Project Gutenberg's Birds and all Nature Vol VII, No. 5, May 1900, by Various

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Title: Birds and all Nature Vol VII, No. 5, May 1900
       Illustrated by Color Photography

Author: Various

Release Date: March 12, 2015 [EBook #48466]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

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Boissonnas, The Internet Archive for some images and the
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  BIRDS AND ALL NATURE.

  ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY.

  VOL. VII.           MAY, 1900.            NO. 5.




  CONTENTS.


                                                  Page
  MAY.                                             193
  WE MAY HEAR THE BIRD SING.                       193
  UNCLE NICK ON FISHING.                           194
  THE MAGPIE.                                      197
  A BUTTERFLY'S HISTORY.                           197
  THE DEAD BIRD.                                   199
  THE FIELD DAISY.                                 199
  A SUBMERGED FOREST.                              200
  RED-BREASTED NUTHATCH.                           203
  MIGRATORY BIRDS.                                 204
  ACROSS THE WAY.                                  205
  THE PURPLE MARTIN.                               206
  A GLIMPSE AT BEAUTIFUL PICTURES.                 209
  GOOSE PLANT IN BLOOM.                            210
  JOHNNY APPLESEED.                                211
  RING-NECKED DOVE.                                212
  THE RING-NECKED DOVE.                            212
  SOME EARLY RISERS.                               212
  THE YOUNG NATURALIST.                            215
  OPOSSUM.                                         218
  SOMETHING ABOUT DOGS.                            221
  EASY LESSONS IN EVOLUTION.                       222
  THE CECROPIA MOTH.                               223
  THE GENISTA.                                     224
  WHERE VEGETABLES CAME FROM.                      227
  BIRDS AND FARMERS.                               228
  FISH HAVE FAVORITE HAUNTS.                       229
  SILLIEST BIRD IN THE WORLD.                      229
  THYME.                                           230
  A CURIOUS SURVIVAL.                              233
  THE RAVEN.                                       235
  WILD FLOWERS OF MAY.                             236
  RICE PAPER.                                      239
  GOOD UNCLE TO ANTS.                              239
  A FLOATING SNAIL.                                240
  EGYPTIAN TREES FOR AMERICA.                      240
  INDEX VOL. VII-JANUARY TO MAY 1900, INCLUSIVE.
  GENERAL INDEX VOLS. I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII.    i




MAY.


    The voice of one who goes before to make
    The paths of June more beautiful, is thine,
    Sweet May! Without an envy of her crown
    And bridal; patient stringing emeralds
    And shining rubies for the brows of birch
    And maple; flinging garlands of pure white
    And pink, which to their bloom add prophecy;
    Gold cups o'erfilling on a thousand hills
    And calling honey-bees; out of their sleep
    The tiny summer harpers with bright wings
    Awaking, teaching them their notes for noon--
    O, May, sweet-voiced one, going thus before,
    Forever June may pour her warm, red wine
    Of life and passion--sweeter days are thine!
                                        --_H. H._




WE MAY HEAR THE BIRD SING.

NELLY HART WOODWORTH.


    We may hear the bird sing but we cannot descry
    The heart of the singer; the great mystery
    Of the singing is hidden from sight, and the heart
    Of the sweet singing bird has a vision apart;
    We may listen intently to catch the sweet theme,
    But who can interpret the soul of the dream?

    We may hear the bird sing, catch each generous note
    That pours to the air from its quivering throat,
    See the breast rent with ardors; unfathomed, deep-stirred
    Folded under the song lies the soul of the bird,
    Unsounded and soundless, too deep for our reach.
    Though we listen entranced to its musical speech;
    Who sees the lark's soul as it mounts from the sod,
    Who sees the clear soul has a vision of God!




UNCLE NICK ON FISHING.

IRWIN RUSSELL.


    It alluz sets me laughin', when I happens to be 'roun,'
    To see a lot ob gemmen come a-fishin' frum de town:
    Dey waits tell arter breakfus', 'fo' dey ebber makes a start,
    An' den you sees 'em comin' in a little Jarsey kyart!

    Now, Jarsey kyarts is springy, an,' to studdy up de seat,
    De gemmen's 'bliged to ballus' hit wid suffin good to eat;
    An' Jarsey kyarts is lighter run, de gemmen seems to think,
    By totin' long a demijohn ob suffin good to drink.

    When dy gits at de fishin' place, it's 'stonishin' indeed!
    Such tricks to go a-fishin' wid _nobody_ nebber seed:
    Dey poles is stuck togedder wid a dozen jints ob tin,
    An' has a block-an'-teeckle for to win' de fishes in!

    De gemmen makes a heap o'fuss, an skeers de fishes off,
    An' den dey takes an' sots de poles, some place de bank is sof,
    An' den dey hunts a shady place, an' settles on de grass,
    An' pruz'ntly heahs 'em: "Dat a spade? I has to pass!"

    St. Petah wuz a fisherman, an' un'erstood his trade:
    He sot an' watched his cork, instid ob lazin' in de shade!
    De gemmen isn't copyin' arter him--dey bettah be!--
    Or--_I_'s a science fisherman--'t'd do to copy _me_.

    When _I_ goes out a-fishin', I puts on my ol'est clo'es:
    (Dey age's putty tol'able, you'd nat'rally suppose!)
    I gits up in de moh'nin', long afore de sun is riz,
    An' grabbles wums, _I_ tell you! like de yurly bird I is.

    I's alluz berry 'ticlar 'bout de season ob the moon;
    De dark ob hit is fishin'-time--an' time for huntin' coon;
    An' den its mighty 'portant, too, as notus shed be tuk
    Ob varis' little sarcumstances bearin' on de luck:

    You has to spit upon de bait afore you draps it in;
    Den keep yo' cork a-bobbin', des as easy as you kin;
    Ef someone steps acrost de pole, you knows yo' luck is broke,
    Widout dey steps it back agin afore a word is spoke.

    Don't nebber, not for nuffin, think ob countin' ob yo' string;
    'Kase ef you do, you ain't a-gwine to cotch anoder thing;
    But ef a sarpent-doctor bug sh'd 'light upon de pole,
    You knows you's good for cotchin' all de fishes in de hole.

    Dah! now you has de science what a fisherman sh'd know;
    So, any time yo' ready, all you has to do's to go,
    An' toiler dem instruckshuns--ef you does it, to de notch,
    Good marster! won't it s'prise de folks to see de mess you cotch!




  [Illustration: MAGPIE.
                 2/3 Life-size.
                 FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.
                 COPYRIGHT 1900, BY
                 A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO.]

THE MAGPIE.

(_Pica pica hudsonica._)


This is a rare winter visitor and not much known. Its nest is a very
bulky and somewhat remarkable structure, composed exteriorly of sticks
of various sizes, forming a spherical mass, the upper portion of which
forms a canopy to the nest proper, the entrance being through one
side. The eggs are usually six in number, but often as many as nine,
and are of a pale olive or grayish white color, thickly speckled with
olive-brown.

The magpie can be taught to talk, is intelligent and inquisitive, and
has many of the characteristics of the raven.




A BUTTERFLY'S HISTORY.

(_The Troilus._)

ELLA F. MOSBY.


The _Troilus_ belongs to the knights or chevaliers, and is a beautiful
creature. His front wings are velvety black, spotted with yellow; his
hind wings blue, elegantly scalloped, with a long streamer at the end,
and when he lifts his wings, the under side is also lovely in marking
and color. His double tongue forms a tube for sucking honey from deep
flower cups, and may also be coiled up like a lasso when not used. His
knobbed antennae are supposed to be organs of scent by which he detects
the perfume of blossoms or of other butterflies. For butterflies have
distinct odors; the mountain silver spot smells like sandalwood, and
other butterflies have the delicate fragrance of jasmine, thyme, balsam
or violets. The anosia butterfly has a faint smell of honey. The
sight of the butterfly, in spite of his single and compound eyes, the
latter made up of many shining facets like cut gems, is not believed
to be very keen. It is thought that while he perceives color in mass,
he has little perception of form, and is easily deceived. The white
butterflies, for instance, alight on the white-veined and spotted
leaves in a garden, while seeking white blossoms. No organs of hearing
have ever been discovered, and, for the most part, the movements of the
butterfly are noiseless as drifting snow-flakes, the only exception
being a slight click from a sudden closing of the wings, or in rapid
flight.

The whole structure of the creature is for movement. He has no brain,
only a cluster of nerves somewhat like one; no heart, only a segmented
tube, in which a white blood circulates; no distinct lungs, but
air-chambers throughout the whole body, so that it is easily poised
amid the aerial waves, as he glides, or flutters securely above the
earth. There are many muscles, two or three pairs of legs, and about
five pairs of hooked arrangements called pro-legs; and his glory
lies in his four broad wings of radiant colors, covered with silvery
and shining plumes of softest texture. These wings are to him as the
knight's steed, bearing him proudly in his circling combats with
his rivals, or in his sportive ascents with his mate, or on his gay
journeys with a crowd of winged comrades along the aerial highroads. He
need not _seek_ adventures, for when he is a butterfly he has already
passed through wonderful experiences.

His life begins with a tiny egg, the size of a pin-head, laid
singly on the _under_ side of a leaf for protection. Every species
of butterfly has its own special food-plants, and will feed from no
others; but do not imagine that the pastures of our _Troilus_ are
limited. He feeds upon two of the largest and most beautiful tree
families--the _Rosaceae_ and the _Lauraceae_--beautiful for fruit,
flower, foliage and fragrance. With the rose family alone the range is
immense, embracing, as it does, not only the rose, but the hawthorn,
the meadow-sweet, the mountain ash, the strawberry, the cherry, apple
and all the lovely orchard trees, while with the other family we find
the glossy and shining leaf of the magnolia tribe, and the aromatic
odors of sassafras and spice-wood. The butterfly eggs are marvels
of color, pale green or white at first, changing to all sorts of
iridescent tints as the life inside matures, and also of form, for they
mimic the delicate sea-fashions of urchin and coral, the richness of
oriental mosques, and the intricacy of design in Gothic windows.

Let us fancy the egg of our _Troilus_ fastened--a fairy cradle,
indeed--on the leaf of a wild cherry tree that has tossed its sprays
of feathery white bloom, and its rustling leaves all June long in
sunshine and wind and twinkling shower beneath a summer sky. When the
shell is broken, what a strange thing creeps forth!--well-named a
larva or _mask_, for it is a disguise that has no trace of a winged
nature. The lover of the butterfly shrinks with loathing from this
hideous creature, dragging itself slowly along in quest of the food
which it greedily devours--the fresh, sweet leaves of the tree that has
sheltered it! But unless it eats and grows there will be no butterfly,
and sometimes the skin is cast off as many as five or six times, even
the inner lining as well as the outside skin, to give its growth free
play. If the caterpillar were large it would be terrible, for it
protects itself, being soft-skinned and often helpless, by a mimicry
of rage, pawing the ground, lashing its head furiously from one side
to another, as a lion lashes its tail, rearing itself up menacingly in
a sphinx-like attitude, grinding its mandibles with a grating sound.
Its color is at first usually green like the leaf it feeds on, but
it afterwards develops bright hues in some species. The _Troilus_
caterpillar is green with a yellow stripe on each side, and row of blue
dots, while its under side and feet are reddish. These varied colors
show little, however, on the tree, for the leaves of fruit-trees,
especially, quickly assume a yellow tint, and are streaked and spotted.
Caterpillars protect themselves in many ways; some make a tent of a
leaf near their feeding-ground, turning over an edge under which they
creep, or weaving the different corners of the leaf closely together
with silken threads. Even the petals of a blossom may be secured by a
filmy web. If the caterpillar must spend the winter as a caterpillar,
it makes of the leaf a winter-house, which it covers with wood-colored
silk, and weaves the thread securely to the skin. These nests resemble
closely the buds of the tree.

