<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<div class="transnote covernote">
<div> This eBook cover was created by the transcriber from elements within the issue
and is placed in the public domain.</div>
</div>
<h1 class="ac" style="margin-bottom:2em;">BIRDS AND ALL NATURE.</h1>
<p class="ac" style="margin-bottom:2em;"><span class="smaller">ILLUSTRATED BY</span>
COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY.</p>
<div class="vlouter">
<div class="volumeline">
<div class="volumeleft"><span class="sc">Vol. VII.</span></div>
<div class="volumeright"><span class="sc">No. 4.</span></div>
<div class="ac">APRIL, 1900.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></SPAN>CONTENTS.</h2>
<table class="toctable" id="TOC" summary="CONTENTS">
<tr>
<td class="c1"> </td>
<td class="c2"><span class="sc">Page</span></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#APRIL">APRIL.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">145</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_PROCESSION_OF_SPRING">THE PROCESSION OF SPRING.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">145</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_AMERICAN_BITTERN">THE AMERICAN BITTERN.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">146</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#OUR_LITTLE_MARTYRS">OUR LITTLE MARTYRS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">146</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#LITTLE_GUESTS_IN_FEATHERS">LITTLE GUESTS IN FEATHERS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">149</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#PLANTING_THE_TREES">PLANTING THE TREES.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">150</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#ORIGIN_OF_THE_EASTER_EGG">ORIGIN OF THE EASTER EGG.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">151</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#MORAL_VALUE_OF_FORESTS">MORAL VALUE OF FORESTS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">152</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#EASTER_LILIES">EASTER LILIES.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">152</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_SCARLET_IBIS">THE SCARLET IBIS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">155</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#CHIPPY_A_BABY_MOCKING_BIRD">
CHIPPY—A BABY MOCKING BIRD.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">155</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#BIRDLAND_SECRETS">BIRDLAND SECRETS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">157</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_MASSENA_QUAIL">THE MASSENA QUAIL.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">158</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#IN_THE_OLD_LOG_HOUSE">IN THE OLD LOG HOUSE.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">158</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#ANIMALS_AS_PATIENTS">ANIMALS AS PATIENTS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">162</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_TRIPLET_TREE">THE TRIPLET TREE.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">163</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#COUNTRIES_DEVOID_OF_TREES">COUNTRIES DEVOID OF TREES.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">163</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#SNOW_PRISONS_OF_GAME_BIRDS">SNOW PRISONS OF GAME BIRDS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">164</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_RING-BILLED_DUCK">THE RING-BILLED DUCK.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">167</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#A_STRANGE_BIRD_HOUSE">A STRANGE BIRD HOUSE.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">167</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_CHICKADEE">THE CHICKADEE.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">168</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#REFLECTIONS">REFLECTIONS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">169</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#FOXGLOVE">FOXGLOVE.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">170</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#FRUIT_BATS_OF_THE_PHILIPPINES">
FRUIT BATS OF THE PHILIPPINES.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">173</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#MONKEYS_AS_GOLD_FINDERS">MONKEYS AS GOLD FINDERS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">173</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#A_PLEA_FOR_THE_TREES">A PLEA FOR THE TREES.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">174</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THAT_I_MAY_HELP">"THAT I MAY HELP."</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">175</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#A_TRAGEDY_IN_THREE_PARTS">A TRAGEDY IN THREE PARTS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">175</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#STRANGE_PLANTS">STRANGE PLANTS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">175</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#A_BRIGAND_BIRD">A BRIGAND BIRD.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">176</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_BROOK">THE BROOK.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">176</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_BLOOD-ROOT">THE BLOOD-ROOT.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">179</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#TANSY_CAKES">TANSY CAKES.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">180</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_PARTRIDGE_CALL">THE PARTRIDGE CALL.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">180</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#OUR_FEATHERED_NEIGHBORS">OUR FEATHERED NEIGHBORS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">181</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_BLUE_GROSBEAK">THE BLUE GROSBEAK.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">182</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#ODD_PLACES_CHOSEN">ODD PLACES CHOSEN.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">182</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_YOUNG_NATURALIST">THE YOUNG NATURALIST.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">185</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#BIRD_LIFE_IN_INDIA">BIRD LIFE IN INDIA.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">187</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#IRELANDS_LOST_GLORY">IRELAND'S LOST GLORY.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">188</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#BIRDS_AND_REPTILES_RELATED">BIRDS AND REPTILES RELATED.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">188</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_ROCK_SHELLS">THE ROCK SHELLS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">191</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#SPRING_HAS_COME">SPRING HAS COME.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">192</td>
</tr>
</table>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="APRIL" id="APRIL"></SPAN>APRIL.</h2>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">These rugged, wintry days I scarce could bear,</div>
<div class="verse">Did I not know, that, in the early spring,</div>
<div class="verse">When wild March winds upon their errands sing,</div>
<div class="verse">Thou wouldst return, bursting on this still air</div>
<div class="verse">Like those same winds, when, startled from their lair,</div>
<div class="verse">They hunt up violets, and free swift brooks</div>
<div class="verse">From icy cares, even as thy clear looks</div>
<div class="verse">Bid my heart bloom, and sing, and break all care:</div>
<div class="verse">When drops with welcome rain the April day,</div>
<div class="verse">My flowers shall find their April in thine eyes,</div>
<div class="verse">Save there the rain in dreamy clouds doth stay,</div>
<div class="verse">As loath to fall out of those happy skies;</div>
<div class="verse">Yet sure, my love, thou art most like to May,</div>
<div class="verse">That comes with steady sun when April dies.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—<i>Lowell.</i></div>
</div></div>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_PROCESSION_OF_SPRING" id="THE_PROCESSION_OF_SPRING"></SPAN> THE PROCESSION OF SPRING.</h2>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">A morning of radiant lids</div>
<div class="verse">O'er the dance of the earth opened wide;</div>
<div class="verse">The bees chose their flowers, the snub kids</div>
<div class="verse">Upon hind legs went sportive, or plied,</div>
<div class="verse">Nosing, hard at the dugs to be filled;</div>
<div class="verse">There was milk, honey, music to make;</div>
<div class="verse">Up their branches the little birds billed;</div>
<div class="verse">Chirrup, drone, bleat, and buzz ringed the lake.</div>
<div class="verse">O shining in sunlight, chief</div>
<div class="verse">After water and water's caress,</div>
<div class="verse">Was the young bronze orange leaf,</div>
<div class="verse">That clung to the trees as a tress,</div>
<div class="verse">Shooting lucid tendrils to wed</div>
<div class="verse">With the vine hook tree or pole,</div>
<div class="verse">Like Arachne launched out on her thread.</div>
<div class="verse">Then the maiden her dusky stole,</div>
<div class="verse">In the span of the black-starred zone,</div>
<div class="verse">Gathered up for her footing fleet.</div>
<div class="verse">As one that had toil of her own</div>
<div class="verse">She followed the lines of wheat</div>
<div class="verse">Tripping straight through the field, green blades,</div>
<div class="verse">To the groves of olive gray,</div>
<div class="verse">Downy gray, golden-tinged; and to glades</div>
<div class="verse">Where the pear blossom thickens the spray</div>
<div class="verse">In a night, like the snow-packed storm;</div>
<div class="verse">Pear, apple, almond, plum;</div>
<div class="verse">Not wintry now; pushing warm.</div>
<div class="verse">And she touched them with finger and thumb,</div>
<div class="verse">As the vine hook closes; she smiled,</div>
<div class="verse">Recounting again and again,</div>
<div class="verse">Corn, wine, fruit, oil! like a child,</div>
<div class="verse">With the meaning known to men.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—<i>George Meredith.</i></div>
</div></div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="AMERICAN BITTERN.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_013.jpg" id="i_013.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_013.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">FROM COL. F. NUSSBAUMER & SON.<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER, CHICAGO.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">AMERICAN BITTERN.<br/>
⅓ Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table></div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_AMERICAN_BITTERN" id="THE_AMERICAN_BITTERN"></SPAN>THE AMERICAN BITTERN<br/> <span class="xx-smaller"><span style="font-weight:lighter;"> (<i>Botaurus lentiginosus.</i>)</span></span></h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t_alt.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THIS curious bird has several local
names. It is called the
"stake-driver," "booming bittern,"
and "thunder-pumper,"
in consequence of its peculiar cry. It
was once thought that this noise was
made by using a hollow reed, but the
peculiar tone is possibly due to the
odd shaped neck of the bird. Gibson
says you hear of the stake-driver but
can not find his "stake."</p>
<p>We have never seen a bittern except
along water courses. He is a solitary
bird. When alarmed by the approach
of someone the bird sometimes escapes
recognition by standing on its short
tail motionless with its bill pointing
skyward, in which position, aided by its
dull coloring, it personates a small
snag or stump or some other growth
about it.</p>
<p>This bird has long legs, yellow green
in color, which trail awkwardly behind
it and serve as a sort of rudder when it
flies. It has a long, crooked neck, and
lengthy yellow bill edged with black.
The body is variable as to size, but
sometimes is said to measure thirty-four
inches. The tail is short and
rounded. In color this peculiar bird
is yellowish brown mottled with various
shades of brown above, and below
buff, white and brown.</p>
<p>It is not a skillful architect, but
places its rude nest on the ground, in
which may be found three to five grayish
brown eggs.</p>
<p>The habitat of the American bittern
covers the whole of temperate and
tropical North America, north to latitude
about 60 degrees, south to Guatemala,
Cuba, Jamaica and the Bermudas.
It is occasionally found in Europe.</p>
<p>Frank Forrester included the bittern
among the list of his game birds, and
it is asked what higher authority we
can have than his. The flesh is regarded
as excellent food.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="OUR_LITTLE_MARTYRS" id="OUR_LITTLE_MARTYRS"></SPAN>OUR LITTLE MARTYRS.</h2>
<p class="ac">GEORGE KLINGLE.</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Do we care, you and I,</div>
<div class="verse">For the song-birds winging by,</div>
<div class="verse">Ruffled throat and bosom's sheen,</div>
<div class="verse">Thrill of wing of gold or green,</div>
<div class="verse">Sapphire, crimson—gorgeous dye</div>
<div class="verse">Lost or found across the sky,</div>
<div class="verse">Midst the glory of the air;</div>
<div class="verse">Birds who tenderer colors wear?</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">What to us the free-bird's song,</div>
<div class="verse">Breath of passion, breath of wrong;</div>
<div class="verse">Wood-heart's orchestra, her life;</div>
<div class="verse">Breath of love and breath of strife;</div>
<div class="verse">Joy's fantasies; anguish breath;</div>
<div class="verse">Cries of doubt, and cries of death?</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Shall we care when nesting-time</div>
<div class="verse">Brings no birds from any clime;</div>
<div class="verse">Not a voice or ruby wing,</div>
<div class="verse">Not a single nest to swing</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Midst the reeds, or, higher up,</div>
<div class="verse">Like a dainty fairy-cup;</div>
<div class="verse">Not a single little friend,</div>
<div class="verse">All the way, as footsteps wend</div>
<div class="verse">Here and there through every clime,</div>
<div class="verse">Not a bird at any time?</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Does it matter? Do we care</div>
<div class="verse">What the feathers women wear</div>
<div class="verse">Cost the world? Must all birds die?</div>
<div class="verse">May they never, never fly</div>
<div class="verse">Safely through their native air?</div>
<div class="verse">Slaughter meets them everywhere.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Scorned be the hands that touch such spoil!</div>
<div class="verse">Let women pity and recoil</div>
<div class="verse">From traffic barbarous and grave,</div>
<div class="verse">And quickly strive the birds to save.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="LITTLE_GUESTS_IN_FEATHERS" id="LITTLE_GUESTS_IN_FEATHERS"></SPAN> LITTLE GUESTS IN FEATHERS.</h2>
<p class="ac">NELLY HART WOODWORTH.</p>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_a.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">A BROOKLYN naturalist who gives
much time to bird-study told
me that as his rooms became
overfull of birds he decided to
thin them out before the approach of
winter. Accordingly he selected two
song sparrows and turned one of them
adrift, thinking to let the other go the
next morning.</p>
<p>The little captive was very happy
for a few hours, flying about the "wild
garden" in the rear of the house—a
few square rods where more than 400
varieties of native plants were growing.
It was not long, however, before a
homesick longing replaced the new
happiness and the bird returned to the
cage which was left upon the piazza
roof.</p>
<p>The next morning the second sparrow
was given his freedom. Nothing
was seen of him for a week, when he
came to the window, beat his tired
wings against the pane, and sank down
upon the window sill so overjoyed at
finding himself at home that he was
fairly bursting with song. His throat
trembled with the ecstasy; the feathers
ruffling as the melody rose from his
heart and deluged the air with sweetness.
His joy was too complete for
further experiment.</p>
<p>The first sparrow was again released
only to return at nightfall and go
promptly to bed at the general retiring
hour.</p>
<p>This hour, by the way, varied indefinitely;
the whole aviary accommodating
their hours to those of their master,
rising with him and settling for the
night as he turned off the gas. After
this same bird was repeatedly sent out,
like Noah's dove, coming home at
evening, till after many days it came
no more—an implicit confidence in the
rightness of all intention doubtless
making it an easy prey to some evil
design.</p>
<p>A handsome hermit thrush from the
same aviary, domesticated in my room,
after an hour or two "abroad" is as
homesick for his cage as is a child for
its mother.</p>
<p>When this bird came into my possession
his open and discourteous disapproval
of women was humiliating.
His attitude was not simply endurance
but open revolt, a deep-rooted hatred
for the entire sex. When, after long
weeks of acquaintance, this hostility
was overcome he followed me about
the room, stood beside me at my work,
and has since been unchanging in a
pathetic devotion.</p>
<p>He plants his tiny feet in my pen-tray
and throws the pens upon the
floor. He stands on tiptoe before the
mirror, staring with curious eyes at the
strange rival till awe is replaced by
anger and the brown wings beat in unavailing
effort to reach the insolent
mimic. When shown a worm he trembles
in excited anticipation, his little
feet dancing upon the floor, his wings
moving rapidly, while he utters a coaxing,
entreating syllable. The song is
sweetest when raindrops fall or when
the room is noisy and confused. I
notice, too, that he is more tuneful before
a rain.</p>
<p>I must confess that he keeps late
hours, that he is often busy getting
breakfast when orthodox birds should
be dreaming, his active periods being
liable to fall at any hour of the night,
more especially if there be a moon.
