport continued, but one morning Pussy 
 came in from her kennel looking dirty, rumpled, and scarcely able to 
 crawl. The naturalist examined his pet, and his skilled eye soon saw 
 the cause : Pussy was severely bitten by rats in twenty or thirty places. 
 An examination of the scene of action plainly showed that there had
 
 ANIMAL DEFENCES. 367 
 
 been a battle royal. At least a dozen rats must have combined, and 
 coming on Pussy in a body, had so punished her that she died a few days 
 afterwards from the effects of their bites. 
 
 Not long since we were passing a poultry-yard in which were several 
 turkeys and fowls. Whilst watching these creatures, a dispute occurred 
 between a turkey and a hen relative to some food. The old hen cackled 
 forth her displeasure loudly, when instantly the turkeys rushed to the scene 
 of dispute and surrounded the disputing turkey. Forming a ring round 
 him, they drooped their wings and lowered their heads, whilst they all 
 uttered a low grumbling kind of sound. The turkey in their midst flapped 
 its wings in a despairing manner, and " gobbled " loudly. 
 
 This strange scene lasted fully a minute, after which one of the largest 
 turkeys jumped at the prisoner and pecked him severely ; then another 
 rushed at him, and so on, each turkey giving several pecks at the one that 
 had evidently been tried by a jury of his fellows, and found guilty of trying 
 to rob a hen of its food. 
 
 Among the larger animals such cases are by no means uncommon. 
 Elephants, we have often heard, in their wild state signal to their fellows 
 when danger is near ; and we are convinced that these creatures have 
 several calls, or trumpet-like sounds, which mean special things, such as 
 "danger," "feed," "all right," etc. 
 
 A very curious case of a combination on the part of animals to rid 
 themselves of a foe occurred near the Winterberg, a mountain to the 
 north of the eastern frontier of the Cape of Good Hope. 
 
 In this locality there were several troops of baboons, young and old, 
 which resided in the deep rocky ravines, and gambolled among the fear- 
 ful precipices around. Very human were these creatures in their appear- 
 ance and habits, especially when suddenly alarmed ; the mammas were 
 seen to catch up their young ones, who clung round their parents' necks, 
 and were thus carried rapidly to the summit of the rocks, where they 
 would grimace and cough out their defiance at the intruder who had 
 ventured into their domain. 
 
 An enemy, however, once found his way into their stronghold, and 
 this was an enemy hungry, cunning, and powerful. It was a Cape leopard. 
 Crouching down among the long grass, or amidst the crevices of the 
 rocks, the leopard would suddenly spring upon a young baboon, and 
 actually devour it before the eyes of its screeching parents. Strong as is 
 a baboon, the leopard is yet far stronger, and with its terrible claws could 
 soon tear to pieces the largest male baboon.
 
 ANIMAL DEPENCES. 369 
 
 During some days the leopard feasted on baboons, but at length these 
 creatures combined, and jointly attacked the leopard. They did not really 
 mean to risk a pitched battle with him, for these creatures evidently knew 
 and respected his great powers. They had, too, as the result proved, de- 
 termined on a safer and more crafty method of proceeding. 
 
 The leopard, fearing the combined strength of his adversaries, left their 
 neighbourhood, and retreated across country, but he was followed by 
 nearly all the large baboons. 
 
 On went the leopard ; on followed the baboons. The day was hot, 
 and the leopard disliked this perpetual tramping, and so tried to seek a 
 retreat and lie down and rest. Then it was that the baboons closed 
 round and worried him. Soon, too, he began to thirst, his tongue hang- 
 ing out of his mouth, and the white foam covering his jaws. 
 
 Water was soon scented by the hunted brute, and to this it rapidly 
 made its way; but now the baboons became frantic: they closed on to 
 the leopard, some by their great activity actually tearing him with their 
 sharp teeth, and the creature could not drink. The baboons could relieve 
 one another, and some could eat and drink too whilst their companions 
 continued worrying the leopard. 
 
 During two days and a night the country for several miles along the 
 course of these creatures was startled by the cries of pursuer and pursued, 
 and several farmers were witnesses from a distance of portions of the scene 
 here described. They would not interfere, but watched the baboons' 
 method of administering justice. 
 
 Worn-out with exhaustion and thirst, the leopard at length could totter 
 on no farther, and sank to the ground a prey to the baboons, who, in 
 spite of his claws and teeth, which were yet formidable, attacked him with 
 their whole force and soon tore him to pieces, they themselves escaping 
 with only a few severe scratches. 
 
 Assembling their forces, the baboons returned rapidly to their strong- 
 hold, where they were welcomed by their females and young with choruses 
 of loud and triumphant barks, which were continued during the greater 
 part of the night, whilst for several days the excitement did not seem to 
 calm down, but was shown by the unusual noises which proceeded from 
 this curious colony. 
 
 Such an incident as the preceding may seem strange and unlikely to 
 those who have not seen animals in entire freedom and left to their own 
 instinct or reason, but our personal experience on many other occasions 
 has taught us that it is not uncommon, and we do not therefore hesitate 
 
 24
 
 370 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS' BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 to record it in these pages. Another singular incident was related to us 
 by a credible witness. 
 
 Amidst the deeply wooded ravines of a range of mountains on the 
 eastern frontier of the Cape of Good Hope, a large colony of the pig-faced 
 baboons were located. These creatures had found there a safe resting- 
 place for many generations ; so steep and dangerous were the cliffs, that 
 no creature except a baboon could dare wander among them, and so the 
 animals were safe and happy. 
 