After the caterpillar stage of humiliation and danger, comes the
strange period of sleep or seeming death, when the cocoon or chrysalid
appears. The name _pupa_ or babe is also used, from the likeness to an
infant in swaddling bands. The caterpillar was always liable to curious
fits of drowsiness or stupor; this stage of the pupa is a prolonged
stupor, and it prepares for it by rolling off the garment of skin,
and leaving it underfoot in the silken shroud or cell. Sometimes it
sleeps in the earth, sometimes in a rock crevice, sometimes hangs like
our _Troilus_ looped up by a thread to a tree. The case has knobs or
horns to protect the sleeper when the wind blows it against anything.
It is sensitive to light, and swings towards or from it, according to
need. At last comes the resurrection. From a narrow slit emerges a
crumpled, wrinkled thing. If the struggles are long, dare not aid even
by a touch! The butterfly is of such delicate texture that outside help
means mutilation. Let it alone. Soon are the wings smoothed--I saw one
hang himself up, and lengthen and lengthen, until he was about twice as
long as at first--then he spreads them in flight, a glorious and joyous
creature of the sunshine! He likes companions, and quickly will he
find himself greeted by a Jason or splendid Ajax, or encounter a flock
of his own kind, with whom he may feast by roadside puddle or beds of
opening flowers.

Marvelous care is shown in the provision for the awakening from
its long slumber. The threads are woven so loosely near the place of
opening that they are easily broken, even in his first feebleness. The
old garment, rolled in a heap at his feet, cannot impede or entangle
him. He is now the _imago_--"image in full of his species,"--and, like
the fairy, Ariel, he will follow summer as it flies, and swing "under
the blossom that hangs on the bough"--an airy spirit of joy!




THE DEAD BIRD.

NELLY HART WOODWORTH.


    Hark to the beating at the lattice!--sure
    It is some winged creature asks for room
    Within my walls. Shall I deny its quest,
    Refuse a welcome to the homeless guest?
    Who could the rigor of such night endure?
    Nay, open wide the window. Come, oh, come,

    And share my shelter! All the air was stirred
    By the mysterious pulsing of the wings
    In useless haste, until their murmurings
    Grew faint and fainter; now they pulse-less lay.
    Again they found the light--my eyes were blurred
    With tears of pity. "Here upon my breast
    Thou shalt have rest. Rest thee, dear bird, I pray!"

    And as the bird's throat trembles when the song
    Throbbing for wings pours to the generous air,
    So my heart throbbed with pity and my hand
    Went quivering as I held the stranger there.

    The velvet wings dropped heavy. O'er the eyes
    There came a mist, like hoary mists that roll
    Far up the mountain, blotting out the skies
    And leaving scars upon the lonely soul;
    The stars were blurred, the hilltops canopied,
    The valleys lost, the little bird was dead.




THE FIELD DAISY.

JENNY T. RUPRECHT.


    Nomadic queen with softly petaled face,
      Thine is a beauteous throne where'er thou art,
      And thine a reign triumphant from the start;
    And though thy throne were in half-desert place,
    Or where thou may'st behold the brooklets race,
      Or just above the sleepy valley's heart,
      Or higher up the grasses tall to part--
    Queen of the fields! thou reign'st with witching grace.
    If shine, 'tis well; if shade, thou murmur'st not,
      For thou hast learned of nature patient trust--
    Glad of the cloudless light all golden wrought,
      Nor sad if shadows fall, as shadows must--
    All these shall flee before thy floral reign,
    And leave fresh charms throughout thy wide domain.




A SUBMERGED FOREST


Many years ago, even so far back that the traditions of the oldest
Siwash extend not thereto, there was some vast upheaval of mother earth
on the shores of Lake Samamish that sent a portion of the big Newcastle
hill sliding down into the lake, with its tall evergreen forest intact,
and there it is to this day. About this time of the year the waters of
the lake are at their lowest, and then the tops of the tallest of these
big submerged trees are out of the water, but never more than ten or
twelve inches.

Unfortunately for the curiosity seeker and traveling public generally
the submerged forest is on the opposite side of the lake from the
railroad and the station of Monohon, and very few people ever see the
phenomenon unless they take the time and pains necessary to reach it.

Sam Coombs, the pioneer, has just been over to view the submerged
forest, and he is very enthusiastic concerning its beauties and
mystery. He talks Chinook fluently, but with all his quizzing of the
red-skinned inhabitants he has never learned anything that will throw
any light on the history of the forest under water. The waters of the
lake are very deep, and the bluffs back of the beach very precipitous,
so that the only explanation of the freak is that either by an
earthquake or some other means a great slide has been started in early
times, and it went down as a mass until it found lodgment at the bottom
of the lake. At this time one can see down into the glassy, mirror-like
depths of the lake for thirty feet or more. Near the banks the forest
trees are interlaced at various angles and in confusion, but further
out in the deep water they stand straight, erect, and limbless and
barkless, 100 feet tall. They are not petrified in the sense of being
turned to stone, but they are preserved and appear to have stood there
for ages. They are three feet through, some of them, and so firm in
texture as to be scarcely affected by a knife blade. The great slide
extended for some distance, and it would now be a dangerous piece of
work for a steamer to attempt passage over the tops of these tall
trees. Even now the water along shore is very deep, and a ten-foot pole
would sink perpendicularly out of sight ten feet from shore line.

All over this country are found strata of blue clay, which in the
winter season are very treacherous, and, given the least bit of
opportunity will slide away, carrying everything above with them. This
is the theory of the submerged forest of Lake Samamish. It probably
was growing above one of these blue earth strata, and heavy rains, or
probably an earthquake, set it moving. The quantity of earth carried
down was so great that the positions of the trees on the portion
carried away were little affected. It is hardly to be believed that
the earth suddenly sank down at this point and became a portion of the
beautiful lake.

Few such places exist. There is a place in the famous Tumwater Canon,
on the line of the Great Northern, near Leavenworth, which is in some
respects similar. At some early time a portion of the great mountain
side came rushing down and buried itself at the bottom of the canon.
Now there is a considerable lake, and in the center stand tall,
limbless trees, different in species from those growing along the canon.

At Green Lake, near Georgetown, Colo.--a lake which is 10,000 feet
above sea level--is a submerged forest of pine trees, some hundred
feet tall, but not so numerous as in Lake Samamish. This same theory
explains their presence as given above.




  [Illustration: RED-BREASTED NUTHATCH.
                 2/3 Life-size.
                 CHICAGO COLORTYPE CO.
                 FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.
                 COPYRIGHT 1900, BY
                 A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO.]

RED-BREASTED NUTHATCH. (_Sitta canadensis._)

BY LYNDS JONES.


It is doubtful if any bird has been more persistently overlooked
or more universally confounded with a closely allied species than
the subject of this sketch. His superficial resemblances to the
white-breasted nuthatch, either in color or voice, are not striking,
certainly not so much so as with other species which are not so
confused, yet it is certainly true that but a small proportion of the
laity are aware that there are two nuthatches roaming the woods, the
one a migrant in the Middle and Southern States, the other resident
wherever it is found. What, then, are the marked differences between
them? The red-breast is decidedly smaller than his cousin, his breast
is tinged with red or brown instead of the immaculate white, and there
is a black line running through the eye to the back of the head,
separating the white line above it from the white throat; the cry is a
nasal, long drawn 'yank, yank,' very different from the brisk, crisp,
business-like utterance of the white-breast. Moreover, he is a traveled
gentleman who spends the winters in the South and his summers mostly
north of the United States, while we have the white-breast with us
during the entire year. So much for differences.

The habit of climbing head downward, sidewise, or any way, is common
to all nuthatches. They feed upon the insects and their eggs and larvae
which inhabit the bark crevices, but also sometimes vault into the air
in pursuit of a flying insect, after the manner of the flycatchers. In
the North, where the red-breast sometimes tarries well into the winter,
rarely remaining all winter long, they fasten nuts and seeds in cracks
or crevices and hatch them with the beak, eating the meat, of course.
It is this habit of 'hatching' nuts that gives the group its English
name.

The red-breast is a bird of the whole of the United States and at
least southern Canada, but can be called common only locally and
occasionally. Some seasons it may not appear at all at some stations
in its migration routes, and again be common for a short period,
especially in the autumn. In most central localities it may be expected
during the last two weeks of April and the first week of May, and again
from September well into the winter months, if not all winter long.

The nest is placed in some dead stub in a hole excavated by the birds,
usually several feet from the ground--as high as twelve feet sometimes.
The nest material is some soft substance like fine grass and rootlets.
The excavation is usually shallow, scarcely more than six inches
down the stub, with other even shallower holes in other trees in the
vicinity used as roosting-places for the male during incubation. In
beginning the excavation, the birds drill small holes in a circle in
the bark, then take out the center piece. In several instances the bark
about the entrance to the nest cavity was coated with pitch in which
were sticking the red-breast feathers of the architects. This pitching
of the entrance to their home does not seem to be a habit common to all
members of the species, however, for few collectors mention the pitch,
as they certainly would if it were present.

While birds of the woods, neither the red-breast nor the white-breast
are strictly confined to the woods during the seasons when they are
not rearing a brood. The red-breast is frequently seen on the fences
and out in the open, gleaning from weed-stalks, during his southward
journey. He also seems very fond of orchards and the ornamental trees
in the yard where he does excellent service for the next season's
fruit and foliage. He is, perhaps, a little less inquisitive than his
white-breasted cousin, but his small size and drawling voice make him a
pleasant fellow to meet.




MIGRATORY BIRDS.

B. W. JONES.

     "The stork in the heavens knoweth her appointed times; and the
     crane, and the turtle, and the swallow observe the time of their
     coming."--_Jer. 8: 7._


The migration of birds, as Baily observes, is by no means the least
interesting part of their history. I have noted for many years the
migrations of the birds that make a longer or shorter stay with us,
summer or winter, and have tabulated their arrivals and departures.
And it has been to me a labor of love. Few things cast such attraction
around the young and tender spring or over brown and matured autumn,
as the coming and going of migratory birds. With delight we welcome
the first notes of the purple martin, the bank or sand swallow, and
the chimney swift, as they return to us in spring from the far sunny
southland; and with feelings of wonder we witness the flight of the
wild geese, as they pass over us high in air, or listen to the notes
that tell us the whippoorwill and the chuckwills-widow are again the
denizens of our groves. And, night after night as I listen to their
weird song, feelings almost akin to superstition creep over me, till
I can imagine their utterances to be the omen of good or ill to
the hearer. There is no more mysterious bird in our land than the
chuckwills-widow. Its migration so far northward as southeast Virginia
has been doubted by some naturalists, but facts are against them.

And as I look abroad in autumn, and view the bevies of snowbirds that
have just returned to us, and hear again the familiar "chip," "chip,"
as a passing vehicle puts them to sudden flight, how the finger of
thought touches again on memory's bell, and I think of boyhood's happy
hours, when I welcomed with delight the snowbirds back again to our
lanes and fields.

Each feathered songster, as it revisits us from northland or
southland, awakens feeling of profoundest interest, and if we have
within us a single spark of that divine love of nature that dwells with
the poet or the naturalist, we instinctively receive the birds back to
their old haunts as we would welcome a long-absent friend. What boy
of sensibility, having a spark of the nobler touch of manhood, could
have it in his heart to harm the least of these sinless creatures that
enliven our homes with their presence and song? Who can look without
admiration upon them? Who could wish to destroy them? And when we
reflect that the martins, willets, swifts and swallows that sport about
our homes in summer, and the mocking bird that trills its polyglot song
in our cedar groves by night, have returned to us from tropical or
sub-tropical climes--that only a few weeks before they were flitting
through the orange groves of Cuba, or building their nests amid the
vine-latticed thickets of Florida, we cannot but admire and wonder at
that "peculiar instinct," as Howitt calls it, that guides them with
such unerring certainty through all the changes of their mysterious
round.

For a period of twenty years the average time of the arrival of the
purple martin has been about the last five days in March; and its
departure for the South the second week in August. A few individuals
may remain longer, but it is only when their breeding has been delayed.
The earliest appearance of the martin that I have noted was the 8th of
March, 1871, the latest the 26th of April, 1885. The last date was a
cold and backward spring. This bird rears two broods of four or five
each during the four months that it remains with us.

The chimney swift comes a week or ten days later than the martin, and
seldom begins to build before the 10th of June. It raises one brood
of four to six young, usually in some unused chimney. It remains with
us longer than the martin, even until the cool nights of the last of
September remind it that "the summer is over and gone." The flight of
this bird is employed as a weather sign by country people. When it
soars high, they say fair weather will continue, but when it flies low,
then rain is near at hand.

