valiant endeavors to exterminate the Mole from the face of the earth! If a hundred men and horses were employed in a common-sized pasture, say from fifteen hundred to two thousand acres, in raising and carrying manure for a top-dressing for that farm, they could not do it so effectually, so neatly, or so equally, as the natural number of Moles on that farm would do it of themselves." Thus then I have disposed of the first silly charge against this useful and innocent little sub-cultivator. I would further remark, that it is not so wise to throttle him as you may think. The second great charge against our "blessed little pioneer," is, "that he eats the seed corn, and destroys the roots in the construction of his hills." This charge is so utterly absurd, that it carries with it its own refutation. That they eat grain I flatly deny, having examined the stomachs of many. I have never found an atom of a grain in them! But it is stated, and that on good authority, that sixty thousand bushels of seed-corn are yearly destroyed by wireworms (Elaterida), some of which, it is well known to naturalists, live in their larva state from four to five years, devouring the roots of wheat, rye, oats, and other vegetables. In some seasons they destroy whole crops. Now it is upon these Elaterida that the Mole lives, with other insects, worms (Vermes), frogs (Rana), with slugs and snails (Limax and Helix, the two last of which, it is well known, are wholesale destroyers of vegetable life in its young state. How absurd then is it to see these poor Moles hanging gibbeted by the dozen, their clever paddles stopped by cruel ignorance! Well may we exclaim 66 Oh, ignorance! where is thy blush?" "Prior to my coming to reside in my parish," says the Rev. G. Wilkins, of Wix, in the Farmer's Magazine," "the land I occupy had been for many years in the occupation of a very old man, who was a determined enemy to every living creature of which he could not discover the benefit; and his enmity was especially directed against the Mole. In my barn, as a kind of heir loom, hung a bundle of Mole-traps, which I at once consigned to the fire. Then came the Mole-catcher for his salary, as he caught my Moles by the year. I paid him his money, and made him stare like a lunatic when I told him he would do me a favor if he would bring me a cart load of his Moles, and turn them down in my fields. My fields being near a village, where Rooks could not come, swarmed with wireworms. Every year one-third of my crops was quite destroyed by them. One narrow field, surrounded with trees, was nearly useless from them. But at length relief came. I had long hoped to see my favorites the Mole-heaps; and at length, as if by a simultaneous agreement, that little long field was full of Moles, which set to manfully upon the destroyers of my crops, and after some time completely destroyed them. They then passed over into the next field, and the pests stroyed; and I believe that the most unpopular act in my respected father's life, was the introduction of the English Mole-trap into that country, about the year 1834. Although upon a royal domain, however, and at the command of Majesty itself, all endeavors to extirpate them proved unavailing; and the habits and wise judgment of a gardening and agricultural people were yielded to as an act of expediency. Happy I am to state that both His Majesty and my father have repented them of the evil, and are now numbered amongst the merciful defenders of our useful little sub-cultivator, the common Mole! Thus, then, I hope I have clearly defended "the little culprit " from the second and absurd charge brought against him, to the satisfaction of his accusers! The third charge brought against the tiny Mole in an agricultural point of view, to those unacquainted with its usefulness, would lead many to sign its death-warrant. Against this I will place the following evidence from the pen of an agricultural gentleman, in the " Agricultural Gazette," for 1844, who says, "I have wet meadows, in which they do me vast service. One of my meadows was so wet, that no Mole worked into it, but only burrowed on the surface, barely deep enough to cover his body with the roots of the grass and weeds, and this only in very dry hot days of August-the only time when worms could be found. I dug a few drains, and the next summer found the Moles worked as deep as the bottom of the drains, and into them. Another year the drains were cut as deep as the fall would allow, and the same result followed. My friends, the Moles, opened scores of their channels into the very bottom of these drains, and the meadow is now firm and sound. In all my meadows, fi ding the good they do, I never have them disturbed. Only in April I send out a man to level their hillocks, then roll them; and I never have any complaint from the mowers. Depend upon it, they are very beneficial to all lands, particularly to wet bog soil. When four feet drains are made with inch tiles, they cannot enter, but would work at that depth in all directions, and be of the greatest possible use.' On some lands the drainage is wholly effected by the Mole, so far that the farmer might save himself some shillings, nay pounds, to