THE ZooLtogist—FEBRvARY, 1875. 4321 
Walking towards the Creux Harbour one morning, I noticed in 
the middle of the road a specimen of the old English black rat 
(Mus ratius), once so common with us, but now exterminated by 
its formidable rival, the so-called Norwegian or brown rat (Mus 
decumanus). Professor Ansted, in his delightful book before 
referred to, says that it is extinct in Jersey, and very nearly so in 
Guernsey, where the brown rat is dominant. The black rat is, 
however, common in Alderney and Herm, and exists in Sark to 
the exclusion of the brown rat. What is very interesting also is 
that the two species exist together in the small isle of Brechou 
immediately adjacent. Taking this latter circumstance into con- 
sideration, as the enemy has advanced to the outposts of the 
stronghold, it is not too much to suppose that the period of 
existence of the black rat is limited in the island of Sark. The 
specimen which I noticed, had been killed by a man, with a stick, 
the night previously. It was an adult male, and an examination 
showed that it was ill fitted to contend, in the “struggle for 
existence,” with a powerful rival. Altogether the animal was of 
finer frame and less muscular and compact build than the brown 
rat. This was especially noticeable in the claws and in the incisor 
teeth, which were slender as compared with those of the brown 
rat. The ears were, however, larger than those of the other, but 
bore many indentations of previous warfare. The hair was of a 
slaty black colour, long and silken. 
On Friday, the 29th of August, I observed a waterspout—an 
occurrence that possibly does not often present itself in the life of 
a landsman far removed from “ the sound of ocean’s mighty swell,” 
although most of us are probably familiar with the phenomenon 
(caused by the action of atmospheric currents) from description 
and hearsay. It may be worth recording. The first (for there 
were two) took place at a quarter past nine in the morning, which 
was very fine, the sea smooth, and a gentle wind blowing from the 
south. I was walking in the direction of the Creux du Derrible,* 
facing the south, when my attention was directed by my wife to a 
small but very dark leaden-coloured cloud, which stretched out 
towards the east and west, and formed a kind of fringe-like mass 
in an otherwise pure and cloudless sky. From this, at an angle 
of about forty-five degrees, depended a tubular body, narrowing at 
* Not Terrible, as it is sometimes written, but Derrible; the latter being derived 
from an old French word, signifying “a fallen mass of rock.”"—W. R. H. 
