78 NATURE'S REALM. 
Answers to Correspondents. 
“« Youngster” asks why a dog generally turns around three 
, or four times before he lies down to sleep? It is supposed 
that this singular and almost invariable practice is one of the 
dog’s natural instincts, altered or modified to his domesticated 
life; for, when in a wild state, he takes up his night’s quar- 
ters ina field of tall, withered grass, or among reeds or 
rushes ; thus, wheeling round, he separates the vegetation in 
the spot where he is to lie, and forms a bed with overhanging 
curtains all around for his protection and warmth. 
““C. L. R.” is interested in the variety of motions that the 
trunk of an elephant has the power to make, and asks the 
reason why this is so. We answer: There are a great num- 
ber of muscles in an elephant’s trunk. They have their in- 
sertion in the external coverings of the trunk, and they lie in 
a great variety of directions, some longitudinal, some nearly 
circular and others oblique. They number no less than 4,000, 
which is considerably greater than the number in the whole 
human body. Maunder writes: ‘ The trunk of the elephant 
may justly be considered as one of the miracles of Nature, 
being at once the organ of respiration as well as the instru- 
ment by which the animal supplies itself with food. Nearly 
eight feet in length, endowed with exquisite sensibility, and 
stout in proportion to the massive size of the animal, this organ 
will uproot trees or gather grass—raise a piece of artillery or 
take up anut, kill a manor brush offafly. It conveys the food 
to the mouth and pumps up enormous draughts of water, 
which, by its recurvature, are turned into and driven down the 
capacious throat or showered over the body. Its length sup- 
plies the place of a long neck, which would have been incom- 
patible with the support of the large head and weighty. tusks. 
A glance at the head of an elephant will show the thickness 
and strength of the trunk at its insertion, and the massy, 
arched bones of the face, and thick, muscular neck, are admir- 
ably adapted for supporting and working this powerful and 
wonderful instrument.” 
‘* Amateur,” who is interested in the albino question, will 
doubtless be so in the following description of a swallow with 
pure white plumage. It will add to his elaborate notes on this 
subject, which he kindly promises to put into shape and give 
them to the readers of Nature’s Reatm: ‘‘ Ornithologists in 
Paris are much interested in the discovery of a rare bird in the 
shape of a snow-white swallow. This novel specimen of the 
feathered tribe came to life lately in a nest which was built by 
the parent bird under the eaves of a glass roof covering a court 
in the extensive manufactory of a tradesman residing in the 
district of Grenelle. The white bird was born with two black 
specimens, one of which flew away as soon as it was fledged, 
whereupon the tradesman, in order to keep the other two, 
transformed the glass-roofed court into a temporary aviary.- 
Photographs have been taken of the snow-white swallow and 
will be sent to the leading naturalists of the city. One of them 
went to Grenelle in order to study the feathered curiosity. 
This gentleman was, however, too late to see the bird alive. 
It perished, probably, because too much care was taken of it 
or through fright at the number of people who came to stare at 
it as a natural curiosity. The dead bird will now be stuffed 
and sent to the museum of the Botanical Gardens, where there 
is already a white magpie, which still lives and hops about 
among its companions, from which it only. differs in color.” 
A correspondent, ‘‘J. G. W.,” asks us what term is applied 
to a number of peacocks when gathered together. We reply, 
“a muster of peacocks,” and, as the subject is an interésting 
one, we append the generally aceepted terms for groups of 
animals, according to an English authority: ‘‘A herd of 
swine, a skulk of foxes, a pack of wolves, a drove of oxen or 
cattle, a sounder of hogs, a troop of monkeys, a pride of lions, 
a sleuth of bears, a band of horses, a herd of ponies, a covey 
of partridges, a nide of pheasants, a wisp of snipe, a school of 
whales, a shoal of herrings, a run of fish, a flight of doves, a 
siege of herons, a building of rooks, a brood of grouse, a 
swarm of bees, gnats, flies, etc., a stand of flowers, a watch of 
nightingales, a cast of hawks, a flock of geese, sheep, goats, 
etc., a bevy of girls, a gallery of stars and a crowd of men or 
boys.” 
In the Woods. 
The eye may catch, thro’ foliage densely green, 
Glimpses of streams that flow thro’ banks serene, 
Foaming o’er rocks or dashing ‘neath a line 
(By Nature’s caprice cast) of bright sunshine. 
Mosses and daintiest terns and flowers outspread, 
Fill the deep hollows, while the trees o’erhead, 
Willow and ash dnd lime, with honied blooms, 
And plumy pine trees with their spic’d perfumes, 
Brighten with light, where glancing sunbeams came, 
Misty with shade, or dazzling bright with flame ; 
And yet so changeful, that capricious light, 
That spots late dim with shade flash’d silver bright. 
There’s ever a calm beauty in the scene, 
A radiance on slopes and uplands green, 
A light that glorifies the lichen’d face 
Of mossy boulders in each rugged space. 
When thou dost walk by river or brook-streams, 
With all their glooms, with all their changeful gleams, 
With their glad prattle and their jocund play, 
Swift glides the hours and lovely smiles the day. 
Deep in these woods ’tis pleasant to recline, 
Where beams of sultry noon thro’ drooping forests shine; 
There, ’neath a foliag’d beech or pine tree shade, 
Or by some ash tree, sweet is refuge made. 
Then shrilly sounds the locust’s mid-day hum, 
But silent all the katydids and beetle’s drum ; 
Scarce heard the flitting gnat and buzzing fly, 
Or wood dove’s plaint, ’till sultry hours go by. 
Deep in those groves ’tis pleasant to repose 
When passing breeze with tremulous cadence blows, 
Now swelling with a blast, like organ peal, 
And now so soft they scarce on senses steal. 
How fair those groves when starry spheres illume, 
And flooding moonbeams dissipate the gloom ; 
Thro’ densest shades their lances pierce the wood 
And fill with radiance all the solitude. 
Dear to the angler’s heart those tufted groves, 
Whose foliaged branches overhang the stream, 
Some full-brimm’d river dashing on its way, 
Now dim in shadow and now bright in gleam. 
They gréet, they beckon him with all théir leaves, 
They welcome him with silences and sound, 
Their birds with liquid operas invite, 
Their wild flowers all his wandering steps surround. 
He seeks the woods that hem St. Lawrence Gulf, 
And there, where rush the torrents to the deep, 
