14 May 1881 - 'Our Mutual Friend, Puss' by Dr Gordon Stables - Part Two

Part one of this story can be found here. And as always when the G.O.P. starts giving out recipes for medicines: don't try this at home.

Anyone who had never seen a more highly-bred cat than the honest and faithful but common grey grimalkin, that lies on the cottage hearthrug, singing duets with the tea-kettle, or the half-wild mouse-catcher of the barn-door, would be greatly surprised if he happened to go to a large show of our favourites, at the wealth of feline loveliness and grace displayed upon the benches.

"Why," I have heard some people exclaim, "I couldn't have believed there were such beautiful cats in the world."

And I have made reply, "What you see is simply the result of care and kindness, proper feeding and housing, and attention to the pelage or coats of the animals."

Cats, especially the long-haired breeds, it will do my readers no harm to know, are becoming more fashionable every day as domestic pets, and people who care to keep good ones, and to rear them well and show them, get very large prices for them. I am acquainted with ladies who sell their kittens even for two and three guineas each, and who would not take twenty for many of their full-grown pussies.

Let us imagine now that we are taking a walk around the great cat show at the Crystal Palace, and that I am mentor. I feel sure I can tell you many things about the inmates of the pens that you do not know.

Well, then, first on the list of short hairs is a tortoiseshell male cat, a very rare animal; here are several tortoiseshell female pussies, not big, and very dark in their markings, with no white. In their nature they are brave and bold, good workers, loving, gentle, and jealous, and always faithful to mistress or master. Next come the tortoiseshell and white, the colours being yellow, red, black and white, artistically arranged in those who have won prizes. They are bigger cats than the former, and not so decided in their likes and dislikes.

Then we have the brown tabbies – splendid fellows everyone of them, some of enormous size. There is one yonder, blinking half asleep on his scarlet velvet cushion. Who weight twenty-two pounds, but is so very lissom withal that he can jump on to the top of any door in his master's house. Tabbies are *par excellence the Englishman's cat. They are good-natured, brave and noble, fond of children, and very fond of their offspring. They ought to be long bodies and graceful; though massive, somewhat short in the forelegs, with large round heads, small ears, and gentle, happy-looking eyes. The strips should be black on a brown ground, and very well defined, and there should be no white on them, else they would be classed as brown-tabby-with-white. There should also be one or two semi-circular bars across the chest. Eyes hazel preferably.

The silver tabby has somewhat longer ears, and a less blunt face with green eyes. Colour like Aberdeen granite, striped with deeply dark markings. They are very lovely and valuable. The red tabbies come next. They are splendid fellows, with green or yellow eyes, reddish in colour, marked with deeper red, and no white. Look at this one; he has been passed over by the judge because his colouring is neither deep enough nor distinct enough. This breed is very clever, and they make capital hunters, but are apt to wander a long way from home; however, unless they fall victims to the vile traps or the too ready guns of cowardly keepers, they never fail to come back again.

The red and white tabby is a gay and gallant fellow, and full of life and fun. In that pen is a spotted tabby. This cat may be any colour, only covered with stripes, composed of spots. I hope that is not an Irish bull. That gentlemanly-looking fellow there is a black and white cat. His coat is of jet, he wears white socks and gloves, and a front as spotless as the snow. He is as good and as aristocratic in his ways as he looks; indeed, he would hardly deign to catch a mouse, but he likes a good dinner, and when he is outside and wants to get in, he does not mew like a common mouser; no, he jumps up and lifts the knocker.

In the next cage is a cat you scarcely see, so intensely ravenly black is he all over. But he can see you and me, and he is glaring at us with his green, green eyes, evidently in no very amiable temper. What he wants to know is, what has he been imprisoned here for, instead of roving wild and free in forest or field? But we must not judge him too harshly, for although he flew at the adjudicator of prizes this morning with tooth and nail, at home he is not naturally quarrelsome. These cats should be very large, with coats of glossiest black; even the whiskers must be black, and the eyes should be hazel if possible, but green is beautiful. Here we have a small but graceful puss, all one colour, namely, dark slate, not a light hair in her, not even in her whiskerets. These cats are rare, and seldom fail to win prizes in a mixed class. They are called Maltese cats. Pure white cats are no favourites of mine. They are usually dull and apathetic and often as deaf as a post. I should never expect a white cat to do anything *very clever.