An intensely sentimental nature may
be unable to sleep when the beauty of
the world is so strongly emphasized.</p>
<p>His last frolic was with a frog the
children smuggled into the house,
chasing it around the room, darting
at it with wide-open beak, advancing
and retreating in a frenzied merriment.</p>
<p>As the cage door is often left open
he is sometimes "lost" briefly. At one
of these times I decided that he had
gone to sleep under the bed and would
be quite safe till morning. Before day-light
my mother called to me from the
next room that there was "something
in her bed," and, sure enough, the truant
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</SPAN></span>
stood upon her pillow, his wings almost
brushing her face.</p>
<p>The song of an indigo bird, kept in
my room, is often followed by from
two to four subdued notes of exceeding
richness and sweetness. Aside from
the ordinary song, sometimes reduced
to the syllables, "meet, meet, I'll meet
you," words unheard save by aid of a
vivid imagination, the bird has an exquisite
warble, loud and exhilarating,
as rounded and velvety as the bluebird's.</p>
<p>When the bird became familiar with
the room, its occupants and the sunshine
streaming in through the window,
his happiness crystallized in song, a
rarely beautiful strain unheard before.
The feathers on his throat would ruffle
as a wave of song ran upward filling
the room with a delicious music.</p>
<p>Unlike the hermit thrush, which has
silent, preoccupied hours and is given
to meditation, the indigo has no indolent
days and is a happy, sunny-hearted
creature.</p>
<p>His attitudes are like the catbird's—erecting
crest, flirting body and tail, or
drooping the latter in the precise manner
of the catbird. Judged by indigo
dress-standards, this bird is in an undress
uniform, quite as undress as it is
uniform; as somebody says, a result of
the late moult.</p>
<p>For all this his changeable suit is not
only becoming, but decidedly modern—warp
of blue and woof of green that
change with changing light from indigo
to intense emerald. Then there
are browns and drabs in striking contrasts—colors
worn by indigoes while
young and inexperienced, the confused
shades of the upper breast replaced by
sparrowy stripes beneath.</p>
<p>My bird is a night singer, pouring
out his tuneful plaint as freely in the
"wee, sma' hours," as when the sun is
shining; its notes as sweet as if he
knew that if we <i>must</i> sing a night song it
should be sweet that some heart may
hear and be the better for our singing.
Later in the day a purple finch in the
cedar tangle challenged the vocalist in
notes so entrancing that one's breath
was hushed involuntarily.</p>
<p>The same finch sang freely during the
entire season in notes replete with personality,
a distinct translation of the
heart language. Others might sing
and sing, but this superb voice rose
easily above them all, a warbling, gurgling,
effervescing strain, finished and
polished in notes of infinite tenderness.
Short conversations preceded and followed
the musical ecstasy, a love song
intended for one ear only, while wings
twinkled and fluttered in rhythm with
the pulsing heart of the melodist. No
doubt he was telling of a future castle
in the air beside which castles in Spain
are of little value.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="PLANTING_THE_TREES" id="PLANTING_THE_TREES"></SPAN>PLANTING THE TREES.</h2>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">What do we plant when we plant the trees?</div>
<div class="verse">We plant the ships which will cross the seas.</div>
<div class="verse">We plant the mast to carry the sails,</div>
<div class="verse">We plant the planks to withstand the gales—</div>
<div class="verse">The keel, the keelson, and beams and knee;</div>
<div class="verse">We plant the ship when we plant the tree.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">What do we plant when we plant the tree?</div>
<div class="verse">We plant the homes for you and me.</div>
<div class="verse">We plant the rafters, the shingles, the floors,</div>
<div class="verse">We plant the studding, the laths, the doors,</div>
<div class="verse">The beams, the sidings, all parts that be;</div>
<div class="verse">We plant the home when we plant the tree.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">What do we plant when we plant the tree?</div>
<div class="verse">A thousand things that we daily see.</div>
<div class="verse">We plant the spires that outtower the crag,</div>
<div class="verse">We plant the staff for our country's flag,</div>
<div class="verse">We plant the shade, from the hot sun free;</div>
<div class="verse">We plant all these when we plant the tree.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="ORIGIN_OF_THE_EASTER_EGG" id="ORIGIN_OF_THE_EASTER_EGG"></SPAN> ORIGIN OF THE EASTER EGG.</h2>
<p class="ac">ELANORA KINSLEY MARBLE.</p>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_n.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">NOW is the time of year when we
feel called upon to inform our
readers that the peacock does
not lay the pretty colored
Easter eggs.</p>
<p>This valuable bit of information the
great American humorist feels called
upon to make year after year, and
though we elder folk smile, and the
young query, how many of us are
familiar with the history of the custom
of observing the closing of Lent with
the egg feast?</p>
<p>One must go back to the Persians
for the first observance of the egg day.
According to one of the ancient cosmogonies,
all things were produced
from an egg, hence called the mundane
egg. This cosmogony was received in
Persia, and on this account there obtained,
among the people of that country,
a custom of presenting each other
with an egg, the symbol of a new beginning
of time on every New Year's
day; that is, on the day when the sun
enters Aries, the Persians reckoning
the beginning of the new year from
that day, which occurred in March.
The doctrine of the mundane egg was
not confined to the limits of Persia,
but was spread, together with the
practice of presenting New Year's
eggs, through various other countries.
But the New Year was not kept on the
day when the sun enters Aries, or at
least it ceased, in process of time, to be
so kept. In Persia itself the introduction
of the Mohammedan faith
brought with it the removal of New
Year's day.</p>
<p>Among the Jews the season of the
ancient New Year became that of the
Passover, and among the Christians
the season of the Passover has become
that of Easter. Among all these
changes the custom of giving an egg
at the sun's entrance into Aries still
prevails. The egg has also continued
to be held as a symbol, and the sole
alteration is the prototype. At first it
was said to be the beginning of time
and now it is called the symbol of the
resurrection. One sees, therefore,
what was the real origin of the Easter
egg of the Greek and Roman churches.</p>
<p>From a book entitled "An Extract
from the Ritual of Pope Paul V.,"
made for Great Britain, it appears that
the paschal egg is held by the Roman
church to be an emblem of the resurrection,
and that it is made holy by a
special blessing of a priest.</p>
<p>In Russia Easter day is set apart for
paying visits. The men go to each
other's house in the morning and introduce
themselves by saying "Christ
is arisen." The answer is "Yes, he is
risen!" Then they embrace, exchange
eggs, and sad to relate, drink a great
deal of brandy.</p>
<p>An account of far older date says,
"Every year against Easter day, the
Russians color or dye red with Brazil
wood a great number of eggs, of which
every man and woman giveth one unto
the priest of the parish upon Easter
day in the morning. And, moreover,
the common people carry in their
hands one of these red eggs, not only
upon Easter day but also three or four
days after. And gentlewomen and
gentlemen have eggs gilded, which
they carry in like manner. They use
the eggs, as they say, for a great love
and in token of the resurrection
whereof they rejoice. For when two
friends meet during the Easter holidays,
they come and take one another
by the hand; the one of them saith,
'The Lord, our Christ, is risen!' The
other answereth, 'It is so of a truth!'
Then they kiss and exchange their
eggs, both men and women continuing
in kissing four days together."</p>
<p>There is an old English proverb on
the subject of Easter eggs, namely:
"I'll warrant you an egg for Easter."
In some parts of England, notably in
the north, the eggs are colored by
means of dyeing drugs, in which the
eggs are boiled. These eggs are called
"paste" eggs, also "pace" and "pasche,"
all derived from "pascha"—Easter.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="MORAL_VALUE_OF_FORESTS" id="MORAL_VALUE_OF_FORESTS"></SPAN> MORAL VALUE OF FORESTS.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_a.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">A COMPARATIVELY untouched
phase of the question of forest
destruction is brought out in a
book called "North American
Forests and Forestry," by Ernest
Bruncken, a prominent western forester.
The author incidentally discusses
the part which our forests have
had in shaping American character
and our national history. This phase
of the matter is interesting both as a
historical study and as a suggestion of
the moral as well as economic loss
which must come with the denudation
of our forest areas.</p>
<p>All thinking Americans know that
the forests are an important factor in
our commercial life, and Mr. Bruncken
makes an impressive statement of the
way in which the lumber industry permeates
all the nation's activities. But
the part played by the vast primeval
forests in creating American character
is not so generally realized. From the
earliest colonial times the forests have
had a moral and political effect in
shaping our history. In the seventeenth
century England was dependent
upon Norway and the Baltic provinces
for its timber for ships. This
was in various ways disadvantageous
for England, so the American colonists
were encouraged with bounties to cut
ship timbers, masts and other lumber
for European export. This trade, however,
was found to be unprofitable on
account of the long ocean voyage, so
the American lumbermen began to
develop a profitable market in the West
Indies. This was straightway interdicted
by the short-sighted British
government, and the bitter and violent
opposition of the colonists against this
tyrannical policy ceased only with the
end of British dominion.</p>
<p>From that time to the present the
forests of America have exercised a
most important influence upon the
nation, especially in creating the self-reliance
which is the chief trait of the
American character. The trappers,
hunters, explorers and backwoods
settlers who went forth alone into the
dense forests received a schooling such
as nothing else could give. As the
forest closed behind the settler he
knew his future and that of his family
must henceforth depend upon himself,
his ax, his rifle, and the few simple
utensils he had brought with him. It
was a school that did not teach the
graces, but it made men past masters
in courage, pertinacity, and resourcefulness.
It bred a new, simple, and
forceful type of man. Out of the midst
of that backwoods life came Abraham
Lincoln, the greatest example of American
statesmanship the nation has produced.
In him was embodied all the
inherent greatness of his early wilderness
surroundings, with scarcely a trace
of its coarser characteristics.</p>
<p>As Mr. Bruncken says, mere remembrance
of what the forests have given
us in the past should be enough to inspire
a wish to preserve them as long
as possible, to stop wanton waste by
forest fires, and even to repair our
losses by planting new forests, as they
do in Europe. The time has gone
when the silence and dangers of the
forest were our chief molders of sturdy
character, but it is undeniable that the
pioneer blood that still runs so richly
in American veins has much to do
with causing the idea of Philippine
expansion to appeal so powerfully to
the popular imagination. The prophets
who see in the expansion idea the
downfall of the nation forget that the
same spirit subdued the American wilderness
and created the freest government
and some of the finest specimens
of manhood the world has ever seen.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="EASTER_LILIES" id="EASTER_LILIES"></SPAN>EASTER LILIES.</h2>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Though long in wintry sleep ye lay,</div>
<div class="verse">The powers of darkness could not stay</div>
<div class="verse">Your coming at the call of day,</div>
<div class="verse indent1">Proclaiming spring.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Nay, like the faithful virgins wise,</div>
<div class="verse">With lamps replenished ye arise</div>
<div class="verse">Ere dawn the death-anointed eyes</div>
<div class="verse indent1">Of Christ, the king.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—<i>John B. Tabb.</i></div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="SCARLET IBIS.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_032.jpg" id="i_032.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_032.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">FROM COL. F. KAEMPFER,<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER, CHICAGO.<br/>
</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">SCARLET IBIS.<br/>
⅓ Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">CHICAGO COLORTYPE CO.,<br/>
COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_SCARLET_IBIS" id="THE_SCARLET_IBIS"></SPAN>THE SCARLET IBIS.<br/> <span class="xx-smaller"><span style="font-weight:lighter;"> (<i>Guara rubra.</i>)</span></span></h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_i.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">IBISES are distributed throughout
the warmer parts of the globe and
number, according to the best
authorities, about thirty species,
of which four occur in North America.
The scarlet ibis is a South American
species, though it has been recorded
from Florida, Louisiana, and New
Mexico. The ibises are silent birds,
and live in flocks during the entire year.
They feed along the shores of lakes,
bays, and salt-water lagoons, and on
mud flats, over which the tide rises
and falls. Their food consists of crustaceans,
frogs, and small fish.</p>
<p>Colonies of ibises build nests in
reedy marshes, or in low trees and
bushes not far from good feeding-grounds.
Three to five pale greenish
eggs, marked with chocolate, are found
in the coarse, bulky nest of reeds and
weed stalks.</p>
<p>These birds are not so numerous as
they once were. They have been wantonly
destroyed for their plumage
alone, the flesh being unfit for food.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="CHIPPY_A_BABY_MOCKING_BIRD" id="CHIPPY_A_BABY_MOCKING_BIRD"></SPAN> CHIPPY—A BABY MOCKING BIRD.</h2>
<p class="ac">MARTHA CROMBIE WOOD.</p>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_o.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">ONE bright day early in August I
sat by my window writing. My
attention was soon attracted by
a pair of mocking birds which
were flying back and forth between a
peach-tree and a plum-tree near by.</p>
<p>These birds having been near neighbors
of mine for some time, I had named
them Jack and Jill.</p>
<p>A family quarrel seemed brewing, for
Jack evidently found more good points
in the plum-tree and scolded Jill for
spending any time in the peach-tree,
while Jill was equally impressed with
the favorable aspect of the peach-tree.
I thought they were trying to decide
upon a location for a nest and was soon
convinced that I was right, for Jack
ended the family disagreement by taking
a twig in his bill and carrying it to
the plum-tree, where he began balancing
it among some of the small
branches. His mate continued to scold
from her place in the peach-tree, but
when he paid no attention to her and
went on with his work she soon relented
and flew down to offer her assistance.</p>
<p>With very little difficulty these birds
could carry a twig six or eight inches
long and a quarter of an inch in diameter.
