possible care occasionally justify the goodnatured smile of an "outsider," when shown triumphantly some valuable specimen by an enthusiastic botanist.

I tried for many years all the usual ways, "drying". papers, blotting-paper, etc., and changing the papers each day, till I once found a flower accidentally left in a book, and beautifully dried-a small blue campanula, one of the most difficult colours to preserve, and took the hint. I keep a library of old yellow novels, pamphlets, directories, etc., and dry all my smaller specimens in them, not putting more than five or six in each, and I find that they are compressed enough by tightening the books with elastic bands, three put on lengthwise, and four or five across the book, as tight as they can be put on. Then I place my books where there is a good draught (if possible on a sunny window-sill), putting under each end of the book a little prop so that the air circulates fieely round it, and I never open my book for a week, by which time the specimens are generally perfectly dry, and the colour wonderfully well preserved. Fingering the half-dried plants invariably spoils the colours, turning some almost black. In this way the plants dry much more quickly than in the usual plan of putting them in the soft drying-paper, which keeps moist.

The orchidaceous and other succulent plants are the most perplexing and difficult to deal with, but I have to some extent succeeded with them by the following plan. I cut the specimens across, and dry each part separately. In the stalk of the upper part, from the blossom down, I make a slight slit and placing a bit of blotting-paper on it press out the moisture with a small paper-knife; amongst the blossoms of the spike I put sundry small bits of white writing-paper, and shut up my book tightly, with not more than three orchids in it. The small bits of paper prevent the blossoms sticking together, and drying in a shapeless mass, and also keep the colour better. The other parts are easily dried by slitting the stalks as above mentioned; and the leaves also, by this method, do not become so black as is usual with orchids in drying, sometimes I have managed to keep them quite green.

I never dry large specimens of any sort without dividing them; it is easy to put the parts together again. The top of the plant, with its bunch of heavy buds and blossoms, effectually prevents the delicate leaves drying successfully.

Roses present a great difficulty, and such flowers as ox-eye daisies, etc. The rose I place on its face and use a number of "compresses" the size of the blossom, and each with a hole cut in the centre large enough to let the back through, till the compress is on a level with the top; the same with the ox-eye, only of course reversing the position of the blossom; such-like flowers are comparatively easy to settle, and one is amply rewarded by the outside florets remaining their full size, instead of being crumpled up to less than a quarter their length. I must add that

I dry my books most carefully after taking the specimens out of them.

Very large specimens I dry in piles of newspapers (a newspaper doubled in four is generally large enough for mine), with a stout pasteboard of the same size under and over, and the elastic bands tightly bound over all, and with plenty of sun and air it is most successful.

Perhaps all this sounds very troublesome, but it takes less time than changing the papers each day according to the old system, and will be found far better and satisfactory if properly carried out. T. GRIERSON.

NOTES ON THE FLORA OF BRAUNTON BURROWS, NORTH DEVON.

WHILST

on a visit to North Devonshire during the early part of August, I had an opportunity of spending a few hours on the botanically well-known Braunton Burrows, which I have seen described as a "sandy paradise of botanists," and perhaps my fellow-readers of SCIENCE-GOSSIP would be interested to know what plants I noticed there. The "burrows" consist of a tract of sand-dunes, forming a large portion of the delta of the rivers Taw and Torridge, extending probably five or six miles along the sea coast. For about a quarter of a mile inland from high-water mark the sand-hills are very sterile, their position being constantly altered by the action of the wind, the only vegetation that has been able to gain a footing being some tufts of very coarse grass, with a specimen here and there of prickly saltwort (Salsola kali), three or four species of spurge, including the sea spurge (Euphorbia paralia) and the Portland spurge (E. Portlandica), henbane (Hyoscyamus niger) and the hound's-tongue (Cynoglossum officinale). But a little further inland the flora is exceedingly luxuriant, for miles the Burrows are covered with some of the most beautiful and interesting of our native plants, including a number of species that are rare, and several peculiar to this particular district. Perhaps the most striking plant here is the viper's bugloss (Echium vulgare); many parts of the Burrows are literally gay with its intensely blue flowers, its relative the small bugloss (Lycopus arvensis) being also common. The rare sharp-fruited rush (Juncus acutus) forms here and there dense rigid patches, the stems are about four feet high, ending in exceedingly strong sharp points, the fruits are larger and harder than our other species of Juncus. Amongst the ranker kinds of vegetation I noticed the Gromwell (Lithospermum officinale), which had almost done flowering, but could easily be identified by its intensely hard white shining fruits, flea-bane (Inula dysenterica), sea-holly (Eryngium maritimum), which, strange to say, seems rare in this district, wild celery (Apium graveolens) and dyer's-weed (Reseda luteola).

