Country Walks of a Naturalist with His Children Part 3

Let us now sit down and rest for an hour, and eat our lunch; the fish do not rise as freely as they did; perhaps later on they will be in the humour again. But what do I see sticking to the sides of that rail across the river; I must go and see. Well, really this is an interesting thing. An immense ma.s.s of flies, a few alive, but the greater number quite dead; and, look! a quant.i.ty of white eggs underneath them. Let us examine a fly; it is of a brown or tawny colour, and has rather long, diverging, colourless wings, marked with irregular brown spots. Why, there must be thousands of dead flies covering these eggs. What an odd idea! Presently up comes Mr. Collins from the farm near the bank of the stream. "Oh, sir, I know those flies quite well; they are oak-flies (_Leptis scolopacea_)." Certainly not, I replied, though they do somewhat resemble them in colour and appearance; but the farmer stoutly a.s.serted he was right, and I did not think it worth while discussing the matter further with him. Mr.

Collins is a good fly-fisherman; and fly-fishermen, unless they are naturalists, are generally very positive. How often have I tried to teach anglers that the May-fly does not come from a caddis worm; how often have I failed! Well, the two-winged fly I have just found in such thousands, with their dead bodies brooding over this ma.s.s of eggs, is known to entomologists by the name of _Atherix Ibis_; the females are gregarious, and, as we have seen, attach their eggs to rails, boughs, or other objects overhanging streams; each female, having laid her eggs, remains there and dies; shortly after comes another and does the same, and so on till immense cl.u.s.ters are formed.

The larva, when hatched, falls into the water, its future residence; it is said to have a forked tail about one third the length of its body, and to "have the power of raising itself in the water by an incessant undulating motion in a vertical plane." I am not, however, acquainted with either larva or pupa, but hope to become so this summer. "It is very curious, papa," said Jack, "that the flies, after they have laid their eggs, should die there; why do not they fly away?

Do any other animals do the same?" Yes, pretty much so. Some of the female insects of the genus called _Coccus_, scale insect, or mealy bug, common on the stems of various trees, to which they sometimes do incredible mischief, lay their eggs and die over them, the dead bodies of the parents forming coverings for the young. See how fast the green drake is appearing. Notice how it flies with head erect for a second or two, and then falls almost helplessly on the surface of the water.

There! did you see that fish rise at him? He has escaped the hungry trout, and has reached a blade of gra.s.s, where he will probably rest for some hours. But give me my rod; perhaps the same trout will rise at my artificial fly. There! that throw was exactly over the spot. No; he won't have it. I'll try again and again. No. Objects to _sauce piquante_, I suppose. Well, I will tempt him again in an hour's time or so. The water is smooth here, and free from rapids; let us lie down on the gra.s.s and see the birth of _Ephemera_--for that is the May-fly's proper name. Here comes something floating down. It is within the reach of my hand, so I will secure it. What is it? As I thought. Ephemera is throwing off its swaddling clothes. See how it twirls and twists itself about. Now it is free; and the strange-looking worm has changed into a beautiful fly. But there is yet one other operation to go through ere it a.s.sumes its final and complete form; you see at present it is a heavy flier, for the wings are scarcely dry, and the muscles as yet unequal to great exertion; so in their present imperfect form they are constantly dropping for a second or two in the water, and are often sucked down the throat of some roach, trout, or other fish on the look-out. You should remember that the _Ephemera_, or May-fly, in this its _sub-imago_, or imperfect winged state, represents the "green drake" of the angler. What have I here on this blade of gra.s.s? Do you see? What is the shadowy form that lifelessly clings to it? It is a delicate membrane, thin and light; see, I blow it away. You saw the split in the back, through which the former tenant left the abode. It is the cast-off skin of the green drake, now metamorphosed into a creature more active than harlequin or columbine, the male into a dark brown insect, with gauze-like wings, the female into a beautiful creature, with body marbled white and brown, and able to fly well and strongly, now high in the air, now sailing along close to the surface of the water, ever and anon dipping gently into it for the purpose of laying her eggs. The small oval eggs sink down to the bottom, and attach themselves to the weeds and stones that are found there. The flight of the male Ephemera is different; it is the males that practise together that peculiar up-and-down dance, with heads erect and bodies curving prettily upwards; of course, you can understand how countless mult.i.tudes fall victims to fish and bird, for dainty morsels they are. These flies, though voracious feeders both in the larval and nymphal state, never eat at all after they have a.s.sumed their perfect form. Indeed, they have no true mouth, only an imperfect or rudimentary one; and you would never find a particle of food in their stomachs, which are always more or less full of air-bubbles, which, no doubt, a.s.sist in buoying up the insect, and thus save the expenditure of muscular power. I'll catch one of those dancing males, and press him quickly in the middle. There! crack he goes! for the little air-bubbles in the stomach have burst by the pressure of my finger and thumb.