Several of these large twigs were
laid loosely among the forks of three
small branches and then a more compact
structure was placed upon this
foundation. This was made of smaller
twigs, with roots and stems of Bermuda
grass twisted among them. A lining
composed of horse hair, grass, cotton,
a piece of satin ribbon some three
inches long, bits of paper, string and
rag completed the home.</p>
<p>There was very little weaving in the
construction of the nest and the most
wonderful as well as the most curious
thing about it was how it could be made
so loosely and not fall apart during the
very high winds which we have in central
Texas.</p>
<p>While the eggs were being hatched
there was a violent storm which lasted
all day, and several times I saw the tree
bend nearly to the ground. Each time
I was afraid I should see the destruction
of this home, which had become so
interesting to me. As I watched the
tree writhe in the storm I began to appreciate
the wisdom shown by the bird
in the selection of the place for his nest,
for it was in the part of the tree least
disturbed by the wind and most thoroughly
protected from the rain.</p>
<p>During the long nights the mocking
bird often sang to his mate as she patiently
sat on the nest.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Nothing can be more delightful than
the song of our mocking birds, heard
when the moonlight makes the night
almost as light as the day and the
south wind is ladened with the delicious
odors of roses and honeysuckle.</p>
<p>At last the eggs were hatched and
five baby birds demanded food. The
parent birds worked constantly from
dawn till dark, but, from the loud "<i>ce-ce-ce</i>"
which greeted them each time
they neared the nest, one might suppose
the supply of food never equaled the
demand.</p>
<p>A young mocking bird seems all
mouth and legs. He is a comical little
creature with his scant covering of
gray down, long legs, large feet and
ever-open mouth, with its lining of
bright orange.</p>
<p>As the old bird approaches the little
ones squat flat in the nest, throw back
their heads and open their enormous
mouths, which must seem like so many
bottomless pits to the parent birds
when they are tired.</p>
<p>If my favorite cat, Mephistopheles,
tried to take his nap anywhere in the
vicinity of their nest Jack and Jill
would fly at him, screaming, and, boldly
lighting upon his head, try to peck at
his eyes. He would strike at them and
spit, but they would only fly upon the
fence or rose-trellis and in a moment
dart at him again. The battle would
continue until Mephistopheles retired
to a safer place.</p>
<p>I have seen many such battles, but
never one where the bird was not victorious.</p>
<p>One morning, when the birds were
still quite small, one of them tumbled
from the nest. At first I thought the
mother-bird might have pushed it out
that it might learn to fly, but after seeing
the feathers of its wings had only
reached the tiny pin-feather stage, I
knew it was too young for such efforts
and concluded that the nest was overcrowded.
I tried to put it in the nest
for it was drenched with the dew from
the grass.</p>
<p>Jack and Jill objected so seriously to
my assistance that I had to give up
this plan, for they flew at me just as
they did at Mephistopheles. Fearing
the cat would hurt it I was compelled to
take it into the house.</p>
<p>Then my troubles began. It seemed
to take all of my time to feed this one
bird, and I could not imagine how Jack
and Jill could take care of it and four
others.</p>
<p>For awhile it seemed very much
frightened, but at length began to chirp.
The old birds answered at once and
soon came to the screen on the window
and called to it. Knowing they would
feed it if they could reach it I had to
keep it away from them, for, should
they discover it was a prisoner, they
would give it poison.</p>
<p>We named it Chippy and it soon became
a great pet. Whenever anyone
entered the room where it was its mouth
flew open, and from its shrill "<i>chee-chee-chee</i>,"
one might easily imagine it was
on the verge of starvation.</p>
<p>When I had had it a week it would
try to fly from the floor to the lower
rounds of a chair. When it had learned
to fly, if left alone it would call until
someone answered, and then follow the
sound until it found them. I have
known it to fly through two rooms, a
downstairs hall, up the stair-steps,
through the upper hall, and into my
room in response to my whistle.</p>
<p>When it first made this journey it
could fly only two or three feet at a
time and had to fly from step to step
up the stairway.</p>
<p>Soon after this I took Chippy out of
doors. He was very much delighted
when placed in a young hackberry tree,
where he could fly from branch to
branch. When he reached the top of
the tree Jill flew into a tree near by and
tried to coax him to come to her. I
saw Chippy spread his wings and supposed
I had lost my pet. Imagine my
surprise when he gave a shrill scream
and flew straight to me, lighting on my
shoulder and nestling against my face.</p>
<p>Jill followed him, resting in a vine
some three or four feet from me. When
coaxing failed she flew away but soon
returned with a grasshopper in her bill.</p>
<p>I drove Chippy away from me, hoping
he would return to his own family,
where his education could be carried on
according to their ideas.</p>
<p>He flew into a tree, ate the grasshopper
which Jill fed to him, and then flew
on the roof of the porch outside my
window, where he sat calling me. Going
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</SPAN></span>
to my room I opened the screen to
let him in, but this startled him and he
flew away.</p>
<p>The sun had gone down by this time
and I supposed he had at last returned
to the nest. As I sat at the supper
table I heard him calling to me and
went outside.</p>
<p>He was in a tree in a neighbor's yard,
but when he saw me he at once flew
down on my head, and it was comical
to see him try to express his joy.</p>
<p>After that he spent his days among
the trees, but at sunset always came to
the house and slept in a box in my
room.</p>
<p>Whenever he was hungry he would
come to the window and call for food.</p>
<p>His favorite resting-place was on my
shoulder or head and he seemed to be
very fond of company.</p>
<p>One morning I saw Jack and Jill flying
from tree to tree with him and that
is the last I ever saw of any of them.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="BIRDLAND_SECRETS" id="BIRDLAND_SECRETS"></SPAN>BIRDLAND SECRETS.</h2>
<p class="ac">SARA E. GRAVES.</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Tell me what the bluebird sings</div>
<div class="verse">When from Southland up he springs</div>
<div class="verse">Into March's frosty skies</div>
<div class="verse">And to our New England flies,</div>
<div class="verse">Where, upon some sunny morn</div>
<div class="verse">Hear we first his note lovelorn.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Now he 'mong the maple flits,</div>
<div class="verse">Now upon a fencepost sits,</div>
<div class="verse">Lifting wings of heaven's own blue</div>
<div class="verse">As he warbles, clear and true,</div>
<div class="verse">Song so plaintive, soft and sweet,</div>
<div class="verse">All our hearts with welcome beat.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">What the message full he brings</div>
<div class="verse">When in March's ear he sings?</div>
<div class="verse">Tell me what our robins think</div>
<div class="verse">When our April airs they drink,</div>
<div class="verse">Following close in Bluebird's train</div>
<div class="verse">With their blither, bolder strain.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Sit they high on maple tall</div>
<div class="verse">Chirping loud their earnest call,</div>
<div class="verse">Redbreasts glowing in the sun,</div>
<div class="verse">Then across the sward they run</div>
<div class="verse">Scampering briskly, then upright,</div>
<div class="verse">Flirt their tails and spring to flight.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Or, when drops the light of day</div>
<div class="verse">Down the westward golden way,</div>
<div class="verse">Robin mounts the tallest branch</div>
<div class="verse">Touched by sunset's quivering lance;</div>
<div class="verse">Carols forth his evening tune</div>
<div class="verse">Blithe as Earth were in her June.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Tell me what the sparrow says</div>
<div class="verse">In those first glad springtime days,</div>
<div class="verse">When the maples yield their sweet,</div>
<div class="verse">When Earth's waking pulses beat,</div>
<div class="verse">When the swollen streams and rills</div>
<div class="verse">Frolic down the pasture hills.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Winter birds and squirrels then</div>
<div class="verse">Grow more lively in the glen,</div>
<div class="verse">And, when warmer airs arise,</div>
<div class="verse">Sparrow sings her sweet surprise</div>
<div class="verse">From the lilac bushes near,</div>
<div class="verse">Song of faith and hope and cheer.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Tell me, when the longer train</div>
<div class="verse">Up from Southland sweeps again,</div>
<div class="verse">Filling fields and glens and woods—</div>
<div class="verse">Wildest, deepest solitudes—</div>
<div class="verse">With more brilliant life and song,</div>
<div class="verse">Golden lyre and silver tongue,</div>
<div class="verse">Bells that ring their morning chimes</div>
<div class="verse">Wood nymphs voicing soothing rhymes</div>
<div class="verse">Stirring all the sun-filled air</div>
<div class="verse">With hymns of praise and love and prayer.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Tell me whence their motive power,</div>
<div class="verse">Tell me whence so rich a dower,</div>
<div class="verse">Tell me why are <i>birds</i> so gifted;</div>
<div class="verse">Whence their imprisoned spirits drifted;</div>
<div class="verse">Whither swells this tide of love</div>
<div class="verse">Flooding all the air above?</div>
<div class="verse">Whither these enchantments tend?</div>
<div class="verse">A brief bird life—is this its end?</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="MASSENA PARTRIDGE.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_052.jpg" id="i_052.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_052.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">FROM COL. F. KAEMPFER.<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER, CHICAGO.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">MASSENA PARTRIDGE.<br/>
5/7 Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table></div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_MASSENA_QUAIL" id="THE_MASSENA_QUAIL"></SPAN>THE MASSENA QUAIL.<br/> <span class="xx-smaller"><span style="font-weight:lighter;"> (<i>Cyrtonyx Massena.</i>)</span></span></h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THIS beautiful species is said to
be by far the most gentle and
unsuspicious of our quails, and
will permit a very close approach
by man, showing little or no
fear of what most animals know so
well to be their most deadly enemy.
While feeding they keep close together,
and constantly utter a soft clucking
note, as though talking to one another.</p>
<p>This species is about the size of the
eastern variety. Its head is ornamented
with a beautifully full, soft occipital
crest. The head of the male is singularly
striped with black and white.
The female is smaller and is quite different
in color, but may be recognized
by the generic characters. The tail
is short and full, and the claws very
large.</p>
<p>The quail makes a simple nest on
the ground, under the edge of some
old log, or in the thick grass on the
prairie, lined with soft and well-dried
grass and a few feathers. From fifteen
to twenty-four white eggs are laid.
The female sits three weeks. The
young brood, as soon as they are fairly
out of the shell, leave the nest and
seem abundantly strong to follow the
parent, though they are no bigger than
the end of one's thumb—covered with
down. The massena quail is an inhabitant
of the western and southwestern
states.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="IN_THE_OLD_LOG_HOUSE" id="IN_THE_OLD_LOG_HOUSE"></SPAN>IN THE OLD LOG HOUSE.</h2>
<p class="ac">BY BERTHA SEAVEY SAUNIER.</p>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THE big orchard on the Triggs
place was also the old orchard.
Grandpa Triggs had planted it
long ago in his young days when
the country was new. The year before
he had hauled logs from yonder forest
with his ox-team and built the strong
little house that still stands at the foot
of the orchard.</p>
<p>He brought young crab trees, too,
and set them all about the house and
though, after the orchard was started,
he often threatened to cut them down,
he never did it and they grew into a
tangle of friendship and protection
until the little one-roomed house was
nearly hidden.</p>
<p>The house was desolate now. The
catbirds built their nests in the crotches
of the crabs and the jays came over
from the woods across the river and
quarreled with them. An old zigzag
rail fence separated the orchard from
the hay-field at one end and a tall
uncared-for osage hedge did scant
duty at two sides. Once in a great
while a sheep would leave the aftermath
and step through the wide spaces
of the hedge and, entering the doorless
house, would walk curiously about and
then return. But that was all—no, not
quite all. The children built fires in
the great fireplace and roasted potatoes
or experimented at cooking carrots,
artichokes, apples and occasionally a
pair of kidneys rolled each in several
thicknesses of brown paper and slowly
cooked under the hot ashes and coals.
To be sure, the smoke came out into the
room and got into the children's eyes
and passed out at the door—for the
chimney had crumbled to half its old
time height—but the playtimes went on
in spite of that and the birds shouted
and sang outside.</p>
<p>One would expect that all this activity
above board to be happily interested
without looking for new and startling
circumstances under ground. But,
withal, life went on among the "underground
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</SPAN></span>
lights," with its busy unconcern
of affairs which it could not share or
even comprehend. Rarely when the
fire warmed the bricks about the fireplace
did comely, plump Mrs. Acre
Tidae fail to raise her song. She had
a way of building a home had Mrs.
House Cricket. She tossed out a few
grains of earth from under the brick
tiling of the hearth and presto! she
entered in backward and sat down waving
her long slender antennæ with
a happy content that would shame
many a one who, having more, is not
satisfied. Mr. Field Cricket, who happens
also to be named Acre Tidae, had
built his home at the edge of the path
in the sandy loam just without the door.
Two bodies of the same name and
family would be expected to live in the
same house, but they couldn't quite
come to do that on account of tastes.
For one thing they differed in the
matter of dress, though that was the
least objection one to the other. Mrs.
House Cricket wore a grayish yellow
dress, marked a little with brown and
Mr. Field Cricket wore darker colors.
He built his home deeper, too, which
would never suit Mrs. Acre Tidae at
all. Sometimes his home is twelve
inches deep, and six it is sure to be.
And then, big fellow that he is, quite a
bit larger than she, he does not mind
the cold. He snuggles down in the
deep darkness as soon as he sees the
dew frozen in the tiny crystals all over
the long grass blades, and sleeps the
time away, however long and cold the
winter may be; and such a life is scorned
by bright Mrs. House Cricket, who
chooses the hearth on account of
the warmth and who chirps joyfully
throughout the year, except when the
fire goes out, as it often does in the
little old log house; for there were days
and days when the children did not
come to play. At such times Mrs.
House Cricket was forced unwillingly
to fall asleep. "Shameful!" she would
mutter, as the last flicker of feeling departed.
"Such a waste of time. If I
had built in a bakery or by a brick oven
how much busier I might be—and happier.
I'm no better than those cousins
of mine who make it a business to sleep
half the year around." These last words
were so soft as she scraped them off on
the ridges of her wing covers that the
children, who were just going home,
stopped and Linsey said, "Do hear the
cricket—it says, 'Good night; good
night.'"</p>
<p>"By-by, Crick!" called Harry, as he
leaped through the hedge and ran to
the brook to stamp on the thin ice with
his heel. "I shall move out," moaned
Mrs. Cricket with her faintest note.
But moving day did not arrive for many
weeks and Mrs. Cricket awoke and went
to sleep as many times; and finally the
long hot days found her contentedly
basking in the field among the warm
grasses, having forgotten the troubles
of the winter. "Dear me," she was
softly drumming with her wing covers
as she stopped in her evening search
for food. "Dear, dear! how that big
cousin of mine does scream! Perhaps
he calls it music, but I don't."</p>
<p>She crept along slowly and hid in a
fold of rain-worn paper near the home
of her much criticized relative. He
was sitting in his doorway singing his
evening song as loud as he could, for
he was singing with a purpose. The
source of his music lay within his wing
covers. Nearly one hundred and thirty
fine ridges were on the under side of
one wing cover (which is hard and
horny), and these are hastily scraped
over a smooth nervure which projects
from the under side of the other wing
cover. And that is how he sings. His
song is bound to be a love-song and
Mrs. House Cricket finding a few
crumbs within the paper and deciding
to stay all night suddenly heard the
loud, harsh tones softened and, looking
out, she saw her big cousin standing
close to another dark form like his own.
