8 The Florida Chameleon. [ January, 
he seemed to think; for with one leap he nipped the protruding 
end of the insect, and snatched it from the mouth of its proper 
captor. “ Ah, Nolie; that is very naughty of you, but quite 
funny; there is so much of human sharp practice in it.’ n 
In August the dreaded potato beetles, Doryphora decemline- 
ata, were with us in great numbers. It occurred to me to put 
some into the fern-case. The little toads saw them at once, and 
their big goggle eyes gleamed with ogreish satisfaction. Quicker 
than the feat can be recorded one of the Bufos swallowed three of 
those dreadful spearmen, and his comrade did the same by two. 
The Doryphoras were thus literally taken in, and the Bufos 
metaphorically likewise. It was specially observable of the one 
which had swallowed the three spearmen, despite the grotesque 
gravity of his demeanor, that there was a certain dolorous air 
about him, as of one suffering from an overdose of Doryphora. 
Though kept some two weeks with no other food, neither Bufo 
would touch a spearman again. And as to Anolis? Ah, he was 
not the fellow to be caught thus. Was our Nolie more knowing 
than they? He assuredly was more circumspect, and did not “go 
it blind.” It was plain that he could not stomach these offensive 
strangers. I noticed that Anolis did not fancy beetles, any way. 
It was fond of the diptera or flies, while an occasional spider was 
taken with a keen relish. Speaking of spiders in this connection, 
I am reminded of a kindly humorist who sent from Florida, to a 
friend, a box of mourning moss, Tillandsia usneoides. He had 
put into the moss, for mischief, one of these inoffensive lizards. 
The box reached its destination, and when opened, out popped 
the little prisoner. “Oh, the dreadful thing! Don’t touch it! 
You'll get poisoned, just as sure as you do!” There was quite 
a consternation, and the unconscious disturber of the peace was 
summarily consigned to a young lady friend of ours, “ who de- 
lights in. bugs and such horrid things.” It was a lucky transfer 
for poor little Anolis. That gentle girl carried her new pet 
safely through the winter not without care and good judgment. 
She fed it chiefly on spiders, then almost the only procurable food. 
To obtain them the outhouses and barn lofts were made to yield 
to her scrutinizing search: And so well was all this done that 
when spring came, and insect food abounded, her little chameleon, 
as she called it, was in prime condition. They are very fond of 
spiders. Bell tells of a pet Anolis principalis catching the large 
garden spider, Epeira diadema, by one leg. The spider bit- the 
- little fellow on the lip, and death soon ensued. 