 The traveller in that wild region would find his arrival announced from 
 hill-tops by a chorus of wild weird-like coughs or barks, whilst these semi- 
 human animals could be seen on the side of naturally-formed walls, of a 
 thousand feet deep, grimacing at and threatening the solitary traveller 
 who had intruded into this domain ; a domain of which a king might well 
 be proud. 
 
 This part of Africa has been gifted with a lovely climate, and with an 
 air that is inhaled with effects similar to those produced by quaffing 
 champagne. No wonder that the chameleon is found in this neighbour- 
 hood a creature fabulously said to feed on air for it has a glorious feast 
 if it feed on the scented air of the Amatola Mountains. 
 
 Here are steep rocky precipices; sheltered glens, each with bright 
 flowery shrubs, whose purple and crimson blossoms give a distinct colouring 
 to even the distant glens ; whilst a sea of mighty hills roll one after the 
 other, far as the eye can reach, boundless and desolate, yet lovely as a 
 Paradise. It is amidst these regions that the grey vulture floats like a 
 thistle-down high up in the heavens, where the eagle hisses through the 
 air on his prey, and where the baboon scampers at will, the legitimate 
 and hereditary possessor of the soil. 
 
 Human-like almost in form, the baboon seems nearly human in his 
 passions, as the following anecdote will show. 
 
 Some miles from the Amatola, and separated from them by an inter- 
 vening plain, was another rocky stronghold, in which another colony of 
 baboons were located. These latter, to the inexperienced eye, showed 
 no distinct peculiarities from their neighbours in the Amatola, yet there 
 were men whose keen perceptions were able to discover distinct peculi- 
 arities between the two races, and to be able to tell which was an Ama- 
 tola baboon and which a denizen of the Chumie. 
 
 The baboons themselves did not fraternize, and if by chance stray 
 baboons from each colony met one another in their wanderings, a regular 
 fight ensued.
 
 ANIMAL DEFENCES. 371 
 
 When the sun sank beneath the Chumie hills, the baboons from that 
 region would sit on the most giddy precipices, and bark forth a defiance 
 to the distant mountains. In that clear atmosphere sound travels a long 
 distance, and is heard during a still evening at almost fabulous distances. 
 Thus the barks and the coughs of the baboons at one district were heard 
 and replied to by the creatures some miles off, in the Amatola. 
 
 To the uninitiated these mere animal barks seemed to mean nothing, 
 but to the keen ears and comprehensive senses of the baboons they con- 
 veyed the direst insults and most defiant challenges. 
 
 Human nature has its limits of endurance, and so has baboon nature; 
 thus, after a particularly warm summer day, during which, probably, the 
 creatures' blood became additionally heated, the evening challenges were 
 given and answered with unusual vehemence. The moon rose bright and 
 full, and the night was calm and lovely, and it seemed strange that all 
 nature should not be at peace ; but shortly after midnight the Chumie 
 rocks and precipices resounded with screams, barks, and fiend-like sounds, 
 as though a legion of demons had broken loose and were fighting among 
 themselves. 
 
 For hours these fearful sounds were heard, and the few settlers then in 
 that neighbourhood listened with astonishment, not knowing whether 
 these noises indicated a coming storm of unusual force, or were the 
 indicators of some convulsion of nature. Towards daybreak they gra- 
 dually ceased, and the men whose rest had been disturbed armed them- 
 selves and cautiously approached the scene of the midnight tumult. 
 
 The cause of the alarming disturbance was then manifest. The baboons 
 of the Amatola had long borne the challenges and insults of their neigh- 
 bours of the Chumie ; they had listened to their taunts, and had burned 
 with a desire for vengeance. At length an attack was organized, and on 
 the night in question the male baboons of the Amatola assaulted the 
 colony of the Chumie, and a fearful fight ensued. 
 
 The baboon's method of attack is singular and formidable; his muscular 
 power is enormous, whilst the crushing power of his jaws is inferior to that 
 of many smaller animals : when once he grips with his jaws, however, he 
 can hold on, and so he combines his powers, by seizing his antagonist 
 with his teeth, grasping him at the same time with his powerful arms, and 
 then pushing him from him, so that he tears out the piece which he has 
 in his mouth. By this means we have seen a large dog so maimed in a 
 few seconds by a baboon, that the former was obliged to be shot, as there 
 was no hope of its recovery. 
 
 24 2
 
 372 THE BOYS' AND GIRLS* BOOK OF SCIENCE. 
 
 The result of the night attack which we have described was, that nearly 
 one hundred baboons were found dead or dying by the hunters who visited 
 the scene of action, whilst it was remarked that the coughs and barks 
 which had previously disturbed the evenings almost entirely ceased, as 
 though each party had gained a certain amount of respect for the other 
 by the experience gained during the midnight battle. 
 
 In England we may often see a combination formed by small birds, 
 who chase a hawk or kestrel" which has invaded their domain : the result 
 usually is that the bird of prey retreats, though it be powerful enough to 
 crush with its talons any one of its pursuers. 
 
 Hence we see the practical result of a combination against a foe or a 
 difficulty, when we note the habits of the animal kingdom, and thus we 
 may learn how much may be accomplished by ourselves when we com- 
 bine hearts and hands for the general good : families united for one 
 purpose, men working as brothers with one aim, and a nation combined 
 for a nation's good. Whilst unity gives strength and power, and defies a 
 foe, the house divided against itself shall fall. 
 
 OAL'.IKL UUOTHERS, CAMDEN PR8SS, LONDON, N.W.
 
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