The whippoorwill arrives, commonly, the last of March, but often
not before the 10th or 15th of April. The chuckwills-widow comes
three weeks later. Both of these strange birds rear one brood of two
young. The nest is placed upon the bare ground, under a clump of low
bushes, or a dense holly, or other low-growing tree. The eggs have the
same markings as those of the bull bat, or night hawk, another very
interesting migratory bird.

The catbird and the wood sparrows do not reach us till near the end of
April, and often May is far advanced before these birds are noticed.
The last is one of the sweetest songsters of our groves in summer,
rivaling any bird of our clime. It seeks the coolest and darkest wood,
where it pours forth its notes hour after hour, being one of the
earliest to begin its mating lays.

The humming bird is the latest visitor to come to us in summer. This
diminutive aerial voyager is one of the most charming of the migratory
tribe, and worthy all the admiration that has been lavished upon it.
It loves to sport in the flower gardens, where it sips the nectar from
the honeycups of Flora's train. Only one species comes to us, the
well-known ruby-throat.

But the young reader interested in these things should begin
observation, and make a list for himself of all the migratory birds in
his locality. A good form for such a record may be found in Howitt's
"Book of the Seasons," an English work, but one from which a great deal
about nature can be learned.

We will close our too brief sketch with the inquiry of Mrs. Kimball, of
Connecticut:

    "O, wise little birds, how do ye know
              The way to go,
    Southward and northward, to and fro?
    Far up in ether piped they,
              'We but obey
    A voice that calleth us far away.'"




ACROSS THE WAY.

GEO. KLINGLE.


    A distant line of misty hills,
      A stretch of meadow low,
    With wreaths of brush a-skirt the woods,
      Midst fabrics spun of snow:
    A vista through the forest trees--
      A temple if you choose,
    With pictured screen and arabesque,
      Mosaic's dusky hues,
    Dim mullioned windows half confessed
      Beyond far-columned aisles,
    And arches lost and found anew
      Through tracery's defiles;
    A roof?... we might perchance ascribe
      The misty, stooping sky
    Beyond the wreaths of crystal
      Swung where winds go singing by.
    Beneath, where worshiper might tread
      A glimpse of crystal tile,
    Caught through the weeds and tangled reeds
      Which guard the near defile.
    A myriad forms a-glint and white
      Close, close beneath the feet;
    Fantastic hands that reach across
      A myriad hands to greet;
    Low shrubs in fleecy, white array,
      Tall stems with hood and wings,
    And vines a-glint in crystal lace
      Wound through fantastic rings;
    And grasses frosted into gems;
      Near by a bough bent down
    With such a wealth of clinging leaves
      Stained deep in ruddy brown.
    These and the woods' low breath of song
      Just now across the way;
    To-morrow?... visions change, you know,
      To meet each hour of day.




THE PURPLE MARTIN.

(_Progne subis._)


Beautiful and interesting as this bird is known to be, less has been
said about it than of any of our common birds of agreeable song and
manners. Its common names are house martin, purple swallow, American
martin, and violet swallow. The young male is several years in
attaining the uniform glossy violet-black plumage, the steel blue
feathers appearing in gradually coalescing patches. It is common to the
whole of temperate North America, wintering in Mexico and the Bermudas.
It is only accidental in Europe. The adult female is glossy blue-black
above, becoming hoary grayish on the forehead, and sometimes on the
nape also. The young are similar to the adult female.

Ridgway says that no bird of America is more deserving of protection
and of encouragement to live about the habitations of man than
the purple martin. One pair of them will destroy more insects in
a season than all the English sparrows in a township will kill in
their life-time. Besides, their notes are pleasing to the ear, and
their actions both when on the wing and when perching upon their
boxes extremely interesting. During the breeding-season the male has
a continued and varied song of great beauty and considerable power;
and it is as much on account of the sweetness of their notes as for
their familiarity and usefulness that these birds are such general
favorites. In the wild woods where they have not had opportunity to
avail themselves of man's hospitality they are as lovely and musical
as when semi-domesticated in our door-yards, and, it is said, are in
all respects exactly the same birds. When Audubon was traveling through
the Middle States, he reported that almost every country tavern had a
martin-box on the upper part of its signboard, and commented: "I have
observed that the handsomer the box, the better does the inn prove to
be." The Indians hung up calabashes for the martins, so they would
keep the vultures from the deerskins and venison that were drying. Mr.
Nehrling says that the martin is as well satisfied with the simple
hollow gourd attached to a pole near a negro hut as with the most
ornamental and best arranged martin-house in the beautiful gardens and
parks of rich planters and opulent merchants. He claims that where
no nesting boxes are provided our martin will not breed, and that
it hardly ever accepts nesting-boxes attached to trees, preferring
localities where the chance is given to dart in and out uninterrupted
by any obstacle.

The struggle between the martins and sparrows is so bitter that one
pair of martins watched by Mr. Widmann adopted the plan of never
leaving the nest alone, taking turns in going for food, because, as he
explains, "it is comparatively easy to keep a sparrow out of a box,
but it is impossible for a martin to dislodge him after he has built a
nest."

Mr. Keyser says that in the autumn the martins assemble in flocks,
sometimes large enough to suggest an ecumenical council, and fall
to cackling, twittering, discussing, and in many other ways making
preparation for their aerial voyage to another clime. They really seem
to regret being compelled to leave their pleasant summer haunts, if
one may judge from the length and fervor of their good-byes. "Perhaps
they are like human beings who have a strong attachment for home,
and must visit every nook and tryst to say _au revoir_ before they
take their departure. One can easily imagine how dear to their hearts
are the scenes of their childhood, and of their nest-building and
brood-rearing." After departing, they sometimes return in a day or two
before they begin their southward pilgrimage in real earnest. Do they
get homesick after they have gone some distance, and return once more
to look upon the familiar scenes? It is one of the mysteries of bird
life.

  [Illustration: PURPLE MARTIN.
                 Life-size.
                 FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.
                 COPYRIGHT 1900, BY
                 A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO.]




A GLIMPSE AT BEAUTIFUL PICTURES.

ANNE WAKELY JACKSON.


How many of you, I wonder, have a west window? Not one opening upon a
blank wall, nor upon a vista of houses, but one from which you can see
the sky. If your sky-view extends to the horizon, you are indeed blest;
for then your window is no less than a frame for the most beautiful
pictures--nature's own.

No landscape painter ever lived who could put upon canvas such beauty
as you may see, on the majority of days, from your west window. It will
only cost you a little time, and you will be richly repaid for time
thus spent.

Of course finer views can be seen from a hilltop, or looking across an
open plain. But one cannot often be in these places, while one might
spare ten or fifteen minutes to stand by the window at sunset?

After a busy day, I know of nothing more composing to the spirit than
the contemplation of some majestic form of beauty. And what could be
more tranquillizing than the ever-changing beauty of a sunset?

Unless the day close enveloped in clouds, there will be some picture,
well worth looking at, to be seen from your window. When a sunset is
unusually gorgeous, we frequently exclaim, "That is the most beautiful
one I ever saw!" But when we have watched them day after day, we will
find comparisons impossible. Each one will have a special beauty of its
own, quite beyond compare. Some will be more brilliant than others, but
each one will be perfect in its way, and every one will have something
new of beauty to reveal to us, if we look with seeing eyes.

I am particularly blessed with an open view to the west, just screened
at its base by a delicate fringe of trees. The sunsets this winter have
been a constant joy to me, and I long for others who love the beautiful
to share this great pleasure with me.

The artistic nature, and love and appreciation of beauty, are well
developed in many people whose lives are so hard and busy and full of
care, that the delights of the world of art are out of their reach.
It is to these particularly that I would commend the world of nature,
which is more wonderful and far more beautiful than any art, and is a
free gift to all.

It is an interesting study to note the different effect of the leafless
trees against various backgrounds. I am one of the people who think
trees are more lovely in winter than in summer. Nothing can be more
exquisite, to my mind, than the tracery of bare branches and twigs
against the sky.

What a study is offered by the varying lines of different trees--the
limbs of some starting from the main stem in graceful curves, while
others are twisted and bent at sharp angles.

During the cloudy days, I am apt to think a gray background the best
that could be imagined. But next morning, perhaps, the clouds have
melted away, and I find my trees wearing an entirely new expression,
against the bright blue sky. Where they appeared just dark lines
against the gray, they have brightened up, and taken on new and varied
colors, seen against the blue; and I notice how much darker the trunks
and lower limbs are, compared with the upper branches.

How different, again, they look with the sunset sky behind them! The
whole western horizon, and upward for quite a space, is a blaze of
orange flame! How black they look, silhouetted thus! Again, we have a
pale, cold orange, or pink, fading into golden white! How clearly every
twig is brought out!

How is it possible that we can pass such beauty by unnoticed, or be
indifferent to it because it is common? It should be the cause of great
rejoicing, that this miracle of beauty is an almost daily occurrence.

If the winter sunsets are less gorgeous than those of summer, they are
full of refinement of detail. Theirs may be a cold beauty, but it is so
clear cut and perfect.

Dear reader, if you possess the frame, don't let the pictures escape
you. Remember that any day not absolutely cloudy and dull, will furnish
you with a masterpiece. And even after the last bright rays of the
dying sunlight have faded away, glance out of the window again, as you
pass, for perhaps the calm beauty of the evening star has a message for
you too.




GOOSE PLANT IN BLOOM.


All lovers of plants and flowers should visit the greenhouse at
Washington Park, Chicago, and see the goose plant. It is growing in one
of the small span-roofed structures, and as seen to-day there are over
a dozen goslings and three or four geese growing on one plant.

One of the biggest geese is over a yard long and broad in proportion.
This plant is one of the most unique, rare and valuable known to
scientists. Its correct name is _Aristolochia gigas Sturtevantii_,
and it was brought here for the World's Fair. At the Fair, however,
it bore only one or two flowers, as it was too young to bear more.
It is a native of South America and even there is considered a
marvelous product. In one of the greenhouses next to the goose house
at Washington Park is a collection of caladiums of the most varied
shapes and colors ever dreamed of. Mr. Kanst, the head gardener, says
the collection has no duplicate. Many of the plants have leaves as
delicately traced as the finest valenciennes laces. A newspaper may be
read if covered with one of these transparent leaves. The colors are
all shades of red, pink, maroon, crimson and yellow. The collection
of water lilies is now at the best and is truly beautiful. Mr. Kanst
says that the aquatic plants are as amenable to cultivation as are the
terrestrial plants.

       *       *       *       *       *

A special stage is that of the semi-apes. Probably man's ancestors
among the semi-apes closely resembled the existing lemurs, and, like
these, led a quiet life climbing trees.

These are immediately followed by the true apes, or simians. It has
long been beyond doubt that of all animals the apes are in all respects
the most nearly allied to man. Just as on the one side the lowest apes
approach very near to lemurs, so on the other side do the highest apes
most closely resemble man.

The difference between man and the highest form of apes, the gorilla,
is slighter than between the gorilla and the baboon. Below even the
baboon, the oldest parent form of the whole ape group must certainly
have been thickly covered with hair, and was, in fact, a tailed ape.

It is, after all, some satisfaction to know that a thousand million
years may have been consumed in this evolution of man.

       *       *       *       *       *

The heron seldom flaps his wings at a rate less than 120 to 150 times
a minute. This is counting the downward strokes only, so that the
bird's wings really make from 240 to 300 distinct movements a minute.




JOHNNY APPLESEED.