He was crooning softly as he caressed
her with his slender, delicate antennæ—his
mate, whom he had won to himself
with his song. Mrs. House Cricket
looked on for a moment and changed
her mind about staying all night. "I'll
creep under a leaf," she said, "and
leave the lovers to themselves." So
she slipped away and saw them no more
until, some weeks later, she passed and,
seeing her cousin in his door,
stopped:</p>
<p>"I have all my eggs laid," she said,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</SPAN></span>
"and I'm going up toward the big
house to stay until the weather gets
cold."</p>
<p>"Mrs. Field Cricket has two hundred
eggs right here under this long grass,"
he answered with great pride. "She is
welcome," returned his cousin; "for
my part I prefer quality to quantity."
And she turned away to take a peep at
the nursery which was warmed and
nourished only by the sun.</p>
<p>"They will soon hatch out and dig
homes each for himself like my own
little ones," she said as she left them
and began her long journey toward the
farmhouse. "But mine will be wise
enough to get near to a barn or house
when they are grown up," she mused,
"so that they need not sleep all winter,
and they can be busy and useful to the
world—busy, useful, cheerful, hopeful."
She stopped to say one or the other of
these good words often as she traveled
on and sometimes she said them all at
one time, as she pruned her wings
which when folded, extended beyond
her body into long, slender filaments
like the antennæ.</p>
<p>At length, just as the maple leaves,
all brown and dry, were blowing into
heaps against the rosebushes and the
lilacs, Mrs. Acre Tidae reached the
farmhouse and slipped unobserved into
the warm, clean kitchen.</p>
<p>She found a wide crack in the floor
near the big chimney and squeezed in,
digging it out to suit her body.</p>
<p>"The babies are all safe in their little
holes by this time," she said, "safe for
the winter. Perhaps by next fall they
will be with me and we will all go out
at night to eat crumbs," and she began
singing, "Useful, cheerful—busy, hopeful."
"Do hear the cricket," said
Linsey, "It sounds like the one in the
old log house."</p>
<p>"They are all alike, I guess," returned
Harry, who was eating apples. "They
are always jolly sad, I reckon." "Use-ful,
cheer-ful, hope-ful," sang Mrs. Cricket.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="ANIMALS_AS_PATIENTS" id="ANIMALS_AS_PATIENTS"></SPAN>ANIMALS AS PATIENTS.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_m_alt.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">M. LEPINAY, the presiding
genius of the bird hospital in
Paris, has found by experience
that his feathered patients
chiefly exhibit a tendency toward apoplexy—the
dove is particularly addicted
to this complaint; consumption
follows in order of unpopularity, with
internal complaints occupying the third
place. In the case of apoplexy, blood-letting—so
popular a remedy in the
days of our great-grandparents—is resorted
to by means of a diminutive
lancet inserted in a fleshy portion of
the bird, and this is followed by small
doses of such drugs as quinine, bromide
of camphor, etc.</p>
<p>Apropos of dog's teeth, about a year
ago there was exhibited at a certain
show a very interesting and aged
schipperke, who was at that time the
only dog in the world boasting a complete
set of false teeth. His owner,
Mr. Moseley, is a dentist as well as a
lover of animals, and it is entirely due
to his skill that the little dog is able
to eat with perfect comfort by the aid
of the artificial molars provided for
him by his master, who, on another
occasion, provided a dog who had lost
a limb in an accident with an artificial
leg. The only horse possessing a full
set of false teeth was the property of
Mr. Henry Lloyd of Louisville, Ky.,
who had its diseased teeth extracted
and replaced by a set of false ones.</p>
<p>A swan that had had a leg run over
by a cart-wheel, causing a compound
fracture, was recently successfully
treated at Otley, England, while yet
another swan had an operation performed
at Darlington some little time
ago that was very much out of the
ordinary. In this instance, the unlucky
bird had the principal bone in its right
wing fractured in several places, the
fracture presumably being caused by
a brutal blow dealt by some unknown
ruffian. A veterinary surgeon was
asked to give his advice, and on his
recommendation an amputation was
decided upon, and this he successfully
performed. The bird, sans a wing, was,
when last heard of, well on the road to
recovery.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_TRIPLET_TREE" id="THE_TRIPLET_TREE"></SPAN>THE TRIPLET TREE.</h2>
<p class="ac">CHARLES COKE WOODS, PH.D.</p>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_m.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">MATTER <i>per se</i> is an evidence of
mind. Every material thing
enshrines a thought. Essential
nature has no superfluities.
To the thinker everything means something.
In nature nothing happens.
Everything is ordered. There can be
no portrait of a landscape without a
painter. There can be no landscape
without a maker.</p>
<p>The visible forms that nature takes
may be changed. Her invisible forms
are changeless. The search for the
changeless is the great and delightful
task of art, literature, science, philosophy
and religion. The ultimate in
nature and in art is divine. The permanent
principle survives the fleeting
form. Nature's principles are relatively
few. Her forms are multifarious. Tree
life is true life. It is natural. It is
therefore true. Nature's garb may be
odd. It may even be deformed. But
her inner self is never false. Sap, fiber,
leaf, blossom, fruit; this is nature's
apocalypse. It is Queen Beauty's progressive
revelation.</p>
<p>Trees usually grow singly. Under
certain conditions they may as
naturally grow otherwise. The unusual
is not necessarily the unnatural.
Nature's resources are vast. She may
at any time manifest herself in an unfamiliar
form.</p>
<p>A triplet tree grows on what is
known as "Green's Ranch" in Cowley
County, Kansas. The ranch is located
five miles northeast of Arkansas City.
The trees are about three hundred
yards from the west bank of the
Walnut River. They range in a line
running north and south. They are
between forty-five and fifty feet high.
The first two on the north are eighteen
inches apart. The third tree standing
at the south end of the row is fifteen
feet from the middle one. They are
water elms, and average about three
and one-half feet in girth. The tree
standing at the north end of the row is
hollow at the base and, leaning over
southward intersects the central tree
two feet from the ground; thence it extends
to the one at the south end of
the row, and intersects it with a limb
from either side twelve feet above the
ground. The segment of the circle
described by the leaning tree is about
twenty feet. At the points where the
cross tree intersects the other two, it is
not merely a case of contiguity, but of
actual identification.</p>
<p>Another feature of the leaning tree
is that half way between its base and
the trunk of the second, and on the
lower side is an unsightly knot about
as large as a half bushel measure.
Half way between the center tree and
the one on the south, and on the under
side of the leaning tree is another lump
similar to the first, about half the size.
These unsightly warts appear to have
been produced by a congestion of sap
in the tissue of the intersecting tree.
This triplet tree is a curiosity. It presents
a strange phenomenon in tree
formation. But nature is everywhere
full of mystery and surprises.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="COUNTRIES_DEVOID_OF_TREES" id="COUNTRIES_DEVOID_OF_TREES"></SPAN> COUNTRIES DEVOID OF TREES.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_a.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">ANYONE who has traveled
through the comparatively treeless
countries around the Mediterranean,
such as Spain, Sicily,
Greece, northern Africa, and large
portions of Italy, must fervently pray
that our own country may be preserved
from so dismal a fate, says President
Charles W. Eliot. It is not the loss
of the forests only that is to be
dreaded, but the loss of agricultural
regions now fertile and populous,
which may be desolated by the floods
that rush down from the bare hills
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</SPAN></span>
and mountains, bringing with them
vast quantities of sand and gravel to
be spread over the lowlands.</p>
<p>Traveling a few years ago through
Tunisie, I came suddenly upon a fine
Roman bridge of stone over a wide,
bare, dry river bed. It stood some
thirty feet above the bed of the river
and had once served the needs of a
prosperous population. Marveling at
the height of the bridge above the
ground, I asked the French station
master if the river ever rose to the
arches which carried the roadway of
the bridge. His answer testified to
the flooding capacity of the river and
to the strength of the bridge. He
said: "I have been here four years,
and three times I have seen the river
running over the parapets of that
bridge. That country was once one of
the richest granaries of the Roman
empire. It now yields a scanty support
for a sparse and semi-barbarous
population." The whole region round-about
is treeless. The care of the
national forests is a provision for future
generations, for the permanence
over vast areas of our country of the
great industries of agriculture and
mining upon which the prosperity of
the country ultimately depends. A
good forest administration would soon
support itself.—<i>From January Atlantic.</i></p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="SNOW_PRISONS_OF_GAME_BIRDS" id="SNOW_PRISONS_OF_GAME_BIRDS"></SPAN> SNOW PRISONS OF GAME BIRDS.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_a.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">A LATE season snowstorm, with
the heavy precipitation that
marked the storm of Feb. 28,
gives the heart of the sportsman
as well as that of the bird protector
a touch of anxiety on the score
of the ruffed grouse and quail. A
downfall of that kind, followed by a
thaw and then by a freeze at night,
means the death of hundreds of game
birds. The quail simply get starved
and cold killed, while the ruffed
grouse, or partridges, get locked up
by Jack Frost and die of hunger in
their prisons.</p>
<p>There is a patch of woods not far
from Delavan, Wis., where there was
until recently an abundance of these
game birds. There was a local snowstorm
there late in February last year,
which was followed by a day of sunshine
and then by a frost which covered
the snow with a heavy crust.
Grouse have a habit of escaping from
the cold and blustering winds by burying
themselves in the big snow drifts
at the edges of the woods. There
they lie snug and warm and are perhaps
loath to leave their comfortable
quarters. They sometimes stay in the
drift until the delay costs them their
lives, the crust forming and walling
them in. It so happened to sixteen
partridges in the woodland patch near
Delavan. With the melting of the
season's snows the bodies of the birds
were found. They were separated
from one another by only a few feet. It
was a veritable grouse graveyard.—<i>Tribune.</i></p>
<hr class="sect" />
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">Warm grows the wind, and the rain hammers daily,</div>
<div class="verse">Making small doorways to let in the sun;</div>
<div class="verse">Flowers spring up, and new leaves flutter gaily;</div>
<div class="verse">Back fly the birdlings for winter is done.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—<i>Justine Sterns.</i></div>
</div></div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="RING-BILLED DUCK.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_074.jpg" id="i_074.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_074.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">FROM COL. F. NUSSBAUMER & SON.<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER, CHICAGO.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">RING-BILLED DUCK.<br/>
5/11 Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_RING-BILLED_DUCK" id="THE_RING-BILLED_DUCK"></SPAN>THE RING-BILLED DUCK.<br/> <span class="xx-smaller"><span style="font-weight:lighter;"> (<i>Aythya collaris.</i>)</span></span></h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THIS duck has many popular
synonyms, among others ring-necked,
ring-billed shuffler,
ring-necked scaup duck, or
blue-bill fall duck (Minnesota), black
jack (Illinois), moon-bill (South Carolina).
It is found throughout the whole
of North America, south to Guatemala
and the West Indies; breeding from
Iowa, southern Wisconsin, Minnesota
and Maine northward. It is accidental
in Europe.</p>
<p>The chief variation in the plumage
of this species consists in the distinctness
of the chestnut collar in the male,
which is usually well defined, particularly
in front. There is very little in its
habits to distinguish it from the other
"black-heads." Like them, it usually
associates in small flocks. Its flesh is
excellent, being fat, tender and juicy.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="A_STRANGE_BIRD_HOUSE" id="A_STRANGE_BIRD_HOUSE"></SPAN>A STRANGE BIRD HOUSE.</h2>
<p class="ac">ADDIE L. BOOKER.</p>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_w.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">WRENS are famous for choosing
queer places for nesting-sites.
They will nest in almost any
situation about the house or
yard that can be entered through any
semblance of a hole. I place all kinds
of odd receptacles about the yard for
them every spring, which they seldom
fail to occupy. These friendly and
interesting little creatures appreciate
such thoughtfulness, and repay it by
fairly bubbling over with grateful
song.</p>
<p>But the pair that afforded me the
most amusement pre-empted a homestead
that was not intended for them.</p>
<p>Our acquaintance began when preparing
to remove the cook stove to
the summer kitchen in May. In winter
this kitchen is used as a sort of
lumber room, and when clearing it of
various odd and ends it was found that
a pair of wrens had taken possession
of an overshoe and laid the foundation
of a home. The pair of overshoes had
been tied together and hung on a nail
in the wall, about five feet from the
floor.</p>
<p>Needless to say they were left undisturbed,
though not without many
doubts of the feasibility of the enterprise,
on account of the proximity of
the stove. The shoes were the ordinary
kind, fleece-lined rubber, and
were only a few feet from where the
stove would be set. These conditions
warranted the expectation of disastrous
results from extreme heat—at least so
it seemed to me, but my little neighbors
thought otherwise, and nest-building
progressed rapidly. Being
remarkably industrious midgets, the
nest of sticks was soon finished and
lined with soft feathers from the poultry
yard.</p>
<p>Wrens are noted for their industry;
unless in a very restricted situation
the outside dimensions of the nest are
enormous when compared with the interior,
or cavity. And the twigs that
compose the structure are out of all
proportion to the size of the architects.
I have seen twigs a foot long and half
the size of a lead pencil, used in the
construction of their nests. That birds
so diminutive could carry such burdens
in their tiny bills is indeed wonderful.
It is said that a single pair
have been known to fill a barrel, but
no nest quite so mammoth as this has
ever come under my observation.</p>
<p>To return to the home in the shoes.
After the completion of the nest five
wee eggs were deposited therein, and
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</SPAN></span>
incubation began. And in spite of the
heat everything went on happily in this
unique domicile.</p>
<p>We soon became the most sociable
friends. Their quaint and charming
ways made them very amusing pets.
They became so tame that they would
approach me fearlessly, even alighting
on my head, and would let me examine
their nest without being frightened.</p>
<p>The wren is a very lively and active
bird, and sings incessantly throughout
the breeding-season, and these were
not an exception, but were forever
darting in and out, their actions accompanied
by a sweet warble. Mr.