the Molecatcher. Let us hope, then, that henceforward he may be suffered to live in peace, and die of old age, throughout the length and breadth of our blessed land. To the farmer and the gardener this matter is worthy of more consideration than it has yet obtained." Among the other papers, is one on the "Common Ring Snake," by Mr. Michael Westcott. This is not written in an amiable spirit, and appears to have originated in a morbid desire to attack Mr. John Garland. for some interesting observations of his on a similar subject, published antecedently in Naturalist." Mr. Garland has nothing to fear from such an antagonist; and will, no doubt, continue to publish his observations on Nature, sans peur, whenever he sees fit. in this field shared the same fate as the others. the " I now verily believe I have not a wire-worm left in my fields; and as the Moles have entirely done their work unsolicited, they have gone off to my neighbors with the same good intention." The farmers on the Continent, particularly in Belgium, are greatly averse to their being de In the "Retrospect," there are two crooked matters set straight-the one referring to a dispute about the Water Wagtail, the other to the nesting of the Starling. The season has now arrived when each succeeding number can hardly fail to increase in interest. ZOOLOGICAL RECREATIONS. By W. J. BRODERIP, F.R.S. Small 8vo. H. Colburn. It is strange but true, that no periodical devoted solely to matters of Natural History has been known to prosper as a pecuniary speculation. It ever was so; ever will be 80. To be a lover of Natural History for its own sake,-to have a soul that can appreciate the marvels of Creation, and a refined taste to enjoy all that is provided for our use in the world of Nature, these are "gifts" which are not conferred upon the multitude. The "choice" few are alone in the secret. This him in prosperity and adversity, in health and sickness, an attachment always continued unto death, and frequently failing not even when the once warm hand that patted him is clay-cold; what-we had almost said who-can equal these charming familiars? Your dog will, to please you, do that though he be, he will leave his food for you; he which is positively painful to him. Hungry will quit the strongest temptation for you; he will lay down his life for you. Truly spake he who said, "Man is the God of the Dog.' Of all the conquests over the brute creation that man has made, the domestication of the dog may be regarded as the most complete, if not the most useful: it is the only animal that has followed him all over the earth. And to see how these noble animals are treated by savages civilised as well as uncivilised; kicked, spurned, harnessed to heavy carriages, half-starved, cudgelled, they still follow the greater brute that lords it over them, and if he condescends to smile upon them how they bound in gladness! if he, by some inexplicable obliquity of good feeling, in a moment of forgetfulness caresses them, they are beside themselves with joy. From whatever source the dog be derived, he is one of the most sensible of four-footed animals. Gifted with a most retentive memory, Aware of this "great fact," we have ever made OUR JOURNAL widely discursive in the matters treated of,-the Book of Nature having neither a beginning nor an ending. causes us to circulate everywhere. Those who love Natural History will, in our pages, find it introduced in every fascinating he applies his power of observation to the regu form; whilst all who seek variety, amuse-lation of his conduct so skilfully, that the result ment, and general information, are as amply and carefully provided for. Thus do we seek to win people to our favorite study; and strive to create a love for that which we individually feel to be so lovely. The book now before us is one which should rank second only to the imperishable work of GILBERT WHITE. It is written in à very amiable spirit; and abounds in the most delightful records of animal life, interspersed with endless anecdotes, both original and selected. It is just the book we should like to see in the hands of youth; nor could a teacher make his pupil a more acceptable present. It would act as a seasonable foil to the cheap poison (vending by wagonloads in green shilling volumes,) which is now doing such serious, such irreparable injury to the public morals and the cause of virtue. It would moreover create a pure taste for the amiable, in contradistinction to the sensual,- now carrying all before its baneful influence. As it would never do to part from a book like this without an extract, let us introduce some of the author's delightful comments on THE DOG. The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart.-LEAR. Yes, dogs are honest creatures, and the most delightful of four-footed beings. The brain and nervous system may be more highly developed in the Anthropoid apes, and even in some of the monkeys; but for affectionate, though humble companionship, nay friendship; for the amiable spirit that is on the watch to anticipate every wish of bis master-for the most devoted attachment to has very much the appearance of reasoning; if, indeed, it may not, without violence, be considered as the exercise of that faculty. His intellect, when well developed, is of no common order, and its constant activity is exhibited when, like the Fury in Eschylus, he Opens in his sleep, on th' eager chase E'en then intent." Our readers will, we hope, pardon us if we inflict on them a story or two in proof of our assertion. We remember to have been once particularly struck with the behavior of a dog that had lost his master. This, to us, is always a distressing sight, and enough, in our humble opinion, to have made Democritus himself look grave: but in the instance alluded to, there was food for reflection. We were walking down a hilly field, whose path terminated at a stile which opened upon a road running due east and west. This road was cut A dog passed with his nose close to the at right angles by another road running northward. ground, keeping the downward path till he arrived at the stile, through which he squeezed himself, and, with his nose still down, he first hunted busily along the eastern branch, and then along the western. He now retraced his steps; and when he came nearly opposite to the northern road, he lifted his head, looked about him for a moment or two, and then set off along that road as fast as he could go, without again putting his nose to the ground, as who should think to himself" He is not gone that way, nor is he gone that way, therefore he must have gone that way"-an operation of the mind very like a syllogism. Then there is the well-authenticated story of the dog that was left, in December, 1784, by a smuggling vessel, near Boomer, on the coast of Northumberland; and we shall let Bewick, who records the fact, tell his own tale : "Finding himself deserted," continues Bewick, speaking of the abandoned dog, "he began to worry sheep, and did so much damage, that he became the terror of the country within a circuit of twenty miles. We are assured that when he caught a sheep, he bit a hole in its right side, and after eating the tallow about the kidneys, left it: several of them thus facerated, were found alive by the shepherds, and, being taken care of, some of them recovered, and afterwards had lambs. From his delicacy in this respect, the destruction he made may in some measure be conceived; as it may be supposed that the fat of one sheep in a day would not satisfy his hunger. The farmers were so much alarmed by his depredations, that various means were used for his destruction. They frequently pursued him with hounds, greyhounds, &c.; but when the dogs came up with him, he laid down on his back, as if supplicating for mercy; and in this position they never hurt him; he therefore laid quietly, taking his rest till the hunters approached, when he made off without being followed by the hounds, till they were again excited to the pursuit, which always terminated unsuccessfully. It is worthy of notice, that he was one day pursued from Howick, to upwards of thirty miles distance, but returned thither and killed sheep the same evening. His constant residence during the day, was upon a rock on the Heugh-hill, near Howick, where he had a view of four roads that approached it; and in March, 1785, after many fruitless attempts he was at last shot there." Now, to say nothing of the ruse whereby he regularly saved himself from his pursuers, this was very like communing with himself, and, as a result, taking up the best possible position for his security under existing circumstances, a position which enabled him to baffle his enemies for upwards of a year-what is this if it be not reason? One more illustration of this part of our subject. In the West of England, not far from Bath, there lived, towards the close of the last century, a worthy clergyman, who was as benevolent as he was learned. There were turnspits in those days -a most intelligent set they were, and Toby, who was an especial favorite, was a model of the breed, with legs worthy of the Gow Chrom himself, upon which he waddled after his master everywhere, sometimes not a little to his annoyance; but Toby was a worthy, and he could not find it in his heart to snub him. Things, however, came at last to such a pass, that Toby contrived some how or other to find his way to the reading-desk on a Sunday, and when the door was opened, he would whip in, well knowing that his reverend patron was too kind and too decorous to whip him out. Now, though it has been said, that "He's a good dog that goes to church," the exemplary Dr. B., who thought he had traced a smile upon the countenance of some of his parishioners on these occasions, felt the impropriety of the proceeding; so Toby was locked up in the stable on Sunday morning; all to no purpose, however, for he scrambled through the shut window, glass, lead and all, and trotted up the aisle after his annoyed master as usual. Matters were now getting serious; so as soon as he had on the Saturday caused the beef to revolve to a turn which was to be served cold for the Sunday dinner-for the good man chose that all around him should find the Sabbath a day of rest Toby was taken out of the wheel, and his dinner was given to him; but instead of being allowed to go at large to take his evening walk after it, Molly, to make sure of him, took him up by the neck, and putting him into the wood-hole where window there was none, drew the bolt, and left him therein. Toby revenged himself, by "drying up the souls" of the whole family with his inordinate expostulatory yells during the whole of the remnant of Saturday and the greater part of Sunday! However, there was no Toby dogging the heels of the surpliced minister, and it was concluded that the sufferings that the doggie and the family had undergone, would have their effect. Well, the week wore on, with Toby as amiable and as useful as ever, and without a particle of sullenness about him-into the wheel went he right cheerfully, and made it turn more merrily than ever; in short, parlour, kitchen, and all were loud in his praise. However, as it drew towards twelve o'clock on the Saturday, Toby was missed. Poor Molly, the cook, was at her wits' end. "Where's that vexatious turnspit gone ?" was the question, and nobody could answer it. The boy who cleaned the knives was despatched to a distant barn where Toby was occasionally wont to recreate himself after his culinary labors, by hunting rats. No-no Toby. The sturdy thrashunder the idea, as it was supposed, that they were ers, with whom he used sometimes to go home, the lords of the rat-preserve in the barn, and who, being fond of Toby in common with the whole village, used occasionally to give him "A bit of their supper, a bit of their bed," knew nothing of him. Great was the consternation at the Rectory. Hints were thrown out that "The Tramps in the green lane had secreted him with the worst intentions, for he was plump and sleek; but their camp was searched in vain. The worthy family retired for the night, all mourning for Toby; and we believe there is no doubt that when the reverend master of the house came down on Sunday morning his first question was, "Any tidings of Toby?"-A melancholy "No, sir," was the answer. After an early breakfast, the village schools were heard-their rewards distributed, not without inquiries for Toby-and when church-time came, it is said that the rector, who walked the short distance in full canonicals, looked over his shoulder more than once. He passed through the respectful country-people collected in the little green grave-yard, who looked up to him as their pastor and friend, he entered the lowroofed old Norman porch overhung with ivy, he walked up the aisle, the well-filled pews on either side bearing testimony that his sober-minded flock hungered not for the excitement of fanaticism, he entered the reading-desk, and as he was adjusting his hassock, caught the eye of Toby twinkling at him out of the darkest corner. Need we say more, than that after this, Toby was permitted to go to church, with the unanimous approbation of the parish, as long as he lived? Now if this was not calculation on the part of Toby, we know not what else to term it, and we could refer our readers to well-authenticated stories in print-as our dear old nurse used to say when she was determined to silence all incredulity-that go as far, and even farther, to show that these animals can calculate intervals of time. EXCELSIOR,-NO. 1. Nisbet and Co. This is a new monthly aspirant for fame, professing to help Religion, Science, and Literature. The first glance at it, aided by the pedantry of its title, tells us at once that it is not for the multitude, but for a particular We conclude with a very touching anec- class of people. dote illustrative of THE AFFECTION OF A WOLF. Supported, as a periodical like this is sure to be, by a certain clique, its success as a speculation cannot be doubtful. It is a medley, however, that can never become generally popular; although it contains some subjects of pleasing interest. The admixture of religion with its other features, is in the most questionable taste; for however good anything may be, there is a time and a place for everything, and cant is at all times objectionable. We can afford to speak our mind openly. Let us, however, turn from the blemishes, to give an example of the beauties. From a very interesting paper on "Life in its lower Forms," we extract the following :— WHAT IS LIFE? The wolf, truculent though he be, is capable of a most cordial attachment to man. We have seen one follow his master about with all the manners of a faithful dog, and doing his bidding as obediently. In the instance recorded by M. F. Cuvier, the wolf was brought up and treated like a young dog; he became familiar with everybody whom he saw frequently, but he distinguished his master, was restless in his absence, and happy in his presence, acting almost precisely as a favorite dog would act. But his master was under the necessity of being absent for a time, and the unfortunate wolf was presented to the Ménagerie du Roi-where he was incarcerated in a den-he who had "affections, passions." Most disconsolate of wolves was he, poor fellow! he pined-he refused his food-but the persevering kindness of his keepers had its effect upon his broken spirit, he became fond of them, and everybody thought that his ancient attachment was obliterated. Eighteen long months had elapsed since his imprisonment, when his