There are many other strange, short hair cats, Manx, Abyssinian, &c., but we now pass on to the Long Hairs, only pausing for a moment at the cages filled with daft-looking kittens, brimful of folly and mischief and fun.

Now there are all kinds of colours of Long Hairs, but your real Persian is most graceful and elegant, especially in shape of head, which is somewhat sharp or peaked with shortish ears poised downwards, and an aural tuft in each. The expression of their eyes is singularly beautiful, and there is a certain languor of looks and manner about them that tells us their real home is not here, but in a far, far sunnier clime.

They do very well on the whole in England, however; but they ought not to be allowed to roam much, else they will assuredly be stolen, and their coats ought to be combed and brushed almost daily.

"What is the difference," you ask me, "between a Persian cat and an Angora?"

Well, I have been asked that question before, and the reply is that there is no appreciable difference in the size of the cats nor in the length of their coats, only the fur of the Angora is finer and flossier and woollier than that of the Persian, and probably the Angora cat is not so sharp in expression of features.

May I give you a word of advice as to showing a cat? If you have one good enough there is no reason why you should not let it have a chance at distinguishing itself and winning a prize. DO not be afraid that it will not get every attention as far as can be given at a show. Nevertheless, do not fail to go with your favourite yourself, if possible. Take with you some raw meat, and the sweetest of milk in a bottle, and attend to pussy's wants yourself.

And now a few lines about the ailments that cats are subject to. Veterinary surgeons, I fear, know little about them, and care less.

When a cat seems ailing and sick, and moping and sleepy-looking, and if at the same time she refuses all food, you had better give an emetic – half a teaspoonful of salt in a little warm water. Follow this up in an hour or two with a teaspoonful of castor oil.

Grass should be grown in a flower-pot in towns, where cats have not much fresh air and freedom. This flower-pot should be placed where she can easily see it and get at it. Or when you are walking in the country, you may cull some nice fresh green grass and place it in the corner of the kitchen, the ends being kept tight between two bricks. It is an excellent blood purifier. A kind of chronic inflammation of the stomach is common among cats, especially those who are not properly dieted, and are glad to pick up and eat anything they can find. The cat refuses food, gets thin and wretched-looking, and has frequent attacks of vomiting. Medicine – a grain and a half of the trisnitrate of bismuth, put on the tongue twice a day, and a dose of castor oil once a week. Food – sweet milk or cream, and fish. If much wasting, raw beef, chopped fine, twice a day.

To give a cat medicine, two people are required. Pussy is rolled in a rug and placed on some one's lap, while you pour the medicine very gradually down her throat. If it is a pill or bolus, dip it in oil, and put it well back against the roof of the mouth; but mind your fingers. You can hold the mouth open with one hand whilst you manipulate with the other. Bronchitis is often fatal to cats; it attacks badly fed and badly housed pussies very often. There is a rough, dry coat, perhaps fits of shivering at first, with cough. The cough is dry the first day or two, but soon becomes moist, and there is a distressing difficulty of breathing, whilst the tongue is often protruded. Give a little oil at first, and feed on arrowroot, beef-tea, milk, &c., little and often. Then give this cough pill. Extract of conium and compound squill pill, of each twenty grains; make into a bolus with bread crumb, and divide into twenty pills; dose, one every night. Keep up her strength, and give a small teaspoonful of cod-liver oil twice a day.

For laxity of the system, a little common chalk mixture should be given three or four times a day, with one drop of the solution of muriate of morphia in each dose. Or put two grains of trisnitrate of bismuth on the tongue three times a day. Food: only milk, or milk with arrowroot, and a little egg may be allowed, but no meat.

