Another species of this genus, the Pearly-eye (H. Andromacha), larger than these, and more beautiful, from the pearly iridesence of the inferior surface, is now common. It is interesting from its social and gamesome habits. A particular individual will frequent the foot of a particular tree for many successive days, contrary to the roaming habits of butterflies in general. Hence he will sally out on any other passing butterfly, either of his own or of another species; and, after performing sundry circumvolutions, retire to his chosen post of observation again. Occasionally I have seen another butterfly of the same species, after having had this amicable tussle, take likewise a stand on a neighbouring spot; and after a few minutes' rest, both would simultaneously rush to the conflict, like knights at a tournament, and wheel and roll about in the air as before. Then each would return to his own place with the utmost precision, and presently renew the "passage of arms" with the same result, for very many times in succession.

A fourth species is the largest living butterfly I have ever seen, being upwards of five inches from tip to tip of the expanded wings. I call it the Black Emperor Swallow-tail (Papilio Glaucus); it is a very noble fly, and forms quite a contrast to the dusky pigmies I just now noticed. Its colour is deep black, with two marginal rows of yellow crescents; and within them a row of larger azure crescents, which are obliterated towards the top of the first wings; the second pair has a large cloud of azure dots in the centre. The under surface is much the same, but the black is more dusky; the crescents in the second wings are larger and tinged with orange, and the azure central cloud is wanting. It appears to be rare, as I have seen only two specimens of it, but one of which I succeeded in obtaining. This I caught in a garden just as the sun was setting, hovering over a strawberry-bed; the other was seen in the middle of the day, but in the dark shade of the woods; I gave chase to it, but it redoubled its speed, and was soon out of reach in the forest. I observed that it flew high, which butterflies do not generally do. The larva of this fine species is said to be in all respects like that of the Tiger Swallowtail (Papilio Turnus), being of a fine green, with two eye-spots on the thickest part of the body.

I have taken a single individual, in very shabby, weatherbeaten condition, of another fine butterfly, the Red-spotted Purple (Limenitis Ursula). It is black, or rather a very deep purple, the hind-wings broadly banded with lustrous bluish-green, and marked with crescents of the same. The under surface, besides, has many

spots of bright red. It very much resembles the Banded Purple of the north (Limenitis Arthemis), but it wants the delicate pearlywhite band. It seems to replace that species in the south. The larva and pupa have a still more exact resemblance; the former is said to feed on the Green-wooded Whortleberry (Vaccinium stamineum).

And while speaking of insects, I may just mention two or three others that I have recently seen, though I know little of them but their appearance. I took, a few days ago, sucking some flowers beneath the burning beams of noon, a very pretty little creature, the Humble-bee Hawkmoth (Sesia Pelasgus). Having taken it in Canada, likewise, I presume it is widely scattered over the continent; though my northern specimen differs somewhat from the present. It looks very much like a humble-bee, the body being clothed with the same sort of down, and banded with black and yellow; the wings are perfectly transparent, except the margins, which are covered with dark-brown scales. Like the Hummingbird Hawkmoth (Macroglossa stellatarum) of our own country, it is abroad (I believe exclusively) by daylight, and delights in whisking from flower to flower: its motions are swift and sudden. There is a beautiful flower now in blossom in the gardens, the Horned Poppy (Argemone Mexicana), which forms an attraction to these bright-hued insects. It is of a golden yellow, and has handsomely spotted, thistle-like leaves.

Among the soft decaying wood, beneath the bark of a fallen tree, I found many specimens of a very minute Earwig (Forficula ——?). Most of them were in larvæ; but one was in the perfect state, and very closely resembled in appearance our common European species, but for its minuteness, being less than one-fourth of an inch in length. The larvæ of this genus have a far greater likeness to the imago than those of beetles, the forceps being present, and the shape identical; but the elytra and wings of course are

absent.

There is another insect which I cannot pass over, for its very singular form. It is the Hair Spectre (Emesa filum), of a light grey colour, about an inch and a half in length, with long limbs, but so slender that the insect looks like a bit of grey thread, to which some bent hairs are attached. It moves slowly and awkwardly, often swaying backward and forward, as if balancing itself; but, from the length of its legs, it makes considerable strides. It has a sucker bent under the breast, in the place of jaws, like the Bugs; and the thigh and shank of the fore leg are

armed with teeth or spines, as in the Mantes, which, on being doubled together, fit into each other. Such was its slenderness, that in endeavouring to transfix it for my cabinet, with a very fine pin, I cut it through and destroyed it. I have taken one since from a peach-tree, and it is occasionally seen on people's clothes after walking, but is not very common.

The woods are frequently enlivened by the antics of playful Squirrels, of large size. They especially haunt the tall trees that stand round the houses of the planters, or possibly they seem to prefer these trees because they are there more under constant observation. There are several species, of which the most common is the Fox-squirrel (Sciurus capistratus). He is a beast of some pretensions, a full-grown male occasionally measuring fourteen or fifteen inches in length, exclusive of the tail, which is nearly as much more. Thus he greatly exceeds our little English species, whose manners Cowper so exquisitely portrays:

"Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm,
That age or injury has hollow'd deep,
Where, on his bed of wool and matted leaves,
He has outslept the winter, ventures forth
To frisk awhile, and bask in the warm sun,
The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play.