old master came to see him. The first word uttered by the man, who was mingled in the crowd, had a magical effect. The poor wolf instantly recognised him with the most joyous demonstrations, and being set at liberty, fawned upon his old friend, and caressed him in the most affecting manner. We wish we could end the story here; but our wolf was again shut up, and another separation brought with it sadness and sorrow. A dog was given to him as a companion. Three years had elapsed since he last lost sight of the object of his early adoration; time had done much to soothe him, and his chum and he lived happily together-when the old master came again. The " once familiar word" was uttered-the impatient cries of the faithful creature, and his eagerness to get to his master, went to the hearts of all; and when he was let out of his cage, and rushed to him, and with his feet on his shoulders, licked his face, redoubling his cries of joy, because he who had been lost was found; the eyes of bearded men, who stood by, were moistened, His keepers, to whom a moment before he had been all fondness, now endeavored to remove him; but all the wolf was then aroused within him, and he turned upon them with furious menaces. Again the time came when the feelings of this unhappy animal were to be sharply tried. A third separation was effected. The gloom and sullenness of The researches of modern science, however, the wolf were of a more deep complexion, and his aided by the inventions which it has brought into refusal of food more stubborn, so that his life ap-requisition, though they have been unable to throw peared to be in danger. His health, indeed-if health it could be called-slowly returned; but he was morose and misanthropic, and though the fond wretch endured the caresses of his keepers, he became savage and dangerous to all others who approached him. Here was a noble temper ruined. There is a mystery couched under that little word, which all the research of philosophers has not been able to solve. Science, with the experience of ages, with all the appliances of art, and with all the persevering ingenuity and skill that could be brought to bear upon it, has ardently labored to lift the veil; but philosophy, and science, and art, stand abashed before the problem, and confess it a mystery still. The phenomena, the properties of life, are readily observable. We take a bird in our hands; a few moments ago it was full of energy and animation; it shook its little wings as it hopped from perch to perch; its eyes glanced brightly, and its throat quivered as it poured out the thrilling song which delighted us. Now, the voice has ceased, the eye is dim, the limbs are stiffening, and we know that it will move no more. Chemical changes have already began to operate upon its organs; decomposition is doing its work, and soon the beautiful little bird will be a heap of dust. We say that its life has gone; but what is it that has gone? If we put the body in the most delicate balance, it weighs not a grain less, than when it was alive; if we measure it, its dimensions are precisely the same; the scalpel of the anatomist finds all the constituent parts that made the living being; and what that mighty principle is, the loss of which has wrought such a change, alike eludes research and baffles conjecture. We are compelled here to recognise the Great First Cause, and to say, "In Him we live, and move, and have our being." a single ray of light on the nature of Life itself, have yet done much to make us familiar with its phenomena. The microscope, in particular, has opened to our inquiry what we may call a world of life, under phases and forms as strange and surprising as they were before unknown. It has enabled us also to separate and analyse the various substances or tissues of which the highest forms INFUSORIA. The most minute and the most simple of all living beings, so far as the powers of the best microscopes have yet reached, closely resembles such a ciliated cell as we have been describing. It has been called the Twilight Monad (Monas crepusculum), so named because it is considered to be as it were the unit of existence-the point where the glimmering spark of life first emerges out of the darkness of nonentity. It consists of a tiny speck of pellucid matter rounded in form, and supposed, from its movements and from ana of animate being are composed, and to resolve them into their first elements. Numerous and diverse as are these substances-bones, cartilage. sinew, nerve, muscle, hair, the teeth, the nails of the hand, the transparent lens of the eye,-all are reducible to one kind of structure. This structure is a cell. All organic substances are made up of cells. The primary organic cell is a minute, pellucid globule, invisible to the naked eye, and containing within it a smaller cell, called the nucleus, which again contains a still more minute granule, called the nucleolus, or little nucleus. Even the highest animals, in the early develop-logy, to be furnished with a single cilium, by ment of the embryo, are composed entirely of nucleated cells, which afterwards assume the forms peculiar to the various tissues. In the lowest classes of animals, their