Johnny Appleseed, by which name Jonathan Chapman was known in every
log cabin from the Ohio river to the northern lakes, is an interesting
character to remember. Barefooted, and with scanty clothing, he
traversed the wilderness for many years, planting appleseeds in the
most favorable locations. His self-sacrificing life made him a favorite
with the frontier settlers--men, women, and especially children;
even the savages treated him with kindness, and the rattlesnakes, it
was said, hesitated to bite him. "During the war of 1812, when the
frontier settlers were tortured and slaughtered by the savage allies
of Great Britain, Johnny Appleseed continued his wanderings, and was
never harmed by the roving bands of hostile Indians. On many occasions
the impunity with which he ranged the country enabled him to give the
settlers warning of approaching danger, in time to allow them to take
refuge in their block-houses before the savages could attack them. An
informant refers to one of these instances, when the news of Hull's
surrender came like a thunderbolt upon the frontier. Large bands
of Indians and British were destroying everything before them, and
murdering defenseless women and children, and even the block-houses
were not always a sufficient protection. At this time Johnny traveled
day and night, warning the people of the impending danger. He visited
every cabin and delivered this message; 'The Spirit of the Lord is upon
me, and He hath anointed me to blow the trumpet in the wilderness, and
sound an alarm in the forest; for behold, the tribes of the heathen are
round about your doors, and a devouring flame followeth after them!'
The aged man who narrated this incident said that he could feel even
then the thrill that was caused by this prophetic announcement of the
wild-looking herald of danger, who aroused the family on a bright
moon-light midnight with his piercing cry. Refusing all offers of food,
and denying himself a moment's rest, he traversed the borders day and
night until he had warned every settler of the impending peril. Johnny
also served as colporteur, systematically leaving with the settlers
chapters of certain religious books, and calling for them afterward;
and was the first to engage in the work of protecting dumb brutes.
He believed it a sin to kill any creature for food. No Brahman could
be more concerned for the preservation of insect life, and the only
occasion on which he destroyed a venomous reptile was a source of long
regret, to which he could never refer without manifesting sadness.
He had selected a suitable place for planting appleseeds on a small
prairie, and in order to prepare the ground, he was mowing the long
grass, when he was bitten by a rattlesnake. In describing the event he
sighed heavily, and said, 'Poor fellow, he only just touched me, when
I, in the heat of my ungodly passion, put the heel of my scythe in him,
and went away. Some time afterward I went back, and there lay the poor
fellow, dead!'"

"He was a man after all." Hawthorne might have exclaimed of him, too,
"his Maker's own truest image, a philanthropic man! not that steel
engine of the devil's contrivance--a philanthropist!"--_A. P. Russell's
Library Notes._

       *       *       *       *       *

    Robins in the tree-tops,
      Blossoms in the grass;
    Green things a-growing
      Everywhere you pass;
    Sudden little breezes,
      Showers of silver dew;
    Black bough and bent twig
      Budding out anew;
    Pine tree and willow tree,
      Fringed elm and larch,
    Don't you think that May-time's
      Pleasanter than March?
                                        --_T. B. Aldrich._




  [Illustration: RING-NECKED DOVE.
                 1/2 Life-size.
                 FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.
                 COPYRIGHT 1900, BY
                 A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO.]

RING-NECKED DOVE.

(_Zenaidura macroura_.)


The popular names for this favorite bird are turtle dove, common
dove, and Carolina dove. It is an inhabitant of all of temperate North
America to a little north of the United States boundary, south through
Mexico and Central America to the Isthmus of Panama, Cuba, Jamaica, and
some other West Indian islands. The species have even been known to
winter as far north as Canada, Mr. John J. Morley, of Windsor, Ontario,
informing Professor Baird that he had seen considerable numbers near
that place on the 6th of December, 1878, and that he had on other
occasions seen it in various places, from three to twelve at a time. It
is a common summer resident in Illinois. The majority arrive the last
of March or first of April, and depart by the middle of October. In
many places it becomes partly domesticated, breeding in the trees in
the yard and showing but little fear when approached.




THE RING-NECKED DOVE.


    All day throughout the sunny sky,
      All other sounds above,
    As, breathing sweet tranquillity,
      Sweet voices of the dove
    Have rung the oft-recurring note,
      A constant vow of love.

    Thus its dear mate to ever cheer,
      As, still together, near they fly,
    A distant echo, faint, yet clear,
    Quick falling now so strangely near
      When sunshine gladdens earth and sky.

    But cold doth blow the dreary wind,
      Or clouds arise, and float above,
    With shadows darkening light of day;
      No echo then from greeting love,
    But, deep in quiet nest secure,
      For sunshine's cheer awaits the dove.

    Oh, dove! Oh, love! forever bright,
      Like sunny skies your life appears,
    And songs of joy your hearts delight.
    If storms or shadows dark affright,
      My love endures and conquers fears!




SOME EARLY RISERS.


An ornithologist, having investigated the question of at what hour
in summer the commonest small birds wake and sing, says the greenfinch
is the earliest riser, as it pipes as early as 1:30 in the morning, the
blackcap beginning at about 2:30. It is nearly 4:00 o'clock, and the
sun is well above the horizon before the first real songster appears
in the person of the blackbird. He is heard a half an hour before
the thrush, and the chirp of the robin begins about the same length
of time before that of the wren. The house sparrow and the tomtit
occupy the last place in the list. This investigation has ruined the
lark's reputation for early rising. That much-celebrated bird is quite
a sluggard, as it does not rise until long after the chaffinches,
linnets, and a number of hedgerow birds have been up and about.




THE YOUNG NATURALIST.


TESTING THE CLEANNESS OF THE AIR.--Professor Dewar has recently devised
a new method of testing the contamination of the air. A short time
ago he exhibited before the Royal institution two samples of liquid
air in glass tubes--one was made from air which had been washed to
purify it from dust, soot, carbonic acid and other impurities. This,
when condensed, was a pale blue liquid. The other sample was made
by condensing the air of the lecture-room in which the audience was
assembled, and was an opaque, blackish fluid, resembling soup in
appearance.


THEIR WONDERFUL EYES.--When a fly comes from an egg, one of a family
of thousands, it is soft, pulpy, white, eyeless, legless. When mature
it affords the student one of the most marvelous fields in all nature,
with its nerve clusters and brain, its feet like the hoofs of a
rhinoceros, a thousand hollow hairs on each footpad, the wings, which
make 15,000 vibrations a second, and the eyes. There are 8,000 of
these, each a perfect lens.

A fly's eyes are hard, immovable and retain their form after death. As
a fly cannot turn its head it has eyes in all directions. So small are
these eyes that 1,000,000 would not cover the surface of a square inch.
Each eye measures a thousandth part of an inch and the color is almost
always red.

Each of these eyes is a lens and photographs have been taken through
them. The lenses are of varying kinds--some suitable for looking off
at a distance, others for things close at hand. Occasionally with his
thousand eyes a fly is deceived. This is evidenced when a blue-bottle
inside a room heads for the open country. He does not see the window
glass and the thump with which he strikes and the angry buzz which
shows his discomfiture show how mistaken he was.

To prove there is nothing extraordinary in a fly's having 8,000 eyes
it is known that a certain beetle owns 50,016 eyes; a certain butterfly
34,710, a common dragonfly 25,088, and a silkworm moth 12,500.


NOTES ON ANIMALS.--The insect effects its breathing, not as men and
animals do, by the lungs, but through openings in all sides of the
body. It has an intricate system of tubes running through all parts of
its person, through which the air is brought in contact with the legs,
wings, and so on. These tubes are each protected by delicate membranes.
In the fly there exist certain air pouches in addition to the tubes,
which serve as reservoirs of air.

It is generally supposed that instinct unerringly teaches birds and
insects the best way in which to build their homes or nests, and also
to provide for their offspring. The following incident, recently
under personal observation, will show that instinct is not always
infallible, says the _Scientific American_: "A friend placed three
small empty vials in an open box on a shelf, in an upright position in
close contact, and they were uncorked. A short time afterward it was a
matter of surprise to find that these had been appropriated by a female
mud wasp. She had placed a goodly number of spiders in the center
vial, doubtless intended to serve as food for her future brood, then
proceeded to deposit her eggs in those on either side. She next closed
tightly the mouths of all three receptacles with a hard lime cement.
Having finished her work, she then doubtless went on her way, satisfied
all had been done for her offspring that a thoughtful mother could do.
But just think of the sensations of those little wasps when they come
into existence, for, while starving in their sealed cages, they can
plainly see, through the impenetrable glass walls, the bountiful supply
of food which was provided for their use."

       *       *       *       *       *

It has been supposed that the swallow is more rapid in its flight than
almost any winged creature, but the dragonfly easily outwings it. An
observer of insect life relates an account of a chase between a swallow
and an immense dragonfly, in which the contest lasted a long time. The
swallow evidently had hopes of catching the insect, but finally, after
a long campaign, gave it up and let the fly escape. It has been claimed
that the dragonfly was such a voracious devourer of mosquitoes that
these small pests were thrown into a panic if a dragonfly approached
them. It was declared that a fly confined in a room would speedily
clear it of mosquitoes, but repeated experiments failed to substantiate
this claim.

       *       *       *       *       *

The dragonfly possesses the unique faculty among winged creatures,
birds or insects, of flying backwards and forwards and sideways without
turning its body. There are very few insects that the swallow, with
its marvelous speed and dexterity, cannot catch, but the dragonfly is
one them. The dragonfly without any apparent trouble, will keep a few
feet ahead of a swallow for half an hour at a stretch, and no matter
how swiftly the swallow flies, the dragonfly is never just there when
it makes its swoop. This is because the swallow has to turn its body,
while the dragonfly only reverses its wings.

       *       *       *       *       *

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

       *       *       *       *       *

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


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

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

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

       *       *       *       *       *

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




OPOSSUM.

(_Didelphys virginiana._)

SHAW.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  [Illustration: OPOSSUM.
                 1/8 Life-size.
                 FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.
                 COPYRIGHT 1900, BY
                 A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO.]




SOMETHING ABOUT DOGS.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

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

       *       *       *       *       *

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

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




EASY LESSONS IN EVOLUTION.


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

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

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




THE CECROPIA MOTH.

REST H. METCALF.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




THE GENISTA.

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  [Illustration: GENISTA.
                 COPYRIGHT 1900, BY
                 A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO.]




WHERE VEGETABLES CAME FROM.


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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nonsense!" ejaculated the amazed market man.

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

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

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

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




BIRDS AND FARMERS.


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

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

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




FISH HAVE FAVORITE HAUNTS.


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

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




SILLIEST BIRD IN THE WORLD.


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

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




THYME.

(_Thymus Serpyllum L._)

DR. ALBERT SCHNEIDER, Northwestern University School of Pharmacy.

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  [Illustration: THYME.
                 FROM KOEHLER'S MEDICINAL-PFLANZEN.
                 CHICAGO:
                 A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER.]

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




A CURIOUS SURVIVAL.

ELLA F. MOSBY.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

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

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




  [Illustration: RAVEN.
                 1/3 Life-size.
                 FROM COL. F. KAEMPFER.
                 COPYRIGHT 1900, BY
                 A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO.]

THE RAVEN.

(_Corvus Corax._)


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




WILD FLOWERS OF MAY.


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


WHITE BLOOM.

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


YELLOW BLOOM.

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


PINK BLOOM.

Twisted stalk. Wild pink.


ORANGE AND RED BLOOM.

Lousewort.


BLUE AND PURPLE BLOOM.

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


MISCELLANEOUS.

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

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




RICE PAPER.


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

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

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

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




GOOD UNCLE TO ANTS.


A kindly old English gentleman, Sir John Lubbock, Bart., is no more.
He is not dead, but has ceased to be a plain baronet, as were his
father, grandfather, and great-grandfather before him. Now he is a peer
of the realm, and he is called Lord Avebury. The new honor, lately
conferred by the Queen, Sir John probably owes to his great services
in Parliament, for he is not only the owner of a big bank in London,
and a distinguished financier, but also a representative in the English
Parliament of the University of London. In both fields his work for his
fellow men has been such as to merit well an honor which all Englishmen
are supposed to desire.

But we in America shall always remember him not as Lord Avebury, but
as plain Sir John Lubbock, a man who probably knows more than any
other in the world about the habits, nature and instincts of insects,
especially of ants, bees and wasps, of which he has written more than
one interesting book.

       *       *       *       *       *

What the world needs for its happiness is more work, more achievement.
Nature, which is never at rest, sets a superb example, not only of
unceasing industry, but of exquisite workmanship. For not a beetle
crawls along the ground but has a burnished back of ebony or jeweled
green; not a weed by the roadside goes to seed but hides its promise
of next year's blossom in a pod of fairy delicacy; not a spider-web
glitters in the sun that is not marvelous in its structure. If only the
world could be more conscious of "the Master of all good workmen" there
would be less heartache than there is.

