58 



HARD WICKE'S SCIENCE- G OS SIP. 



A capital book for lads fond of birds or eggs which 

 require identification. 



The Hemiptera Heteroptera of the British Islands, 

 by Edward Saunders (London: L. Reeve & Co.). 

 This is a valuable and useful monograph for the in- 

 creasing number of students of our British Hemiptera. 

 Entomology is no longer a science of collecting and 

 classifying butterflies, moths, and beetles ; its cast- 

 net is now thrown over the entire insect fauna. 

 Mr. Saunders' reputation as an entomological 

 authority is everywhere acknowledged ; and the 

 book before us contains his descriptive account of the 

 the families, genera, and species indigenous to Great 

 Britain and Ireland, with notes and localities, habi- 

 tats, etc. It is an eminently useful manual for ento- 

 mological students. 



A Memorial of Joseph Henry (Washington : 

 Government Printing Office). The Americans know 

 how to appreciate their scientific men. Professor 

 Henry was the first president of the A.A.A.S. in 

 1849. Afterwards better known as the presiding 

 genius of the Smithsonian Institution, which sends 

 forth its literary scientific treasures with such a free 

 hand all over the earth. This well-got-up volume is 

 the best memorial the nation could give him, infinitely 

 better than a bride's-cake effigy in cheap marble, 

 put up somewhere where it would be easily 

 blackened ! 



A SHORE-WALK IN APRIL. 



WE have taken the first boat across the ferry, 

 and are set down at Burntisland at 7.52 a.m. 

 Soon we pass through the stirring town, and turn 

 along the narrow path that leads to Aberdour. 

 Starlings are crying from the telegraph-wires, and 

 rooks are making a much greater din from their 

 home near the shore. At first our chief companions 

 are the small bands of greenfinches that fly on before 

 us, chirruping to one another, whilst others, 

 stationary in the trees, utter their drawn-out tway ; 

 but when we come to the wooded portion of the 

 way, we exchange the companionship of these birds 

 for that of chaffinches and tits. For half a mile or so 

 our path keeps to ,the inland side of the railway, 

 after which it passes beneath it and runs along the 

 shore. On to Aberdour we have the railway on our 

 right, and the shore on our left, from which, 

 however, we are shut off by wire fence and patches 

 of shrubs, alternately. Save the ever-present gulls, 

 and the cormorants, seated on the rocks that project 

 from the water, we can expect to see little here, and 

 hurry on to Aberdour woods, where our footpath is 

 no longer closely hemmed in on each side. The 

 wood resounds with varied song ; most prominent is 

 that of the chaffinch, but blended with it is the 

 ycllowhammer's monotonous tune, the long drawl of 

 the greenfinch, and the musical, plaintive cooing of 



the cushat. Blackbirds and thrushes rise before us 

 as we advance, and a little wren hops along the edge 

 of a ditch, halting at short intervals to deliver a 

 part of its song, and drooping its wings as it does so. 



Descending to Aberdour Harbour, we pass round 

 its inner side, and continuing our journey along the 

 front of the villas, we soon escape both from houses 

 and from railways. We keep to a path rudely 

 shaped in the rock, which, in summer, is trodden by 

 many feet, but at this time almost deserted, till we 

 find a headland, up to whose base the tide has come, 

 rising to intercept our progress. We therefore 

 mount the dyke that has compelled us to keep close 

 to the shore, and cut across a field to the bay beyond. 

 Round this bay and the next we proceed, without 

 noticing anything particularly interesting, and come 

 to a small house, or cave, situated on the top of a cliff. 

 This building is so constructed as to escape the 

 notice cf the passer-by, and has its roof level with 

 the grassy ground above ; it is not now occupied, 

 but it may have played an important part in con- 

 nection with the Monastery of Inchkolm in earlier 

 times. 



After searching its interior in vain, for signs of 

 owls or sleeping bats, we cross over from this small 

 peak to another, and, as soon as we look over to the 

 shore, a redshank rises, followed closely by a pair of 

 shellducks that have paid attention to his warning 

 cry. These latter birds uttered a low, guttural cry, 

 like shuck shuck, and as they flew, they presented a 

 beautiful and varied display of colours, white being 

 the most prominent, with black head and black- 

 tipped wings, and chestnut on the upper part of the 

 back. On coming forward to the place from which 

 the shellducks rose, I am attracted by a spring note, 

 chack chack, and I know that the wheatear has 

 arrived. Flying with wavy flight, and showing his 

 white rump conspicuously, he lands on a stone. He 

 bobs once or twice, then with head bent down he 

 hops away from it so quickly that he seems to run, 

 picks up something, turns round, and hops as 

 quickly back again to his old perch. Several rock- 

 pipits and a pied-wagtail are also flying about here, 

 and up now gets the redshank once more, and with 

 his quivering flight and his loud khew-hee-hee, hurries 

 along to the east, past us. 



Having crossed a short stretch of stony ground, 

 and welcomed a little wren thereon, we enter a wood. 

 Away flies a blackbird, with his terrible scream ; 

 another follows, and then off scampers a rabbit. 

 Excepting these, however, there is no commotion ; 

 one ignorant of his ground would little suspect that 

 here is a heronry. There seems to be no heron about, 

 but as I walk beneath the trees, presently one slips 

 off its nest as quietly as possible, and then another 

 and another. The heronry wood covers a piece of 

 ground that rises from the sea with a rather steep 

 gradient, and as the herons' nests are built on trees, 

 situated at the foot of the slope, it is possible to see 