more simple bodies consist almost entirely of cells of this kind. If we take a minute portion of the gelatinous flesh of a medusa or a zoophyte, and crush it between two plates of glass beneath the microscope, the substance is presently resolved into a multitude of oval pellucid granules, each of which for a short time maintains a spontaneous motion, sometimes rotating upon itself, but more commonly jerking or quivering irregularly. These are the primary cells, and their motion is, doubtless, to be attributed to the presence of certain hairs, called cilia; for we cannot believe that it is at all connected with currents in the fluid that surrounds them, to which it has sometimes been referred. Cilia play an important part in the economy of all animals. Even in the highest forms, many of the internal surfaces are furnished with them, and nearly all the motions which do not depend upon muscular contraction are produced by them. In the lower tribes, especially those which are aquatic, the office of these organs becomes more important and more apparent, until in the very lowest we find all movement originating with them. The form of these essential organs is that of slender, tapering hairs, commonly arranged in rows, resembling the eyelashes; whence their name. The base of each hair is attached to the surface of the body to which it belongs, its whole length besides being free. During life each cilium maintains an uniform motion of a waving or lashing kind, bending down in one direction, and then straightening itself again. This move ment is not performed by all the cilia together or in unison, but in rapid succession: for example, the instant after one has begun to bend, the next begins, then the next, and so on; so that before the first has resumed its erect condition, perhaps half-a-dozen of its successors are in different degrees of flexure. This sort of motion will perhaps be better understood by referring to that beautiful and familiar spectacle, the waves produced by the breeze upon a field of standing corn. The motion is exactly the same in both cases. The wind as it sweeps along, bends each stalk in turn, and each in turn reassumes its erect posture; thus the wave runs steadily on, though the stalks of corn never remove from their place. The appearance of the ciliary wave, when viewed with a good microscope, is so exquisitely charming, that even those who have been long familiar with it can scarcely ever behold it without admiration. Let us now speak of the the lashing action of which it rows itself through the water. No words can convey an adequate idea of the size of an animal so minute as this, but the imagination may be assisted by supposing a number of them to be arranged side by side in contact with each other, like the beads of a necklace, when twelve thousand of them would go comfortably within the length of a single inch. Eight hundred thousand millions would be contained in a cubic inch; and as they are found swarming in water to such a degree as that each is separated from its neighbors by a space not greater than its own diameter, a single drop of such water has been estimated to contain a thousand millions of living active beings. If we take a bunch of leaves, of the common sage for example, or a few twigs of hay, and, tying them into a bundle, suspend them in a jar of water, allowing the contents to remain untouched, but exposed to the air, some interesting results will follow. If we examine it on the second day, we shall find a sort of scum covering the surface, and the whole fluid becoming turbid, and slightly tinged with green. If now we take, with the point of a quill or a pin, a minute drop of the liquid, and examine it with a good microscope under a magnifying power of about two hundred diameters, we discover the water to be swarming with animal life. Immense multitudes of minute round or oval atoms are present, which move rapidly with a gliding action. These are animals of the genus Monas just described. Among them we shall probably see other bodies still more minute, resem-. bling short lines, most of which are seen to be composed of more or fewer bead-like bodies, united into a chain. These occasionally bend themselves, wriggle nimbly, and effect a rather rapid progression in this manner. The scum, or transparent pellicile, is found to be composed of countless millions of these latter, congregated about as thickly as they can lie into patches. They constitute the genus Vibrio. Several may be seen among them briskly wriggling along, which resemble a little coil of spiral wire. Such forms bear the generic appellation of Spirllium. As all infusions of vegetable or animal substances are found to be speedily filled with animals resembling these, in great variety, though not always of the same species, the circumstance has been seized by naturalists to afford a name by which this class of beings should be distinguished. They have been therefore called Infusoria or infusory animalcules; a very extensive group, and one which, in the more advanced state of our knowledge, it may be found desirable to divide, since it includes animals of very different grades of organisation. Those of which we have spoken, |