In several places the well-known soap-wort, (Saponaria officinalis), so often found as an escape from cottage gardens, is extremely abundant, and grows very luxuriantly a considerable distance from

EGYPT AND GUIANA.

A COINCIDENCE.

HE study of the progress of mankind in the art

as indigenous here; Bentham says "perhaps really native on the coast of Devon and Cornwall."

Still further inland I saw a few plants of the wild clary (Salvia verbenaca), which is a fairly common plant in this part of North Devon; very fine specimens of the mullen (Verbascum thapsus), wild vervein (Verbena officinalis)—I could only find one plant; wild succory (Cichorium intybus), sheep's-bit (Jasione montana), and many other commoner, but equally beautiful plants. But it is in the boggy parts of the "Burrows" that the most interesting species occur. Between the hills in many places the soil, although consisting almost entirely of sand, contains so much moisture as to have quite a marshy character, and many marsh-loving plants grow luxuriantly. The sea-pansy (Viola Curtisii) is exceedingly abundant, its pretty little yellow flower is one of the gems of the 66 "Burrows"; this is considered by Bentham as a mere variety of V. lutea; it is intermediate between this and the garden pansy. The beautiful little bog pimpernel (Anagallis tenella) grows plentifully along with it, its pink flowers forming a pleasant contrast. The dwarf centaury (Erythræa pulchella); brook-weed (Samolus valerandi), the specimens of this plant are very small, usually about three inches high and often much less. The very rare yellow Bartsia (Bartsia viscosa) I only saw in one place, it grew along with the common red species (B. odentites). The stork's-bill (Erodium cicutarium) is one of the commonest plants on the " Burrows," varying much in size according to the nature of the situations. I also saw the milk-wort (Polygala vulgaris), sealavender (Statice limonium), thrift (Armeria maritima), and the stinking iris (Iris fœtidissima); the latter plant was in fruit. These are only a very few out of a great many commoner plants I noticed in the few hours I spent in the district; probably had I time for another visit, I might have noticed many other species.

I may add that this is the only British station for the roundheaded club-rush (Scirpus holoschenus); it is said to be plentiful on the " Burrows," but I was disappointed in not finding it. The sea-stock (Matthiola sinuata), bastard pimpernel (Centunculus minimus), sea-knotgrass (Polygonum maritimum) and marsh helleborine (Epipactus palustris), are also recorded for Braunton Burrows.

I think I have said sufficient to show that this station would be well worth a visit from any of the botanical readers of SCIENCE-GOSSIP who may be spending a holiday in Devonshire.

Birmingham.

JOHN COLLINS.

to the student of science; any detail, therefore, which bears upon the art, adds one more link to the chain of knowledge.

Referring to the native Indians of the South American Continent, and more especially to the inhabitants of the vast regions of Guiana, it has been noted as a very remarkable coincidence, that the decorative patterns which frequently ornament the borders of the "Simarri" or grater (a flat slab of wood, surfaced with a resinous gum, embedded with numerous small pieces of flint upon which to grate edible roots), resemble the fret patterns of ancient

Fig. 188.-Guiana Root-press.

times; the Greek key or Meander device, so common in Egyptian and Assyrian ornamentation and on Etruscan and Greek vases, being of constant Occurrence. The coincidence is certainly striking, but a fact still remains with regard to which, so far as known, no attention has been hitherto paid.

