NATURAL HISTORY NOTES, QUERIES, &c. 37 
Ffraid’s combs), Wood Betony, was once considered a sovereign remedy, and is 
still in high repute among the older inhabitants. Palf y Z/srt/ (Lion’s paws) is not 
a bad name for the common Lady’s Mantle, when the resemblance in shape be- 
tween its leaves and the lion’s paws is taken into consideration. The Tutsan or Park- 
leaves is familiar to every country schoolboy as Dail tivrch (Swine Leaves) ; they 
put them between leaves of books, to which they impart their scent. Clychau^i' 
baban (Baby’s bells) is a pretty name for the Snowdrop, and LlysiaiC r (the 
.Soldier’s Weed) is not inappropriately applied to the Purple Loosestrife. Ribwort 
plantain is Sawdl Crist (Christ’s sole). Thrift is Clustoy A/air pillow), 
and the Cowslip is Dagrau A/air (Mary’s tears). The imaginative minds of our 
forefathers saw something startling in the Red Poppy peeping through the corn ; 
they looked upon it with suspicion, and gave it the name Llys^ad y Cylhraul 
(Devil’s eye), and also called it Drcivlys (Stinking weed). The Common Vervain 
has been invested with the name Gasman Gytkraiil (VlaXtA liy the Ltevil) ; it was, 
as most know, one of the plants in most repute as a protection against evil agen- 
cies of all kinds. A curious name for the Cleavers, or Bedstraws in general, is 
LlaiAr 'ffeirad (parson’s lice). This has especial reference to the clinging burrs, 
and is paralleled in several English names. The burrs of the Burdock are called 
Bwm .Zef/f (Bumbailiff). Herb Parisis favoured with the charming name Cwlwn 
Canad (Love’s Knot). Clych yr eos (the Nightingale’s bells) is given in some 
localities to the Wild Hyacinth, in others to the Harebells. Another becoming 
name for the same plants is Croeso (Welcome Summer) ; the former, at any 
rate, is a true harbinger of summer. Another little flower, the Michaelmas 
Daisy, found by almost every cottage in Wales, which it cheers when all the 
others are faded and gone, is called Fjarwel Z7a/ (Farewell Summer). 
A'bersytwith. G. Rees. 
Birds at a Lighthouse. — One of the keepers at the lighthouse on St. 
Catherine’s Hill, Isle of Wight, told me on the occasion of a recent visit there 
that on several nights at the latter part of October large numbers of blackbirds, 
thrushes and larks had been observed, attracted by the light during their migra- 
tions. I should be glad to learn if any of your readers are aware that these birds 
migrate in the autumn, and do they leave us, or are they new arrivals? 
If it were possible to supply lighthouse keepers with forms for the purpose of 
recording the different species of birds that come under their notice at the seasons 
of migration, very valuable Information might be obtained. 
M'. Denne. 
[Dr. Morris Gibbs, in analysing the causes of the decrease in the numbers, 
or the absolute extinction, of certain of our birds, says that the lighthouses of 
our great lakes and coasts sacrifice many thousand each year, and possibly hun- 
dreds of thousands, the birds killing themselves by dashing against the lights 
when migrating seasonally. He doubts whether there exists an invention, with 
the exception of the gun, more deadly to birds than the electric light. Another 
indictment is brought against the headlight of the locomotive, and also against 
the telegraph and other wires which form a network through the country. All 
these causes unquestionably contribute in a greater or less degree to the destruc- 
tion of birds ; but it has been conclusively proved that when the number of birds 
destroyed at any particular place, by any of these agencies, has been carefully 
determined by a series of daily records, the result has inevitably been such as to 
lead to the belief that the accounts generally given of the aggregate destruction 
of birds by various forms of the electric light have been greatly exaggerated. — 
Chicago WiSK'j.] 
Squirrels and Birds (p. 19). — A correspondent asks, “.\re birds afraid of 
the squirrel ?” Yes. A number of small birds, about twelve different kinds, come 
to my study window in the morning when I ring a bell, and a squirrel that has his 
“ dray” in an evergreen oak just opposite has learned to understand the meaning 
of the bell, and often comes to share the meal. He looks so impudently pretty 
and self-satisfied sitting up and nibbling a piece of cheese, of which he seems very 
fond, holding it daintily in his paws, that one cannot help admiring him, but he is 
a great nuisance, as the birds all leave when he comes, and he cannot be got rid 
of without frightening the birds at the same time. Is'ow and again one more 