Abundant as are the May-flies at the latter end of May and the beginning of June in this country, in other countries they are sometimes more astonis.h.i.+ngly numerous. In some parts of Holland, Switzerland, and France, their great numbers have been compared to pelting flakes of snow. "The myriads of Ephemerae which filled the air," says Reaumur, "over the current of the river and over the bank on which I stood, are neither to be expressed nor conceived. When the snow falls, with the largest flakes and with the least interval between them, the air is not so full of them as that which surrounded the Ephemerae." The occurrence of such prodigious numbers is, I believe, unknown in the British isles. In the perfect or _imago_ state the May-fly lives but a short time. The word _ephemera_ means "living only for a day;" and though individuals may live longer, yet the term is fairly correct as expressing their short existence. The May-flies (_Ephemerae_) have all three long fine hairs at the end of the tail; some members of the same family, but belonging to a different genus, have only two hair-like appendages. For instance, the fly known to fishermen as the "March-brown" belongs to the same family as the May-fly; it is smaller than it, and has only two hairs at the end of the tail; but with this exception, the natural March-brown and the May-fly are wonderfully alike; yet it is most curious to notice what a wonderful difference there is in the larvae of these two insects.

Significant facts, no doubt, lie at the bottom of such differences in the case of insects so evidently allied, but these I will not speak of. Here are the two forms of larvae, the one being the larva of the common May-fly (_Ephemera_), the other that of the March-brown (_Baetis_).

[Ill.u.s.tration: LARVA OF BAeTIS, WITH BREATHING PADDLES, MAGNIFIED.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: LARVA OF EPHEMERA, OR MAY-FLY, MAGNIFIED TWO DIAMETERS.]

Come, we have lunched, and rested, and watched the May-flies; let us try to catch a few more trout. It is very strange why sometimes the fish will not rise, though the weather is propitious and the water in first-rate order. Holloa! master w.i.l.l.y, what game are you after now?

"Oh, papa," he exclaimed, "there are a lot of dace on this shallow, so I put the spinning hooks on, and, see, I have managed to hook a couple out, by simply throwing the tackle on the other side of the fish and then drawing it smartly through the water over them." Well, that looks like a bit of poaching, at all events; the fish are sp.a.w.ning amongst that water-crowfoot, no doubt; just hook out some weed, and I dare say we shall see some eggs. To be sure; there they are, dotted over the long thread-like leaves of the plant, like little pearls. You have caught enough, for I think it is not sportsmanlike conduct to take such unfair advantage of the unfortunate dace. Put on your casting line and try under the old forge bridge. You think there is not much use? A true fly-fisherman should never say so. I have taken many a trout under the bridge, and I dare say you may be successful this time. There! I told you so. Keep your line tight, and Jack shall land him. He is not a large fish evidently, but very lively. Now you have him, throw him on the gra.s.s. Are there any parasites on him? Yes; but different to the last we observed. Here is a leech-like creature, rather small and cylindrical; it is the _Piscicola_, a not uncommon parasitic leech on fish. Well, put him into the bottle; we can take him home and examine him at leisure. How many trout have we taken now? "We have got nine, papa, and, remember, I have caught three."

Yes; but I suppose you include the poaching? "No; I have caught three trout with the fly, and I don't count the dace." Not a bad day's sport, after all; for I threw back again three small fish. What is this showy plant, with large, yellow, globe-like blossoms? How pretty it is, growing in abundance in a little spot near the river! It is the globe flower, so called from the rounded shape of the corolla; it is one of the b.u.t.tercup family, as you will, perhaps, guess. In its wild state I believe it is found in mountain districts, so I suspect it has found its way here from some of the cottage gardens which are only a quarter of a mile distant. We will grub up a few roots; perhaps Mrs.

