Che ^ojittlar ^citncc 0ms 
AND 
BOSTON JOURNAL OF CHEMISTRY. 
Volume XXY. 
BOSTON^, NOVEMBER, 1891. 
I^UMBER 11. 
COXTEXTS. 
Familiar Science. — An Autumn Ramble . 159 
Bubbles aud P'oam 160 
Some Canadian Birds aud Insects . . . IGO 
'ITie Electric Exhibition at Frankfort-on- 
the-Main 161 
Settlino; a Quarrel by Fluoresceine . . . 162 
Scientific Kecreations 162 
Some Convenient Forms of Knots . . . 162 
A Problem 163 
To Restore Faded or Obliterated Ink . . 16.3 
Some Telescopes in the United States . . 163 
Industrial Memoranda 163 
Scientific Brevities 163 
The Out-Door World.— Award of the Mi- 
croscope Prize 164 
Sea-Side Assembly, Agassiz Association . 164 
A Chapter in Tasnuiniii ....... 164 
Change of Address 164 
An Agassiz Girl Lives to Tell How the 
Lightning Struck Her 164 
Does the Dog Like Music? 165 
Selected Reports of the Third Century, 
Chapters 201-300 165 
Special Notice 166 
Personal Observations by Members of the 
Agassi/. Association 166 
Editorial.— The Work of the Rain-Drop . 167 
A Novel Lock 168 
Studies in Plant Biology 168 
Meteorology for September, 1891 .... 169 
Astronomical Phenomena for November . 169 
Questions and Answers 170 
Literary Notes 170 
.Medicine and Pharmacy. — The Cure of 
Consnmption 171 
Early Botany and Materia Medica in Eng- 
land — Saxon Wortcraft 172 
Monthly Summary of Medical Progress . 173 
Medical Miscellany 174 
Plblishers' Colu.mn 174 
•familiar Science. 
fOrlKinal in PoPUlAB SCIENCE NEWS.] 
AN AUTUMN RAMBLE. 
BY KATHAniNE B. CLAYI'OLE. 
We have had a week of close study, and Satur- 
day finds us languid, nervous, and inclined to 
peevishness. For such a state of mind there is 
but one cure — a ramble in the open air. For- 
tunately we live on the outskirts of the town, and 
can in a few minutes leave the houses behind us 
and see something of the life that goes on beyond 
their influence. As we leave our street, cross the 
main road, aud go on towards the schoolhouse, 
we try to ignore the modern residences with their 
trim gardens, and see again the forest trees that 
the early settlers — not so very long ago — removed 
with patient labor, and the deer that bounded 
over this very path aud congregated where now 
the children play. It taxes our imagination some- 
what, and when we crawl through a hole in the 
fence and stand on the cliff above the quarry, 
overlooking the valley of the Little Cuyahoga 
with its lines of railroad and large drain-pipe fac- 
tory, we give up the attempt— but not without a 
sigh. 
Forest wildness is dear to us, aud in some moods 
we forget all that we are taught about labor and 
the employment of capital, wishing that the prim- 
itive loveliness had never been disturbed. We 
must make the best of things as they are, how- 
ever, imitating thereby the yellow locusts that 
spring up in hundreds as we plimge through a 
thicket of dried weeds, covering ourselves with 
ticks and burrs, with the feathery seeds of golden 
rod and aster, and setting sail to silky plumes 
from tlie pods of the milkweed. Here, on the 
narrow path running down the side of the quarry, 
is a large grasshopper with fine red legs ; we must 
have him for our collection. Watch him as he 
jumps and then — there! your hand Is over him; 
keep him until I pull out the bottle of alcohol. 
Now pop him in ; we can pin him out at our leis- 
ure at home. Aud this olive grasshopper with 
reddish brown legs; we must have him too; and, 
while the bottle is open, catch a few of the black 
crickets that are running so busily about. There 
goes a Camberwell beauty; what would not an 
English collector give for the chance of capturing 
this butterfly alive? It is an emigrant from Eng- 
land, though now never seen there living. So 
common is it in this neighborhood that we would 
not trouble ourselves about this individual, except 
for the chance of using it for exchange. A few 
drops on it from the benzine bottle before opening 
the net, and it dies without a struggle. We have 
a place ready for it — an old cigar-box which we 
have lined with corked wrapping-paper. We put 
a pin straight through the thorax of the butter- 
fly and pin it firmly to the cork; then carefully 
spread the fore wings and bind them down with a 
strip of paper and a pin ; we pin a piece also over 
the hind wings, and straighten out the autennic 
and body. The legs we need not trouble about, 
as the outspread, purple-edged wings will cover 
them. 
