Music of Snails. 107 



ting the door to us whilst pretending to open it. The author 

 of it had rightly counted upon our self-respect. 



Each professor, in his own particular department, enjoys 

 the same privileges as the professor of the orangeries. When 

 Cuvier was at work upon ichthyology, it was forbidden to de- 

 liver a bottle of fishes to any one whatever : Cuvier ivas at 

 work upon the fishes, and at the garden of plants Cuviers 

 are become rare. Note that appeal would be useless : these 

 gentlemen are responsible only to their conscience; a tribunal 

 which, for our parts, we know not the means of reaching. 



The herbarium, that library of dried specimens of native 

 and exotic plants, was not long ago in rich disorder : the 

 adepts alone had the key of these buried treasures. The 

 professors have the right of lending, as seems good to them, 

 the fasciculi, to be consulted on the spot and at home. Stu- 

 dents not thus protected must carry their desk into the com- 

 mon hall, and work under these gentlemen's inspection. 



In short, the collections of the museum belong, in all 

 strictness, to the professors : the public has nothing of its 

 own but the right of walking there; students have no right 

 to any thing but certain favours, which they must repay by 

 an ample gratitude. 



The immediate consequence is, that science, up to this time, 

 has not received a hundredth part of the advantages it had a 

 right to expect from an institution so well furnished, and so 

 liberally endowed. There the plants are warmed in winter, 

 watered and aired in summer, and thrown away when they 

 have degenerated : but, as to experimental physiology and 

 theoretical or practical agriculture, private individuals, la- 

 bourers, and provincial gardeners are allowed to devote 

 themselves to the study of these at their own expense. 



"Music of Snails." — At p. 46. of your last Number., you 

 remark upon a short communication under the above title, 

 which appears to have been sent by a lady to the editor of 

 the Naturalist ; and, as you seem to think the subject deserv- 

 ing of some consideration, I have ventured to send you a few 

 observations upon it. Three or four years ago, whilst sitting 

 in my room reading late at night, my attention was attracted, 

 for several nights in succession, to a sort of low musical note, 

 which seemed to proceed from one of the windows. It oc- 

 curred at short intervals, and was sometimes silent for a 

 quarter or half an hour, and then returned again. I thought, 

 at first, it proceeded from something in the room, or arose 

 from some accidental vibration of one of the strings of a 

 pianoforte which stood near the window ; but, being satisfied 

 at length that it proceeded from the window itself, I drew un 