Charlton would like them for her wild garden shrubbery. When you go a-fis.h.i.+ng always be provided, if not inconvenient, with a trowel and a small basket, as well as with a few wide-mouthed bottles; they will be very useful, especially if the trout will not rise. The trowel and basket you can leave at a cottager's house, and the bottles are indispensable to every angler-naturalist. What are you running after, Jacko? Oh! I see; one of the most beautiful insects that are found in this country. Ah! he is too quick for you. It is the brilliant steel-blue dragon-fly. Let us sit down for a few minutes and watch its flight. How rapidly it flies, now pursuing the course of the river, now suddenly darting back again. It is the _Agrion virgo_, the most splendid of all the dragon-flies, even rivalling the gorgeously coloured insects of tropical countries. All the dragon-flies proceed from water larvae; strange creatures of unbecoming forms and ferocious dispositions. The mouth, or rather the lower lip of the larva is of very singular form. Two jaw-like organs are at the end of the lip, its basal portion being articulated to the head; this mask, as it has been called, is folded beneath the head when in repose, but it can be suddenly shot out in front of the head so as to seize any small creatures that may pa.s.s near it which the larva thinks good to eat.

Imagine one of your arms being joined on to your chin, bend your elbow up till your hand covers your face--this will represent the dragon larva with the mask in repose; now shoot out your arm in a straight line from the head--this will represent the mask unfolded and in use; your fingers may be considered to represent the jaws of the creature.

When the larva wishes to turn into an insect, it leaves the water and creeps up the stem of some water weed or other object out of the water, bursts its skin, and commences its new state of existence. If we look about us near the water side, we shall be sure to find some empty pupa skins. Here are two on this sedge; you see a slit on the back through which the dragon-fly has come out. The dragon-flies are the largest and most active of our British insects, and, to quote the descriptive words of Professor Rymer Jones, "are pre-eminently distinguished by the rapidity of their flight and the steadiness of their evolutions while 'hawking' for prey in the vicinity of ponds and marshy grounds, where in hot summer weather they are everywhere to be met with. Equally conspicuous from their extreme activity, their gorgeous colours, and the exquisite structure of their wings, they might be regarded as the monarchs of the insect race. The very names selected for them by entomologists would testify the perfection of their attributes; their t.i.tles ranging from that of _Anax imperator_, indicative of imperial sway, to epithets expressive of feminine delicacy and ladylike grace, such as _virgo_, _puella_, _demoiselle_, and _damsel-fly_, which are appropriated to the sylph-like forms that many of them exhibit. In their habits, however, they by no means deserve the gentle appellations bestowed upon them. They are, in truth, the tigers of the insect world, and their whole lives are devoted to bloodshed and rapine. Indomitable in their strength of wing, furnished with tremendous jaws, and possessed of acuteness of sight and rapidity of motion scarcely to be paralleled, there seems to be no escape from their ferocity, and terrible is the slaughter they effect amongst the insect legions they are appointed to destroy." It must not, however, be supposed from the above description that the dragon-flies are creatures that deserve to be killed. On the contrary, they are most serviceable to men, and destroy countless numbers of injurious flies and b.u.t.terflies whose larvae do damage to vegetation.

"Well, papa," said Jack, "the boys in the village always kill them if they can catch them, and say they sting horses." I know that this is a popular tradition, inherited by the rural folks of our day from their great-great-grandmothers' grandmothers. Dragon-flies are often called _horse stingers_; in America they are sometimes called _devil's darning-needles_; in Scotland, I believe, they are known by the name of _flying adders_. Where is my net? I will try and catch a demoiselle. There! I have her, or I should rather say _him_, for these dark spots on the wings disclose the s.e.x; the female has unspotted wings, and is of a rich green colour. "How splendidly it s.h.i.+nes in the sun," said w.i.l.l.y; "nothing can exceed the beauty of its wings." Well, now you have looked at him closely and admired him, I will let him go again. Off he flies, none the worse for his temporary captivity. Now for my friend the trout, who would not take my fly an hour ago. Ah! I have got him the first throw; see how he jumps. Now, w.i.l.l.y, for the landing-net. Bravo! all safe, and a good fish too. Our sport is over for the day, and we must get ready to drive home. To-morrow, w.i.l.l.y, you may learn these lines from Thomson's 'Seasons:'

"When with his lively ray the potent sun Has pierced the stream and roused the finny race, Then, issuing cheerful, to thy sport repair; Chief should the western breezes curling play, And light o'er ether bear the shadowy clouds.

Just in the dubious point where with the pool Is mixed the trembling stream, or where it boils Around the stone, or from the hollowed bank Reverted plays in undulating flow, There throw, nice judging, the delusive fly; And as you lead it round in artful curve With eye attentive mark the springing game, Straight as above the surface of the flood They wanton rise, or urged by hunger leap, Then fix with gentle twitch, the barbed hook.

Some lightly tossing to the gra.s.sy bank, And to the shelving sh.o.r.e slow-dragging some, With various hand proportioned to their force.

If yet too young and easily deceived, A worthless prey scarce bends your pliant rod; Him, piteous of his youth, and the short s.p.a.ce He has enjoyed the vital light of heaven, Soft disengage, and back into the stream The speckled captive throw. But should you lure From his dark haunt, beneath the tangled roots Of pendent trees, the monarch of the brook, Behoves you then to ply your finest art.

Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly; And oft attempts to seize it, but as oft The dimpled water speaks his jealous fear.

At last, while haply o'er the shaded sun Pa.s.ses a cloud, he desperate takes the leap, With sullen plunge. At once he darts along, Deep struck, and runs out all the lengthened line; Then seeks the furthest ooze, the sheltering weed, The caverned bank, his old secure abode, And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool, Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand, That feels him still, yet to his furious course Gives way, you, now retiring, following now Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage; Till, floating broad upon his breathless side, And to his fate abandoned, to the sh.o.r.e You gaily drag your unresisting prize."

There is some good advice here worth remembering; at any rate, persevere, persevere, and no doubt you will become in time

[Ill.u.s.tration: A MOST SUCCESSFUL ANGLER.]

WALK VI.

JUNE.

"We had many pleasant rambles last autumn," said w.i.l.l.y, "in search of fungi. How I wish the time was come when we could hunt for fungi again. Think of the woods at the bottom of the Wrekin, and those delightful fir plantations near Tibberton. Besides you know some kinds are so good broiled for breakfast. I often think of fungus-hunting.

When shall we be able to go out hunting again?"

September and October are the best months, but we shall meet with fungi earlier. However, I will promise you a long day's ramble or two in search of fungi when the time comes. In the mean time let us keep our eyes open, and I dare say we shall even now, in the month of June, meet with a few interesting species. We will go into some of the meadows near home to-day, and I am much mistaken if we shall not be able to find St. George's mushroom. It is a very delicious fungus, and perfectly wholesome. I gathered a few specimens the other day, and now that the weather is warm, I doubt not we shall meet a good number; so, besides collecting bottles, we will take a basket, and Jack shall be the carrier. Now separate yourselves and search this pasture well.

"Here are a lot of fungi growing in a ring," exclaimed May. Let me look. You have found what we wanted. This fungus is the _Agaricus gambosus_, or St. George's mushroom. See how closely the gills are set together; they are yellowish-white in colour; the top is thick and fleshy; the stem, too, is very thick. Few fungi, comparatively speaking, grow so early in the year, and you could not mistake _gambosus_ for any other kind. What? You think the smell rather strong. Well, I confess this fungus has a strong and not a very pleasant odour. Put what you have collected into the basket; you will find that the taste is better than the smell. Here are some specimens with the top cracked and split; these are a little older, but they are very good. We will put them with the rest. "Oh, papa," exclaimed Jack, "I was looking at that ash tree in the hedge, and I thought I saw a mouse run up the trunk." I suspect it was not a mouse, but a bird, called, from its habit of running up trees, the tree-creeper. Let us get a little nearer. I see I am right; there the little bird is, running rapidly up the tree; now he stops, as if examining the bark; now he is off again. How very like a mouse, to be sure! It is one of the smallest of our British birds, and, though common enough, is not very often seen, except by those who, caring for such things, use their eyes well. Now he has gone to the opposite side of the tree; off he goes again and explores another trunk. By means of its long curved claws and stiff forked tail-feathers, this prettily marked bird is enabled to climb with great rapidity. It remains in this country all the year, and is more abundant in plantations and parks where there are plenty of trees. It makes its nest in a hollow tree, or on the inner side of the bark of a decayed one. The little bird lays many eggs, from six to nine, in the month of April; they are nearly white, with a few pinkish spots, generally at the larger end of the egg. It utters a few pleasing but feeble notes. The young ones are, as you may suppose, tiny little things. You should notice the curved pointed beak of this bird, and the stiff tail-feathers it presses against the tree as a fulcrum to aid it in its ascent.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TREE-CREEPER AND YOUNG.]

We will go into this adjoining field, which will soon be ready to mow.

We will keep by the hedge--for it would not be right to trample down the tall gra.s.s--and gather a few gra.s.ses. Few people know more about gra.s.s than that it is good pasturage for cattle and sheep. Let us gather a lot, and take care, as far as we can, to gather only one kind each. How graceful and beautiful they are, and what difference there is amongst them; some have a stiff spike-like head of flowers, others have pretty drooping heads; some are harsh and rough to the touch, others soft as satin. Some, again, are of great value as pasturage and for making into hay; others are positively noxious weeds. You know the twitch or couch gra.s.s, that gives the farmer so much trouble; it is most rapid in its growth and difficult to kill; its underground creeping stems spread in all directions, and, if left to itself, would soon take sole possession of the whole soil. So the farmers are very careful to rake together all they can; they then collect it in heaps and burn it. Here is the rough "c.o.c.ksfoot gra.s.s," with its head or "panicle" as it is called, upright and tufted. Look at its large yellow stamens; it is a very productive species and enters largely into all hay-gra.s.s. Here is the common quaking gra.s.s, with its slender, smooth, spreading branches. See how the numerous little heads tremble with the slightest motion; we do not see much of it in these meadows. It is an exceedingly pretty gra.s.s, and often seen on the chimney-pieces of cottagers, but is by no means a valuable agricultural gra.s.s; on the contrary, it is a sign, when abundant, of poor land.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PANICLE OF GRa.s.s.]

Here we have the smooth-stalked meadow gra.s.s, and here is the hedge wood-melic gra.s.s, with its slightly drooping panicle, and spikelets on long slender footstalks. Here is the soft meadow gra.s.s; feel how smooth its panicle is; this, the oat-like gra.s.s. "What is that very tall gra.s.s," asked w.i.l.l.y, "that often grows near the water? It is much taller than you are, and has a rich brown drooping head." You mean the common reed-gra.s.s, no doubt; it is not yet in flower, but you will see it in August and September. It is a magnificent gra.s.s, though not of much use to the farmer. The little birds find shelter amongst its stems, and the reed-warbler often chooses them as pillars whereon to support its nest. Then you must not forget another tall and handsome gra.s.s, often found on the banks of rivers and lakes, called the reed-canary gra.s.s; it flowers about the middle of July. You know the ribbon-gra.s.s, in the garden, with its leaves striped with green and white, varying immensely in the width of its bands, so that you can never find two leaves exactly alike. "Yes, indeed, papa," said May, "I know it well; you know we always put some with the flowers we gather for the drawing-room table." Well, this is only a cultivated variety of the reed-canary gra.s.s; and I have sometimes let a cl.u.s.ter of the ribbon-gra.s.s run wild as it were, and then the leaves turn to one uniform green. The reed-meadow gra.s.s is another tall and handsome kind; this cattle are very fond of; it is sweet to the taste and grows in damp situations. "You sometimes see," said May, "a very beautiful and curious gra.s.s, with long yellow feathery tails, amongst the ornaments in rooms." That is the "feather-gra.s.s;" it is a very rare gra.s.s, and has been seldom found wild in this country. The long yellow tails are the awns, which resemble delicate feathers. Here is the sweet-scented vernal gra.s.s; taste and see how pleasant it is; it is the gra.s.s which, perhaps more than any other, gives that charming odour to the hayfields. "There is a clear pond in yonder corner of the field, let us go there and see what we can find," said w.i.l.l.y. All right. It is a very likely pond for many interesting creatures; but let us first look at the plants that grow round or in it. There are a few sedges here and there--a pretty order of plants; at present you must be content with making yourselves acquainted with their general form. Take care how you gather them, for the leaves and stems of some kinds are very rough, and if you draw them quickly through your hand you may cut it rather sorely. "Oh! do come here, papa," said May; "here is quite a new flower to me; is it not a beauty?" Indeed, it is a lovely plant; it is the buckbean or marshtrefoil, and generally grows in some boggy spot, such as this. Look at the three green leaflets, like those of the common bean--hence one of the names of the plant. Look again at the cl.u.s.ters of blossoms; some are not fully out, and are of a lovely rose colour; others are quite out, and the flowers covered with a white silken fringe. Bite a bit, and taste how bitter it is; people often gather the roots and use them as a tonic medicine.

I think in some countries, as in Norway and in Germany, the leaves have been used in the place of hops for brewing beer; about a couple of ounces being equal to a couple of pounds of hops. The late Sir William Hooker found the buckbean very plentiful in Iceland, and says that where it occurs it is of great use to travellers over the mora.s.ses, for they are aware that the thickly entangled roots make a safe bed under the soft mora.s.s for them to pa.s.s over. Here is hairy mint, nearly a foot high; do you dislike the smell? I think it pleasant myself; it is not yet in flower, but will be so in about six weeks' time. Holloa! Jack, what's the matter? "I have only tumbled down, papa, amongst these nasty nettles, and got stung rather sharply." That is interesting. Do you know how it is that nettles sting? "Oh, papa," said Jack, pitifully, "you are like the man in the fable who was giving a lecture to the drowning boy; the boy asked him to get him first of all out of the water, and to give him the lecture afterwards. Now, you should first tell me how to cure these nettle stings, and I would then be more inclined to learn how it is that nettles sting."

[Ill.u.s.tration: NETTLE.]

The pain will soon pa.s.s off, and I do not know that there is any remedy. When at school, I was told to rub the stung part over with a dock leaf, but I do not think this ever did it any good. Now, I want you to pay particular attention; you know what we call "the dead nettle"--I mean what plant I allude to; there is the red, white, and yellow so-called dead nettles; you remember the shape of the flowers of these three kinds. Look at the flowers of the real stinging nettles; are they not extremely unlike? You see the small green flowers in long branched cl.u.s.ters; how different from the lip-shaped flower of the dead nettles.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DEAD NETTLE.]

There is some general resemblance, however, between the real nettles and the so-called dead nettles; the leaves for instance of the white dead nettle are very like those of the stinger. The dead nettles, however, are not at all related to the true nettle, and belong to quite a different family called the l.a.b.i.ate tribe, from the Latin word _Labium_, "a lip," in allusion to the form of the corolla. Is the pain better, now, Jacko? "Yes, it is getting less severe; look what large white lumps have arisen on the back of my hand." The sting of the nettle is a very curious and interesting object under the microscope.

It consists of a hollow tube with a glandular organ at the bottom of it, in which is contained an acrid fluid very irritating to the skin; the fine point of the sting or hair pierces the skin, and the pressure forces up the fluid from the bottom of the hair, which is then conveyed into the wound by a point at the top of the sting.

[Ill.u.s.tration: l.a.b.i.aTE PLANT.

_a._ Stamens. _b._ Corolla. _c._ Calyx.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: STING OF NETTLE, MAGNIFIED.]

The nettles of foreign countries have much greater poisonous properties. The effects of incautiously handling some East Indian species are terrible. The first pain is compared with the pain inflicted by a red-hot iron; this increases and continues for days. A French botanist was once stung by one of these nettles in the Botanical Gardens of Calcutta; he says the pain so affected the lower part of his face that he feared lock-jaw. He did not get rid of the pain till nine days had expired. Dr. Hooker saw gigantic nettles in Nepal, one was a shrubby species growing fifteen feet high, called by the natives _mealum-ma_. They had so great a dread of it that Dr.

Hooker could hardly persuade them to help him to cut it down. He gathered several specimens without allowing any part to touch his skin, but the "scentless effluvium" was so powerful as to cause unpleasant effects for the rest of the day. "The sting produces violent inflammation, and to punish a child with _mealum-ma_ is the severest Lepcha threat." Then there is the nettle of Timor, or _devils-leaf_, the sting of which sometimes produces fatal effects.

Tree-nettles in Australia are occasionally found as much as twenty-five feet in circ.u.mference. There are three species of stinging nettles in this country, the great nettle, the small nettle, and the Roman nettle; the first two are very common, the last very rare indeed. There is a curious story told of the introduction of this last species into this country. You may believe as much as you please of it. It is said that before the Romans under Julius Caesar thought it prudent to come to England--of the coldness of which they had heard a good deal--they procured some seeds of the Roman nettle, intending to sow them when they landed in this country; so when they landed at Romney, in Kent, they sowed the seeds. "And what use, papa," asked w.i.l.l.y, "would nettles be to them during the cold weather in England?"

Well, they meant to nettle themselves, and so chafe their skins so as to enable them to bear the cold better. And tough skins they must have had, for the poison of the Roman nettle is much more severe than that of the two common species. Camden, I believe, tells the story; as I said, you may believe it or not. Do you see that tortoisesh.e.l.l b.u.t.terfly hovering near the nettles? Its larva was a greenish-black caterpillar with yellow stripes, and it lived, when in that state, entirely on the leaves of the nettle; the larvae also of other kinds of b.u.t.terflies feed on this plant, as the admiral b.u.t.terfly, and the peac.o.c.k b.u.t.terfly. I have eaten the young shoots of the common nettles in the spring of the year; they do not make a bad subst.i.tute for spinach.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LARVA, CHRYSALIS, AND INSECT OF THE SMALL TORTOISE-Sh.e.l.l b.u.t.tERFLY. (_Vanessa urticae._)]

How prettily the yellow flags skirt the pool; there, you see, is the common branched bur-reed, with its sword-like leaves and round heads of flowers; a little way in the pool is the pretty arrowhead with its large conspicuous arrow-shaped leaves and flesh-coloured flowers, both leaves and flowers standing several inches out of the water. In the water, too, I see the brown leaves of the perfoliate pondweed; they are almost transparent, and look when dry something like gold-beater's skin. I see also the cylindrical tufts of the horn-wort with its bristle-like leaves often several times forked. It grows entirely under the water. See also a few rose-coloured spikes of the amphibious persicaria.

[Ill.u.s.tration: YOUNG CRISTATELLA, MAGNIFIED.]

Such are some of the most conspicuous plants near our pond. It looks likely to contain some fresh-water polyzoa, than which there are few more beautiful tenants of the water. Here is a young one on this leaf of persicaria; do you see it? I put it into my bottle. Now look, it has lately been hatched from that round egg with curious hooks around its margin. It is called _Cristatella_. At present there are only three individuals in the outer heart-shaped covering, but additional ones will bud out of these three, and others from these last, till the whole colony may number as many as sixty individuals, being then fully an inch long; the mouth of each is placed between the tentacles, which have upon them, running down each side, a great number of very minute hairs or _cilia_, to which, you may remember, I have alluded before.

The colour of the colony is yellowish white, sometimes brownish white.

It is a most exquisite little animal, or rather colony of animals; for, though there are several creatures in one house, as it were, each is separate and independent of its neighbour. You will often find other forms of polyzoa in clear ponds and mill-pools; sometimes you would suppose you were looking at a ma.s.s of sponge, as in the case of _Alcyonella_, or the creeping root of some weed, as in _Plumatella_ and _Fredericella_; but when the sponge-like ma.s.s or rootlets are placed in water you will observe numbers of little animals to show their heads and tentacles above the ma.s.s or from the little holes in the creeping rootlets. Ah! what have we here? Do you see those long narrow ribbons of floating gra.s.s about a yard from us? Do you notice some of the ribbons to be bent and folded here and there? Between each fold we shall find an egg of a newt. Let me get this bit of gra.s.s ribbon. There, I unfold it where it is creased, and you see a transparent glairy substance, within which is a round yellowish egg.

Here again is another. The leaves of persicaria, also, are often selected by the female newt for the purpose of depositing her eggs.

Here you see is a leaf folded up; between the folds is another newt's egg. I have never seen the newt in the act of laying her eggs, but, I believe, it may readily be observed by placing a female newt any time during the months of May and June in a vessel of water with some leaves of persicaria. Mr. Bell says, "The manner in which the eggs are deposited is very interesting and curious. The female, selecting some leaf of an aquatic plant, sits as it were upon its edge, and folding it by means of her two hind feet, deposits a single egg in the duplicature of the folded part of the leaf, which is thereby glued most securely together, and the egg is thus effectually protected from injury. As soon as the female has in this way deposited a single egg, she quits the leaf, and after the lapse of a short time seeks another, there to place another egg." The eggs undergo various changes, and the animal, at an early part of its life, has a pair of delicate organs on each side of the neck; these are rudimentary gills, by means of which the little creature breathes. In its very early condition these gills are simple lobes; I ought to say that the first pair of lobes serve the purpose of holders by which the little creature attaches itself to leaves and other things. But when it is about three weeks old the gills have many leaf-like divisions, and look like beautiful feathered fringes. The circulation of blood in these gills may be readily seen under the microscope, and will be surveyed with the greatest delight.