Wren would positively quiver all over
with delight, while regaling Mrs. Wren
and me with his exuberant melody.
They were the cheeriest little companions
imaginable. Every morning as I
entered the kitchen I was greeted
heartily by my small neighbors, who
bustled about in the preparation of the
morning meal as busily as I. Meanwhile
Mr. Wren merrily sang his
innocent matin song, and spontaneously
I would find myself singing too,
as I went about my work.</p>
<p>One day there was great excitement
in the shoe and, when I looked in, five
featherless mites with huge mouths
were to be seen. Mrs. Wren was now
a veritable "old woman who lived in a
shoe." But she did not treat her children
as did the old woman of nursery
fame, though she was kept very busy
in supplying their wants, even with the
assistance of Mr. Wren.</p>
<p>These birds subsist on small insects
and consume a considerable quantity.
With much satisfaction I watched them
slay a host of ants that were invading
the kitchen; running up and down the
wall with much agility, they picked
the ants off.</p>
<p>Real warm weather had set in by the
time the nestlings were ready to try
their wings, and I thought, of course,
my friends would desert me for a
cooler resort out of doors, in which to
pass the heated term. But O, no, they
were too loyal for that, so to make
their house more commodious, another
room was added by building a nest in
the other shoe. And the family raised
in the second shoe was not a whit less
interesting than the first.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_CHICKADEE" id="THE_CHICKADEE"></SPAN>THE CHICKADEE.</h2>
<p class="ac">SIDNEY DAYRE.</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">"Were it not for me,"</div>
<div class="verse indent-1">Said a chickadee,</div>
<div class="verse">"Not a single flower on earth would be;</div>
<div class="verse">For under the ground they soundly sleep</div>
<div class="verse">And never venture an upward peep,</div>
<div class="verse indent-1">Till they hear from me,</div>
<div class="verse indent-1">Chickadee-dee!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">"I tell Jack Frost when 'tis time to go</div>
<div class="verse">And carry away the ice and snow;</div>
<div class="verse">And then I hint to the jolly old sun,</div>
<div class="verse">'A little spring work, sir, should be done.'</div>
<div class="verse indent-1">And he smiles around</div>
<div class="verse indent-1">On the frozen ground,</div>
<div class="verse">And I keep up my cheery, cheery sound,</div>
<div class="verse">Till echo declares in glee, in glee,</div>
<div class="verse indent-1">'Tis he! 'tis he!</div>
<div class="verse indent-1">The chickadee-dee!"</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">"And then I waken the birds of spring—</div>
<div class="verse">'Ho, ho! 'tis time to be on the wing.'</div>
<div class="verse">They trill and twitter and soar aloft,</div>
<div class="verse">And I send the winds to whisper soft,</div>
<div class="verse">Down by the little flower-beds,</div>
<div class="verse">Saying, 'Come show your pretty heads!</div>
<div class="verse">The spring is coming, you see, you see!'</div>
<div class="verse indent-1">For so sings he,</div>
<div class="verse indent-1">The chickadee-dee!"</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">The sun he smiled; and the early flowers</div>
<div class="verse">Bloomed to brighten the blithesome hours,</div>
<div class="verse">And song-birds gathered in bush and tree;</div>
<div class="verse">But the wind he laughed right merrily,</div>
<div class="verse">As the saucy mite of a snowbird he</div>
<div class="verse">Chirped away, "Do you see, see, see?</div>
<div class="verse indent-1">I did it all!</div>
<div class="verse indent-1">Chickadee-dee!"</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="REFLECTIONS" id="REFLECTIONS"></SPAN>REFLECTIONS.</h2>
<p class="ac">CHARLES C. MARBLE.</p>
<p>Vice often epitomizes ancestry.</p>
<p>The wisest are not so wise as silence.</p>
<p>Experience is the grave of enthusiasm.</p>
<p>Experience is the enemy of dogmatism.</p>
<p>Our faith is often nothing more than
our hope.</p>
<p>Should we despise anything that God
has made?</p>
<p>In bestowing benefits we imperil
friendship.</p>
<p>Innocence and guilt are alike suffused
with blushes.</p>
<p>If vice did not exist wisdom could
not predicate itself.</p>
<p>Disappointment leaves a scar which
hope cannot remove.</p>
<p>Success is an excellent proof of the
wisdom which achieved it.</p>
<p>The vices of some men are more endurable
than the virtues of others.</p>
<p>Beauty is a reproach without virtue,
while virtue is itself the highest
beauty.</p>
<p>The sun at noon gives no more light
than at morn, but its glow has more
warmth and power.</p>
<p>Without the accessories life were of
little worth, and hope gives it its permanence
and serenity.</p>
<p>Marriage should be in harmony with
nature, in which what is seemingly discordant
but illuminates and purifies it.</p>
<p>Our conduct toward one another
should be based upon a conception of
the infinite mischances of life and the
exquisite poignancy of regret.</p>
<p>Misfortune seeks consolation in communicating
itself. But when it no
longer needs sympathy it is silent, and
ashamed of its former volubility.</p>
<p>We can overcome even our prejudices
where some interest is subserved
by it. So much stronger is self-interest
than color, social status, or education.</p>
<p>The poet should know, better than
another, his limitations. Parnassus is
always higher than our dreams, and his
summit more radiant than the vision
of any mortal.</p>
<p>The lily of the valley, which hides
its chaste head in dewy leaflets, is a
thousand times less modest than the
maiden whose conscious blush reveals
the innocence of reason.</p>
<p>If we were to judge all men by what
they seem to have achieved, we would
be harsh and unjust. We cannot always
see the scar left by a heroic deed, and
modesty conceals it.</p>
<p>Complete benevolence implies simplicity
of living. The Christian cannot
have if he knows that others
have not. Thoreau was perhaps the
wisest man of his time; he practiced
what he preached; and there are few
examples of simplicity to compare
with his.</p>
<p>Nothing, perhaps, is more humiliating
than to observe the precocious
development of the negative virtues,
especially prudence. There is a subtle
suspiciousness in early prudence which
is at war with all generous impulses.
Think of the pinched heart of a little
miser.</p>
<p>There is a selfishness which deals
generously with its own: my wife, my
child shall be arrayed in the richest,
shall feed upon the daintiest; my
servant, my handmaid they are
naught to me. Nature hath made
nothing better than my desert; she
hath made nothing poor enough for
thee and thine.</p>
<p>In an old man conceit may be so
comprehensive as to include the race.
Has he been reasonably successful with
the fair sex, all are the subjects of his
whim or desire; and he will sententiously
and confidently repel any claim
of virtue or purity. So blind is he to
the centuries made splendid by her
virtue and self-sacrifice, and so little
is his judgment affected by objects unconnected
with self.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="FOXGLOVE" id="FOXGLOVE"></SPAN>FOXGLOVE.<br/> <span class="xx-smaller"><span style="font-weight:lighter;"> (<i>Digitalis purpurea L.</i>)</span></span></h2>
<p class="ac">DR. ALBERT SCHNEIDER,<br/>
<span class="smaller">Northwestern University School of Pharmacy.</span></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">Pan through the pastures often times hath runne</div>
<div class="verse">To plucke the speckled fox-gloves from their stems.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—<i>W. Browne, Britannias Pastorals, II. 4.</i></div>
</div></div>
<div class="p2">
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THE fox-glove is a biennial herb
from two to seven feet in height
with a solitary, sparingly
branched stem. The basal
leaves are very large and broad, gradually
becoming narrower and smaller
toward the apex of the stem and its
branches, dark green in color, pubescent,
margin dentate, venation very
prominent. The inflorescence is very
characteristic. The large, numerous
flowers are closely crowded and pendulous
from one side of the arched stalk.
The corolla is purple and spotted on
the inside. It is a very handsome
plant, widely distributed, preferring a
sandy or gravelly soil in open woods.
When abundant and in full bloom it
makes a beautiful exhibit. It is a garden
favorite in many lands.</p>
<p>This plant is apparently not mentioned
in the works of older authors.
It was not known to the ancient Greeks
and Romans. It was, however, used
medicinally in the northern countries
of Europe since very remote times.
The Anglo-Saxon word fox-glove is
derived from the Welsh (11th century),
<i>foxes-glew</i>, meaning fox music in allusion
to an ancient musical instrument
consisting of bells hung on an arched
support. In the Scandinavian idioms
the plant bears the name of foxes' bells.
The German name <i>Fingerhut</i>, meaning
finger hat, hence thimble, is derived
from the resemblance of the flower to
a thimble. Still more poetical is the
name <i>Wald-glöcklein</i>, meaning little forest
bells, in reference to the inflorescence.
In England the flowers are
known as foxes' fingers, ladies' fingers
and dead men's bells.</p>
<p>According to an old English work
on medicine the early physicians of
Wales and England applied this drug
externally only. It was not until 1775
when the English physician Withering
began to use it internally, especially in
the treatment of hydrophobia. Modern
physicians consider digitalis one of
the most important medicinal plants.
It is a very powerful, hence very poisonous
drug, its action being due to an
active principle known as <i>digitalin</i>. Its
principal use is in the treatment of deficient
heart action due to various
causes but especially when due to valvular
lesions. The physician must, however,
observe great care in its administration,
not only because of its powerful
action but also because of its "cumulative
action;" that is, the effect of the
drug increases although only normal
medicinal doses are given at regular
intervals, so that fatal poisoning may
result, especially if the patient should
attempt to rise suddenly. The physician
guards against this by gradually
decreasing the dose or by discontinuing
it for a time and by requiring the
patient to remain in a recumbent position
while under the influence of the
drug.</p>
<p>For medicinal use the leaves from
the wild-growing plants are preferred
because they contain more of the active
principle. The leaves are collected
when about half of the flowers are expanded
and, since it is a biennial, that
would be during the second year. The
first year leaves are, however, often
used or added. Like all valuable drugs
it is often adulterated, the leaves of
<i>Inula Conyza</i> (ploughman's spikenard),
<i>Symphytum officinale</i> (comfrey), and
<i>Verbascum Thapsus</i> (mullein) being
used for that purpose. The odor of
the bruised green leaves is heavy or
nauseous, while that of the dried leaves
is fragrant, resembling the odor of tea.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</SPAN></span>
The taste is quite bitter. Formerly the
roots, flowers and seeds were also used
medicinally.</p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50 p2" title="DIGITALIS.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_092.jpg" id="i_092.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_092.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30"></td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">DIGITALIS.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD. CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p class="bq"><span class="sc">Description of Plate.</span>—<i>A</i>,
<i>B</i>, plant somewhat reduced. 1, flower; 2, 3, 4, stamens; 5, pollen; 6, 7, style and
stigma; 8, 9, ovary; 10, fruit; 11, 12, 13, seed.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="FRUIT_BATS_OF_THE_PHILIPPINES" id="FRUIT_BATS_OF_THE_PHILIPPINES"></SPAN> FRUIT BATS OF THE PHILIPPINES.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t_alt.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THE Agricultural Department at
Washington is taking precautions
to prevent the importation
into the United States of
any of the animal pests which are found
in Porto Rico, the Philippines, and the
other new colonies. Among these none
is more feared than the great fruit bats
which abound in the Philippines. A
full grown specimen of the fruit bat
measures five feet from tip to tip of its
wings. The fruit bats live together
in immense communities and feed
almost altogether on tropical and subtropical
fruits. They crowd together
so thickly on the trees that sometimes
large branches are broken down by
their weight. In Australia they have
increased so rapidly that great sums of
money have been spent in their destruction,
one organized movement of the
fruit growers of New South Wales recently
resulting in the killing of 100,000
bats at a cost of 30 cents each. Another
possible immigrant which is
much dreaded is the mongoose, which
abounds in Cuba, Porto Rico, and the
other West Indian Islands. The mongoose
was first brought to the islands
for the purpose of destroying the rats
and mice, which it did so thoroughly
that it was soon forced to adapt itself
to another diet. It was found that the
mongoose thrived on young poultry,
birds, and even young pigs and lambs,
while it also consumed great quantities
of pineapples, bananas, corn and other
vegetable products.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="MONKEYS_AS_GOLD_FINDERS" id="MONKEYS_AS_GOLD_FINDERS"></SPAN> MONKEYS AS GOLD FINDERS.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_c.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">CAPTAIN E. MOSS of the Transvaal
tells the following story of
the monkeys who work for him
in the mines: "I have twenty-four
monkeys," said he, "employed
about my mines. They do the work of
seven able-bodied men. In many instances
they lend valuable aid where a
man is useless. They gather up the
small pieces of quartz that would be
passed unnoticed by the workingmen,
and pile them up in little heaps that
can easily be gathered up in a shovel
and thrown into a mill. They work
just as they please, sometimes going
down into the mines when they have
cleared up all the débris on the outside.
They live and work together without
quarreling any more than men do.
They are quite methodical in their
habits, and go to work and finish up in
the same manner as human beings
would do under similar circumstances.
It is very interesting to watch them at
their labor, and see how carefully they
look after every detail of the work they
attempt. They clean up about the
mines, follow the wheelbarrows and
carts used in mining and pick up everything
that falls off on the way."—<i>Tit
Bits.</i></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="A_PLEA_FOR_THE_TREES" id="A_PLEA_FOR_THE_TREES"></SPAN>A PLEA FOR THE TREES.</h2>
<p class="ac">ANNE WAKELY JACKSON.</p>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_m.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">MUCH has been written, and more
has been said, in regard to the
"prevention of cruelty to children,"
and the "prevention of
cruelty to animals;" but has anyone
ever urged upon the public the prevention
of cruelty to <i>trees</i>?</p>
<p>It is time someone did, for people
nowadays seem to have no regard
whatever for a tree's feelings, but saw
and hack a limb off here or there at
any season of the year the notion happens
to seize them, and leave the poor
thing maimed and disfigured, and perhaps
pouring out its life-blood from
the ugly wound.</p>
<p>If you are insensible to the beauty,
the blessing and benignity of trees,
there is no use in appealing to you.
But surely you are not! Surely you
can call to mind some old tree that
brings up memories of the past, and
appeals to you with almost human tenderness!</p>
<p>Then, for the sake of these old, tried,
and well-beloved friends, look with
compassion upon all trees, and discourage
those who would spoil and disfigure
them.</p>
<p>Have you ever thought how sad a
tree must feel when it is transplanted
from the forest to the city or town?
