Jmrs 26, 1890.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



481 



In rambling over a hillside pasture, how many woxild 

 know or notice that it had never been plowed or that it 

 "looker! very differently from other fallows"? ''Here 

 you observe a little hillock rounding over a decayed 

 stump, there a pretty hollow where some large tree has 

 been uprooted by the storm; fern and brake are alsf* seen in 

 patches instead of the thistle and mullein. Such open 

 hillsides bear a kind of heaving, billowy character, which 

 in certain lights becomes very distinct; these ridges 

 are formed by the roots of old trees, and remain long 

 after the wood has entirely decayed." 



In a smooth, well-cultivated meadow she reads the 

 same history. All around are foreign grasses and foreign 

 weeds, while in a little hollow, where once was a spring, 

 are still growing as they have grown for years the native 

 plants— moose flower aiid cohoshes— and on a river bank 

 squirrel cups and gay-wirngs tell her every spring the soil 

 . there is still unturned by the -plow. 



Every child who likes to creep along the meadow 

 knolls in search of flowers or strawberries in these sum- 

 mers, when the click of mowing machines is heard in 

 the smallest of hayfields, can attest that this description 

 of a meadow, written forty years ago, is just as truthful 

 now, "A meadow is a delicate embroidery in colors, 

 which you must examine closely to understand all its 

 merits; the nearer you are the better. One must bend 

 over the grass to find, the blue violet in May, the red 

 strawberry in June; one should be close at hand to mark 

 the first appearance of the simple held- blossoms, clover 

 red and white, buttercup and daisy, with the later lily, 

 and primrose, and meadow tuft. One should be nigh to 

 breathe the sweet and fresh perfume, which increases 

 daily until the mowers come with their scythes." 



Thoughtful fancies flock around as she comes upon a 

 spring in the forest lying in a "little rocky basin lined 

 with last year's leaves," such a spring as a hunter and his 

 dog are glad to come upon in a thirsty September day. 

 "We feel assured that by every fountain among these 

 hills the Indian brave, on the hunt or the warpath, must 

 have knelt ten thousand times to slake his thirst, and the 

 wild creatures, alike his foes and his companions, the 

 tawny panther, the clumsy bear, the timid deer and the 

 barking wolf, have all lapped these limpid waters during 

 the changing seasons of past ages." 



Walking early in the spring, "glad to tread the brown 

 earth again,*' she meets with a disappointment that many 

 of us have also felt. "Several noble pines, old friends 

 and favorites, had been felled during the winter ; un- 

 sightly stumps and piles of chips were all that remained 

 where those pine trees had so long waved their evergreen 

 arms," and the character of acres around was entirely 

 changed, much to her sorrow. "The rudest boor passing 

 along the highway" can easily, in a few short minutes, 

 bring one of the towering trees to the ground; but gener- 

 ations of men must pass away before a like majestic 

 growth can again arise. She seems to have an especial 

 fondness for the old pines, of which there are many in 

 her haunts. "Their gaunt, upright forms standing about 

 the hilltops, now tossing their arms in the stormy winds, 

 now drawn in still and dark relief against the glowing 

 evening sky," "silent spectators of wonderful changes," 

 they are all loved and cherished. "Sixty years since," 

 she writes, "those trees belonged to a wilderness; the 

 bear, the wolf and the panther brushed their trunks; the 

 ungainly moose and the agile deer browsed at their feet; 

 the savage hunter crept stealthily about their roots, and 

 painted braves passed noiselessly on the warpath beneath 

 their shade. How many successive generations of the 

 red man have trod the soil they overshadowed and then 

 sat down in their narrow graves!" An ordinary writer 

 would not have used this last verb, but Miss Cooper had 

 studied Indian customs too carefully to forget their 

 manner of burial. It would be a blessing to our country 

 if every owner of trees would read . and reading would 

 heed, ber protest against the thoughtless slaughter not 

 only of the forests, but of small crumps of trees and of 

 solitary ones. 



Wherever her rambles take her she notices the birds, 

 the friendly robin, the mewing catbird, "stealing upon 

 us unawares," the humming bird that "brings a message 

 from Cupid" when it flies into a room, the "cheerful, 

 happy-tempered" barn swallow, and the swift-winged 

 chimney swallow. How many of us knew that before 

 chimneys were built this bird made its nest in hollow 

 trees, and that its nest still made of twigs shows it was 

 once a forest bird? It has "little to do with the earth 

 and the plants and. the trees, never alighting except 

 withiu a chimney." 