    "Some little nook or sunny bower,
    God gives to every little flower."




A FLOATING SNAIL.


There is a small snail which is so fond of the sea that it never comes
to land, and it builds such a capital boat for itself and its eggs that
while large ships are sinking and steamers are unable to face the storm
it tosses about in perfect safety, says the Philadelphia _Press_.

The little snail is of a violet color and is therefore called Ianthina.
It has a small shell and there projects from the under part of the body
a long, tongue-like piece of flesh. This is the raft, and it is built
upon most scientific principles, for it has compartments in it for air.
It is broad and the air compartments are underneath, so that it cannot
capsize.

Moreover, the snail knows how to stow away its cargo, for the oldest
eggs and those which hatch the soonest are placed in the center and the
lightest and newest on the sides of the raft. The Ianthina fills its
own air compartments by getting a globule of air underneath its head,
the body is then curved downward beneath the raft, and, the head being
tilted on one side, the air rushes in and fills the spaces. It feeds on
a beautiful little jelly fish, which has a flat, raft-like form with a
pretty little sail upon it, and they congregate in multitudes when the
sea is calm.

Sometimes specimens are washed upon the northwestern coast of France,
and when they are handled they give out a violet dye.




EGYPTIAN TREES FOR AMERICA.


Here is a new kind of tree with which people in some parts of the
United States will probably celebrate Arbor Day after a while. In
Southern California, Arizona and some parts of Texas, and, generally
speaking, in the southwestern portion of this country, are great
tracts of land without a solitary tree. The government has at last
found a tree which it is believed will grow and thrive in these warm,
dry climates, and has imported seeds and settings with which to make
experiments. It is called the lebbek tree and is a native of Egypt. It
grows to a large size and has a thick foliage, with compound leaves
like those of the honey locust. The bark makes good dye stuff and the
wood is fair timber. One of the avenues leading to the great Pyramids
is lined with these trees for a distance of four miles. They form a
complete arch and the shade is so dense that no sun ever reaches the
roadway beneath. In India these trees are called the Siris trees. They
grow wild in the forest and their trunks attain a circumference of nine
feet.

Their adaptability to the dry sections of the United States was
discovered and reported upon by David G. Fairchild, one of the
explorers for the agricultural department at Washington. The lebbek
tree is a deep feeder and therefore is expected to thrive on the moist
subsoil found at great depths even in the American desert.




INDEX.

VOLUME VII.--JANUARY, 1900, TO MAY, 1900, INCLUSIVE.

Figures in Black-Faced Type Indicate Illustrations.

  Across the Way, 205

  A Curious Survival, 233

  A Glimpse of Beautiful Pictures, 209

  A Good Uncle to Ants, 239

  Air, Liquid, 37

  Animals as Patients, 162

  Animals, Danger from Importation of, 41

  Animal Pets in School, 108

  April, 145

  A Scrap of Paper, 59

  A Tragedy in Three Parts, 175


  Bird, A Brigand, 176

  Birds and the Weather, 29

  Birds and Reptiles Related, 188

  Birds and Farmers, 228

  Birds, A Strange House, 167

  Birdland Secrets, 157

  Birds, Migratory, 204

  Bird Notes, 19

  Birds, Snow, 79

  Birdlife in India, 187

  Birds, Snow Prisons of, 164

  Birds, The Wise Little, 7

  Birds, Taming, 103

  Birds, The We May Hear Sing, 193

  Bird, The Dead, 199

  Bird, The Silliest, 229

  Bison, The American, 42

  Bittern, The American, =146=

  Blackbird, The Yellow-Headed, =15= 14

  Blood-root, =178= 179

  Boar, The Brave, 120

  Bobby's Cottontail, 67

  Brook, The, 176

  Butterfly's History, 197


  Carbons, =82= 83

  Chickadee, The, 168

  Chippy, A Baby Mocking Bird, 155

  Cotton Fabrics, 5

  Cotton Textiles, 53

  Coues, The Late Dr. Elliott, 65

  Cup, The Scarlet-Painted, 92


  Daisy, The Field, 199

  Dictionary, Bailey's, 109

  Digitalis, =173= 170

  Dogs, Something About, 221

  Dove, Ring-Necked, =212= 212

  Dove, The Turtle, 44

  Dove, The. Noah's Messenger, 25

  Duck, The Ruddy, =118= 119

  Duck, The Ring-Billed, =166= 167


  Easter Egg, Origin of, 151

  Easter Lilies, 152

  Egrets, The Young, 137

  Egyptian Trees for America, 240


  Fabrics, Linen, 113

  February, 85

  Fish Have Favorite Haunts, 229

  Fishing, Uncle Nick on, 194

  Flowers, Wild of May, 236

  Forest, A Submerged, 200

  Forest, Moral Value of, 152

  Fruit Bats in the Philippines, 173


  Genista, The, =226= 224

  Geography Lessons, 73

  Getting Acquainted with the Teacher, 121

  Goose Plant in Bloom, 210

  Gopher, The, =70= 71

  Grosbeak, The Blue, =182=


  Hans and Mizi, 72

  Heron, A Baby, 49


  Illuminations, Strange, 30

  Ibis, The Scarlet, =154= 155

  I Know Not Why, 119

  In the Old Log House, 158

  Ireland's Lost Glory, 188


  January, 1

  Jay, Steller's, =111= 110

  Johnny Appleseed, 211


  Killdeer, The, =51= 50


  Lily of the Valley, =46= 47

  Lark, Song of the, 101

  Licorice, =87= 86


  Magpie, =195= 197

  March, 103

  Marked with Bleeding Hearts, 44

  Martin, The Purple, =207= 206

  May, 193

  Minerals, Common and, =38=

  Minerals, Common and, =82= 83

  Minerals, Common and, =142= 139

  Mink, The, =75= 74

  Mole Cricket Lodge, 78

  Monkeys as Gold Finders, 173

  Moth, The Cecropia, 223

  Mushrooms on Benches, 48

  Muskrat, =122=


  Naturalist, The Young, 36

  Naturalist, The Young, 95

  Naturalist, The Young, 143

  Naturalist, The Young, 185

  Naturalist, The Young, 215

  Nut-Hatch, Red-Breasted, =202= 203


  Odd Places Chosen, 182

  Old Year and Young Year, 1

  Opossum, =219= 218

  Ores, Common Minerals and, =38=

  Ores, Common Minerals and, =82= 83

  Ores, Common Minerals and, =142= 139

  Our Feathered Neighbors, 181

  Our Little Martyrs, 146


  Paper, Rice, 239

  Partridge, The Call, 180

  Peacock, The, 98 101

  Plants, Strange, 175

  Poppy, The, =128=

  Primrose, The, =135= 134

  Ptarmigan, The Willow, =106= 107


  Quail, The Massena, =158=

  Quince, The, =34= 35


  Rail, The Clapper, =62=

  Rail, The Virginia, =3= 2

  Raven, The, =235=

  Reflections, 169

  Robin's Mistake, 24


  Shells, The Rock, =190= 191

  Some Early Risers, 212

  Sparrow, Not a Falleth, 125

  Sparrow, The English, 97

  Sponges, 138

  Snail, A Floating, 240

  Songs, Remembered, 13

  Southward Bound, 20

  Spider, The Grasshopper, 8

  Spring, The Herald of, 102

  Spring, The Procession of, 145

  Spring Has Come, 192

  Squirrel, The Black, =22= 23

  Stump, The Gray, 12


  Tansy Cakes, 180

  Teal, The Blue-Winged, =10= 11

  Teal, The Cinnamon, =58= 59

  The Country! The Country!, 68

  The New Sport, 77

  The Pink House in the Apple Tree, 31

  The Swinging Lamps of Dawn, 62

  The Treating of Whitey, 127

  Thyme Plant, The, 230 =231=

  Tree, The Sorrowful, 44

  Tree, The Triplet, 163

  Trees, Planting The, 150

  Trees, Countries Devoid of, 163


  Vegetation in the Philippines, 80


  Warbler, The Sycamore, 116

  Washington's Monument, 96

  Weasel, The, =27= 26

  Where Vegetables Came From, 226

  Wings, 119

  With Open Eyes, 17

  Woods, A Winter Walk in the, 90




GENERAL INDEX VOLS. I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII.

Boldface figures indicate color-illustrations.

  Acorns, Two. Vol v, 210

  Across the Way. Vol vii, 205

  A Curious Survival. Vol vii, 233

  African Folk Lore. Vol iv, 12

  A Glimpse of Beautiful Pictures. Vol vii, 209

  Ah, Me! Vol iv, 113

  A Good Uncle to Ants. Vol vii, 239

  Air, Liquid. Vol vii, 37

  Alaska, Birds of. Vol iv, 95

  Almond. Vol v, =27=, 26
    Flowering. Vol iv, =195=, 193

  All Nature. Vol iv, 37.

  Anhinga or Snake Bird. Vol ii, =26=, 27

  Animal Pets in School. Vol vii, 108
    World, In the. Vol iv, 136

  Animals and Music. Vol iv, 159
    Among. Vol v, 185
    as Patients. Vol vii, 162
    Pet, as Causes of Diseases. Vol vi, 26
    Count? Can. Vol iv, 180
    Danger from Importation of. Vol vii, 41
    Hibernation of. Vol v, 84
    Rights. Vol iv, 225
    Some Propensities of. Vol iv, 81
    Taming the Smaller Wild. Vol v, 127
    The Talk of. Vol iv, 140
    Water and. Vol iv, 84
    When, are Seasick. Vol vi, 192

  Antelope, The Pigmy. Vol iv, =94=, 95

  Apple Blossoms. Vol iv, 35
    Blossom Time. Vol iii, 153

  April. Vol vii, 145

  Arbutus, The Trailing. Vol v, 229

  Armadillo. Vol iv, =147=, 146
    as a Pet. Vol iv, 12

  A Scrap of Paper. Vol vii, 59

  Athena, The Birth. Vol v, 29

  A Tragedy in Three Parts. Vol vii, 175

  Audubon. John James. Vol ii, 161
    Society, One. Vol iii, 234

  Autumn. Vol iv, 132

  Aviaries. Vol iii, 121

  Avocet, American. Vol ii, =15=, 14

  Azalea, The. Vol v, =142=, 143

  Azamet, the Hermit, and His Dumb Friends. Vol iv, 33


  Babies, Wee. Vol vi, 161

  Baboon. Vol v, 217, =218=

  Bat, Black. Vol iv, =170=, 171
    Red. Vol iv, =170=, 171
    Hoary. Vol v, =166=, 167

  Bats in Burmese Caves. Vol vi, 32
    Tame. Vol iv, 168

  Bee and the Flower. Vol vi, 164

  Bees, About. Vol v, 17

  Beetles. Vol vi, =94=, 92

  Bird, A Brigand. Vol vii, 176
    A Little. Vol iv, 162
    A Strange, House. Vol vii, 167
    Courtships. Vol iv, 164
    Day. Vol iii, 82

  Bird Day in Schools. Vol i, 123

  Birdland Secrets. Vol vii, 157

  Bird Life, Destruction of. Vol v, 109
    in India. Vol vii, 187

  Bird Lovers, Some. Vol iii, 81
    Lovers, Two. Vol vi, 212
    Miscellany. Vol ii, 195, 235
    Notes. Vol vi, 187
    Notes. Vol vii, 19
    of Paradise, The King. Vol iv, 124, =126=, 127
    Only a. Vol iii, 73
    Study, The Psychology of. Vol vi, 53
    Superstitions. Vol iii, 172, 132
    Song. Vol i, 187
    Song. Vol ii, 1, 41, 81
    Songs of Memory. Vol iii, 124
    Study, The Fascination of. Vol iii, 164
    The Flown. Vol vi, 61
    The Mound. Vol iii, 114
    The Dead. Vol vii, 199
    The Silliest in the World. Vol vii, 229
    The, We May Hear Sing. Vol vii, 193
    The Wise Little. Vol vii, 7
    Worth Its Weight in Gold. Vol. vi, 206

