LIZARDS. 155 
and walking-sticks. However, I have never seen a Chameleon’s 
skin so utilised. 
In the family of the Chameleontide there are three genera and 
about fifty species. In the genus Chameleon there are about 
forty-four species. Most of the members of this family are 
oviparous, but a few are ovoviviparous. The eggs when laid are 
generally placed in the ground, and covered with earth and 
leaves. Sometimes as many as thirty are deposited at one time. 
A Chameleon of my own has produced nearly this number while 
in confinement. If eggs are laid while the animals are in captivity, 
and there is reason to believe that they may be fertile, they should 
be treated in the way already recommended for the incubation of 
the eggs of other Lizards. 
When Chameleons are born alive, they almost immediately clasp 
something or other with their hands and tail, and commence to 
look out for prey. 
In a collection of Reptiles the Chameleon seems generally to 
attract more notice than any other Lizard. Its eyes, affected 
gravity, claws, tail, tongue, and colouring are all so extraordinary, 
that the unlearned in these matters seem loath to cease looking at 
and asking questions about the strange beast. 
Most of the Chameleons come from Madagascar and the neigh- 
bouring islands, and nearly all the rest are found in Africa. The 
Common Chameleon ((. vulgaris) has a very wide range, from 
Spain, Africa, Asia Minor, Arabia, to India. It is about a foot 
long when fully grown. 
The Tuatera Lizard (Hutteriw punctata).—‘ Both near War- 
wick,” said the late Canon Kingsley in his lecture on “ Th» 
Stones in the Wall,” ‘and near Elgin in Scotland, in Central 
India, and in South Africa, fossil remains are found of 
a family of Lizards utterly unlike anything now living, 
save one, and that one is crawling about plentifully I 
believe—of all places in the world—in New Zealand. How it 
got there, how so strange a type of creature should have died out 
over the rest of the world and yet have lasted over that remote 
island for ages, ever since the days of the New Red Sandstone, 
is one of those questions—quite awful questions I consider them 
—with which I will not puzzle my readers. I only mention it to 