But more than all else, Miss Cooper's "Rural Hours" is 

 pervaded, as it were, by the fragrance of wild flowers, 

 and all who love the savor of old-fashioned names are 

 indebted to her for the preservation of the common 

 names of many of our flowers, sweeter by far with their 

 familiar titles than with the scientific nomenclature. 



Ho w suggestive of the woods, of its own gray-furred 

 leaves and stems, is "squirrel cup" (Hejjatica triloba), a 

 far prettier name than li verwort for the "tiny lilac cups," 

 hanging from their downy stalks, singly here and there, 

 later on they have "gained courage, standing in little 

 groups." The "white cool wort" (Tiarella eordifolia), with 

 "light and airy tufts/' is so called because the broad 

 leaves used to be laid oh burns and scalds. "Fringe cup" 

 (Mitella diphylla) at once recalls to mind that five-rayed 

 snowflake "hanging its tiny cups at intervals on a tall, 

 slender two-leaved stalk. As for "gay wrings" (Polygala 

 paueij'olia), the name is very appropriate. Clustered to- 

 gether as is the habit of this bright spring favorite, they 

 look like "so many rose colored butterflies resting on the 

 mosses," and "bead ruby" (Convallaria bifolia), suggests 

 its slowly ripened shining ruby berry. "May star" 

 (Trientalis amerieana), is a fit name for this dainty, star- 

 like blossom. Trillium grandifolhm, and the other 

 native Trilliums are all "moose flowers." 



She mourns that our native, flowers were not named 

 before the science of botany was known, so that they 

 might be universally called by some simple, appropriate 

 name easily to be spoken and remembered by little 

 children and unlettered country folk. 



"Pretty natural names," she says, "were given 'flowers' 

 in olden time3, as though they had been called over by 

 some rural jjarty — cherry-cheeked maidens and merry- 

 hearted lads — gone a-Maying of a pleasant spring morn- 

 ing," like ox eye, daisy— day's eye — crow foot, buttercup, 

 heart's ease, loose strife, thrift, wake rcbin, marigold, 

 and many another. "After such names as these, ought 

 we not be ashamed of Batschia, Buchnera, Schizanthus" 

 and the like? 



With such few hints and glimpses of "Rural Hours 

 the book is heartily commended to the attention of all 

 whe desire to know what was written of our outdoor 

 life forty years ago, and as well, to all lovers of nature. 



Rowland E. Robinson. 



SALLY. 



WITHOUT doubt the most popular individual in the 

 London Zoological Gardens is Miss Sally, the bald 

 chimpanzee, known to science as Anthropopithecus oal- 

 vus. So distinguished a personage has she become that 

 I think many of our American friends will be pleased to 

 study her portrait, and an excellent one it is. The ex- 

 pression of face is perfect and her habitual one, though 

 her intelligence is so remarkable that during her per- 

 formances one expects every moment to see a smile or a 

 frown, or the raising of eyebrows, some visible response 

 in the way of pleasure or anger; but no, the face wears 

 always this same imperturbable look, as if, however, Sally 

 were considering in her own mind her present life and 

 her future prospects. More especially when spoken to 

 she appears to be mentally deciding whether she will be 

 obliging or the contrary. To her credit be it said that 

 she usually complies, but with the same unchanging ex- 

 pression of physiognomy. 



The question has been frequently discussed, "Can 

 animals count?" Sir John Lubbock among others has 

 given much attention to some apparent examples in tbe 

 case of insects, bees and others, which in feeding their 

 young invariably bring the same number of victims, 

 more to a female than to a male grub. But in passing it 

 may be suggested that a knowledge of quantity rather 

 than number is the guiding- instinct, the female grub 

 being larger and requiring more food. 



Now there are two animals at present in our Zoological 

 Gardens who are unfailingly correct regarding numbers; 

 and in both cases the comprehension of actual language 

 directs them. First, as being by far the more accom- 



plished scholar, comes Sally, It is no regular routine 

 that she goes through, nor one voice only that she obeys. 