  Birds, Accidents to. Vol vi, 77
    and Animals of the Philippines. Vol iv, 48
    and Farmers. Vol i, 213
    and Farmers. Vol vii, 228
    and Ornithologists. Vol vi, 80
    and Reptiles Related. Vol vii, 188
    and the Weather. Vol vii, 29
    Answer. Vol iii, 83
    as Shepherds. Vol v, 20
    Carry Seeds, How. Vol v, 37
    Defense of Some. Vol v, 211
    Foreign Song, in Oregon. Vol iii, 123
    Foretell Marriage. Vol iv, 16
    Gathered His Almond Crop. Vol vi, 228
    Hints on the Study of Winter. Vol iii, 109
    Honey. Vol vi, 116
    in Captivity. Vol ii, 121
    Interesting Facts About. Vol iii, 100
    in the Schools. Vol iii, 20
    in Garden and Orchard. Vol iv, 153
    in Storms. Vol iv, 163
    in the Iliad. Vol iv, 234
    in Town. Vol vi, 89
    Migratory. Vol v, 37
    Migratory. Vol vii, 204
    Mentioned in the Bible. Vol iv, 48
    Mounting of. Vol vi, 86
    Nebraska's Many. Vol vi, 84
    of Alaska. Vol iv, 95
    of Bethlehem. Vol ii, 223
    of Passage. Vol ii, 173
    of Prey, Useful. Vol iv, 88
    Pairing in Spring. Vol iii, 189
    Reasoning Powers of. Vol. iv, 43
    A Strange House. Vol. vii, 167
    Sleeping-places of. Vol iv, 164
    Snow. Vol vii, 79
    Snow Prisons of. Vol vii, 164
    Story of. Vol ii, 224
    Taming. Vol vii, 103
    That Do Not Sing. Vol v, 188
    The Return of the. Vol i, 101
    Traveling. Vol vi, 73
    Twilight. Vol vi, 67
    Wild, in London. Vol iv, 92
    Young Wild. Vol vi, 71

  Birdland, Stories from. Vol vi, 229
    The Tramps of. Vol vi, 195

  Bison, The American. Vol vii, 42

  Bittern, Least. Vol iii, =46=, 47
    The American. Vol vii, =146=

  Black Bird, Red-Winged. Vol i, =69=, 64, 71

  Black Bird, The Yellow-Headed. Vol. vii, =15=, 14
  Blood-root. Vol vii, =178=, 179

  Blue Bird. Vol i, =79=, 75, 78, 86
    Mountain. Vol ii, _203_, 205
    The. Vol v, 181
    The First. Vol v, 181

  Boarder, A Transient. Vol v, 101

  Boar, The Brave. Vol vii, 120

  Bobolink. Vol i, 92, 93, =94=

  Bobby's Cottontail. Vol vii, 67

  Bobolink. Vol vi, 215

  Bobolink's Song. Vol iv, 61

  Bob White. Vol iii, 16, =18=, 19, 24

  Boy, What the Wood Fire Said to the Little. Vol vi, 173

  Brazil Nut. Vol v, =27=, 26

  Brook, A Book by the. Vol iv, 39

  Broock, The. Vol vii, 176

  Buddha, The Youth of. Vol iii, 237

  Bunting, Indigo. Vol i, =172=
    Lazuli. Vol ii, =198=, 196, 199

  Butterflies. Vol iv, =22=, =63=, =103=, 103, =145=, =183=, 223
    Love to Drink. Vol iv, 182
    are Protected? How. Vol iv, 62

  Butterfly, The. Vol iv, 142
    Trade, The. Vol iv, 22

  Butterfly's History. Vol vii, 197

  Butternut, The. Vol v, =94=, 96


  Cactus. Vol iv, =210=, 211

  Canaries. Vol iv, =166=, 167

  Canon of the Colorado, The Grand. Vol vi, 106, 107, 120

  Captives Escape. Vol ii, 116

  Carbons. Vol vii, =82=, 83

  Catbird. Vol i, =186=, 183, 184

  Charity, The, of Bread Crumbs. Vol v, 115

  Charley and the Angleworm. Vol vi, 12

  Chat, Yellow-Breasted. Vol iii, =238=, 236, 239
    Yellow-Breasted. Vol iv, 149

  Cheeper, A Sparrow Baby. Vol vi, 103

  Chestnut. Vol v, =27=, 26

  Chewink. Vol vi, =158=

  Chickadee, Black-Capped. Vol i, 161, =165=, 168
    The. Vol vii, 168

  Child-Study Literature, A Contribution to. Vol vi, 85

  Chimney Swift. Vol ii, =131=, 133

  Chimpanzee. Vol i, 1, =2=

  Chipmunk, The. Vol vi, =177=, 179

  Chippy. A Baby Mocking Bird. Vol vii, 155

  Christmas Once, Is Christmas Still. Vol vi, 223
    Trees. Vol iv, 220

  Christmas, Where Missouri Birds Spend. Vol iii, 84

  Cineraria. Vol v, =236=

  Cloves. Vol v, =121=, 122

  Coca. Vol vi, =202=, 203

  Cocoa-nut. Vol v, =94=, 95

  Cock of the Rock. Vol i, =19=, 21

  Cockatoo Rose. Vol iii, 29, 30, 31

  Coffee. Vol. v, 197, 204-210, 207

  Color Photographs and Conversation Lessons. Vol iv, 194

  Color Photograph, A Study of the. Vol. vi, 216

  Common Minerals and Valuable Ores. Vol. vi, =189=, 191

  Constantinople, From. Vol iv, 158

  Contentment. Vol iii, 163

  Cony, The. Vol v, =202=, 203

  Coot, American. Vol iii, 98, 96, 99

  Cotton Fabrics. Vol vii, 5
    Textiles. Vol vii, 53

  Count, Can Animals? Vol. iv, 180

  Coues, The Late Dr. Elliott. Vol vii, 65

  Cowbird. Vol vi, =224=

  Coyote. Vol iv, =50=, 51

  Crane, Sandhill. Vol v, =46=, 47
    Queer Doings of a. Vol iii, 44

  Creeper, Brown. Vol iii, 212, =214=, 215

  Crossbill, American. Vol i, 126, =127=

  Crow, American. Vol i, 97, =98-, 100

  Cruelty, The Badge of. Vol vi, 128

  Crusade, The Feather. Vol v, 221

  Cuba and the Sportsman. Vol vi, 140

  Cuckoo, Yellow-bellied. Vol ii, =95=, 94

  Cup, The Scarlet-Painted. Vol vii, 92


  Daisy, The Field. Vol vii, 199

  December. Vol vi, 229

  Dickcissel. Vol iii, 146, =147=, 149

  Dictionary, Bailey's. Vol vii, 109

  Digitalis. Vol vii, =173=, 170

  Dog, The Pointer. Vol vi, =51=, 49

  Dogs, Something About. Vol. vii, 221

  Dove, Ring-Necked. Vol vii, =212=
    The Turtle. Vol vii, 44
    The, Noah's Messenger. Vol vii, 25

  Dolphin, Bottlenose. Vol. iv, =134=, 135

  Dove, Mourning. Vol. ii, 111, =113=, Vol.iii, 204

  Doves of Venice. Vol. iv, 100

  Duck, Baldpate. Vol iii, =50=, 48, 51
    Black. Vol iii, =86=, 87
    Canvas-Back. Vol ii, =20=, 18
    Farms, Eider. Vol iii, 113
    Golden-Eye, American. Vol iv, =231=, 230
    Mallard. Vol ii, =11=, 10, 13
    Mandarin. Vol i, 11, 8, =9=
    Old Squaw. Vol iii, =223=, 225
    Pintail. Vol iii, =178=, 176, 179
    Red-Head. Vol iv, =151=, 150
    Ruddy. Vol vii, =118=, 119
    Ring-Billed. Vol vii, =166=, 167
    Wood. Vol. ii, =21=, 23, 24


  Eagle, The. Vol v, =24=, 36
    Bald-headed. Vol ii, =3=, 2, 5

  Ears. Vol iv, 121

  Earth, How Formed. Vol vi, =111=, 110

  Easter Egg, The Origin of. Vol vii, 151
    Lilies. Vol vii, 157

  Egg Collecting. Vol v, 216
    What Is an. Vol iii, 60

  Eggs. Vol iii, 154, =155=, =195=, =235=
    Birds, Why and Wherefore of the Colors of. Vol vi, 152
    of the Birds Let Us Protect. Vol iii, 154

  Egrets, The Young. Vol vii, 137

  Egyptian Trees for America. Vol vii, 240

  Emperor's Bird's Nest, The. Vol vi, 48

  Eyes. Vol iv, 117


  Fabrics, Linen. Vol vii, 113

  Fashion's Clamor. Vol vi, 200

  Fashion, Spring. Vol v, 186.

  Feather, Changes in Color. Vol vi, 2

  Feathers. Vol v, 161
    or Flowers? Vol iii, 180

  February.
    Vol vii, 85
    Vol v, 73

  Fern, The Petrified. Vol. iv, 83

  Filbert. Vol v, =27=, 26

  Finch, Purple. Vol iii, =54=, 55

  Finns, Bird Lore of the Ancient. Vol vi, 186

  Fish Have Favorite Haunts. Vol vii, 229

  Fishing, Uncle Nick on. Vol vii, 194

  Flicker. Vol i, =89=, 90

  Flamingo. Vol ii, =221=, 218

  Flower, The Bee and the. Vol vi, 164

  Flowers,
    The Death of the. Vol iv, 189
    The Language of. Vol v, 74
    Use of. Vol iv, 34
    Wild, of May. Vol vii, 236
    With Horns and Claws. Vol v, 132

  Fly-catcher, Arkansas. Vol iii, =231=, 230
    Scissor-Tailed. Vol i, =161=, 163
    Vermillion. Vol ii, 193, 192

  Forced Partnership, A. Vol iii, 60

  Forests, Moral Value of. Vol vii, 152.

  Forest, A Submerged. Vol vii, 200

  Forests. Vol vi, =97=-102

  Foster Brother's Kindness. Vol iii, 194

  Fowls, Farm Yard. Vol vi, =118=, 119

  Fox, American Gray. Vol iv, 105, 106, =107=
    The Kit. Vol v, =182=
    Red. Vol iv, 66, =67=, 69

  Friend of the Birds. Vol iii, 43

  Fruit Bats in the Philippines. Vol vii, 173


  Gallinule, Purple. Vol i, =121=, 120

  Gameless Country, A. Vol iv, 229

  Genista. Vol vii, =226=, 224

  Geography Lessons. Vol vii, 73

  Getting Acquainted With the Teacher. Vol vii, 121

  Ginger. Vol v, =50=, 49

  Gnatcatcher, Blue-gray. Vol iii, =94=, 95

  God's Silence and His Voices Also. Vol v, 222

  Goldenrod. Vol iv, =155=, 154, 230

  Goldfinch, American. Vol ii, =128=, 129, 130

  Goose, Canada. Vol iii, =210=, 208, 211
    White-fronted. Vol ii, =168=, 166, 169
    That Takes a Hen Sailing. Vol iii, 194
    Plant in Bloom. Vol vii, 210

  Gopher, The. Vol vii, =70=, 71

  Grackle, Bronzed. Vol ii, =230=, 228, 231

  Grape, The. Vol v, =178=, 179

  Grebe, Piedbilled. Vol i, =134=, =135=, 137

  Grosbeak, Evening. Vol ii, 68, =70=, 71
    Rose-Breasted. Vol i, =113=, 115
    The Blue. Vol vii, =183=, 182

  Grouse, Black. Vol ii, =220=, 217
    Dusky. Vol iii, =151=, 150
    Prairie Sharp-tailed. Vol iv, =166=, 167
    Ruffed. Vol i, =220=, 218, 221

  Gull, Bonaparte's. Vol v, =214=, 215
    Herring. Vol iv, =86=, 87
    Ring-billed. Vol i, =199=, 198


  Halo, The. Vol i, 150

  Hans and Mizi. Vol vii, 72

  Hare, Epitaph of a. Vol v, 98

  Hare, The Northern Prairie. Vol v, =106=, 107

  Hawk, John's. Vol vi, 42
    Marsh. Vol i, =159=, 158
    Night. Vol i, =178=, 175
    Red-shouldered. Vol iv, =98=, 96, 99
    Red-tailed. Vol vi, =208=, 209
    Sparrow. Vol iii, =105=, 106

