HARDWICKE'S SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



Z2, 



the great spider permitted a blue wasp to escape ; it 

 returned to the charge again, however, almost directly, 

 and was again embraced by the tarantula, and again 

 released as before. This was repeated several times, 

 and at last the spider fell to the ground dead, slain 

 by the more potent venom of its adversary, which 

 seemed to have received no injury during the en- 

 counter, in spite of the tarantula's powerful arms and 

 formidable jaws. 



{To be continued.) 



A STRANGE VISITOR. 



ONE evening, only a few weeks ago, I was 

 resting on the sofa in my drawing-room, 

 thinking of nothing in particular, when suddenly 

 a dim winged shadow seemed to emerge from the 

 wall, and flit in front of my eyes. I am not super- 

 stitious ; but I confess that I was startled. A London 

 drawing-room in October, at nine o'clock in the 

 evening, with lamp and fire lighted, was the last 

 place in which one would expect to see a ghost ; 

 and yet the winged-shape was decidedly ghostly. 

 Had my eyes deceived me ? I thought so at first, 

 and rubbed them vigorously. But no — there it was 

 again, the strange winged shadow. And now I 

 looked more attentively, and, as I watched, the dim 

 moving shadow rose higher in the room, and began 

 flitting round the ceiling. Its flight was wonder- 

 fully graceful, and almost perfectly noiseless, which 

 added to its uncanny and ghost-like character. 

 And now I began to suspect that my visitor was only 

 a visitor from the other world, in the sense that 

 October was late in the year, and a London drawing- 

 room a strange place for its appearance. I began to 

 suspect that I had seen similar ghosts before in the 

 other world of June lanes, and August meadows, 

 flitting along cheerily in company with ghost-moths, 

 and watchman-beetles. In other words, I surmised 

 that my visitor was a bat. 



While I had been pondering on his nature, my 

 ghost had continued flitting round the room, oc- 

 casionally pausing to rest on the cornice. Birds not 

 uncommonly enter rooms, and I was not sure at first 

 whether my visitor might not be a belated bird. 

 But, when I listened carefully, a peculiar faint 

 shiver or rustle that accompanied the creature's flight 

 showed me that it could not be a bird. A bird's 

 wings have not this weird, crape-like sound. More- 

 over, a bird entrapped in a room is always wild with 

 fright, and dashes itself against the walls and 

 windows. My little visitant was not frightened at 

 all ; and his flight was more like a large moth's than 

 a bird's, and the skilful way in which he avoided the 

 furniture in the room showed that he could see well 

 in a dim light. So he was undoubtedly a bat. 



The next point was how to catch him. After some 



thought, I rummaged out an old butterfly net, and 

 watching my opportunity, when he was perched 

 quietly on the cornice, and calling to my aid old 

 butterfly-catching experience, I succeeded in en- 

 closing the curious little ghost-creature in the net. 

 He did not struggle much ; he took the thing very 

 philosophically. And now I had an opportunity of 

 examining him more closely. Yes : he was a bat. 

 And what a marvellous animal a bat is : one of the 

 most marvellous animals that exist, I should think. 

 His nose and countenance were like those of a little 

 pig (his nose was pink), or, perhaps still more, like 

 those of a pug dog ; his wings were stretched from 

 leg to leg, and were weird and leathern, and as I 

 said above, rustled half metallically when he moved ; 

 his ears* were nearly as long as his little dun 

 mouse-like body, and were very like those of a rabbit ; 

 he had small black eyes, and his fussy gait when 

 walking was the funniest thing in the world. 



Some of these particulars, of course, I noted 

 later on ; for, as far as my story goes, I have left 

 him still in the butterfly net. To take up the thread 

 of the narrative — it now became a question what 

 was to be done with the captured ghost. After 

 mature consideration, and, bearing in mind the 

 accommodation which I had found most suitable for 

 some short-tailed field-mice many years ago,i I sent for 

 a tray and a common fire-guard, placed the fire-guard 

 over the tray, filled up the ends with two halves of a 

 broken ship-board, tied carefully to the wires of the 

 fire-guard ; and there was a cage complete. And 

 thoroughly secure it looked. 



The bat soon evinced his appreciation of the 

 measures that were being taken for his comfort and 

 safety. He hooked himself up by his curious little 

 claws to the wires of the fire-guard and scrambled all 

 along the top and sides, head downwards, with the 

 most reckless indifference to possible congestion of 

 the brain. And the most charming point about this 

 very charming and beautiful little creature (for the 

 vulgar ideas of the ugliness and spitefulness of the 

 bat are the very reverse of the truth) was his 

 complete fearlessness. This is what makes the bat 

 such a delightful pet. For most wild creatures — 

 birds for instance — require an elaborate process of 

 training before they become tame or happy in cap- 

 tivity, and some remain more or less untamed to the 

 very last. But this bat was tame from the first. He 

 took food from my hand immediately after I caught 

 him, and had evidently had no personal experienae 

 (nor any inherited experiences, which raises a number 

 of curious and interesting scientific questions) of the 

 ways of men with bats. 



Having provided lodging for him, the next 

 question was that of his board and maintenance. 

 It became necessary to provide supper for the bat. 



• He turned out to be a long-eared bat {Plecotus comtnunis), 

 much the prettiest species. 