 Not only has she two keepers, both being in turn her 

 tutors, but if a casual visitor asks for a straw, six straws, 

 ten straws, or to shake hands with her, as may be, and 

 Sally is in an amiable mood, she complies as if her keeper 

 had spoken the words. For a time, and after much 

 patient teaching, three seemed to be the limit of her cal- 

 culations. Then she advanced to four and then to five, 

 and here she stopped for a year or two, her keepers 

 almost relinquishing hope of any further advance. But 

 suddenly her intellect seemed to gain strength and now 

 she can count ten correctly. By "counting" we, of 

 course, mean that she comprehends clearly how many 

 straws to pick up if told to give ten to her keeper, or to 

 any one else who requests that number; her compliance 

 toward a stranger being, however, less certain, as Sally 

 resents mi warrantable liberties. Her steady and methodi- 

 cal way of going through "her lessons" is an example to 

 any pupil. Deliberately she selects a straw and holds it in 

 her mouth while she picks up another, passing that to 

 her mouth, and so on, until the required number is col- 

 lected; she then takes them from her lips, folds the bun- 

 dle in a compact form and delivers it to her keeper. 



But her comprehension of language does not end here. 

 "Give me *a straw through the bars," and she does so. 

 "Put one through the keyhole," "now in my pocket," 

 and so on. Not taxing her patience too long, the keeper 

 approvingly says: " Good girl, now you may have this 

 piece of apple," laying several slices on the wood work 

 between the wires. "This piece is for you to smell;" "tbis 

 bit you may look at, but not touch until I tell you;" Sally 

 giving her undivided attention, not attempting to eat any 

 more until the keeper says: ''Now you may have this 

 piece or that." To " shake hands" with the right or the 

 left one, to put up her right or left foot as bidden, to col- 

 lect straws for a " button-hole " and place it there, to 

 take milk from a cup with a spoon "like a lady," and 

 many other small performances are promptly, though de- 

 liberately, executed as the words are spoken. I have 

 watched her often but have never seen her make a mistake 

 in her comprehension of the request. 



Sally is supposed to be about nine years old at the 

 present time. She has been an inmate of the gardens for 

 seven years, and was apparently two years old on her ar- 

 rival. She grew rather quickly at first, and now must 

 have attained nearly full growth, any further change 

 being very slow. 



Intelligent as this lady cliimpanzee undoubtedly is, it 

 must be admitted that her temper, to speak in the mildest 

 terms, is extremely capricious. Affectionate, and fond of 

 one of her keepers to an extent that she is credited with 

 shedding tears if he too abruptly ceases his attentions 

 and departs (it is but polite to attribute the "tears" to 

 fondness and not to anger). She has sometimes gripped 

 his hand and inflicted a sudden bite that has, sad to tell, 

 proved a very vicious nature. Those who venture on 

 any caress must be vigilantly on their guard, for there is 



no knowing Sally's freaks of temper; and occasionally, 

 when her attention and her memory have been over- 

 taxed by the exactions of a continuous stream of visitors, 

 she will suddenly dash away to the back or to the top of 

 her cage and offer unmistakable proof that she is but an 

 untutored savage after all. 



One other accomplishment of Sallv's must not be 

 omitted, and that is her "singing." Here the monkey 

 quality of imitation is apparent and nothing more. When 

 her keeper says, "Now, Sally, give us a song," and leads 

 off with a strain, "Tra-la-la" or otherwise, the creature 

 lifts up her voice and gives utterance to a succession of 

 discordant screeches, which can be compared neither to 

 the braying of an ass, nor the quacking of an angry 

 goose, nor the language of feline serenaders, but a com- 

 pound of all, ending in a prolonged cadenza yell and an 

 air of self-satisfaction that is laughable. Sally has done 

 her best, but she cannot be included in the category of 

 the animals with a discrimination of sound, which Mr. 

 R. E. Stearns has lately been enumerating. 



As may be supposed Sally has proved an interesting ob- 

 ject to scientific men, many of whom have been to wit- 

 ness her capabilities. Had they time to watch her and 

 attempt to instrucffher with the patience and persever- 

 ance of her keepers (to do the fatter justice), or to go 

 through the same routine with some other members of 

 the monkey tribe, they might enable us to ascertain the 

 true workings of Sally's brain and whether it is mem- 

 ory, a Comprehension of sound or of words in tbe human 

 voice, a clear perception of quantity in gathering just so 

 many straws, no more, no fewer, than the required num- 

 ber, induce this obedience or compliance on her part. 

 Memory undoubtedly is an agent, and to this may be 

 added a power of concentrating attention; the antici- 

 pated reward is also an incentive, as it is with higher 

 beings in the scale of creation. If we cou d only add to 

 these endowments the faculty of speech (but it must be 

 in the English language; we might yet better understand 

 the workings of Sally's brain. 



The other inhabitant of the Gardens who can count is 

 the Patagonian sea lion (Otaria jubata), which was 

 brought from the Falkland Island's in 1879. She also 

 does a number of amusing things in obedience to verbal 

 instructions, such as catching fish in her mouth when 

 thrown from a distance, sitting upon a chair or going up 

 a plank to do so, and "kissing" her keeper. But the most 

 interesting feat is when she is told not to catch the second, 

 the sixth or otherfish thrown to her. The keeper says 

 to the spectators that he holds six or five fish, and 

 that the seal will catch in her mouth all that are thrown 

 to her, except the one that any visitor present will men- 

 tion. Some one replies she is to miss the fourth or the 

 third, as he chooses to decide, when the keeper repeats 

 the number, saying to the seal, "You may catch all but 

 the — " whichever number has been decided upon — and 

 the animal never makes a mistake. After all are caught 

 she is told tnat she may come down from her elevation 

 (the chair on a platform in the middle of her pond) and 

 go after the one she missed, which she does in an accu- 

 rate plunge, proving that she had observed carefully 

 where it was thrown. Six fish being as many as the 

 keeper can conveniently hold at one time, the seal has 

 not been practiced beyond that number; but in her case, 

 as in Sally's, there is a true comprehension of sequence 

 and of language. Catherine C. Hoplet. 



London, England, 



The Worcester, Mass., Natural History Society 

 will open its summer camps at Lake Quinsigamond, July 

 22 to Sept. 1, Those camps are for boys, girls and fami- 

 lies. The president of the society is Mr. Edward H. For- 

 bush. 



j§ng uni 



" FOREST AND STREAM" GUN TESTS. 



THE following guns have been tested at the Forest and 

 STREAM Range, and reported upon in the issues named. 

 Copies of any date will be sent on receipt of price, ten cents: 

 Clabrouoh 12. May 1, '90. Parker 10. hammer, June 6, '89. 

 Cot.t 12, July 25, '89. Parker 13, ham'rless.June 0 '89. 



Colt 10 and 1:.', Oct. 24, '89. Remington 18, May 30. '89. 

 Folsom 10 and 12, Sept. 2(5, '89. Remington 12, Dec 5,'89, Feb 8, '90 

 Francotte 15, Deo. 12, '89. Remington 10, Dec. 26, '89. 

 Greener 12, Aug. 1, '89. Scott 10, Sept. 5, '89. 



G-reenee 10, ^ept. 12-19, '89. L. C. Smith 12. Oct. 10, '89. 

 Hoelis 10, Nov. 7. '89. Whitney Safety 15, M'cb 8, '90. 



Lefever 12, March 18, '90. Winchester 10 & 12, Oct. 3, '89. 



SHOT COUNT AND WEIGHT. 



THE examination of No. 9 shot shows the same varia- 

 tions in matters of weight and count as was shown 

 last week in our table of the No. 10 shot. The same com- 

 panies' output are still under consideration, and the sam- 

 ples as before were gathered direct from the companies 

 themselves in the Forest and Stream sample bottles, 

 except in the case of the English concerns, whence small 

 bags of shot were sent direct to the office. The charges of 

 lioz., Am. Shooting Ass. measure, in each instance were 

 counted and weighed, and the figures of each individual 

 charge are given in the body of the table, and then in 

 the heavier full-face figures the average count for each 

 company is given. To obviate any irregularity which 

 might come with various manners of loading and to 

 bring all into a uniform line of comparison, 100 pellets 

 were taken from each lot of shot and their weights taker, 

 in three different samples and the average in the last 

 column struck. As before, the shot from all sources is the 

 regular size and not any of the half sizes made up in 

 many factories on the trap-shooter's demand. 



A glance at the table shows the variation between tbe 

 top and bottom of the list to be over 30 per cent. The 

 Leroy Co.. of New York, are still at one end of the list as 

 making the largest shot, but the Collier Co. have gained 

 the other extreme with an average of 951 pellets against 

 the lowest average of 721. In the number of shot the 

 Cincinnati Co. just strike the average, so far as count is 

 concerned, and yet a glance at the weight average shows 

 that they have but 552 grains weight in the charge, while 

 the average reaches over 584. In the 100 pellet division 

 the jump is from 63-i grains weight to 82 grains, or a 

 charge of about 30 per cent, following very closely the 

 general average. The Northwestern Co. still figure all 

 alone as soft shot makers, not having as yet any chilled 

 shot output. The two English companies get very close 

 together, very close indeed, as compared with the gap 