  Helpless, The. Vol v, 72

  Hen Sailing, A Goose that Takes a. Vol iii, 194

  Heron, A Baby. Vol vii, 49
    Black-crowned. Vol i, =196=, 197
    Great Blue. Vol iii, =190=, 191
    Snowy. Vol ii, =38=, 39

  Hickory Nut. Vol v, =26=, 27

  Holly Tree, The. Vol v, 12

  Home, An Abandoned. Vol v, 150, 198
    Returning. Vol vi, 115

  How the Birds Secured Their Rights. Vol ii, 115

  Humming Birds. Vol iv, =216=, 218, 219
    Allen's. Vol ii, =210=, 211

  Humming Bird, A Rare. Vol vi, 145
    Ruby-throated. Vol ii, =97=, 100

  Humor, A Vein of. Vol v, 125

  Hyacinth. Vol v, =190=, 191


  Ibis, The Scarlet. Vol vii, =154=, 155

  Ibis, The White. Vol v, =70=, 71

  Ibis, White-faced Glossy. Vol iii, =226=, 227

  I Can But Sing. Vol iii, 186

  I Know Not Why. Vol vii, 119

  Illuminations, Strange. Vol vii, 30

  Indirection. Vol vi, 22

  In Orders Gray. Vol vi, 237

  Insect Life Underground. Vol vi, =92=, 94

  Instinct and Reason. Vol iv, 73

  In the Old Log House. Vol vii, 158

  Ireland's Lost Glory. Vol vii, 188

  Iris. Vol v, =74=, 75

  Iron Ores. Vol vi, =189=, 191


  January. Vol vii, 1

  Jay, American Blue. Vol i, =39=, 41

  Jay, Arizona Green. Vol i, =146=, 148
    Canada. Vol i, 116, =117=, 119
    Steller's. Vol vii, =111=, 110

  Jim and I. Vol vi, 149

  Johnny Appleseed. Vol vii, 211

  Junco, Slate-Colored. Vol ii, =153=, 155

  June. Vol iii, 201
    A Day in. Vol vi, 8


  Kangaroo. Vol v, =157=, 159

  Killdeer, The. Vol vii, =51=, 50

  Kingbird. Vol ii, =156=, 158
    Arkansas. Vol iii, =230=, 231

  Kingfisher, American. Vol i, 60, =61=, 63
    European. Vol ii, 188, =190=, 191

  Kinglet, Ruby-crowned. Vol ii, =108=, 110


  Lady's Slipper, The. Vol vi, =146=, 148

  Lark, The. Vol ii, 134

  Lark, Horned. Vol ii, =134=, 135
   Meadow. Vol i, 105, =106=, 108
   The Song of the. Vol vii, 101

  Lemon, The. Vol v, =13=, 15

  Licorice. Vol vii, =87=, 86

  Life in a Nest. Vol iii, 69

  Lilies, Water. Vol vi, =82=, 83

  Lily of the Valley. Vol vii, =46=, 47

  Lincoln, Washington and. Vol v, 60

  Little Billee, The Story of. Vol v, 41
    Busy Bodies. Vol v, 113

  Lion, African. Vol iv, =206=, 207

  Loon. Vol iv, =58=, 59

  Longspur, Smith's. Vol i. =123=, 125

  Lory, Blue Mountain. Vol i, =66=, 67

  Lost Mate. Vol ii, 126

  Lurlaline. Vol vi, 85

  Lyre Bird. Vol vi, =218=, 219


  Magpie. Vol vii, =195=, 197

  Mandioca. Vol vi, 72

  Marbles. Vol vi, =62=, 65

  March. Vol iii, 82
    Vol vii, 103
    and May. Vol v, 212

  Marked with Bleeding Hearts. Vol vii, 44

  Martin, The Purple. Vol vii, =207=, 206

  Maryland Yellow-throat. Vol vi, =214=, 215

  May. Vol vii, 193

  Mayflowers. Vol vi, 109

  Memory, Bird Songs of. Vol iii, 124

  Merganser, The Hooded. Vol v, =118=, 119
    Red-breasted. Vol ii, =54=, 55

  Midsummer. Vol iv, 65

  Minerals. Vol vi, =74=
    Vol vii, =38=
    Vol vii, =82=, 83
    Vol vii, =142=, 139

  Mink, The. Vol vii, =75=, 74

  Miscellany. Vol iv, 109

  Mississippi, The. Vol vi, 174

  Mistletoe, Myths and the. Vol iv, 212
    The. Vol v, =22=, 23

  Mole Cricket Lodge. Vol vii, 78
    Common American. Vol v, =133=, 134
    The Duck. Vol v, =80=, 82
    The Hairy-tailed. Vol v, =230=, 231

  Monkeys as Gold Finders. Vol vii, 173

  Moth, The Cecropia. Vol vii, 223

  Mot-Mot, Mexican. Vol i, =49=, 57

  Moths. Vol iv, 183

  Mocking Bird, American. Vol i, =192=, 193, 201.
    Vol iv, 61

  Mountain Lion. Vol v, =10=, 11

  Murre Brunnichs. Vol iii, =206=, 207

  Music, Color in. Vol iii, 161

  Mushrooms on Benches. Vol vii, 48

  Muskrat. Vol vii, =122=

  My Neighbor in the Apple Tree. Vol vi, 1


  Narcissus, The. Vol vi, =198=, 199

  National Council of Women. Vol i, 150

  Naturalist, The Young. Vol vii, 36, 95, 143, 185, 215

  Nature at First Hand. Vol v, 175
    Accordance of. Vol vi, 80
    Some Lovers of. Vol iii, 229
    Study and Nature's Rights. Vol iv, 176
    Study, How a Naturalist Is Trained. Vol vi, 41
    Study in the Public Schools. Vol vi, 79
    The Voice of. Vol iv, 136

  Nature's Adjustments. Vol iv, 41
    Grotesque. Vol iv, 149
    Orchestra. Vol iv, 161

  Nest, A Metal Bird's. Vol vi, 32
    A Winter. Vol ii, 192
    Story of a. Vol vi, 188

  Nests, Birds'. Vol iii, 204

  Nesting Time. Vol i, 149, 150

  Niagara Falls. Vol vi, =142=, 143

  Nightingale. Vol iii, 136, =138=, 139
    To a. Vol iii, 141

  Nonpareil. Vol i, =1=, 3, 15

  Noses. Vol v, 65

  Nutmeg. Vol v, =145=, 147

  Nuthatch, Red-breasted. Vol vii, =202=, 203
    White-breasted. Vol ii, =118=, 119

  Nuts. Vol v, =26=, 27


  Oak, The. Vol v, 134

  Oak, The Brave Old. Vol vi, 102

  Ocelot. Vol iv, 30, =31=

  October. Vol iv, 157

  Odd Places Chosen. Vol vii, 182

  Oil Wells. Vol vi, =122=

  Old Abe. Vol ii, 35

  Old Year and Young Year. Vol vii, 1

  Oologists, A Suggestion to. Vol vi, 20

  Opossum, The Crab-eating. Vol v, =58=, 59
    Vol vii, =219=, 218

  Optimus. Vol vi, 109

  Ores. Vol vi, =70=, 71
    Common. Vol vii, =38=, =82=, 83, =142=, 139

  Ornithological Congress, 1897. Vol ii, 201

  Oriole, Baltimore. Vol i, 205, 206, =207=
    Orchard. Vol i, 156, =157=
    Golden. Vol i, 34, =36=

  Osprey, American. Vol ii, 42, =43=, 45

  Ostrich. Vol iii, =166=, 167, 168

  Otter, American. Vol iv, 172, =174=, 175

  Our Neighbor. Vol iii, 203

  Our Feathered Friends. Vol vii, 181

  Our Little Martyrs. Vol vii, 146

  Ovenbird. Vol iii, =126=, 127
    The Golden Crowned Thrush. Vol vi, 90

  Owls. Vol v, 78

  Owl's Sanctuary, The. Vol v, 223

  Owl, The American Barn. Vol v, =154=, 155
    The Early. Vol iii, 12
    Long-eared. Vol i, 109, =111=, 112
    Sanctuary, The. Vol v, 223
    Screech. Vol i, =151=, 153, 154
    Saw-whet. Vol iii, 61, 62, =63=
    Short-eared. Vol iii, 25, 26, =27=
    Snowy. Vol i. 209, 210, =211=


  Paper, Rice. Vol vii, 239

  Paradise, Birds of. Vol iii, 140

  Paradise, Red Bird of. Vol i, 22, =23=, 25
    Kingbird of. Vol iv, 124, =126=, 127

  Park, Forest. Vol vi, 61

  Paroquet, The. Vol vi, 169
    The Carolina. Vol vi, =170=-173

  Parrakeet, Australian. Vol i, 16, =18=

  Parrot, Double Yellow-headed. Vol iii, 181, 182, =183=

  Parrot, King. Vol i, 50, =51=

  Partridge, Gambel's. Vol ii, =78=, 79
    Mountain. Vol iii, 34, =35=
    Scaled. Vol iii, 114, =115=
    The Call. Vol vii, 180

  Peach, The. Vol vi, 182, =183=

  Peacock, The. Vol v, 77
    The. Vol vii, 98, =101=

  Pea Nut. Vol v, 26, =27=

  Pecan. Vol v, 26, =27=

  Peccary. Vol iv, 128, =130=

  Perch, The Yellow. Vol vi, 86, =87=

  Pet, A Household. Vol iv, 52

  Petrel, Stormy. Vol iii, 88, =90=, 91, 92

  Pewee, Wood. Vol ii, 144, =146=, 147, 148

  Pheasant, Golden. Vol i, 12, =13=
    Japan. Vol i, =86=, 88
    Ring-Necked. Vol ii, 232, =233=
    Silver. Vol iii, 110, =111=

  Phalarope, Wilson's. Vol ii, =66=, 67

  Philippine Islands, Plant Products of. Vol vi, 115

  Phoebe. Vol ii, =106=, 107

  Pictures, The Influence of. Vol vi, 78

  Pigeon, Crowned. Vol iii, =6=, 7
    Passenger. Vol iii, 21, 22, =23=
    Passenger. Vol iv, 25

  Pigeons, The. Vol iii, 4

  Pine, The Edible. Vol v, =94=, 96

  Pineapple. Vol v, 110, =111=

  Plant, A Fly-catching. Vol vi, 29

  Plants, Strange. Vol vii, 175

  Pleas for the Speechless. Vol iii, 33

  Plover, Belted Piping. Vol ii, 174, =175=
    Golden. Vol iv, =178=, 179
    Semipalmated Ring. Vol ii, 6, =8=, 9
    Snowy. Vol iii, 70, =71=

  Pointer, The. Vol vi, 49, =51=

  Pokagon, Chief Simon. Vol v, 173

  Poppy, The. Vol vii, =130=, 128

  Porcupine, Canadian. Vol iv, 186, =187=

  Prairie Hen. Vol iv, =18=, 19
    Lesser. Vol iii, 74, =75=

  Primrose, The. Vol vii, =135=, 134

  Prophet, Ted's Weather. Vol vi, 180

  Ptarmigan, The Willow. Vol vii, =106=, 107

  Puffin, Tufted. Vol iv, =138=, 139

  Puma. Vol v, =10=, 11


  Quail, The Massena. Vol vii, =158=

  Quadrille, The Quails'. Vol v, 176

  Quarrel Between Jenny Wren and the Flycatchers. Vol v, 192

  Queer Relations. Vol iii, 233

  Quince, The. Vol vii, =34=, 35.