How it must miss its tall and stalwart
companions the shy woodland birds,
and the flowers that spring up around
it each year! The parting from them
all is bad enough, but there is worse to
come. It little dreams of the hideous
and deforming "trimming" that will
begin as soon as it commences to
spread its tiny branches! Poor little
tree! I wonder it does not die of grief
and pain!</p>
<p>Doubtless, it sighs and sobs out its
longing for the old free home, in the
ears of the passing wind, though we
are too dull to understand its murmuring
voice.</p>
<p>If the wind is in a good humor, he
caresses it gently, and tries to comfort
it; but sometimes he is angry, and
then he shakes the poor tree fiercely.
But it loves him always, whether he is
gentle or rough.</p>
<p>I suppose it is sometimes necessary
to trim trees. I hear people say so.
But I think a tree of beautiful and perfect
shape is more desirable than the
little patch of lawn that might be
gained by "trimming it up."</p>
<p>Ought not one to consider, and carefully
study the tree, as a whole, before
venturing to remove any of its branches?
To examine it from every point of
view? Above all, if your trees <i>must</i> be
trimmed, see about it <i>yourself</i>, and don't
trust them to the ruthless hands of
people insensible to beauty—those to
whom a tree is only so much wood!
And be very sure your "cause" is "justifiable"
before you allow them to be
touched.</p>
<p>Remember that the finest trees are
of slow growth; and if ever you are
tempted to cut down a really fine one,
just stop a moment and reflect that it
may take half a lifetime to replace it.</p>
<p>If these people who have a mania
for cutting down trees could but be
persuaded to plant a new one for every
old one they sacrifice, what a blessing
it would be to future generations!</p>
<hr class="sect" />
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">Then as a little helpless, innocent bird,</div>
<div class="verse">That has but one plain passage of few notes,</div>
<div class="verse">Will sing the simple passage o'er and o'er</div>
<div class="verse">For all an April morning, till ear</div>
<div class="verse">Wearies to hear it.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—<i>Tennyson.</i></div>
</div></div>
<p>The sycophant succeeds where the
self-respecting man fails, yet the former
is despised and the latter revered.
The first is happy if he secure the favor
of the great; the latter is content if
he can secure that of himself.—<i>Charles
Churchill Marble.</i></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THAT_I_MAY_HELP" id="THAT_I_MAY_HELP"></SPAN>"THAT I MAY HELP."</h2>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">The depth and dream of my desire,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">The bitter paths wherein I stray,</div>
<div class="verse">Thou knowest, Who hast made the fire,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Thou knowest, Who hast made the clay.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">One stone the more swings to her place</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">In that dread temple of Thy Worth,</div>
<div class="verse">It is enough that through Thy grace</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">I saw naught common on Thy earth.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Take not that vision from my ken;</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">O, whatsoe'er may spoil or speed,</div>
<div class="verse">Help me to need no aid from men</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">That I may help such men as need.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—<i>Rudyard Kipling.</i></div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="A_TRAGEDY_IN_THREE_PARTS" id="A_TRAGEDY_IN_THREE_PARTS"></SPAN> A TRAGEDY IN THREE PARTS.</h2>
<p class="ac"><span class="sc">Part I.</span>—<i>The Bonnet.</i></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">A bit of foundation as big as your hand;</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Bows of ribbon and lace;</div>
<div class="verse">Wire sufficient to make them stand;</div>
<div class="verse">A handful of roses, a velvet band—</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">It lacks but one crowning grace.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p class="ac"><span class="sc">Part II.</span>—<i>The Bird.</i></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">A chirp, a twitter, a flash of wings,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Four wide-open mouths in a nest;</div>
<div class="verse">From morning till night she brings and brings</div>
<div class="verse">For growing birds, they are hungry things—</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Aye! hungry things at the best.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">The crack of a rifle, a shot well sped;</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">A crimson stain on the grass;</div>
<div class="verse">Four hungry birds in a nest unfed—</div>
<div class="verse">Ah! well, we will leave the rest unsaid;</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Some things it were better to pass.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p class="ac"><span class="sc">Part III.</span>—<i>The Wearer.</i></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">The lady has surely a beautiful face,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">She has surely a queenly air;</div>
<div class="verse">The bonnet had flowers and ribbon and lace;</div>
<div class="verse">But the bird had added the crowning grace—</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">It is really a charming affair.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Is the love of a bonnet supreme over all,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">In a lady so faultlessly fair?</div>
<div class="verse">The Father takes heed when the sparrows fall,</div>
<div class="verse">He hears when the starving nestlings call—</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Can a tender woman <i>not care</i>?</div>
<div class="verse ar">—<i>Anon.</i></div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="STRANGE_PLANTS" id="STRANGE_PLANTS"></SPAN>STRANGE PLANTS.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_o.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">ONE of the most remarkable
growths in the government
botanical gardens is the so-called
barber plant, the leaves
of which are used in some parts of the
East by rubbing on the face to keep
the beard from growing. It is not
supposed to have any effect on a beard
that is already rooted, but merely to
act as a preventive, boys employing it
to keep the hair from getting a start
on their faces. It is also employed by
some Oriental people who desire to
keep a part of their heads free from
hair, as a matter of fashion. A curious
looking tree from the Isthmus of
Panama bears a round red fruit as big
as an apple, which has this remarkable
faculty, that its juice rubbed on tough
beef or chicken makes the meat tender
by the chemical power it possesses to
separate the flesh fiber. One is interested
to observe in the botanical green
houses three kinds of plants that have
real consumption of the lungs—the
leaves, of course, being the lungs of a
plant. The disease is manifested by
the turning of the leaves from green to
white, the affection gradually spreading
from one spot until, when a leaf is
all white, it is just about to die. Cruelly
enough, as it would seem, the gardeners
only try to perpetuate the disease
for the sake of beauty and curiosity,
all plants of those varieties that are
too healthy being thrown away.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="A_BRIGAND_BIRD" id="A_BRIGAND_BIRD"></SPAN>A BRIGAND BIRD.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THE kea is an outlaw bird of New
Zealand for each of whose bills
the government offers a reward
of a shilling. The kea is a
gourmand. It prefers the kidney of a
sheep to any other part of the beast.</p>
<p>Coming down out of the mountains
in winter, it attacks the sheep, alighting
on their backs, and tearing away
the hide and flesh until it reaches the
titbits which it seeks.</p>
<p>How the birds learned to tear away
the skin to get at the flesh forms a
curious story of the development of
bird knowledge. The birds had been
feeding on the refuse of cattle and
sheep killed for human consumption.
They learned to associate the idea of
meat with the living animal, and now
they kill the sheep for the meat without
waiting for human aid or consent.</p>
<p>The Maoris have a legend about this
bird to the effect that it used to be a
strict vegetarian, building its nest on
the ground. The sheep came and
trampled on the nests, and the birds
attacked them furiously, drawing
blood.</p>
<p>They liked the flavor of flesh, and
have ever since been eating it. The
bird builds its nest in trees now, out of
the reach of the sheep's hoofs.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_BROOK" id="THE_BROOK"></SPAN>THE BROOK.</h2>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Little brook, little brook,</div>
<div class="verse">You have such a happy look,</div>
<div class="verse">Such a very merry manner as you swerve and curve and crook;</div>
<div class="verse">And your ripples, one by one,</div>
<div class="verse">Reach each other's hands and run</div>
<div class="verse">Like laughing little children in the sun!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Little brook, sing to me,</div>
<div class="verse">Sing about a bumble-bee</div>
<div class="verse">That tumbled from a lily-bell and mumbled grumblingly</div>
<div class="verse">Because he wet the film</div>
<div class="verse">Of his wings and had to swim,</div>
<div class="verse">While the water bugs raced round and laughed at him.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Little brook, sing a song</div>
<div class="verse">Of a leaf that sailed along</div>
<div class="verse">Down the golden braided center of your current swift and
strong,</div>
<div class="verse">And the dragon-fly that lit</div>
<div class="verse">On the tilting rim of it,</div>
<div class="verse">And sailed away, and wasn't scared a bit!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">And sing how oft in glee</div>
<div class="verse">Came a truant boy like me</div>
<div class="verse">Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody,</div>
<div class="verse">Till the gurgle and refrain</div>
<div class="verse">Of your music in his brain</div>
<div class="verse">Caused a happiness as deep to him as pain!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Little brook, laugh and leap!</div>
<div class="verse">Do not let the dreamer weep;</div>
<div class="verse">Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest sleep;</div>
<div class="verse">And then sing soft and low</div>
<div class="verse">Through his dreams of long ago,</div>
<div class="verse">Sing back to him the rest he used to know.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—<i>Anon.</i></div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="BLOOD-ROOT.">
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<SPAN name="i_120.jpg" id="i_120.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_120.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">BY PER. HARRIET E. HIGLEY.<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER, CHICAGO.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">BLOOD-ROOT.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_BLOOD-ROOT" id="THE_BLOOD-ROOT"></SPAN>THE BLOOD-ROOT.</h2>
<p class="ac">WILLIAM KERR HIGLEY,<br/>
<span class="smaller">Secretary of the Chicago Academy of Sciences.</span></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">Thou first-born of the year's delight,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Pride of the dewy glade,</div>
<div class="verse">In vernal green and virgin white,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Thy vestal robes arrayed.—</div>
<div class="verse ar"><i>Keble.</i></div>
</div></div>
<div class="p2">
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THE true lover of flowers, though
he may be enraptured by those
under cultivation, finds a greater
satisfaction in the study and
observation of those that are developed
only under the influence of Nature's
laws. In the field, the forest, and even
in the sea there are plants not only
pleasing to the eye, but that are doubly
interesting because of the wonderful
provision made for them to assure their
survival. Plants, like animals, have
their enemies, and sometimes it seems
that, with thoughtful care for its own
protection, a species will gradually
change its habits, thus conveying a
sense of danger to its descendants.</p>
<p>Many of the peculiarities of plants,
that fit them for existence, may be
readily studied by the novice in botany
as he tramps the fields in search of
recreation. There is nothing more delightful
and charming to the botanist
than to seek the reasons for the beauties
in Nature and to find why plants
live and exist as they do.</p>
<p>Many delicate plants seek the shelter
and protection of the borders of the
forest. They do not penetrate far
within, but remain near the open,
where the sunlight can reach them.
The blood-root (<i>Sanguinaria Canadensis</i>)
is of this character. Beautiful and
delicate, it seems to shun the storm
and wind and to retire from the gaze
of man.</p>
<p>The blood-root belongs to the poppy
family (<i>Papaveraceæ</i>), which includes
about twenty-five genera and over two
hundred species. These, though widely
distributed, are chiefly found in the
temperate regions of the North. To
this family also belong the valuable
opium-producing plant (<i>Papaver somniferum</i>),
the Mexican or prickly poppy
(<i>Argemone Mexicana</i>), the Dutchman's
breeches (<i>Bicuculla Cucullaria</i>), the
bleeding-heart (<i>Bicuculla eximia</i>) and
the beautiful mountain fringe (<i>Adlumia
fungosa</i>). A large number of the
species are cultivated for ornamental
purposes. The poppy is also cultivated
for the commercial value of the
opium it produces. All the species
produce a milky or colored juice. Here,
indeed, we may say that behind beauty
there lurks a deadly foe, for the juice
of nearly all the species has active narcotic
properties. This property is a
means of protection to the plant under
consideration, for its acrid taste is distasteful
to animals.</p>
<p>The red juice that exudes from all
parts of the plant of the blood-root
gives it both its common and its generic
names, the latter, <i>Sanguinaria</i>, is derived
from the Latin word <i>sanguis</i>, or
blood.</p>
<p>This interesting plant is a native of
Eastern North America, deriving its
specific name from the fact that it is
found in Canada. It blossoms in April
or May. Usually but a single flower is
borne by the naked stalk that rises
from the underground stem to the
height of about eight inches. The
flowers are white, very rarely pinkish,
about one and one-half of an inch in
diameter. The number of petals varies
from eight to twelve, and they fall very
soon after expansion. The sepals disappear
before the bud opens.</p>
<p>A single leaf is produced from each
bud of the underground stem. It is
wrapped around the flower-bud as the
latter rises from the soil and does not
develop to full size till after the period
of blossoming is over. The necessary
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</SPAN></span>
food material for the production of the
flower was stored in the underground
stem during the preceding season.
Thus the green leaf is not needed early
in the growth of the plant.</p>
<p>The adult leaf is kidney-shaped,
smooth, and five to nine lobed. When
fully grown they are often more than
six inches in diameter. The leaf-stalk,
which may be over one foot in length,
and the radiating veins vary in color
from yellowish to orange. Few leaves
are more beautiful and graceful than
these, both during their development
and when fully mature.</p>
<p>It is said that the Indians formerly
used the juice of this plant as a dye,
and thus it is sometimes called red Indian
paint and red puccoon.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="TANSY_CAKES" id="TANSY_CAKES"></SPAN>TANSY CAKES.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_m.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">MANY of our garden herbs still in
common use for purposes of
seasoning are in reality British
plants, says Longman's Magazine.
Among them may be mentioned
mint and marjoram and thyme and
calamint, all of which may be found in
their native haunts. Fennel is abundant
on sea cliffs in many places in the
south of England. Wild hyssop is perfectly
naturalized on the picturesque
ruins of Beaulieu Abbey and wild balm
used to be found within the ancient
walls of Portchester castle. The
garden parsley was formerly abundant
on the shingly beach at Hurst castle,
where it used to be gathered for
domestic purposes. One native herb,
however, much in use among our fore-fathers
is now seldom seen in kitchen
gardens—we mean <i>Tanacetum vulgare</i>,
the common tansy, the dull yellow
flowers of which are often conspicuous
by the side of streams. The young
leaves and juice of this plant were formerly
employed to give color and
flavor to puddings, which were known
as tansy cakes, or tansy puddings.</p>
<p>In mediæval times the use of these
cakes was specially associated with the
season of Easter and it is interesting to
notice that in the diet rolls of St.
