C/.V-NA TURA L HIS TOR Y. 
213 
tree on account of the character of its bark and of its sloping trunk, which made 
the retention of the nut in its place an easy matter ; and secondly, as this was the 
30th of May, the nut must have come from a store, probably hidden somewhere by 
the bird, for of course the nut must have been a last year’s nut. As I have heard 
this tapping at different times all through the winter and spring, the store of nuts 
must have been pretty large to have lasted until now. 
It would be easy to multiply quotations from this delightful 
book, but we shall do a greater kindness to our readers by recom- 
mending them to obtain it for themselves. 
UN-NATURAL HISTORY. 
CORRESPONDENT is anxious to know what Miss 
Marie Corelli means by “ bog-oak,” and what by “ the 
white lilies of St. John.” \Ve should not have the 
presumption to say what Miss Corelli means, so we 
wrote and asked her if she would kindly enlighten our readers. 
The application was, however, unsuccessful ; Miss Corelli, 
although she is not, as was stated in the papers, entertaining a 
party of lady grouse-shooters, is taking a holiday in Scotland, and 
can hardly be expected to find time to satisfy what she pro- 
bably regards as idle — if not impertinent — curiosity. 
Bog-oak, of course, generally means the wood of oak pre- 
served in a black state in peat bogs ; but that is not Miss 
Corelli’s bog-oak. That grows in l3evonshire in a garden at 
Comb-martin, where “ the wild growth of sweetbriar, myrtle, 
fuchsia, and bog-oak spring up everywhere in the erratic yet 
always artistic fashion of mother Nature, when she is left to 
design her own woodland ways.” What can it be? The name 
does not appear in the Dictionary of English Plant Names, and 
we have never met with it elsewhere. The “ lilies of St. John ” 
are, we presume, the common \vhite lily, though we do not know 
this as an English name for them. 
It is in The Mighty Atom — a work which is understood to 
advocate religious education, and is now in its seventy-third 
thousand — that bog-oak presents itself ; and a cursory inspection 
of the book leads us to the conclusion that the natural history of 
Comb-martin is as remarkable as its dialect. The birds, among 
which the nightingale predominates, are no common songsters, 
who “ do but sing because they must ” ; no, they alight on 
window-sills and “ pipe a gentle roundelay for the cheering and 
encouragement of those within, before so much as preening a 
feather”; they “come to assure” small boys who are learning 
their lessons, “ that fine weather may be expected,” and “ seem 
disappointed that their gay carol is not more appreciated.” 
Then they “ peer round at the youthful student from time to 
time inquisitively, as much as to say, ‘ What wonder is this ? 