  Rail, The Clapper. Vol vii, =62=

  Rail, The Virginia. Vol vii, =3=, 2

  Rabbit, American. Vol iv, 26, =27=

  Raccoon, American. Vol iv, =90=, 91

  Rail, Sora. Vol ii, 46, =48=, 49

  Raven, The. Vol vii, =235=
    and the Dove. Vol vi, 36

  Red Bird, American. Vol i, 72, =74=

  Redbreast, Invitation to. Vol v, 158

  Reflections. Vol vii, 169

  Rhea, South American. Vol iii, =166=, 167, 168

  Robert and Peepsey. Vol vi, 221

  Robin, American. Vol i, 54, =55=, 59

  Robin's Mistake. Vol vii, 24

  Rocks, Terraced, Yellowstone Park. Vol vi, =110=

  Roller, Swallow-Tailed Indian. Vol i, 42, =43=

  Rooster, That. Vol vi, 132
    and Hen. Vol vi, =118=


  Sandpiper, Bartramian. Vol iii, =134=, 135

  Sandpiper, Least. Vol iv, 70, =71=

  Sandpiper, Pectoral. Vol iv, 114, =115=

  Sapsucker, Yellow-bellied. Vol ii, 137, =140=, 143

  Sap Action. Vol v, 54

  Science, Outdoor. Vol vi, 24

  Scoter, American. Vol ii, 32, =33=

  Sea Children, The. Vol vi, 79

  Seal, Threatened Extermination of the Fur. Vol vi, 181

  Seasick, When Animals are. Vol vi, 192

  Secrets of an Old Garden. Vol iv, 16

  Seminary for Teaching Bird How to Sing. Vol iv, 78

  Sheep, Mountain. Vol iv, =74=

  Shells and Shell Fish. Vol vi, =58=, 59

  Shells, The Rock. Vol vii, =190=, 191

  Ship of the Desert, The. Vol v, 37

  Shrike, Loggerhead. Vol i, 202, =203=

  Silk Worm. Vol iv, 222, =223=

  Skin. Vol v, 137

  Skunk, American. Vol iv, =233=

  Skylark. Vol ii, =61=, 63, 64. Vol iv, 176

  Snail, A Floating. Vol vii, 240

  Snake Bird (Anhinga). Vol ii, =26=, 27

  Snipe, Wilson's. Vol iv, =6=, 7

  Snowbirds. Vol ii, 170

  Snowflake. Vol ii, =150=, 151, 152

  Snowflakes. Vol iv, 229. Vol v, 89

  Some Early Risers. Vol vii, 212

  Songs Remembered. Vol vii, 13

  Songsters, About the. Vol iv, 21

  Southward Bound. Vol vii, 20

  Sparrow, English. Vol iii, 175. Vol ii, 206, =208=, 209
    Fox. Vol iii, =14=, 15
    New Champion for the. Vol iv, 135
    Song. Vol ii, 90, =91=, 93
    Not a, Falleth. Vol vii, 125
    The English. Vol vii, 97

  Spider, The Grasshopper. Vol vii, 8

  Sponges. Vol vii, 138

  Spoonbill, Roseate. Vol iii, 142, =143=, 145

  Sportsman, Cuba and the. Vol vi, 140
    The Bloodless. Vol iv, 39

  Spring, The Coming of. Vol v, 168
    Has Come. Vol vii, 192
    The Herald of. Vol vii, 102
    The Procession of. Vol vii, 145
    Thoughts. Vol iii, 185

  Springtime, A. Vol v, 156

  Squirrel, Black. Vol vii, =22=, 23
    Gray. Vol iv, 110, =111=
    European. Vol vi, =234=
    Flying. Vol iv, =214=, 215
    Fox. Vol iv, =54=, 55, 56
    Red. Vol iv, =14=
    The Hunted. Vol iv, 119
    Town. Vol iv, 4

  Squirrel's Use of His Tail, The. Vol v, 103
    Road. Vol iv, 44

  St. Silverus, Legend of. Vol vi, 228

  Stanton, Elizabeth Cady, Letter from. Vol vi, 77

  Stilt, Black-necked. Vol iii, =174=, 175

  Study, A Window. Vol v, 90

  Stump, The Gray. Vol vii, 12

  Summer, Indian. Vol vi, 176

  Summer Pool, The. Vol v, 218

  Swallow, Barn. Vol i, 79, =80=

  Swan, Black. Vol iii, 65, 66, =67=
    White. Vol vi, =82=, 84

  Symbol, A. Vol iv, 208


  Taffy and Tricksey. Vol vi, 17

  Tanager, Summer. Vol ii, =163=, 165

  Tanager, Red-rumped. Vol i, 30, =31=, 33
    Scarlet. Vol i, 214, =216=, 217

  Tansy Cakes. Vol vii, 180

  Tarsier, The. Vol v, 228

  Tea. Vol vi, =154=, 155

  Teal, The Blue-Winged. Vol vii, =10=, 11
    The Cinnamon. Vol vii, =58=, 59
    Green-winged. Vol ii, 213, 214, =215=

  The Country! The Country! Vol. vii, 68

  Tenants, The New. Vol iii, 37, 77, 117, 157, 197, 220

  Tern, Common. Vol iv, =46=, 47
    Black. Vol i, =103=, 104
    Caspian. Vol iv, 190, =191=

  Tess. Vol v, 1

  The New Sport. Vol vii, 77
    Pink House in the Apple Tree. Vol vii, 31
    Swinging Lamps of Dawn. Vol vii, 62
    Treating of Whitey. Vol vii, 127

  Thirty Miles for an Acorn. Vol iv, 29

  Thoughts. Vol iii, 146

  Thrush, Brown. Vol i, 82, 83, =84=
    Hermit. Vol ii, 86, =88=, 89
    The Hermit. Vol vi, 104
    The Water. Vol v, =226=, 227
    Wood. Vol i, 179, 180, =181=

  Thyme Plant. Vol vii, 230, =231=

  Titmouse, Tufted. Vol v, 97, =98=

  To a Water Fowl. Vol ii, 76

  Tongues. Vol v, 5

  Toucan, Yellow-throated. Vol i, 26, =27=, 29

  Towhee. Vol vi, 158-=161=

  Transplanting, A. Vol vi, 210

  Tree, The Sorrowful. Vol vii, 44
    The Triplet. Vol vii, 163

  Trees, Countries Devoid of. Vol vii, 163
    Planting the. Vol vii, 150
    Vol v, 233
    Awesome. Vol vi, 67
    Curious. Vol vi, 44
    and Eloquence. Vol vi, 30

  Trogon, Resplendent. Vol i, 4, =5=, 7

  Tropic Bird, Yellow-billed. Vol ii, 184, =186=, 187

  Trout, Brook. Vol vi, =135=, 137

  Trumpeters, The. Vol v, 120

  Turgenief, Ivan, Prose Poems of. Vol v, 180

  Turkey, Wild. Vol ii, 177, =180=, 183

  Turkey's Farewell. Vol iv, 162

  Turnstone. Vol ii, 170, =171=

  Turtle, The Geographic. Vol v, 62, =63=
    Snapping. Vol v, 38, =39=


  Vegetation in the Philippines. Vol vii, 80

  Verdin. Vol ii, =226=, 227

  Viceroy, Transformation of the. Vol vi, 185

  Vireo, Red-eyed. Vol iii, 8, =10=, 11. Vol v, 194

  Vireo, Warbling. Vol ii, 138, =141=
    Yellow-throated. Vol i, =189=, 191

  Voices. Vol iv, 201

  Vulture, California. Vol iv, 226, =227=
    Turkey. Vol ii, 72, =73=, 75

  Vultures, Vision and Scent of. Vol v, 163


  Walnut, The Black. Vol v, =94=, 96

  Walnut, English. Vol v, 26, =27=

  Warbler, Black-and-White Creeping. Vol i, 222, =224=

  Warbler, Blackburnian. Vol ii, =123=, 125

  Warbler, Black-throated Blue. Vol vi, =46=-48
    Bay-breasted. Vol iii, =170=, 171
    Blue-winged Yellow. Vol vi, =22=, 23
    Cape May. Vol v, 86, =87=
    Cerulean. Vol ii, 178, =181=
    Chestnut-sided. Vol vi, 38, =39=
    Golden-winged. Vol vi, 26, =27=
    Kentucky. Vol ii, 50, =51=, 53
    Magnolia. Vol iii, 186, =187=
    Maryland Yellow-throat. Vol vi, =214=, 215
    Mourning. Vol vi, =34=, 35
    Myrtle. Vol vi, 14, =15=
    Nashville. Vol v, 169, =171=
    Prothonotary. Vol i, 168, =169=, 171
    Sycamore, The. Vol vii, 116
    Western Yellow-throat. Vol vi, =10=, 11
    Yellow. Vol ii, =83=, 85

  Warning, A Timely. Vol v, 89

  Washington and Lincoln. Vol v, 60

  Washington's Monument. Vol vii, 96

  Water Fowl, To a. Vol ii, 76

  Wax Wing, Bohemian. Vol i, =140=, 141
    Cedar. Vol v, 193, =195=

  Weasel, The. Vol vii, =27=, 26

  We Believe It. Vol v, 109

  Where Vegetables Came from. Vol vii, 226

  Whippoorwill. Vol v, 2, =34=, 35
    The. Vol vi, 66

  White, Gilbert and Selbourne. Vol iii, 41

  Wild Animals, Taming the Smaller. Vol v, 127

  Wild Cat. Vol vi, =230=-233

  Wings. Vol vii, 119

  Winter Time. Vol vi, 212

  Wish-ton-wish. Vol vi, 162

  Winter's Walk, A. Vol iv, 221

  With Open Eyes. Vol vii, 17

  Wolf, Black. Vol iv, 8, =10=
    Prairie. Vol iv, =50=, 51

  Wood, Pewee. Vol. ii, 144, =146=, 147, 148

  Wood, The Edge of the. Vol vi, 68

  Woodchuck. Vol v, =130=, 131

  Woodcock, American. Vol ii, 28, =30=, 31

  Woodmen, Five Little. Vol v, 91

  Woodpecker, Arctic Three-toed. Vol iii, 128, =130=, 131
    California. Vol i, 130, =131=, 133
    Downy. Vol iii, 216, =218=, 219
    How It Knows. Vol vi, 144
    Ivory-billed. Vol iii, 101, 102, =103=
    Pileated. Vol vi, 217
    Red-bellied. Vol iii, 56, =58=, 59
    Red-headed. Vol i, 45, 46, =47=
    Story, Emerson and the. Vol v, 56

  Woods, A Winter Walk in the. Vol vii, 90

  Woods, Our Native. Vol vi, 205
    Polished. Vol vi, =130=, 131

  Wooing Birds' Odd Ways. Vol iii, 52

  Wren, House. Vol ii, 99, =101=, 104
    Long-billed, Marsh. Vol i, 142, =144=, 145
    The Envious. Vol iv, 185

  Wrens. Vol iii, 204


  Yellow Legs. Vol ii, 58, =60=




  +----------------------------------------------------------------- +
  | Transcriber's Note:                                              |
  |                                                                  |
  | Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.     |
  |                                                                  |
  | On page 230 this note appeared:                                  |
  |   "NOTE.--See illustration of _thyme plant_ on page 171 marked   |
  |   digitalis through error. For description of digitalis see page |
  |   170."                                                          |
  | A plate showing Thyme but labelled Digitalis appears in both     |
  | Vol. VII, No. 4, April 1900 (p. 171) and the current issue       |
  | (p. 231).  The plate on p. 171 was replaced with one showing     |
  | Digitalis and the caption for the plate on p. 231 was changed    |
  | to Thyme.                                                        |
  |                                                                  |
  | Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant |
  | form was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.    |
  |                                                                  |
  | Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.            |
  |                                                                  |
  | Mid-paragraph illustrations have been moved between paragraphs   |
  | and some illustrations have been moved closer to the text that   |
  | references them.                                                 |
  |                                                                  |
  | Italicized words are surrounded by underline characters,         |
  | _like this_.  Words in bold characters are surrounded by equal   |
  | signs, =like this=.                                              |
  |                                                                  |
  | The Contents table were added by the transcriber.                |
  |                                                                  |
  | The index contains links to articles in other issues of _Birds   |
  | and Nature_ magazine: Volume VII Number 1, January, 1900, Volume |
  | VII Number 2, February 1900, Volume VII Number 3, March 1900,    |
  | Volume VII Number 4, April 1900.                                 |
  |                                                                  |
  | Incorrectly alphabetized entries in the cumulative index were    |
  | not corrected.                                                   |
  +------------------------------------------------------------------+





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