Lung disease, or consumption, is known by the general appearance of the poor cat. There is bad coat, emaciation, capricious appetite, and loss of all liveliness. Raw mat, careful housing, and cod-liver oil are needed. When the cough is troublesome I order the following prescription:- Tinct opii camph., 1 drachm; syr scille, 1 drachm; sol mur morphine, 15 minims; aquae 2 oz; mix. Label: a teaspoonful whenever required. 

Fits: these are common in cats, and are almost too well known to require much description. The puss must be caught and bled. With a lancet make a small incision at the lower part of the ear, and make the blood flow by sponging with hot water. Or slit the ear with a fine pair of scissors.

If the cat is subject to fits, order the following at a respectable chemist's – Bromid potass, 10 grains; iod potass, 5 grains; zinci sulph, 5 grains; mix. Make twenty pills with bread crumb, and give one night and morning.

If pussy is thin, give cod-liver oil. If the reverse, lower the diet, and give a little boiled sheep's liver twice a week

For skin complaints use carbolic lotion; pure carbolic acid one part, water forty. Well shake before using it, and apply once a day, but not all over. AS internal medicine, give a teaspoonful twice a day in milk of liquor arsenicalis, ten drops in one ounce of distilled water.

For eye inflammation, bathe frequently in warm milk and water, and use a lotion of three grains of sulphate of zinc t an ounce of water.

Never deprive a cat of all her kittens at once. Never keep kittens that you are not sure of getting a good home for.

Never let anyone persuade you that pussy is not one of the gentlest and most faithful pets we possess.

5 March 1881 - Answers to Correspondents - Miscellaneous

D:

R.J.B. - Do not expect us to prescribe for individual cases such as yours. We can only speak in general terms of ordinary complaints. Constitutions differ, and some people are troubled with complications; while some have mischief going on of which they are not aware, or are unable to describe.

AN EARNEST INQUIRER writes - "I have heard it said that if you take a guinea-pig up by its tail its eyes will drop out; but as it has no tail, how can its eyes drop out?" Are you "earnestly inquiring" for the purpose of testing the result? If you put a little salt on a sparrow's tail, you will be enabled to catch him. "Earnestly" try the experiment with the sparrow; do as you like about the guinea-pig.

MEG - We sympathise with you. Tell your father how much you suffer from headaches, and that, apart from the suffering and state o health producing them, you find them to interfere with your daily work, and ask him to let you consult a doctor. If you can see the latter privately, you had better confide to him the blows you receive, and get him to tell your parents that any blows on the head are dangerous, and carefully to be avoided (without betraying that he knows how they were given). Hastiness of temper on your part may occasion some of your troubles. Lay your case daily before Him who permits the trial and ask for His grace and ultimate relief. Meantime, "patience must have its perfect work." Do not despond.

12 February 1881 - 'How to Rear Fowls' by P.A.L.M.

Poultry-keeping is both an interesting and profitable occupation. If girls only knew what pleasure it would give them, more would pursue it. Remember, however, that it is not a thing to be done by fits and starts. Poultry requires constant care; no arduous work, but regular daily thought and attention. My present paper shall only treat the subject as applicable to the keeping of a limited number of fowls, as can be practically done by any young lady.

Poultry-farming becomes, of course, a matter of capital and interest; while prize poultry-keeping is generally a hobby, very often lucrative, but depending very much on the success your fowls have at shows. It is not by any means to be discouraged, only fowls intended for exhibition require different treatment from those kept merely for household use. If you are successful in taking prizes, and can commend a high price for setting eggs - for instance, from ten shillings to a guinea a dozen - it is a very good thing. Before, however, you can expect to succeed with prize-poultry, it is necessary to obtain a correct knowledge of the management of ordinary fowls.

Proper housing, feeding, and early batching are the three great requisites to profitable poultry-keeping, and I purpose now to say a little on each subject.

1ST. THE HEN-HOUSE.

