254 



HARDWICKE'S S CIE NCE-GOSSIP. 



[Nov. l, 1870 



tifully iridescent, covered by a delicate hexagonal 

 network. They are amongst the most transparent 

 and delicate of eggs, and are exceedingly common 



in gardens. 



Fig. 215. The White Wave. 



The White Wave (Cabem pusaria) has eggs 

 similar in form and apex to those of the Small 

 Heath, but with the surface clad with parallel rows 

 of minute, rather rigid hairs. The texture is very 

 delicate, and it is difficult to prevent collapsing in 

 drying. The contents give a coppery iridescence. 



Fig. 216. The Chimney-sweeper. 



The Chimney-sweeper {Odezia clarcphyUala) 

 lias eggs similar in form to those of the Magpie, 

 but with a peculiar broad furrow on one side, 

 running nearly the entire length of the egg, and 

 rounded at the ends, so that it resembles a minute 

 cowry shell. They have a peculiar dull, yellowish, 

 horny appearance. 



It would have been easy to have doubled the 

 number of illustrations, but these will be sufficient 

 to show how deserving of attention are these com- 

 mon little objects of our hedgerows and gardens. 



United Branches.— In the neighbourhood of 

 Bath I have observed several trees, principally 

 oaks, having two separate branches united at some 

 distance from the base ; Ihus forming a loop. The 

 branches unite so completely as to leave no visible 

 evidence of the union. Is this a common occur- 

 rence, and what is the cause ? I have not observed 

 the peculiarity in any other than the above neigh- 

 bourhood. — L. Stammwitz. 



ERRORS OF THE PRESS. 



~T7"OUR correspondent's (Major Holland) letter, 

 J- published in the October number of Science- 

 Gossip, relative to the mistakes which had been 

 made in his interesting, clever paper, on the "Tow- 

 ing- Net," has recalled to mind many instances (some 

 that had come under my own personal observation, 

 others which had been related to me) of the most 

 absurdly ludicrous errors made by these temper- 

 trying little imps, "printers' devils." 



Now, while I send these anecdotes to you with 

 the idea that they may amuse some of your readers, 

 1 most decidedly hope that I shall not be suspected 

 of want of sympathy with those unfortunate mortals 

 who have suffered from such diabolical mistakes. 

 An contraire, I have been a victim so often, that I 

 can quite enter into Miss Eanny Fudge's feelings, 

 when she told her cousin, Miss Kitty, that, 



" Though an angel should write, still 'tis devils must print;" 



and I do believe there is something agreeably 

 soothing to the human mind in the misfortunes 

 of other folks, so I give "my experiences" in the 

 hope of comforting. 



A couple of years ago, a literary friend of mine, a 

 lady who indulged in flights of fancy, was spending 

 Christmas with me in Hampshire. The poetical 

 mood was strong upon her one morning, and she 

 dashed off a very affecting set of verses ; they were 

 highly moral, reflective lines, I may say quite in a 

 leligious style and tone; so, looking to the season 

 and other matters, she entitled them 



"Eeom Memories of an Old Year," 

 and sent them off to a local paper (not a Hampshire 



journal let me say). The clay on which The D 1 



County C/ironicle was due, arrived ; the paper came, 

 the verses had the post of honour, every fine senti- 

 ment and serious thought was italicised and punctu- 

 ated ; but picture the dismay of the authoress on 

 looking at the heading to read, 



"Erolic Memories of an Old Goat." 



Another time. A rather irascible vicar having 

 fallen out with one of his parishioners, and wishing 

 to administer him a good public rebuke, sent off a 

 number of circulars to be printed. They began, 

 " AVhereas an evil-disposed person," &c. The bills 

 were sent home late at night ; and the vicar and his 

 man went out, lantern and paste-brush in hand, to 

 ornament all the shop doors and blank walls in the 

 village. Next clay, early in the morning, our 

 clerical authority set off on his rounds. Jack 

 Stubbington was on the broad grin. Jim Stiles 

 nearly forgot to give his front lock of hair the 

 right pull ; he was laughing so when he looked 

 at his reverence. Mrs. Hammond ran into her 

 bakehouse, instead of staying, as was her wont, 

 to be questioned about her sick husband. James, 



