in our hand-the last pledge of friendship, or | village in the vale, loving its own unbroken of love. Higher than this, memory hath no solitude; the blooming meadows, and the symbol; the heart no fuller utterance. shining river gladden in the sunshine; and On what simple things we set our affections the verdant sloping woodlands fringe the -yes, the little blue "forget-me-not" is a horizon round and round. We know every simple flower-often our happiness is made pathway that whitens in the green fields, up of what some deem trifles, yet in the warm the hawthorn where we have stood watchheart they grow and expand large and lovely, ing young nestlings in their downy home; and are the amaranths of the future. beneath is the tiny rippling brook, running in infantile haste under the loved violet banks, and among the primrose dells, onward tripping over the cool pebbles, hoping for rest in the dear old river that loiters in the sunset, waiting as a nurse for her darling. Here, the solemn overarching avenue, where two have strolled at stilly eventide, that blissful hour when the full heart was loath to speake love's eloquence; and so they two passed 'neath the pillared shade, "gazing into the brightness of each other's eyes;" yes, even there, upon yon birch-tree's silvern bark stands the me mento of a love, carved by a delicate hand,a hand that now holds ashes, ashes-and the voice is silent as that love. Aye, ye dear haunts of youth, memory revisits ye, and findeth all alike, as in the happy days of yore," alike, but, oh! how different." is And how much of the delights of memory do we not owe to the beauties of nature?even those who pass their days "in cities pent," connect the most treasured thoughts of the past with moonlight and evening breezes, or with the silent stars glorifying the heart in its joy, or shedding solace on the mourner, telling the lone heart of a home on high when earth is desolate. Nature never mocks us, though man and his works may; she answereth each one according to his voice, giving a gayer flush to happiness, a sadder hue to despondency; she mirrors us, echoes us, responds to us; to the gloomy her sunshine is gloom, to the happy her darkness peace. If memory to the dwellers in these wildernesses of bricks and mortar links itself with the things not made with hands, how highly must her pleasure be enhanced to those who live with nature face to face? How eloquent are nature's teachings! to lie on her bosom, a very bower of sweetness, and learn truths grand and holy; truths of which we never tire, canopied by the fair blue heavens, engirdled round "with sunny spots of greenery, and listening to the viewless lark, "hid in a glorious privacy of light," or wild bee humming in a foxglove bell, at such a time, at such a place, who has not felt indeed "it was a luxury-to be!" Blessed vocation of memory, to remember, to form anew, to recreate the phenomena of the material into the likeness of the spiritual. Thanks to the oneness of the human heart, the feelings, the emotions stirring the deeps of one find ready response and sympathy in many another: each human being is the type and mirror of every other. Memory and love are sisters unto all; the affections never speak in an unknown tongue. We all picture the past on the same canvas, use the same colours, paint the same forms, with merely a little variation in the disposition of the figures, or with deeper or lighter tinge in the scenery. Have we not all some chosen spot dedicated to memory, to which we return in after years? We wander amid the scenes of our childhood, the haunts of our youth, and find, alas!"'tis we, 'tis ours changed, not they." There lies the quiet are Hark! o'er the vale the "bell of peace,' ringing slowly, ringing faintly,-for a young child; they will lay her far from reach of summer's breath, and her small white hands together, praying there and smiling sweetly: so our thoughts of life are tinctured with the poppy bloom of death. Yet is not this the final chord of all the memories we most cherish-the sweet, yet sad wild music that haunts us in our quiet hours? Memories, happy or joyous, calm or sorrow-shaded, all arise, intermingled as the changing conflict of dark gloaming under-clouds, and the brilliant glinting fantasies-the gorgeous-coloured lights of the departing day. And now the shadows are gathering on the wooded hill-tops; scarce is the pale moon seen, although her attendant star, like a fair child beside her, shines brightly with the freshness of youth, innocent and untroubled; the winding river in the meadows tells of its presence only by the white mist curling upward, and the scent of the briar hedges and the new-made hay comes full and swect up the valley; stillness deepens, the strife is over: there is rest for man and nature; and as the eventide closes, we gaze upwards to the distant hills, where