If we turn to the "Matapi" or Strainer (a long cylindrical plaited case, permitting of great circumferential expansion and contraction, wherein the grated roots are subjected to great pressure for the expulsion of their juices), its origin appears buried in oblivion. Some wild tribes go so far as to ascribe its knowledge as a gift imparted direct to them by the beneficence of their deity, but beyond this the question remains unanswered.

But once more do the long ages of the past cast back their beams of light upon the enquiries of the

present, and so it is upon Egyptian monuments that we now find the desired and striking clue.

In the pages of Cassell's "Bible Dictionary" may be seen an illustration of an ancient Egyptian winepress, and clearly we have here the origin of the Matapi of Guiana, and this, coupled with the remarkable use of the Greek, or rather shall we say the

Fig. 189.-Egyptian Grape-press. Egyptian key device, sets the mind pondering over time and space to discover, if it can, how is it that these modes of earliest decorations and manufacture by old-world African civilisation, have reached and still retain their hold in darkest regions, and after the lapse of centuries reappear upon modern civilization out from the very depths of the forests in the South American new world.

GEORGE S. PARKINSON.

THE ORCHARD ORIOLE OF THE UNITED STATES.

BEH

EHIND the old farmhouse, stretching from the barn on one side to the lane which leads back to the hill-wood lot on the other, stands the ancient orchard. It was planted, perhaps, a century ago, when this old farm was one of the frontier settlements of civilisation, and owes its origin to seeds brought from Rhode Island or Vermont, or possibly from England itself. The trees have grown to their full stature, and their interlocking boughs present a continuous canopy of shade, except here and there one has fallen under some fierce blast, and has been removed for fuel. The stumps of these unfortunates soon became nuclei for thickets of briers sown by the winds from the raspberry and blackberry vines along the fence; their rotting roots were quickly honeycombed by the galleries of the ants, and their dense coverts formed a place of refuge for the grass-snakes, and the occasional blacksnake or two that crept up from the brook. Only the wood-pile, the vegetable patch, and a line of currant and gooseberry bushes intervenes between the back porch and the firm turf over which you walk between the gnarled and leaning trunks.

No part of the farm is more delightful, it is the first attraction of the city visitor, and the loved loungingplace of the rustic in his idle moments. In April he watches the earliest opening of the foliage, greets the first reddening flower-buds, and gazes with admiration upon the whitening blossoms making a vast bouquet of each aged tree, and rejuvenating it. Then as the flowers carpet the sward with their rosy petals, and the tiny calyces grow larger and greener day by day, he observes with interest the fattening of the little apples, speculates on the prospect of a good yield, and by August tries his teeth on a yellowish one that has fallen, perhaps finding a single palatable bit on that side of it which has been next to the sun. Then the harvest :

"But shake your fruit from the orchard-tree

To the tune of the brook and the hum of the bee,

And the chipmunks chirping every minute,

And the clear, sweet note of the gay little linnet,
And the grass and the flowers,
And the long summer hours,

And the flavour of sun and breeze are in it."

How the red and yellow and russet apples lie in bright heaps on the grass, forming great circles about each trunk, reflecting the ruddy afternoon sun, as it glints among the branches, and shimmers through the September haze in a soft golden glory, while dim in the dusk the veery carols on the tree-top, and from the fence down by the brook, a thrasher whistles his happy "Good-night!"

The orchard is beloved of all the birds, but with some it is a chosen and constant home, so that you will find them almost nowhere else. So manifest is this preference that one bird at least takes its name from the circumstance; I speak of the orchard oriole (Icterus spurius, Linn.), which is well known everywhere outside of New England, as far west as the Great Plains.