Cleanliness, dryness, warmth, and ventilation, without draughts, are the principal essentials to the health of the fowls. A proper hen-house need not be an expensive affair. Of course, if you have ample means at your command, and wish for ornamental houses, you can have them in endless variety, but please don't consider that as part of the expense of poultry-keeping. My own houses cost a mere trifle. If there is any stone or brick outhouse which can be converted into a hen-house, nothing is better. If it is necessary to build a new one, wood is the cheapest and best material to e employed. We cannot expect all girls to become carpenters, but often they have a brother willing to help them, who would delight in a little joiner work. A house five or six feet square is quite large enough for a cock and six hens; if larger, it only increases their liability to cold in winter. The roof must be made sloping, and either covered with felt or tarred. It must be perfectly water-tight.

It is an advantage if the house can be built against a wall, especially if it be a stable wall or at the back of the kitchen fireplace. A stove inside the hen-house is not generally considered a good thing, because the fowls get heated and then when they go out are very apt to catch cold.

The roof of the hen-house may be carried on a little longer than the house, so as to form a shed under which the fowls can shelter. If, however, the house be raised from the ground about two feet, the shed can be dispensed with and the fowls shelter under the house. If space be an object, the latter plan will be found an advantage. A slide for the fowls to go in and out by must be made near the ground. A window is absolutely necessary; one part of can be covered with perforated zinc for ventilation, as pure air must be had without draughts. For the floor, Roman cement or concrete is best, but any hard substance that can be easily brushed will do. For perches, nothing answers better than a fir pole. Be particular in having them placed away from the nests.  For the larger breeds, such as Brahmas, Cochins, &c., it should not be more than a foot from the ground. Indeed, these birds very often prefer to roost on the ground on nice, clean straw. Brahmas and Cochins are so liable to foot disease owing to their heavy bodies, and this liability is often increased by their having unsuitable perches.  For the lighter breeds the perches can be placed higher, but not too high, as is frequently the case.

Boxes or little round hampers, without lids, answer capitally for nests. Hens seem to prefer laying on the ground. They must be furnished with clean straw or hay; three bricks laid at the wall, with straw between, make very good nests. Use chian or chalk nest-eggs and gather the eggs every evening.

Too much stress cannot be laid on the importance of cleanliness. The hen-house must be whitewashed with lime at least once a year. It must be thoroughly cleaned out twice a week or oftener, and the floor sprinkled with dry sand. It is a good plan to have a board placed under the perches to catch the droppings. It is so easily cleaned, and keeps the manure free from sand, &c. The manure must be carefully preserved, as it is one of the profits of poultry-keeping. For garden purposes it is equal to guano, especially for strawberries. If quite pure, the tanner gives a good price for it. In hot weather use powdered sulphur for sprinkling over the floor, nets, &c. This kills the vermin. It should also be used freely for sitting hens, but that belongs to the treatment of hatching.

The larger your run is the better; grass is preferable, but unless it can be kept very fresh and clean, it is better dispensed with, and good gravel substituted. It is excellent if the runs can be made to open into a grass park, for then the different lots of fowls can be let out by turns, but not everyone can have that advantage. Of course, if the runs be only of gravel, green food has to be supplied.

For enclosing the yards, the best thing is galvanised wire netting. Stabs must be driven into the ground at equal distances; each stab should have a spike at the top to prevent the hens alighting on them. The wire is fastened to these stabs with staples made  for the purpose. Better than stabs are iron stanchions, but of course much more expensive. The more liberty fowls have the better; they can pick up so much for themselves, and as a rule are healthier. Very few persons have this accommodation, though we meet with very successful poultry-keeping in very small space. It requires all the more care and very strict attention to cleanliness, but if well looked after will do very well.

The number of houses required depends of course on the number of fowls kept. A house could be built longer and then divided, a wire division being between each run, or a number of separate houses may be found most convenient.

THE BIRDS.