in the quiet west, "The last High upwards slant of sun upon the trees, NOTES AND QUERIES FOR NATURALISTS. THE SHELDRAKE (Tadorna Valpanser). Quietude, combined with the selection of a suitable spot for the purpose of incubation, appears to be one of the grand causes which determine the migration of birds, and this is strikingly illustrated with regard to the Anatide, or the various species of ducks which throng our shores at the approach of winter. A century ago, when the extensive fens of Lincolnshire and Cambridgeshire were yet undrained, thousands of marsh birds reared their young in the solitude of these morasses, and the wail of the curlew and the "booming" of the bittern were heard where the ploughman's voice now urges on his lazy team. Even now, wherever a suitable spot can be found, sufficiently retired to suit the tastes of these birds, it is generally found to be tenanted, and the only reason why they are not more frequently observed is owing to their retired habits at such seasons. and the difficulty of any human foot penetrating the recesses of these quagmires. With regard to the bird now before us, the penchant for migration appears to be at a somewhat low ebb, as the food upon which it subsists (crustacea and the fry of various fishes) is found at all seasons, and there is no necessity for the bird to wing its flight to distant shores at any period of the year; and the sheldrakes are, therefore, as numerous with us in the summer, when the other ducks are sought for in vain, as at any other period of the year. The sheldrake is a noble bird; for, next to the Muscovy duck, it is one of the largest of the tribe, and its colours, broken as they are into large spaces of black, cinnamon, and white, the black in the male being glossed with shining green reflections, render it one of the finest birds that adorn our waters. It is readily domesticated, and often breeds in confinement; but there is one sad drawback to its usefulness in the eyes of a gourmand, for its flesh is fishy and somewhat rank, an evil, however, which domestication would do much to cure. Wherever on any solitary part of the sea-coast the wanderer falls in with a long track of sandy plains, especially if a rabbit warren should chance to be there, he may be sure that he is not far from the habitation of the sheldrake. Of these burrows they take possession, but are exceedingly scrupulous in their selection of a lodging place. Having found one which affords the requisite accommodation, the female deposits from ten to fourteen eggs, which she wraps up, like the eider duck, carefully in a thin coating of down, plucked from her own body. Her faithful partner remains near her during nearly the whole of the day, quitting the spot only two or three times, to provide for his own wants, and when, for a short time in the evening and morning, the female betakes herself to the waters to procure her own food and plume her feathers, he takes his station on the nest, and keeps up the task of incubation. Their attachment to their young is very great, and in protecting them from the invasion of an enemy the female has recourse to the same charming artifice which characterises many other birds, such as the lapwing and the partridge, simulating lameness to draw off the intruder from her "callow brood." The specific name, vulpanser, or fox. goose, was given to it by the old naturalists, from its burrowing in the earth like that quadruped. BIRMINGHAM NOTES. On April 17th the Cuckoo was heard. On the same day swallows were seen at Solihull, A Wryneck was seen and killed on the 28th of April, Insects are rather scarce from the long winter; however Grapta c. Album was captured at Sutton on April 28th; doubtless this had hybernated safely, and was tempted forth by the fine genial day, as its time of appearance is much later in the season, and it is not an unusual occurrence for it to hybernate. Polyommatus Argiolus was taken at the same date. The Hawfinch was frequent near the town in the early spring; and Crossbills have been numer-comforting himself with the reflection that there ous in all the woody spots of our vicinity. is one snout the less to anticipate stray cabbagestalks, at any rate. The Herb Paris was gathered near the Lickey; and the Snow-flake at Bell Broughton. In the "Magazine of Natural History and Naturalist" for June, an instance is recorded of of the fieldfare nesting at Reddenhall. This is a matter of doubt, as the missel thrush is usually called in Norfolk "fullfar" for fieldfare, and the eggs and nest of the fieldfare never have been met with yet in this country. Can any correspondent aid this very interesting case, as it would be a grand point for our ornithologists and oologists to have this well authenticated? * We THE PIGS OF NEW YORK. Once more in Broadway! are going to cross here. Take care of the pigs. Two