Although by no means a dandy like the Baltimore oriole, he is every inch a gentleman, and wears his neat dress of crimson and black with an aristocratic air. Yet he is not above work. No bird is more carelessly active, and none is a better friend of the agriculturist, for from his first arrival in May until he joins small companies of his fellows for the southward journey in October, he is untiring in his pursuit of just those insects which the orchardist most dreads. A quarter of an hour's watching of one will satisfy anybody of his claim to our admiration and thanks. He flies to a branch, moves his head from side to side, spies a canker-worm trusting-vain hope !-to its colour to hide it on the green surface of a leaf, and pounces upon it in an instant; then a nest of tentcaterpillars catches his eye, and he attacks it furiously, ramming down the shreds of silk, and greedily eating every one of the writhing and horrid mass of hairy worms, a meal few other birds will undertake. Even that does not satiate him, and he restlessly renews the search for those creeping larvæ of insects so desirable to him and his family, and so hateful to the farmer. He seems to revel in his work,

and hurries about with a busy and gleeful air, heedless of your espionage, his crimson coat gleaming among the glossy leaves or contrasting sharply with the aromatic blossoms.

Though in this steady and diligent search for insect-food, he helps the orchardist by the destruction of hordes of noxious and well-hidden kinds, yet of course, not having any such purpose in view, and making no benevolent distinction when his palate is suited, he undoubtedly snaps up many an insect which is perfectly harmless to both tree and fruit, or does positive harm by killing such as prey upon the enemies of the apple-cultivator. Yet, when I examine his list of foods, I cannot but think that the average of good achieved against evil done is greatly in his favour.

The gaiety which marks all his actions, also characterizes his song. He whistles a clear full tune, not the richly modulated music of the Baltimore, but a sprightly impromptu air, hastening from note to note as though singing against time, and yet under a protest at the speed he is obliged to assume, and with an embarrassed feeling that he is not doing his best. This remarkable song is altogether indescribable, and is not heard with much regularity after the 1st of June, as he knows the necessity of controlling his exuberant spirits for the sake of the safety of his defenceless household.

Finding his pleasure and profit in the garden and in familiarity with men, this oriole makes his home almost exclusively in orchards, and is found breeding there from the Rio Grande to Lake Erie; but rarely to the eastward of the Hudson River. Frequently several nests will be seen in adjoining trees, all the proprietors on the most neighbourly terms with each other, and with other birds. The nest is ordinarily suspended only a few feet from the ground, between the gnarled twigs near the end of an apple-bough, to which it is strongly bound, and beneath which it is essentially pensile, although by no means so freely swinging a pouch as the structure of the Baltimore oriole. Nevertheless, it is sometimes hung (much after the manner of the Baltimore's) among the pendent tips of drooping willow branches, several of which will be found woven into its sides in such a way as to serve as admirable upright ribs or stays. Such nests are likely to prove of neater workmanship, and perhaps a trifle greater in depth, than others. In both cases, however, the shape and proportions are nearly the same, the cavity being about as large as a coffee-cup. The walls are rather thin, particularly in nests built at the south, where a circulation of air is so desirable.

The material of which this beautiful and easily recognised structure is composed, consists usually of pliant stems, yellowish-green grass, often with the ripe heads left on, giving a somewhat rough appearance in many cases to the outside of the nest. This grass is woven into a firm basket, the stems being closely interlaced as if done with a needle. Some

times there is a lining of thistle and cotton-wood blossoms, the downy breast-feathers of ducks, etc., forming a soft mat at the bottom. The leaves about the nest are arranged, often apparently by the artful skill of the bird-to shed the rain, shade the sitter, and conceal the domicile, which last intention is so well accomplished that the nest is difficult to discover, no matter how familiar you may be with the orchard or grove in which you are certain it is situated, since its colour harmonises closely with all its surroundings.

While this is the customary type of nest in the interior of the country, and remarkable for its uniformity over a wide region, variations occur on the seaboard. Thus at Trenton, New Jersey, where these orioles have frequented for many years a group. of pines and button-woods, near the rural home of Dr. Charles C. Abbott (the well-known naturalist), they build homes of quite different character. In social harmony, several pairs annually place at the extremities of the upper branches, nests which are not hung underneath in any sense, but supported in the midst of a cluster of twigs, and resting upon them and the branch from which they spring.