We have now got down to the first railroad, but 
we must turn a little out of our way to a row of 
straggling ossage orange trees that represent an 
abortive hedge. We confess to a great liking foi- 
the rough green balls on the boughs, and can 
never resist the temptation of knocking one or 
two of them ofl^ Very curious they are in theii' 
make-up — much like the tropical bread-fruits, 
their nearest plant allies. The blossoms iu the 
spring on these, the pistil-bearing trees, form a 
globidar head, .\fter the wind has blown upon 
them, or insects have carried to them, pollen from 
the staminiferous trees, the small white corollas 
of the blossoms drop oft', and each calyx swells 
round the seed and grows so much that it comes 
in contact with other calyces, and all club to- 
gether and form what looks like a large rough- 
coated orange. Tlie dried styles of the blossoms 
still hang on, looking like hairs upon the surface. 
Each one is surrounded by four green pimples. 
If we are careful and patient enough we can dis- 
sect out these groups of fours aud reduce the 
compact whole to the separate fruits that form it. 
But we must turn from the ossage orange 
hedge, pass the line of glowing sumachs, cross 
the railway, and scramble up the embankment, 
which, lying exposed to the sun, is a first-rate 
hunting-ground for insects. Grasshoppers and 
crickets again abound, with humble-bees and a 
perfect swarm of sulphur and cabbage butterflies, 
and small brown moths. The beautiful painted 
lady is also here, showing all shades of brown 
from cinnamon to deep chocolate, the fore wings 
relieved with spots of white above, while under- 
neath are four eye-like markings. She, also, is an 
English importation. 
At last we have crossed the railroads and the 
old canal at the bottom of the valley. A thin 
cloud covers the sun and a subdued light falls on 
the hill before us. The trees are not remarkable 
for their color this fall, but the soft bi-owns of 
those l)efore us delight us. As we approach we 
find the undergrowth .aglow with brilliant reds 
and yellows. The pink aud red leaves of the 
maple-leaved viburnum will make our parlor gay 
for many a week. We must take, too, some 
branches of the witch hazel, with its flaunting, 
streamer-like, golden petals. Here, actually, is a 
belated aster, — Aster patens, — its heart-shaped 
leaves strung on the stalk, aud light lavender 
rays wide spread. A false Solomon's seal. In fine 
red berry, is close to our hand, with that curious 
crucifer, Arahis Canadensis, whose long pods have 
opened and discharged the seed, leaving the sickle- 
shaped placenta to lighten our winter bouquet. 
Up the gully we go, and then across a meadow 
into another gorge. It is a stift' scramble, and we 
are glad to sit down a minute or two and admire 
the red leaves and purple berries of the flowering 
dogwoods. Then we begin to turn over the logs 
and heaps of leaves to see what lives beneath 
them. Not much, apparently. From the hill 
above us comes the laugh of two college fresh- 
men; they also are turning over logs and leaves, 
and it is clear that they are catching or frighten- 
ing away all the specimens that will trust them- 
selves out today. We wish these ardent collectors 
all success, and have hardly reached the plateau 
before we find a gold-gilt beetle whose body shot 
with copper and green would have been the treas- 
ure of their insect-case. Ha, ha I we are leading 
now, and the spoils are for the advanced guard. 
Running .along the fence is another gorgeous fel- 
low ; his broad bands of black and yellow mark 
him as a carrion beetle, and as we seize him he 
promptly discharges his last dinner over our 
hands. Crossing a corn-field we turn over the 
pumpkins for those little grouud beetles called 
carabids, and again search among some rotten 
logs for what we can find. 
But evening is coming on ; our insect friends 
have gone into retreat, and we take only a little 
dead and dried brown snake, and some cocoons 
that may l)ring us valuable moths next spring. 
Evening is coming on; we, too, must hasten 
home, congratulating ourselves as we go on what 
we have, rather than sighing for what we must 
leave behind. 
Three and two-tenths grains make one carat; 
150 carats in one' ounce of Troy weight; 1,800 
carats In one Troy pound of 5,760 grains. 