He sees me, and at once, swift as a bird,

Ascends the neighbouring beech; there whisks his brush,
And perks his ears, and stamps, and cries aloud,

With all the prettiness of feign'd alarm,

And anger insignificantly fierce."

This description might almost have served for a portrait of our sylvan friend. He chatters, shows his teeth, and grunts at you from the security of some lofty branch; utters his short impatient bark; dashes round the trunk; threatens again from the opposite side; "whisks his brush," as the poet says, and declares, as plainly as actions can speak, that he has a great mind to eat you up, only that you are so provokingly big.

Generally two or three play together, and it is very amusing to watch their manoeuvrings; to mark how they leap from branch to branch, to see them fly round and round almost with the agility of a bird; now they chase each other round and round the tree, dart up and down the smooth pillar-like trunk, in and out of the hollows; now they scamper along some horizontal bough till they reach the terminal twig, whence they take a flying jump to the neighbouring tree, fearless of the chasm that yawns between. All

* 'The Task,' book vi.

this is pretty play, but the merciless planter puts a tragical end to it. He comes up with his unerring rifle; the barrel drops into his left hand; the stock is at his shoulder; a momentary sightcrack-down falls the gamesome squirrel, plunging through the green leaves, and plumps heavily on the earth. A drop of blood on each side, staining the white fur of the belly, shows that the fatal ball has passed right through. The planter loads again; as much powder as will just cover the ball lying in the hollow of his left hand, is the charge; the ramrod twice springs half out of the barrel, and again the rifle points upward. The other falls; and these two we carry in to furnish a dinner for the family. I admire, as they lie warm and flexible, yet motionless, in my hand, the soft thick fur, mottled grey on the back, and pure white beneath; the feet, the nose, and the ears, likewise spotless white, and the tail pencilled with long parted hairs of a delicate light grey. Truly it is a pretty little animal.

Occasionally we see Squirrels differing greatly from this in colour, but of the same size and manners. One is almost wholly black; another has the upper parts dark brown, and the belly rustred; the latter is not uncommon. Both of these are considered by Dr. Bachınan, of South Carolina, as varieties of the Foxsquirrel.

Stewed, or made into a pie, squirrel is excellent eating; the fat is apt to be rank, especially of the males; the meat is white, much like that of the rabbit, but superior in flavour. Roasted I do not much admire it, as it is somewhat flabby.

There is a much smaller grey Squirrel, as common as the former, but haunting somewhat different situations. This is the Carolina Squirrel (S. Carolinensis); it is coloured nearly as the Foxsquirrel, but the grey coat of the back inclines to rusty. It is much less active and playful; frequents rather the dark sombre woods around the swamps and rivers, and hides under the long ragged tufts of Spanish moss (Tillandsia) that stream from the branches. Both kinds make a comfortable dray or nest in the fork of a tree; externally of twigs, sticks, and leaves, internally lined with moss and lichen. This is not only for the rearing of the offspring, but for the habitation of the adults, at least during the

summer.

The value of the flesh to make or eke out a dinner is not the only motive which induces the planter to shoot these little truants. A rifle-ball, or a charge of powder, is worth more here than a pound or two of meat. They are incorrigible robbers. They appear to

imagine that the planter's corn is sown exclusively for them, and fail not to make all the use they can of his liberality. Morning, noon, and eve, Squggy is in the corn-field: from the time that the young and tender grain begins to form within the enveloping sheath, till it has grown large, and hard, and yellow, and is housed (at least what remains of it) in the barn. But especially does the Squirrel like it (and unremittingly he pays his devotions to it) when the grain is of that plump but soft and pulpy substance that resembles cream; when the planter's palate, too, is particularly pleased with it, and when he plucks the ears, and, just parching them over the fire, brings them to table under the appellation of roseneers, q. d. roasting-cars. This similarity of taste between planter and squirrel induces rivalry, and the result is as I have stated-væ victis.

Some time ago a very clever fellow announced that he had discovered an infallible preventive of the depredations of the Squirrels. So important a declaration was of course received with open ears; a considerable remuneration was collected for the secret, and the planters of the neighbourhood met him to be instructed. The sage received the cash, buttoned his pockets, and bowed. "Gentlemen," he said, "my scheme is simple, but effective. I have observed that the Squirrels invariably begin their attacks on the outside row of corn in the field. Omit the outside row, and they won't know where to begin!" The door was open-the speaker was gonenot waiting even for the applause which his ingenious plan so much merited.

[To be continued.]

AMERICAN GLEANINGS.-No. I.

In the year 1842, in the city of New York, the American Ethnological Society was established, "For the promotion of a most important and interesting branch of knowledge-that of Man and the Globe he inhabits, as comprised in the term Ethnology in its widest acceptation."

Its first meeting was held on November 19, 1842. Since that time, during the winter months, like the Ethnological Societies of London and Paris, it has had its regular meetings, at which papers connected with the science have been read, and subjects bearing upon it discussed by the members of the society there assembled.

There is now a general sense and conviction of the importance of ethnological investigations. These are now felt to be of