These nests are formed with care out of the same long flexible grasses used in the pendulous structures but skilfully intermixed with them are many pine needles, an ingredient which would not be permissible in the other type of architecture. Dr. Abbott tells me that this is the prevailing style throughout all the pine districts of southern New Jersey. On the other hand, in the northern part of the state, fifty to a hundred miles distant, the orchard orioles never fix upon the pine branches as a site, but inhabit the fruit trees exclusively, making a nest of interwoven grasses, not pensile, but upheld as before in the midst of a clump of twigs, to which it is securely fastened. Again, a competent observer in this district tells me he has never known the orioles there to use the same nest twice; whereas at Trenton, not only do they return to the same ancestral tree season after season, but always tear the old nest to pieces with amusing vehemence to obtain material for construction of the new, which are occasionally erected upon the foundations of a previous structure.

The elongated eggs are impure white, marbled with irregular streaks of black and leather-brown, much like those of the Baltimore oriole.

Wilson says that this songster is easily reared from the nest, and in confinement becomes very tame and familiar. "A friend of ours," says Mr. Thomas Gentry, "kept one in a cage for several years, which whistled with remarkable clearness and spirit. It was a particular favourite with its owner, and learned to come at his bidding, and at a given signal would pour forth its choicest music with an energy and power that were truly astonishing."

New Haven, Conn., U.S.A.

ERNEST INGERSOLL.

Mos

ROSSENDALE RHIZOPODS.

No. 5.

OST of the genera of lobose Rhizopods, described in my previous articles, are more or less familiar to every student of pond-life; but few specimens of the genus I have now to describe, will have been seen by any microscopist who has not made a special study of these forms of life. I refer to the beautiful genus Nebela. It is one of the largest genera, and contains eight species, all of great interest from the extraordinary form and arrangement of the elements composing their fairy-like tests. The characters, as given by Professor Leidy, are as follows. "Shell usually compressed, pyriform,

readily seen how much the genus differs, from all the others previously described. This is further exemplified in its habitat. I have never found a single representative of the genus during the twenty years I have been an assiduous collector, in any of the wells, ponds, ditches or other waters I have regularly visited. It is an inhabitant of sphagnous swamps, and is generally found in great numbers in such situations. Rossendale being a hilly district, with a good natural drainage, assisted by art, I was apprehensive that I should be unable to claim this desirable Rhizopod; but as I knew of a small boggy spot about a mile from my house, one bitterly cold afternoon at the end of October I set off, armed only with a wide-mouthed bottle, determined to put the question

Fig. 191.-N. collaris.

transparent, colourless, (?) with or without appendages, composed of cancellated membrane, or of peculiar intrinsic elements of variable form and size, mostly of circular or oval disks; of narrow rectangular plates or rods; or of thin, less regular, angular plates, often almost exclusively of one or the other, sometimes of two or more intermingled in variable proportions; sometimes of chitinoid membrane incorporated with more or less extrinsic elements; and sometimes of these entirely, as in Difflugia. Mouth inferior, terminal, oval. Sarcode colourless; in form, constitution, and arrangement, as in Difflugia," &c. From these characters, it will be

to the test. The side of one of our cloughs had been washed away, at one point, probably through the action of a spring of water, and in the sloping ground for about half a dozen square yards quantities of Sphagnum grew among the coarse grass of the bog. I pulled up a handful of the moss, and all dripping as it was, dropped it into my bottle, and then squeezed other masses of Sphagnum over it. On returning home and quickly placing a drop of water, with broken-down fragments of the moss, on a glass slip, covering this with the usual thin glass, and placing the whole under the microscope, I was delighted to find scores of the beautiful Nebela, of several species, and exhibiting most of the variations so characteristic of the genus. Subsequent examinations proved it to be very rich, not only in these forms, but in several new ones, which latter I reserve