portly sows are trotting up behind the carriage, and a select party of half-a-dozen gentlemen hogs have just now turned the corner. There is a solitary swine lounging homeward by himself. He has only one ear, having parted with the other to vagrant dogs in the course of his city rambles; but he gets on very well without it and leads a roving, gentlemanly, vagabond kind of life, somewhat answering to that of our clubmen at home. He leaves his lodgings every morning at a certain hour, throws himself upon the town, gets through his day in some manner quite satisfactory to himself, and regularly appears at the door of his own house again at night, like the mysterious master of Gil Blas. He is a freeand-easy, careless, indifferent kind of pig, having a very large acquaintance among other pigs of the same character, whom he rather knows by sight than conversation, as he seldom troubles himself to stop and exchange civilities, but goes grunting down the kennel, turning up the news and smalltalk of the city in the shape of cabbage-stalks, and offal, and bearing no tails, but his own, which is a very short one, for his old enemies, the dogs, have been at that too, and have left him hardly enough to swear by. He is in every respect a republican pig, going wherever he pleases, and mingling with the best society, on an equal, if not superior footing, for everyone makes way when he appears, and the haughtiest give him the wall, if he prefer it. He is a great philosopher, and seldom moved, unless by the dogs before mentioned. Sometimes, indeed, you may see his small eye twinkling on a slaughtered friend, whose carcase garnishes a butcher's door-post; but he grunts out "Such is life; all flesh is pork," buries his nose in the mire again, and waddles down the gutter, They are the city scavengers, these pigs. Ugly brutes they are, having for the most part, scanty, brown backs, like the lids of old horsehair trunks; spotted with unwholesome black blotches. They have long, gaunt legs, too, and such peaked snouts that if one of them could be persuaded to sit for his profile, nobody would recognise it for a pig's likeness. They are never attended upon, or fed, or driven, or caught, but are thrown upon their own resources in early life, and become prematurely knowing in consequence. Every pig knows where he lives, much better than anybody could tell him. At this hour, just as evening is closing in, you will see them roaming towards bed by scores, eating their way to the last. Occasionally, some youth among them who has over-eaten himself, or has been much worried by dogs, trots shrinkingly homeward, like a prodigal son: but this is a rare case; perfect self-possession and self-reliance, and immovable composure, being their foremost attributes.-Dickens' American Notes. THE PORKER'S REVENGE. Here (St. Louis) as elsewhere in these parts, the road was perfectly alive with pigs of all ages, lying about in every direction, fast asleep, or grunting along in quest of hidden dainties. I had always a sneaking kindness for these odd animals, and found a constant source of amusement when all others failed, in watching their proceedings. As we were riding along this morning, I observed a little incident between two youthful pigs, which was so very human as to be inexpressibly comical and grotesque at the time, though, I dare say, in telling it is tame enough. One young gentleman (a very delicate porker with several straws sticking about his nose, betokening recent investigations in a dunghill), was walking deliberately on, profoundly thinking, when suddenly his brother, who was lying in a miry hole unseen by him, rose up immediately before his startled eyes, ghostly with damp mud. Never was pig's whole mass of blood so turned. He started back at least three feet, gazed for a moment, and then shot off as hard as he could go; his excessively little tail vibrating with speed and terror like a distracted pendulum: but before he had gone very far, he began to reason with himself on the nature of the frightful appearance, and, as he reasoned, he relaxed his speed by gradual degrees, until at last he stopped, and faced about. There was his brother, with the mud upon him glazing in the sun, yet staring out of the very same hole, perfectly amazed at his proceedings! He was no sooner assured of this; and he assured himself so carefully that one might almost say he shaded his eyes with his hands to see the better, than he came back at a round trot, pounced upon him, and summarily took off a piece of his tail, as a caution to him never to play tricks with his family any more.-Dickens' American Notes. A GOLD-COLOURED EEL. was seen that the kind and faithful old vixen was carrying one of her cubs in her mouth to keep it out of harm's way. As soon as it was observed what she was carrying the hounds were whipped off. THE WALRUS. In Dr. Kane's Arctic Explorations recently published, we find an account of the native There is, at this present time, to be seen alive, method of attacking the walrus, which the at the Horse and Groom, Beccles, a very singular Dr. describes as "measuring eighteen feet in specimen of an eel. It is about thirteen or four-length, having tusks thirty inches long, and teen inches in length, and of a bright golden uttering a moaning sound, between the mowing colour, similar to a gold fish. I have seen many of a cow and the deepest braying of the mas a bright coloured eel, but never anything ap tiff." proaching to the one I have mentioned. It was caught with an eel-pritch, in Oulton Broad, near Lowestoft.-J. F., 1859. CARRIER PIGEONS IN A NEW CAPACITY. The French paper, Journal de L'Inde et L' Oire, furnishes the following item: "The instinct possessed by carrier pigeons, which has been called into operation more for amusement than anything else, has just been taken advantage of by a physician in this vicinity, for purposes of great utility. A messenger came in great. haste to have him call upon a patient several miles off The doctor took one of his pigeons with him, and ordered the messenger to remain behind, and await the bird's return. The winged courier having been intrusted with a note at the patient's bedside, was back to his dove-cot in a few minutes; and the messenger having taken the note from its neck, obtained the medicines it prescribed, and in this manner saved time, which in pressing cases is always valuable." THE CUCKOO. Was heard in the neighbourhood of Canterbury on the 21st of April, when the hills around were white with snow.-1859. HABITS OF THE FOX. A gentleman possessed a number of fine turkeys, which usually roosted on the branches of some tall firs. Reynard had an eye to these, and resorted to the following stratagem to catch them. He first scratched the ground with his fore feet, and then the base of the tree itself, to draw their attention. He then ran round the tree in rapid rings. The turkeys, aware of their danger, followed his quick movements with their eyes, and became confused and dizzy. Two of the birds soon fell to the ground, and were instantly killed and borne off to the earth. ANSWERS TO QUERIES. HORSE VERSUS LION (pp. 295. 353).—I do not remember any instance of a conflict between a horse and a lion, but in the "Private Life of an Eastern King," published some time ago by Routledge; there is a most graphic account of a fight between a royal tiger and a ferocious stallion, called the "Man Eater," in which the former was completely vanquished. In the well-known attack by a tigress on the horses of the Exeter mail, the horse who was seized fought most gal lantly, and had he not been entangled in the har ness, would certainly have beaten off his as sailant.-BLANCHE ALSINGTON. THE OYSTER CATCHER (pp. 168, 227).—Will Blanche excuse us if we express a little incredulity as to the power of an oyster to hold fast between its closed valves so large a bird as the oystercatcher, especially in the struggle that must en sue as the tide rose over the drowning bird. Fishermen sometimes tell strange tales, and this is one of them. The story of dropping the mollusc from a con siderable height, in order to break its shell, also wants confirmation. We have heard it repeated several times, but our most reliable authorities do not endorse this perhaps popular belief. Dex terous as the bird is in extracting the wriggling worm from its hole in the earth, yet we are not prepared to give it credit for so much sagacity. There is a story told of an ancient philosopher who was killed by an oyster, we think it was, which a bird, mistaking his bald head for a stone, let fall thereon. This may be true, but we have not yet seen good and sufficient reason to remove it from the limbo of doubt in which cautious inquirers place a long list of, so called, natural history facts. We are, however, open to con viction, and only ask for evidence. Now we are upon the subject of the oyster-catcher let us place before our readers a pretty picture of its movements and appearance by Macgillivray :-"Should the one consider the sea-pie one of the most beautiful with great certainty by an oblique, tap with its of birds I could not much censure his taste. When bill. Bivalve shells, when closed, it opens by by the silver Dee, gliding rapidly along, amidst striking them at the hinge; and in the case of the corn fields, pastures, and fragrant back-woods cockle, holding the shell steady with its foot, and you hear a loud shrill cry, and, turning about, see wrenching with its bill as with a crowbar. When a pair winging their flight up the country, their the shores are flat, and of a retentive nature, so glossy black and pure white plumage contrasting that the surface remains covered with a small strongly with everything