Having built your house, the next thing is to stock it, and that depends very much on the taste of the owner, and also on the nature of climate and soil. A young hen-wife should begin cautiously. Many go and buy expensive fowls and set to work with no knowledge or experience (and in poultry-keeping nothing but experience answers), and then say "poultry does not pay." No wonder; the whole thing is mismanaged; therefore, learn by experience, and, to use an old Scotch proverb, "Creep before you gang." Pure breeds are, of course, most to be admired, but many crosses lay very well. A cross between a Dorking cock and Brahma hens makes a famous table fowl. Dorkings are capital  for the table, but I do not consider them good layers; the chickens are troublesome to rear, and do not thrive well on a clay soil. Brahmas (light and dark) are good table birds, and lay well when not broody. They make excellent mothers. Cochins are very good, too, but their flesh is yellower and their bones larger.

Spanish and Hamburgs lay splendidly, the former very large eggs. Houdens, Leghorns, Crevecoeurs, Polish Game, Andalusians, and others give plenty of choice. The Scotch Grey is considered a strong, useful bird. Bantams may be kept for amusement; they are too small for table, and though they lay well, their eggs are very small. Unless in a very large poultry establishment, it is better not to keep many different kinds. For beginners a very good plan is to buy some common hens, which can be had from two shillings to half-a-crown each, and buy some settings of whatever kind may be preferred.

FEEDING.

The feeding of poultry is of the utmost importance. If in confinement they require three meals a day, and in winter, although at liberty, should have them. The first meal, to be given at daybreak in winter, and about six o'clock in summer, should consist of soft feed - small potatoes, potato and turnip peelings, apples, cabbage leaves, or any refuse of vegetables &c., boiled till very soft, and mixed into a stiff paste with thirds or barley meal, and a handful of Indian meal. This last is very fattening, and should be used sparingly for laying hens. Oatmeal makes the best feeding of all, but is generally too dear. The food should be mixed in a pail overnight, covered with a lid or cloth, and allowed to stand beside the kitchen fire, and given hot in the morning. A little pepper mixed in it in cold weather is a good thing.

Generally the cook gives the first meal, but girls should see that it is properly done; the rest of the feeding they will do themselves. The mid-day meal may consist of waste bread, steeped in water, or, better still, skimmed milk, scraps of meat from the kitchen, or a little grain. In summer they do not require much; the last meal, given shortly before they go to roost, must be grain of some sort. The reason is that the fowls require some support during the long hours of night; grain gives them that, and so produces more eggs; soft food is more easily and quickly digested, and hence is best in the morning. It is a great mistake to give grain as constant feeding, and fowls will never pay if fed entirely on it. Good oats, barley, and wheat, with buckwheat in winter, should be used; light wheat will do for a change in summer; Indian corn is too fattening. Their food is best to be varied Old ship biscuits, which may be bought at ten shillings a hundredweight, if steeped all night in boiling water, form an excellent change. A "buff," purchased for threepence or fourpence from the butcher is also a nice variety, and in winter should be got frequently, as animal food encourages laying.

Lime must be supplied, and if in confinement, green food given daily. AS there is generally a garden where fowls are kept, this is a very easy matter. Weeds, especially groundsel, do as well as anything; cabbage-leaves, lettuce, or even grass.

Lastly, but of primary importance, is a plentiful supply of good water. This is often neglected, and hence very often disease ensues. In winter it is important that it is kept free of snow or ice. Give fresh water daily, and in hot weather oftener, as it dries up so quickly If a cow is kept, the hens will likely get skim or butter milk.

There are several varieties of drinking fountains made, but a common delf trough or a large flower-pot saucer serves as well as anything. As regards the quantity of food to e given, no very definite rule can be laid down; each must use their own judgment. Hens will not lay well if over-fed. Generally about half a handful of grain for each fowl will be the right thing to give at night. Some kinds of fowls require, of course, more feeding than others.

Again, all poultry should be more highly fed during moulting, and on wet or cold days should also get rather more. The soft food is often given too soft; it should be of the consistence of dough NO more should be given than can be consumed at one meal; no food should be left lying over DO not use a feeding dish, but give the food on the ground; the fowls require the sand that gets mixed with it for digestion. There is no economy in buying cheap grain, and the size and quality of the egg depend very much on the feeding.