Swithin's monastery at Winchester,
which belong to the end of the fifteenth
century, we come across the entry
"tansey tarte." It has been said that
the use of tansy cakes at this season
was to strengthen the digestion after
what an old writer calls "the idle conceit
of eating fish and pulse for forty
days in Lent," and it is certain that
this was the virtue attributed to the
plant by the old herbalists. "The herb
fried with eggs which is called a 'tansy,'"
says Culpepper, "helps to digest and
carry away those bad humors that
trouble the stomach." It seems more
probable that the custom of eating tansy
cakes at Easter time was associated
with the teaching of that festival, the
name "tansy" being a corruption of a
Greek word meaning "immortality."</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_PARTRIDGE_CALL" id="THE_PARTRIDGE_CALL"></SPAN>THE PARTRIDGE CALL.</h2>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Shrill and shy from the dusk they cry,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Faintly from over the hill;</div>
<div class="verse">Out of the gray where shadows lie,</div>
<div class="verse">Out of the gold where sheaves are high,</div>
<div class="verse">Covey to covey, call and reply,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Plaintively, shy and shrill.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Dies the day, and from far away</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Under the evening star</div>
<div class="verse">Dies the echo as dies the day,</div>
<div class="verse">Droops with the dew in the new-mown hay,</div>
<div class="verse">Sinks and sleeps in the scent of May,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Dreamily, faint and far.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—<i>Frank Saville in the<br/>Pall Mall Magazine.</i></div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="OUR_FEATHERED_NEIGHBORS" id="OUR_FEATHERED_NEIGHBORS"></SPAN> OUR FEATHERED NEIGHBORS.</h2>
<p class="ac">BERTON MERCER.</p>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_s.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">SOME few years ago, while living
in the village of West Grove,
Chester County, Pennsylvania,
I observed an unusual number
of different birds in our own immediate
yard and garden, nearly all of which
built their homes within the narrow
limits of our property.</p>
<p>Being deeply interested in the bird
kingdom, and appreciating their friendship
and confidence, I carefully
watched the progress of their daily
labors and their respective traits and
individual habits. Our buildings consisted
of a house, small stable and a
carpenter shop, and I was much gratified
to observe so many pretty birds
nesting at our very doors.</p>
<p>In the front yard stood three tall
pine trees. In one of these a pair of
black birds made their nest and reared
two broods of young. A goldfinch
also chose one of the lower branches
of the same tree, in the forks of which
the clever little fellow hung a most
beautiful cup-shape nest. It appeared
to be made of various mosses, lichens,
and soft materials, closely woven and
cemented together, and the lining inside
consisted of thistle-down. Four
pretty eggs were deposited in due
course and, as far as I know, the young
were safely raised and departed with
their parents in the fall. I had the
pleasure of seeing the entire family
frequently perched on the seed salad
stalks in our garden feeding in fearless
content.</p>
<p>On both sides of the front porch was
a lattice covered with woodbine. In
the top of one of these a robin chose to
build her home, and showed remarkable
tameness during the entire nesting
period. On the back porch, also
covered with woodbine, a pair of chipping
sparrows built their nest, a beautiful
little piece of workmanship, displaying
skill and good taste. A happy
little family was raised here in safety.
Not ten feet from the chipping sparrow's
nest, we nailed up a little wooden
box which was tenanted for several
years by a pair of house wrens, in all
probability the same two. These little
birds afforded us many hours of pleasure
watching their cunning ways and
listening to their cheery song.</p>
<p>In another box raised on a high pole
in the garden, we had a pair of purple
martins for two seasons and they
helped to swell the population of our
bird community. Placed in a hedge
row bordering the yard, I observed the
nest and eggs of a song sparrow, and
their happy notes were to be heard all
day long. In a small briar patch in
the corner of the garden a cat bird
made her home, and became quite
tame, raising four little ones successfully.
In the eaves of the shop
(although not wanted or cherished)
the English sparrows held sway and we
destroyed their nests on two or three
occasions, as they repeatedly tried to
drive away some of our other pets.</p>
<p>Summing up we have a total of nine
different birds which nested within our
small domain, and in each instance
they seemed to feel a sense of security
and protection from all harm. In addition
to those nesting on our premises,
we were favored with frequent visits
from many more, such as vireos, orioles,
cardinals, indigo birds, chickadees,
nuthatches, snow birds, sparrow hawks,
flickers, etc., according to the time of
year.</p>
<p>Prior to the summer in question, my
father had been very ill, and as he was
then getting better he spent many days
on the porch. This afforded ample
opportunity for him to study our birds,
and they in like manner became so accustomed
to his presence that they
were quite fearless. Especially was
this the case with the chipping sparrows
above mentioned. They became unusually
tame during the season and the
mother bird finally ate out of father's
hand or would sit on the toe of his
boot and pick crumbs from his fingers.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="WESTERN BLUE GROSBEAK.">
<tbody>
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<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_141.jpg" id="i_141.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_141.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">FROM COL. F. KAEMPFER.<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER, CHICAGO.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">WESTERN BLUE GROSBEAK.<br/>
⅚ Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table></div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_BLUE_GROSBEAK" id="THE_BLUE_GROSBEAK"></SPAN>THE BLUE GROSBEAK.<br/> <span class="xx-smaller"><span style="font-weight:lighter;"> (<i>Guiraca cærulea.</i>)</span></span></h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THIS beautiful specimen of the
finch family is found in the
southern United States from
the Atlantic to the Pacific,
although very local and irregularly distributed.
It is occasionally found
north to Kansas, Illinois, Pennsylvania
and Connecticut. The male is brilliant
blue, darker across the middle of the
back. The female is yellowish brown
above, brownish yellow beneath, darkest
across the breast, wings broadly
edged with brownish yellow. Sometimes
there is a faint trace of blue on
the tail. The young resemble the
female. Males from the Pacific coast
region have tails considerably longer
than eastern specimens, while those
from California are of a much lighter
and less purplish blue.</p>
<p>The blue grosbeak is a very inconspicuous
bird. Unless seen under the
most favorable circumstances the adult
male does not appear to be blue, but
of a dusky color, and Ridgway says
may easily be mistaken for a cow blackbird,
unless carefully watched; besides
they usually sit motionless, in a watchful
attitude, for a considerable time,
and thus easily escape observation.</p>
<p>The blue grosbeak frequents the
thickets of shrubs, briars and tall weeds
lining a stream flowing across a meadow
or bordering a field, or the similar
growth which has sprung up in an old
clearing. The usual note is a strong
harsh <i>ptchick</i>, and the song of the male
is a very beautiful, though rather feeble,
warble. At least two broods are raised
during a season.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="ODD_PLACES_CHOSEN" id="ODD_PLACES_CHOSEN"></SPAN>ODD PLACES CHOSEN.</h2>
<p class="ac">GUY STEALEY.</p>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_i.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">IT would seem that nature had provided
enough space and a sufficient
variety of nooks and corners for
birds to choose from and build
their nests in; yet it is a strange fact that
many of them often prefer to follow
man, and select, for their homes, some
spot he has planned and made.</p>
<p>In the fields one often sees the nests
of robins and blackbirds built between
the rails of pole fences, and sometimes
catbirds choose this situation for a
home. Around the barns will be
found the swallows and their curious
nests of mud. Then there are those
cheerful and always friendly little
birds, the wrens, which think that our
houses are just the homes they would
like, too; and any box or can, or what
is prettiest of all, a miniature cottage
placed on a fence, will rarely ever remain
unoccupied during the summer.
Even the shy bluebirds, whose sheen
of feathers seems to be borrowed from
the sky, like to peep into these.</p>
<p>Of all the wild birds, I believe I love
the wrens the best. They are always
so busy and yet so companionable.
Last spring, when the days began to
get warm, I left the window of my
room open to admit the fresh free air;
and on going in there one day I spied
one of these spry little fellows peeping
and hopping around the curtains,
which were looped up, forming a cozy
recess. He did not seem to be alarmed
at my presence, but calmly went on
with his inspection; and would you
believe it, the next morning the pair
of them were busy constructing their
nest in this nook. I let the window
remain open all summer, and they
raised their family there.</p>
<p>But the strangest of all strange sites
in which I ever found a nest was nearly
at the bottom of a deep well! This
well was walled up with rock and a
couple of brown field birds carried
twigs and grass down it and formed
their nest on a projecting spur of stone.
Why they should choose such a location
as this it is hard to tell.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_YOUNG_NATURALIST" id="THE_YOUNG_NATURALIST"></SPAN>THE YOUNG NATURALIST.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THERE are other armies in South
Africa besides the Boers and
the British; armies of very little
folk, which go out on foraging
expeditions when their colonies stand
in need of supplies—forays planned
and executed with military precision,
and, as a general thing, uniformly successful.</p>
<p>I speak of an army of ants.</p>
<p>A close observer, residing in South
Africa, describes one of these forays
in the following way:</p>
<p>"The army, which I estimated to
number about fifteen thousand ants,
started from their home in the mud
walls of a hut and marched in the
direction of a small mound of fresh
earth, but a few yards distant. The
head of the column halted on reaching
the foot of the mound and waited for
the rest of the force to arrive at the
place of operations, which evidently
was to be the mound of fresh earth.
When the remainder had arrived and
halted so that the entire army was assembled,
a number of ants detached
themselves from the main body and
began to ascend to the top of the
mound, while the others began moving
so as to encircle the base of the
mound.</p>
<p>"Very soon a number from the detachment
which had ascended the
mound, or lilliputian kopje, evidently
the attacking party, entered the loose
earth and speedily returned, each bearing
a cricket or a young grasshopper,
dead, which he deposited upon the
ground and then returned for a fresh
load. Those who had remained on
the outside of the mound, took up the
crickets and grasshoppers as they were
brought out and bore them down to
the base of the hill, returning at once
for fresh victims. Soon the contents
of the mound seemed to be exhausted,
and then the whole force returned
home, each ant carrying his burden of
food for the community."</p>
<hr class="sect" />
<p>My very young readers will be surprised,
no doubt, to hear me speak of
wasps as cement-makers, or paper-makers,
but such, in truth, they are.
You can form no idea of the industry
and toil these little folk expend upon
the structure they call home. Nothing
pleases them better than to find an
old fence rail covered with a light gray
fuzz of woody fiber loosened from decaying
wood by excessive soakings of
rain. Dozens of these little pulp-gatherers
will descend upon the rail,
and as fast as each of them obtains a
load away he flies to the place where
the home building is already going on.</p>
<p>This may be in a clump of bushes
near a stream, and as fast as they deposit
their load of fiber down they fly
to the stream, and having secured a
mouthful of water back they go to the
nest to beat the fiber into a thin sheet,
which they deftly join to the main
body, the jointure being imperceptible.
Such a throng of workers coming and
going, some to the fence, some to the
nest, some to the brook, each addition
to the structure being the tiniest mite,
yet growing perceptibly under the
united efforts of the little builders.</p>
<p>TAR.—One of the commonest substances
met with in city or town is tar.
A paper roof covered with tar makes a
very good protection against sun and
rain provided a suitable amount of
gravel covers the tar. The kind of tar
most used is called coal-tar or gas-tar.
This is made at the gas factory from
the distilling of soft coal. Tar that
comes from different varieties of pine
and spruce is used to cover ropes and
hulls of ships. It is from his having
some of it usually clinging to his hands
and clothes that the sailor boy came to
be called "Jack Tar," and from his
fondness for the sea one of the royal
family of England got the pet name
of "Royal Tarry Breeks." It is strange
that there has been no change in the
work of getting this kind of tar from
the wood for over twenty-three hundred
years. The wood is placed in holes
dug in the ground and covered carefully
with turf so as to keep out the air and
prevent too much burning. Some of
the wood is left free so the air may get
at it and burn it enough to make heat
enough to distil the pitch from the rest
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</SPAN></span>
of it. This is gathered into barrels and
is black because of the smoke that gets
into it. It was this sort of tar that
Benjamin Franklin had his experience
with one time in Philadelphia. He was
running along on the tops of tar barrels
on the wharf one fine day with his
Sunday clothes on. The head of one
barrel was not in good condition, and
so Benjamin went down into it. The
next issue of his paper had a very
amusing account of the accident in
which Franklin used his powers to
make puns to great advantage in making
fun at his own expense.</p>
<p>ANTS.—Would you like to get a
clean skeleton of any small animal?
Place the body near or upon an ant hill
and the little workers will clean it off
for you perfectly, picking every bone
as clean as if they were under contract
with a forfeit for every scrap of flesh,
skin, or sinew left upon any bone.
They like meat so well that they will
attack animals that are many times
larger than themselves and carry the
work to a successful end. There are
three kinds of ants in an ant hill—males,
females, and neuters. The males
and females have wings and do no
work to speak of. They are always
waited upon very carefully by the neuters
who have no wings, but are noted
for their industry, skill, and strength.
It has been said that the ant stores up
large quantities of grain in the summer
for winter use. Whoever said that was
not well acquainted with his subject.
In winter the ants neither eat nor
work. Some of the neuters have
their jaws, or mandibles, made much
larger than the rest. These are the
soldiers, and they fight with greater
fierceness than any other creatures.
Huber, the blind naturalist who told
the world so many astonishing things
about bees, describes a great fight he
once saw between two colonies of these
little warriors. "I shall not say what
lighted up discord between these two
republics, the one as populous as the
other. The two armies met midway
between their respective residences.
Their serried columns reached from
the field of battle to the nest, and were
two feet in width. The field of battle,
which extended over a space of two or
three square feet, was strewn with dead
bodies and wounded; it was also
covered with venom, and exhaled a
penetrating odor. The struggle began
between two ants, which locked themselves
together with their mandibles,
while they raised themselves upon
their legs. They quickly grasped each
other so tightly that they rolled one
over the other in the dust. When
night came they stopped fighting, but
the next morning they went at it again
and piled the ground with slain and
wounded." Their stings hurt because
they carry a liquid that is like that
found in nettles and in the hairs and
other parts of certain caterpillars.
This is called formic acid, and is made
by chemists for certain purposes.
The red ant dislikes to work if he can
get slaves to do it for him. Perhaps
we should say if <i>she</i> can get it done for
<i>her</i>, because these neuters are rather
more like females than like male ants.
They make war purposely to get into
the homes of other colonies to carry
away their eggs and baby ants. They
bring these up to wait upon them.
When they go on a journey the slaves
have to carry their owners, and sometimes
they even feed them until they
refuse to feed themselves. They have
been known to die of hunger with
plenty of food within easy reach, but
with no slave at hand to place it before
them. In going out to fight for the
offspring of other ants they go in
regular columns, and those that are
left after the slaughter return home in
the same order, their solid trains sometimes
extending more than a hundred
feet. Some ants keep cows. Plant
lice have honeydew in their bodies,
and when well fed they give out a
great deal of it. Ants are fond of it.