around, and their long stratum of water while the tide has ebbed, the vermillion beaks giving them a strange and oyster-catcher finds its prey readily, as the shells foreign aspect, they never fail to rivet your gaze. of the bivalves are then partially opened, and it Equally attractive are they when running about can insert its sharp wedge-shaped bill, and wrench on some grassy meadow, picking up an insect or a them asunder; but where the sand soon dries, and slug, then standing, and again advancing with there are no rocks in which limpets can be hid, quick, short steps, prettily tripping it among t follows the line of the water, both in its retreat gowans, then muttering their loud alarm-cries, and its advance; and in these cases is sometimes and flying off to a more distant place, or alighting caught in the waves, and floated out a little way, on the pebbly beach. No creature but man seems but it has the power of always gaining the land. to molest them, but of his advance they are From the quantity and closeness of its feathers it always suspicious, as good need they have to be." wades rather deep in the water; but as its toes are Yarrell says "Montague is certainly mistaken in not webbed, so that it can raise the body by any supposing that the oyster-catcher never quits the downward stroke of the feet, it cannot take wrong coast. Four examples are recorded to have been from deep wading."-H.G.A. shot at Godalming, which is many miles from the sea; I have known this bird killed as high up the Thames as Oatlands, which is at least fifty miles from the mouth of the river;" and he cites many other examples to show that it is not so exclusively a shore bird, as had been generally supposed. "In our north-eastern counties," says T. M. Grant, Esq., of Edinburgh, "the oystercatchers migrate into the interior every summer, and hatch their young on the dry gravel beaches which skirt the rivers, or on small islands of the same description. At Ballindulloch they are very numerous, and it is in a highland district, at least twenty miles from the sea. They arrive there from the first to the fifteenth of February, lay their eggs in April, making what can scarcely be called a nest, as it is a mere hollow scratched in the gravel, and the birds take their departure about the middle of August, a few perhaps lingering as late as the latter end of that month. When sea-flies appear in the interior at an early period of the year, the first of February is considered remarkably soon, the peasants expect that the spring will be mild and favourable." Mudie gives us the following particulars of the bird's mode of feeding, but says nothing, it will be observed, of breaking shells in the manner above alluded to:-"The shelled molluscs are the principal food of the oyster-catcher when on the shores, and from that it gets its name, although with us it feeds less upon oysters than on other species, as the oysters are generally beyond its depth; and, though it swims occasionally, it is not a diver. Limpets, muscles, and cockles, are common prize, with it. The former it can catch from the rocks QUERIES. Ants and Aphides.-Is it true that ants actually keep some of the tiny insects called aphides, as people keep cows, for the purpose of obtaining nutriment from a peculiar kind of fluid, which they collect or secrete; I have read that this is the case, but can scarcely believe it.-HENRY B. Age of Geese.-These birds, it is well known, live to a great age. There is a venerable gander at our farm which was well up in years when I was a boy, and I am now the wrong side of fifty. I have heard that the bird sometimes lives over a century, is there any well-authenticated instance of this ?-RUSTICUS. Fascination of the Snake-I suppose there can be no doubt that serpents have the power of arresting the flight of their intended victims by a kind of fascination, which prostrates their energies; but have they this power over human beings, or only creatures not gifted with reason? -INQUIRER. The Poison of Serpents.-Is it at all understood how this acts on the human system? I have not met with any explanation of the mode in which the poison entering into the circulation, through the wound infected by the fang, operates to produce its deadly effect.-A YOUNG MEDICAL STUDENT. has been answered respecting the power of the Horse, versus Wolf or Bear.-Now my query horse to resist the attack of a lion, I shall be glad to put another. Has the same animal ever been known to beat off a bear, or a number of wolves?-INQUIRER. Sagacity of Rats and Mice.-Numerous instances are recorded of the extraordinary sagacity manifested by the former of these animals; but I do not remember to have read of any which would lead us to suppose that the latter was more than commonly intelligent. Have any readers of the "Family Friend" done so ?-Mus. DOMESTICUS.. |