52 



HARDWICKE'S SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



disappearance should not suggest hibernation in the 

 mind of any thoughtful person. Birds that migrate by 

 day, rather than in the night, disappear as suddenly as 

 do the rail-birds, but being seen on their migratorial 

 journeys, of course, are not invested with any peculiar 

 habits. 



It seems never to have occurred to those who 

 insist upon the hibernation of the rail-bird in the 

 mud, that a still greater mystery is the impulse that 

 should affect all these birds at the one moment ; for 

 their sudden and simultaneous disappearance is 

 always insisted upon. The truth is, however, that 

 they do not disappear all together. After the first 

 hard frost, be it early or late, the great majority of 

 them promptly disappear ; but a fraction of their 

 former numbers remain. Now, what, I believe to be 

 a rational explanation of the apparent hibernation is 

 this : The number of rail-birds in a given tract of 

 marsh is suddenly greatly diminished (this occurs on 

 the day following the first hard frost) ; those that 

 remain are often weak of wing ; and many are found 

 dead, probably having been wounded by the gunners. 

 One and all are found only in the marshes, and 

 coupled with these facts is the one more important 

 than all, that the rails are not seen migrating. They 

 invariably depart at night. Herein lies the solution 

 of the common impression ; one far more prevalent 

 than that concerning our swallows, whose movements 

 we can watch. The while we are familiar with the 

 rail-birds, they are associated with frogs and the 

 aquatic life of our marshes. Frost comes and they 

 are gone. We do not see either frogs or rail-birds 

 disappear ; but we know where the frogs are, and 

 remembering the amphibian habits of the bird, we con- 

 tinue to associate them and relegate to the mud with 

 the croaking frogs, these timid, weak-winged birds. 

 But, in very truth, they have gathered themselves 

 up in their long husbanded strength, and in the 

 stillness of the frosty night, have winged their way 

 southward, without a sign. 



As I pointed out in the case of the swallows, as a 

 matter of course, many are unable to undertake the 

 journey. It is safe to -say, that thousands that are 

 crippled by the sportsmen remain in the marshes 

 all the winter, but they finally succumb to the rigour 

 of the season. Such old and crippled birds have 

 been made a study by lovers of the wonderful in all 

 ages, and the mis-read history of non-representative 

 specimens has been strangely accepted by very 

 many as the authentic life-histories of these birds for 

 centuries. 



"Three-Toed Sloth."— In "The Museum of 

 Animated Nature " it is mentioned, also by Charles 

 Waterton in his "South American Wanderings." 

 Waterton had one in his house for some weeks, he 

 also saw this animal in its natural habitat. — Clara 

 Kingsford, Canterbury. 



I 



THE COMMON ORCHIS {ORCHIS 

 MASCULA). 



By Edward Malan, M.A. 



F Mary Howitt's theory about flowers were really 

 the true one, then how would it ever be 

 possible to account for the existence of such a plant 

 as the common orchis? I don't think it would be 

 possible. For the common orchis does not possess 

 that beautiful brilliant colouring, nor that graceful 

 symmetrical shape, nor that delicate rare perfume 

 which ministers so much to our esthetic fancies, and 

 which forms, as Professor Kerner says, the chief 

 source of those dim romantic ideas with which most 

 people regard flowers. 



It is, very probably, for this reason that the 

 allusions to the common orchis in poetry are so few. 

 Shakespeare increases our pity for Ophelia's death by 

 mentioning her fantastic childish garlands. 



" Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples." 



And Miss Ingelow calls up the regret " that keenlier 

 in sweet April wakes," by introducing the flower into 

 her musical stanzas, in these words, — 



" Lost, lost and gone. The Pelham woods 

 Were full of doves that cooed at ease : 

 The orchis filled her purple hoods 

 For dainty bees." 



Tennyson just catches the sullen characteristics of the 

 plant in his " Dirge : " — 



" Round thee wave self-pleached deep 

 Bramble-roses faint and pale, 

 And long purples of the dale. 

 Let them rave '." 



While Whittier refreshes us, like an afternoon breeze, 



when he speaks of western winds telling to orchard 



trees — 



" Tales of fair meadows green with constant streams, 

 And mountains rising blue and cool behind, 

 Where in moist dells the purple orchis gleams." 



These few notices, which are for the most part of 

 sombre hue, appear to exhaust the poetical interest 

 in the common orchis. It must be owned that they 

 are hardly enough to explain the plant's existence. 



But as soon as the intelligent observer applies the 

 modern theory, and perceives that flowers do really 

 wear a robe of more than royal comeliness, and that 

 every exquisite detail and amazing wonderful contri- 

 vance, every streak, blotch, channel, and hair, every 

 inflation or depression of surface^every posture of the 

 various organs, and every abundant or scarce supply 

 of nectar and perfume has been designed by the 

 wise author of Nature to answer some definite 

 purpose in the best possible way : and, while obtain- 

 ing a benefit from insect visitors, to offer in return a 

 wage for service done — then, behold ! in a moment his 

 heart leaps up in ecstasy, Mary Howitt's lines become 

 invested with a deeper and truer meaning, the distant 

 economy of flowers appears like a wished face in 