They sometimes confine the plant lice,
feed them, and milk the honeydew
from the bodies of their captors. A
German scientist named Simon, has
recently returned from Australia with
some great stories about ants. He
says he suffered much from their
attacks. In trying to get rid of them
in many ways he at last hit upon the
idea of spreading a poison where they
would have to pass across it. He used
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</SPAN></span>
prussiate of potash which is sometimes
used in photography. Another name
for it is cyanide of potassium. He says,
"How astonished was I when I saw the
whole surface of the heap strewn with
dead ants like a battle-field. The
piece of cyanide, however, had totally
disappeared. More than one-half of the
community had met death in this desperate
struggle, but still the death-defying
courage of the heroic little
creatures had succeeded in removing
the fatal poison, the touch of which
must have been just as disagreeable to
them as it was dangerous. Recklessly
neglecting their own safety, they had
carried it off little by little, covering
every step with a corpse. Once removed
from the heap, the poison had
been well covered with leaves and
pieces of wood, and thus prevented
from doing further damage. The heroism
of these insects, which far surpasses
what any other creature, including
even man, has ever shown in the
way of self-sacrifice and loyalty, had
made such an impression on me that I
gave up my campaign, and henceforth
I bore with many an outrage from my
neighbors rather than destroy the
valiant beings whose courage I had not
been able to crush." In the extreme
southwest of the United States are
colonies of ants that have a peculiar
custom of setting apart some of their
number to give up their lives for their
fellows in a strange way. They feed
upon honey until they are unable to
walk. Then their fellows take the
greatest care of them and feed them
so their bodies are distended enormously.
A number of these ants when
fed so highly look very much like a
bunch of little grapes, they are so
round and translucent. When food is
scarce later the other ants come to
their heavy mates and eat them with
great relish.</p>
<p>AIR.—The wear and tear in our
bodies is replaced by new material
carried to the spot by the blood. The
heart forces the blood out along the
arteries in a bright red current. It
comes back blackened with the refuse
material. It passes to the lungs, where
it comes into contact with the air we
breathe. It does not quite touch the
air, but is acted upon by the air through
very thin partitions much as the cash
business is carried on in some houses
and banks with the cashiers all placed
behind screens, where they may be
seen and talked to but not reached.
Purified in the lungs by contact with
fresh air, the blood goes back to continue
the good work of making the
body sound. But if the air has been
used before by someone in breathing
it has become bad and the blood does
not get the benefit from contact with
it in the lungs that nature intended.
Ordinarily a man breathes in about
four thousand gallons of air in a day
if he is taking things easily, but when
he is hard at mental or physical work
he needs much more than this. Air
that has been hurt by being breathed
is restored to the right condition by
the leaves of trees and plants. In
large cities where people are crowded
together there is a lack of good air.
But nature is continually rushing the
air about so that new may take the
place of what has been used, rain
washes it out, and the storm brings in
from the country just the kind of air
the city man needs in his lungs.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="BIRD_LIFE_IN_INDIA" id="BIRD_LIFE_IN_INDIA"></SPAN>BIRD LIFE IN INDIA.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_i.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">IN INDIA bird-life abounds everywhere
absolutely unmolested, and
the birds are as tame as the fowls
in a poultry yard. Ring-doves,
minas, hoopoes, jays and parrots hardly
trouble themselves to hop out of the
way of the heavy bull-carts, and every
wayside pond and lake is alive with
ducks, geese, pelicans, and flamingoes
and waders of every size and sort, from
dainty beauties, the size of pigeons, up
to the great unwieldy cranes and adjutants,
five feet high.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="IRELANDS_LOST_GLORY" id="IRELANDS_LOST_GLORY"></SPAN>IRELAND'S LOST GLORY.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t_alt.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THERE is perhaps no feature of
Irish scenery more characteristic
and depressing than the
almost universal absence of
those tracts of woods which in other
countries soften the outlines of hills
and valleys. The traveler gazing on
its bald mountains and treeless glens
can hardly believe that Ireland was at
one time covered from shore to shore
with magnificent forests. One of the
ancient names of the country was "The
Isle of Woods" and so numerous are
its place-names derived from the
growth of woods, shrubs, groves, oaks,
etc., that (as Dr. Joyce says) "if a wood
were now to spring up in every place
bearing a name of this kind the country
would become clothed with an
almost uninterrupted succession of
forests." On the tops of the barest
hills and buried in the deepest bogs
are to be found the roots, stems and
other remains of these ancient woods,
mostly of oak and pine, some of the
bogs being literally full of stems, the
splinters of which burn like matches.</p>
<p>The destruction of these woods is of
comparatively recent date. Cambrensis,
who accompanied Henry II. into
Ireland in the twelfth century, notices
the enormous quantities of woods
everywhere existing. But their extirpation
soon began with the gradual
rise of English supremacy in the land,
the object in view being mainly to increase
the amount or arable land, to
deprive the natives of shelter, to provide
fuel, and to open out the country
for military purposes. So anxious
were the new landlords to destroy the
forests that many old leases contain
clauses coercing tenants to use no
other fuel. Many old trees were cut
down and sold for twelve cents. On a
single estate in Kerry, after the revolution
of 1688, trees were cut down of
the value of $100,000. A paper laid
before the Irish houses of parliament
describes the immense quantity of
timber that in the last years of the
seventeenth century was shipped from
ports in Ulster, and how the great
woods in that province (290,000 trees
in all) were almost destroyed.</p>
<p>The houses passed an act for the
planting of 250,000 trees, but it was of
no avail, and so denuded of timber had
the country become that large works
started in Elizabeth's reign for the
smelting of iron were obliged to be
stopped at last for want of charcoal.
The present century has continued the
deplorable story of destruction. In
forty years, from 1841 to 1881, 45,000
acres of timber were cut down and sold.
Every landlord cut down, scarcely
anyone planted, so that at the present
day there is hardly an eightieth part
of Ireland's surface under timber.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="BIRDS_AND_REPTILES_RELATED" id="BIRDS_AND_REPTILES_RELATED"></SPAN> BIRDS AND REPTILES RELATED.</h2>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_f.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">FOSSIL remains have been found
of birds with teeth and long
bony tails, and also of reptiles,
with wings; great monsters
they must have been—veritable flying
dragons.</p>
<p>In 1861, in the lithographic slates of
Solenhofen, Bavaria, a fossil feather
was found which was the subject of
considerable discussion among naturalists.
Again, in 1862, a curious skeleton
was disinterred from the same place,
in which most of the bones exhibited
the marks of a true bird, but the skeleton
had a most remarkable tail, containing
twenty distinct bones. From
each of these bones proceeded a pair
of well-developed feathers, similar to
the single feather which had been previously
found. Here was an animal
which could be called a birdlike reptile
or a lizardlike bird, with equal propriety.
Its twenty caudal segments
or vertebræ were a bar to its entrance
to every existing family of birds, while
it was equally out of place among reptiles.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="SHELLS.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_160.jpg" id="i_160.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_160.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER, CHICAGO.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">SHELLS<br/>
Reduced 1/10.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
NATURE STUDY PUB. CO., CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Root Murex</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40"></td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Branched Murex</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Burnt Murex</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">Apple Murex</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Horned Murex</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Purple Murex</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">Venus Comb</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Two-colored Murex</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_ROCK_SHELLS" id="THE_ROCK_SHELLS"></SPAN> THE ROCK SHELLS.</h2>
<p class="ac">FRANK COLLINS BAKER,<br/>
<span class="smaller">Curator of the Chicago Academy of Sciences.</span></p>
<div>
<ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/initial_t.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">THE rock shells or murices are
among the most beautiful and
interesting of all the mollusks
or shell fish, and are a favorite
among collectors. Their peculiar
spiny shells and brilliant colors caused
them to be among the first mollusks
studied by naturalists and we find
them, therefore, described in the
earliest works on natural history.</p>
<p>There are about two hundred different
kinds of rock shells, mostly confined
to the tropical and subtropical
seas, although a few are found in temperate
climes. The greatest number
of these are found about rocks at low
water but not a few are inhabitants of
waters as deep as fifty fathoms or
more. In our own country they are
abundant along the coast of Panama,
the Gulf of California, Florida and the
islands of the West Indies, but the
largest number of varieties comes from
the Indian Ocean, Japan, the Philippines
and Australia. The more
brightly colored varieties are from
tropical seas, while the dull, plain
species are from subtropical or temperate
climes.</p>
<p>The murices are peculiar in having
their shells ornamented by numerous
projections, which vary from long,
needle-like spines to simple fluted
frills. What these spines and frills are
for would probably puzzle the ordinary
observer, as they would seem at first
sight to be in the way. In some cases
they are simply ornamental, but in the
main they are protective and enable
the animal to escape being eaten by
some voracious fish. This is known as
protective adaptation and was probably
brought about in this manner: the
murices, or their ancestors, did not at
first have spiny shells, and they fell an
easy prey to the fishes. As time went
on a few individuals, through some
modification of environment, developed
small spines or prominences. The
animals having these were not eaten
by fishes as the knobs and spines
caused the fishes pain when swallowed,
therefore they preferred the animals
with smoother shells. In time this
modification caused a weeding-out process,
the animals with smoother shells
being exterminated and those with
spiny shells increasing in numbers and
becoming more spiny as one generation
succeeded another. This continued
until the present time and is going on
even now.</p>
<p>Another interesting fact concerning
the development of this ornamentation
is that the smoother shells inhabit
rocky shores where the waves are constantly
beating in with greater or lesser
violence, while the more spiny individuals
live in protected and comparatively
still water. This adds additional
weight to the theory expressed
in the last paragraph, for the fish which
feed upon these shells do not, as a
rule, inhabit localities where the water
is rough, as along a rocky shore, but
live abundantly in protected bays and
lagoons in which the spiny murices are
found.</p>
<p>There are shown on the plate eight
species of rock shells, all more or less
common. The first one for us to consider
may be called Venus' Comb,
(<i>Murex tribulus</i>) and is found in China,
Japan and the Indian Ocean. It belongs
to a group of shells which is
characterized by a long snout or canal,
and long, pointed spines. The color is
yellowish; in one variety the spines
are tipped with black.</p>
<p>A shell which is found on the mantel
in every household is known as the
Branched Rock Shell (<i>Murex ramosus</i>),
which is widely distributed, being
found in the Red Sea, the Indian
Ocean, New Zealand, Australia and the
Central Pacific Ocean, and attains a
large size, some specimens reaching
the length of a foot and weighing
several pounds. The aperture is frequently
tinged with a deep, beautiful
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</SPAN></span>
pink. In many households the large
shells of this species are used for
flower pots, suspended from a hook
over the window by a set of chains, and
for this purpose they are certainly
very ornamental.</p>
<p>The Apple Murex (<i>Murex pomum</i>) is
of home production, being found on
the shores of Florida and throughout
the West Indies. It is not as attractive
as the shells just mentioned, but is very
common, every collector possessing
several specimens in his cabinet.</p>
<p>In the aperture of this species will
be noticed a dark brown object which
is known as an operculum or door, and
its use is to close the aperture when
the animal withdraws into its shell, so
that the latter may be safe from its
enemies. All of the rock shells
possess this organ, which is attached
to the back part of the animal's foot.</p>
<p>A peculiar and somewhat rare shell
is the Horned Murex (<i>Murex axicornis</i>),
found in the Indian Archipelago,
whose shell is made up of many curiously
fluted spines. The Burnt Murex
(<i>Murex adustus</i>), is an inhabitant of the
Indian Ocean, Japan and the Philippines,
and its name, which signifies
burned, is well chosen, for all its spines
and frills and most of the shell are
black in color and look just as though
the shell had been scorched. The
aperature is often beautifully tinged
with pink or dark red.</p>
<p>A common rock shell found in the
Mediterranean Sea as well as on the
Atlantic coast of France and Portugal
and the Canary Islands, is the Purple
Murex (<i>Murex trunculus</i>). This is a
light brown, three-banded shell about
two inches in length and is famous as
having been used by the ancients to
obtain their beautiful and rich purple
dye. On the Tyrian shore these shells
were pounded in caldron-shaped holes
in the rocks, and the animals were
taken out and squeezed for the dye
which they secrete. If the animal of
one of our common purpuras, a small
shell found along the Atlantic and
Pacific coasts, be squeezed, it will
exude a purple fluid which will stain
fabrics a reddish purple. It is probable
that much or most of the royal
purple of the ancients was obtained
from these lowly creatures.</p>
<p>Although the most beautiful shells
of this family are supposed to live in
the warm, tropical seas of the Indian
Ocean, it is nevertheless true that
many of the most brightly colored
rock shells live in the warm waters of
Panama and Mazatlan. The Root
Murex (<i>Murex radix</i>) is one of these
shells, which attains a length of five
inches and weighs several pounds.
The shell is white or yellowish-white
and the spines and frills are jet black,
the two colors producing a peculiar
effect. Another beautiful shell from
the same locality (Panama) is the
Two-colored Murex (<i>Murex bicolor</i>),
a shell attaining somewhat larger dimensions
than the last. The spines are
reduced to mere knobs in this species,
there are but a few frills, and only two
colors, the shell being greenish-white
and the aperture a deep red or pink,
plainly showing whence the name, bicolor,
two-colored. This shell is collected
by thousands at Panama and
shipped all over the United States to
curiosity stores at summer watering
places and other vacation resorts,
where they are sold at from a few cents
to a dollar each, according to quality.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="SPRING_HAS_COME" id="SPRING_HAS_COME"></SPAN>SPRING HAS COME.</h2>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">Would you think it? Spring has come;</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Winter's paid his passage home;</div>
<div class="verse">Packed his ice-box—gone—half way</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">To the Arctic pole, they say.</div>
</div></div>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<div class="transnote">
<h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3>
<ul>
<li>Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.</li>
<li>Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant form was
found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.</li>
<li>Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.</li>
<li>Mid-paragraph illustrations have been moved between paragraphs
and some illustrations have been moved closer to the text that references them.</li>
<li>The Contents table was added by the transcriber.</li>
</ul></div>
<SPAN name="endofbook"></SPAN>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />