SIGHTS IN THE INTERIOR OF AFRICA.

In his remarkable book on "The Tributaries of the Nile," the great explorer records some very strange things. We give two specimens of his descriptive power:

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VULTURES.-If an animal be skinned, the red surface will attract the vultures in an instant; this proves that their sight, and not their scent, has been attracted by an object that suggests blood. I have frequently watched them when I have shot an animal, and my people have commenced the process of skinning. At first, not a bird has been in sight, as I have lain on my back and gazed into the spotless blue sky; but hardly has the skin been half withdrawn, than specks have appeared in the heavens, rapidly increasing. Caw, caw," has been heard several times from the neighbouring bushes; the buzzards have swept down close to my people, and have snatched a morsel of clotted blood from the ground. The specks have increased to winged creatures, at the great height resembling flies, when presently a rushing sound behind me, like a whirlwind, has been followed by the pounce of a red-faced vulture, that has fallen from the heavens in haste with closed wings to the bloody feast, followed quickly by many of his brethren. The sky has become alive with black specks in the far distant blue, with wings hurrying from all quarters. At length a coronet of steady, soaring vultures forms a wide circle far above, as they hesitate to descend, but continue to revolve around the object of attraction. The great bare-necked vulture suddenly appears. The animal has been skinned, and the required flesh secured by the men; we withdraw a hundred paces from the scene. A general rush and descent takes place; hundreds of hungry beaks are tearing at the offal. The great bare-necked vulture claims respect among the crowd; but another form has appeared in the blue sky, and rapidly descends. A pair of long, ungainly legs, hanging down beneath the enormous wings, now touch the ground, and Abou Seen (father of the teeth or beak-the Arab name for the Marabou) has arrived, and he stalks proudly towards the crowds, picking his way with his long bill through the struggling vultures, and swallowing the lion's share of the repast. Abou Seen, last

SIGHTS IN THE INTERIOR OF AFRICA.

but not least, has arrived from the highest region, while others had the advantage of the start. This bird is very numerous through the Nile tributaries of Abyssinia, and may generally be seen perched upon the rocks by the water side, watching for small fish, or any reptile that may chance to come within his reach. The well-known feathers are situated in a plume beneath

the tail.

AMPHIBIOUS GIRLS.-I had shot a crocodile, and a marabou stork, and I was carefully plucking the plume of beautiful feathers from the tail of the bird, surrounded by a number of Arabs, when I observed a throng of women, each laden with a bundle of wood, crossing the ford in single file from the opposite bank. Among them were two young girls of about fifteen, and I remarked that these, instead of marching in line with the women, were wading hand-in-hand in dangerous proximity to the head of the rapids. A few seconds later I noticed that they were inclining their bodies up stream, and were evidently struggling with the current. Hardly had I pointed out the danger to the men around me, when the girls clung to each other, and striving against their fate they tottered down the stream towards the rapids, which rushed with such violence that the waves were about two feet high. With praiseworthy speed the Arabs started to their feet, and dashed down the deep descent towards the river; but before they had reached half way, the girls uttered a shriek, lost their footing, and in another instant they threw their arms wildly above their heads, and were hurried away in the foam of the rapids. One disappeared immediately; the other was visible, as her long black hair floated on the surface; she also sank. Presently, about twenty yards below the spot, a pair of naked arms protruded high above the surface, with ivory bracelets upon the wrists, and twice the hands clapped together as though imploring help; again she disappeared. The water was by this time full of men, who had rushed to the rescue; but they had foolishly jumped in at the spot where they had first seen the girls, who were of course by this time carried far away by the torrent. Once more, farther down the river, the hands and bracelets appeared; again they wildly clapped together, and in the clear water we could plainly see the dark hair beneath. Still she sank again, but almost immediately she rose head and shoulders above the surface, and thrice she again clapped her hands for aid. This was her last effort; she disappeared. By this time several men

HOW THE BEAR AND INSECTS PASS THE WINTER.

had wisely run along the bank below the tail of the rapids, and having formed a line across a very narrow portion of the stream, one of them suddenly clutched an object beneath the water, and in another moment he held the body of the girl in his arms. Of course she was dead? or a fit subject for the Royal Humane Society? So I supposed: when, to our intense astonishment, she no sooner was brought to the shore than she gave herself a shake, threw back her long hair, wrung out and arranged her dripping rahat, and walked leisurely back to the ford, which she crossed with the assistance of the Arab who had saved her. What she was composed of I cannot say; whether she was the offspring of a cross between mermaid and hippopotamus, or hatched from the egg of a crocodile, I know not, but a more wonderfully amphibious being I have rarely seen.

HOW THE BEAR AND INSECTS PASS THE

WINTER.

You have, doubtless, heard how the bear, grown fat on the fruits of his autumn campaign, retires to some hole in the rocks, where the softly falling snow by degrees makes a beautiful ermine counterpane, which protects him from the cold during his long winter sleep. The fat, which lies in great folds just under the skin, is gradually absorbed into his system, and as he takes no exercise, it requires but little fuel to keep the spark of life glowing. Occasionally he sucks his paws, and seems to derive much comfort therefrom. When the spring comes, and his icy roof melts and runs away to fill up the little brooks that babble of strange things as they go leaping down the hill-slopes, he comes out, and a very lean and hungry bear he is for a few days.

Then there is the snail, who, when he feels the first approach of cold weather, retires into the innermost chamber of the wonderful house he always carries about on his back, and there turns mason, and by means of a cement which he manufactures builds up a strong wall to keep out the chilly air of winter, and so goes to sleep, caring not a whit for the howling winds which torture the sturdiest trees till they groan again with anguish.

There are very few insects, that is, full-grown insects, that pass their winters thus. Most insects are at that time still in the egg, undeveloped, and waiting for warm weather to hatch them

HOW THE BEAR AND INSECTS PASS THE WINTER.

out; many species are in the grub or baby state, many more in the pupa or chrysalis stage, whilst a few, arrived at maturity late in the fall, are carefully hidden away in cracks and quiet nooks, only to be tempted out from their seclusion by one of those rare but delicious winter days, when the sun shines bright, and the glittering icicles drop tears, wrung from their very hearts.

How hard it is to realize, as we walk about on a bleak winter's day, well protected from the stinging cold by innumerable wrappers, that this pure white shroud of snow serves also as a warm counterpane, and that under its folds are hidden the germs of millions of future insects, friends and foes. All about us, in the ground under our feet, in the trees, swinging their gaunt and naked limbs about over our heads, in the holes and countless cracks in our walls and fences, in every corner and crevice in our houses, in the very stubble which crackles so crisply under our tread where the wind has blown the snow away, are lying hidden from our gaze myriads of insects in all the various stages of their existence. Although we may not see them, still we may be as certain that they are there as we are positive that the seeds of the many thousand plants which will next season delight our eye or please our other senses, are now concealed in the bosom of mother earth-this same snow a mantle to protect them from the cold.

Although but few come flitting or running across our path, yet if we search for them diligently, we shall find them in great numbers on every hand. Let us take a trowel and go down into our orchard and dig down among the roots of the trees, and many strange forms of insect life will reward a careful searchlittle mummies wrapped in thick shrouds, queer little babies in close-fitting swaddling clothes, some sound asleep, others with just animation enough to wriggle their tails feebly and then go off again into their deep sleep. Take your trowel and dig into the mound in this hollow of a tree, and other little sleepers come to view; twist off this ragged piece of bark, and whole colonies get their first glimpse of the sun-to be sure as though seen through a glass dimly, but nevertheless their first peep at day. light; around these twigs we find strange bracelets of eggs, here and there collections of egg-like clusters of seed-pearls ; swinging on the end of branches, swaying to the music of every passing breeze, we find the cradles and hammocks of many moths and butterflies; on the bark strange warts disfigure the trees;

HOW THE BEAR AND INSECTS PASS THE WINTER.

whilst in the very grass under our feet, if we pluck it up and examine it closely, we shall find tiny babies snugly laid away in satin-lined apartments.

The eggs of insects are able to withstand an intense degree of cold. The same temperature which would immediately kill the tiny inhabitant of the egg if once hatched, seems to have no effect upon him in that safe retreat.

Some caterpillars are hatched from eggs in the autumn, and pass the winter quietly dozing upon the twigs and branches of their favourite bushes, so closely resembling their habitation that only the shrewd eye of some hungry bird spies them out. We find thus on currant-bushes the caterpillars of the magpie moth, perfectly torpid all winter and frozen quite stiff, but yet ready to thaw out when the weather moderates. They are sometimes perfectly brittle, and will snap like glass between the fingers, and yet if suffered to thaw out, all this freezing does not seem to have injured them in the slightest.

Up in the oak trees we can find whole colonies of little caterpillars defying the cold, whilst they lie snugly wrapped up in warm counterpanes of silk that they have woven themselves, sleeping spoon-fashion, two or three in bed together. Most of our butterflies and moths, however, pass their winters in the chrysalis state. These little mummies are to be met with on every hand. Down deep in the earth myriads of them are packed away, patiently awaiting the warm spring day, which will urge them to struggle out of their cases and fly away to accomplish their destinies.

It is a very curious sight watching caterpillars preparing for the chrysalis stage. Many are hung up in the open air, some merely kept in place by a slight net-work of threads, whilst others are suspended in delicate hammocks or stout silken shrouds. Some caterpillars build for themselves little winter palaces about the size and shape of half a walnut, of chips and bits of bark, glued together by a natural cement which they manufacture. Other chrysalids, like Mohammed's coffin, swing in mid air between heaven and earth, suspended by a delicate thread.

Mason bees build for their babies nurseries of mud and small stones, or lumps of clay, and after laying eggs, and leaving a little pollen for each grub to eat when hatched, close up the entrance.