By-and-bye the animal buds out its four legs and looses the gills; they do not drop off, but become absorbed; hitherto it has carried on its respiration or breathing by means of these gills, but how does it breathe now that it has lost them? The lungs in the inside of the body have been gradually growing larger and fit for breathing the atmospheric air; for newts, when arrived at their full or perfect state, are, you know, chiefly terrestrial creatures, and breathe by means of their lungs. When young they are in a fish state, and breathe the air contained in the water exactly as fish do. If you will look at a pond where newts abound, you will see the old ones constantly coming to the top of the water, gulping down a mouthful of air and then returning to the bottom. Full-grown newts do not frequent the water excepting for the sake of laying their eggs. The young ones are ready for leaving the water in the autumn, but I have often obtained young newts with their gills fully developed in the depth of winter. Probably these had been hatched late in the summer and had not time to grow their lungs, so had to keep to their gills and lead the life of a fish during the winter.

"People often call newts 'askers,' papa," said w.i.l.l.y, "and the lads of the village always kill them when they catch them; they say their bite is poisonous." I am sorry to say they do; but it is an error to suppose their bite is poisonous. You have yourself handled many specimens, and I am sure you never saw one attempt to bite. I do not believe their small teeth and weak jaws could pierce the skin. Four species of newts have been described as occurring in this country--the two common kinds are the smooth newt and the warty newt. I think I once found the palmated newt near Eyton; the male of this species is distinguished from other newts by having the hind legs webbed and by a thin filament or thread at the end of the tail.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DONACIA.

_a, b._ Larvae, nat. size. _c._ Coc.o.o.ns on root, nat. size. _d._ Beetle, slightly magnified, _e._ Head of larva.]

"What is this, papa," said Jack, "that I have found sticking to the roots of this water-weed; they look like the eggs of some creature?"

They are not eggs, but the coc.o.o.ns of a very common but pretty beetle called _Donacia_. See, I will slit one open with my penknife. There is the little animal inside, a white, fat, maggoty thing; it has two curious hooks at the end of the tail, it has only just framed its cell, and is about to change from the larval to the pupal state. Here you see are other maggots among the roots; they have not yet made a coc.o.o.n. I will open some more; here is one in its pupal condition.

Here is another almost ready to come out as a beetle. The _Donacia_ have all a metallic appearance and very beautiful they are, whether blue, red, copper, or purple; the under side is covered with a fine silky down. They are found in great numbers on water-weeds, and being very sluggish are readily caught or picked off the plants they frequent with the hand. Do you notice those small, flat, brown or black dabs so common on almost any water-weed you pluck up? These are planarian worms, and though not of prepossessing appearance generally, are extremely interesting animals to study. These large, reddish, oval or round coc.o.o.ns are the eggs of the planariae. Here is one of the largest of the family. It is of a milk-white colour, beautifully marked with delicate tree-like branches; sometimes this species (_Planaria lactea_) is of a light pink colour. The mouth is not situated where mouths usually are, in the fore part of the body, but almost in the centre. See, I will place this white planaria on my hand; do you notice that it protrudes something you might perhaps say was its tongue? It is not its tongue, however; it is a tubular proboscis, and is very strong and muscular, and unlike the soft body of the animal. By means of this proboscis the creature is enabled to pierce the bodies of other creatures and to suck out their juices. I have kept planariae under observation, and seen them drive this proboscis through each other. These black and brown dabs often feed upon the milky planariae. They are something like the hydrae in their power of producing lost portions of their bodies. Cut them in two or more pieces, each piece will grow into a perfect planaria again. These you see do not swim but crawl, or glide over the surface of plants in the water. Some kinds, however, different from these, are able to swim well. We have had a long and successful hunt to-day. Let us go.