HARDWICKE'S SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



IS' 



communication between the several jelly bodies being 

 afforded either through a single opening between the 

 divisions or septa, or, more frequently, through a 

 series of punctures by which they are perforated. 



Each tiny shell may thus be considered to contain 

 a colony of semi-independent beings. The method of 

 increase in these shells appears to be an extremely 

 simple one. From the original body of sarcode, a 

 second, with its covering, is formed, and overlaps the 

 first and so on, these shell-encrusted globules ever en- 

 larging, and being developed on a straight or curved 

 line in lineal order, or alternately in a braid or twist- 

 like arrangement as may be seen in Fig. 12. These 

 shells are included in the family Enallostagidic. 

 Another family, the Entoniostagidic, exhibits the 

 chambers arranged in a double series in a spiral 

 form. 



The J/iliola family includes those shells in which 

 the chambers are arranged around a common perpen- 

 dicular axis, in such a manner that each chamber 

 occupies the entire length of the shell. (Figs. 15, 16.) 



{To be coftti lined.) 



BIRD-LIFE. 

 By Dr. Crespi. 



Formerly Editor of the " Sanitary Revietu.'^ 



SEVERAL years ago, after a dispiriting struggle 

 with fortune, I left Birmingham and went to 

 Exeter for six weeks. It was the 28th of April, and 

 in South Devon the trees were in full leaf and 

 summer was come. Several times a week, in the 

 evening, I used to stroll through St. David's and along 

 the Stoke Cannon Road, across Cowley Bridge, and 

 out into the country. To the right were the richly- 

 wooded heights, which delight the visitor approaching 

 St. David's station from Taunton and Barnstaple, 

 and to the left stretched the beautiful fields and noble 

 woods of Upton Pynes, the well-known seat of Sir 

 Stafford Northcote. The weather was, with some 

 exceptions, charming, and again and again I wandered 

 on for hours enjoying in perfection the sunshine, the 

 soft air, the refreshing verdure, and, last but not least, 

 the ceaseless songs of the birds. Devon is not usually 

 considered rich in bird -life, so at least naturalist 

 friends tell me ; the nightingale, rather an over-rated 

 bird, I fancy, never ventures west of the Axe, and 

 some other species of familiar songsters are not com- 

 mon ; but, however that may be, never, in the course 

 of a life not very long, though varied enough, have I 

 heard such inspiriting and continuous' singing as that 

 May and June. After the embittered strife of 

 London, and the dingy skies and noisy streets of Bir- 

 airingham, there was a seductiveness, a peacefulness, in 

 those Devon rambles that I can never forget. Seldom 

 did I meet any other wanderer, and for hours I 

 seemed to have the country all to myself. To me, 

 though I knew country life perfectly, having passed 



my childhood in a village, — it was a new experience, 

 and as I listened to the rich notes of the blackbird 

 and the throstle, the warble of the robin, the 

 blackcap, the whitethroat and the hedge accentor,, 

 the melodious trill of the skylark, and the clear 

 ringing call of the cuckoo, I wondered what country 

 life would be worth without its birds. More brilliant 

 climates than ours can be found ; lands too where the 

 vegetation, the scenery as a whole, and the mountains 

 and forests have indescribable attractions, but where 

 can you find such verdant valleys and deep sunnyTern- 

 adorned lanes as in Devon, or on the Welsh Borders, 

 on one of those days {alas, so rare) when, as Lord 

 Lytton says, all is so calm and beautiful below, and 

 so blue and bright above ; one of those English 

 summer days with no peers elsewhere. I was once 

 hurrying to America, and in the train sat a Mormon 

 elder, a prosaic enough person, intent on money- 

 getting and making converts, but when he spoke of 

 English woodland scenery, the American, who had 

 visited many lands and mixed with many strange 

 people, became almost eloquent ; his unprepossessing, 

 face lighted up, his dull eye brightened, and he 

 poured forth a torrent of praise on scenes so beautiful 

 and peace-giving, that he doubted if the rest of the 

 world contained anything like them; he, at any rate, 

 had seen nothing to compare with them, nor have I. 



You cannot study birds in a museum : no matter 

 how admirably the little creatures have been stuffed, 

 nor how faithful the adherence to natural form and. 

 bearing; the resemblance is really not closer than, 

 between a corpse and a living, moving man. The 

 only place to study birds is in their native haunts, 

 loving them as did St. Francis, knowing them as did 

 Mrs. Schimmelpenninck. Animals instinctively find 

 out those who love them and feel for them, and they 

 remember their friends with a tenacity rarely ap- 

 proached by human friendships. Think of Sir 

 Walter Scott's love for his dogs, and of their attach- 

 ment to him— happy if only he noticed them, and 

 content to wait for hours for the walk so greatly 

 enjoyed. Once get the affection of a dog and you 

 may count upon it : it knows no diminution, no 

 change, and ends only with its life. 



In the rapturous song of the happy birds in May 

 and June lies half the pleasure of a country ramble : 

 the winter gloom is over, the foliage in the south- 

 west is at its best, the decline of the year, with its 

 golden harvest and lengthening shadows, is not come ; 

 and the birds, forgetful of the past and ignorant of 

 the future, make the best of their opportunities. 



A little thoughtfulness in feeding birds in frosty 

 weather would preserve the lives of immense 

 numbers. Many species cannot eat crumbs, but 

 require animal food, and for their benefit I shall 

 introduce a letter that appeared in the "Times" on 

 this subject. It is dated January 24th, and signed 

 J. P. Nunn, and refers to some letters on the supply 

 of food in winter: it speaks for itself. "In the 