It has been often calculated that the cost of feeding each hen is about five shillings a year. This is, of course, lessened if there be much waste from the house that can be used. These directions refer only to adult fowls; the treatment of chickens is different, and belongs to the subject of hatching.

27 November 1880 - Answers to Correspondents - Miscellaneous

We learn from the final two letters this week that (1) humble-bragging and (2) fishing for compliments precede the era of online social networking. 

CANARIENSIS AND OTHERS - 1. Paddle away as much as you like, as it is wonderfully strengthening to the feet and ankles. 2. We are almost afraid to offer any advice as to the length of time which girls ought to pass in the water. We have frequently offered our advice at the seaside and it has invariably been rejected. Our private opinion is that twenty minutes will make a very fair average, but much depends on the constitution of the bather. When a bather of either sex finds that the finger tips become white instead of pink, it is a sign that the bath has been too long. Giddiness on coming out of the water tells the same story.

BERYL ORSMOND - 1. Make the diet of your cockatoo as simple as possible. Perhaps you have been allowing her to nibble at bones or to eat animal food. Give her a bath by all means, but don't put her in it yourself. If she needs a bath, instinct will teach her to use it. 2. You do not mention your age, so we cannot tell how much character your writing ought to have; it certainly is not too small, and it is perfectly legible, but it has a sort of character of its own, the lines slanting downwards instead of upwards, as is the usual feminine fashion. Practise writing with black-lined paper, and you will soon find yourself falling into the right way.

ZULU HAT - 1. Of course you do not "make both ends meet of your income" if on £300 per annum and you "keep three servants." One is all you ought to keep, and you should undertake the light part of the household work yourself. 2. Wreaths of grapes and a few poppies serve best as trimming for a Zulu hat.

ALPHONSIA - 1. Your handwriting is very good for your age. But don't be satisfied; make it still better. 2. Who is afraid? Why, bring common-sense to bear upon it. You should live where we do, and go upstairs at midnight to hear the owls hooting in the wood. Whenever you feel particularly nervous repeat to yourself the fourth verse of the 23rd Psalm; it is a fine cordial for all timid folk.

AN UNSOPHISTICATED CHILD OF NATURE - Kindly choose a shorter *nom de plume when next you write. Do not be uneasy about your tortoise. The little gentleman has very likely got a will of his own. Try him with cabbage or greens, but he will go off to sleep by and bye, and when summer days come, he will most assuredly make up for his long fast.

JARVIS STREET - We regret to tell you that our editorial staff is complete; and we already have close connections with Canada.

LILIAN MARY GRAHAM - Both your friends failed in good breeding. The gentleman should have taken the penny to pay  for the stamp, as he had already laid the lady under an obligation by his prompt kindness in offering it to her. But allowing that the gentleman failed in good breeding that is no excuse  for the lady's declining the stamp altogether. Finding she was not allowed to pay for it, she should have accepted it with a graceful expression of thanks  for the gift. Of the two, the lady's fault was the greater.

CLARINDA - 1. We do not know - and do not wish to know - who wrote the morbid lines which you quote. We think you had better consult your doctor for you are evidently in a very bad state. 2. Your writing is scandalous.

HAZELDYNE - Why do you say that care not for music, and yet  acknowledge that you play Bach, Beethoven, Haydn and Mozart. Your sister says that you play well and have a very good touch. WE counsel you not to be silly, for you are getting out of the dry-bones part of learning, and will be thankful, when you are older, that you are an accomplished pianist. Your writing is rather nice, and so is your sister's.

A LEFT-OUT ONE - If it is true that you are selfish, lazy, bad-tempered, plain and unaccomplished, we do not wonder that nobody cares for you, and we trust that you will always keep at a respectful distance from us. Your portrait which you enclose, however, is that of a charming young damsel.

25 September 1880 - Answers to Correspondents - Miscellaneous

A YOUNG BRIDE - We give your own spelling of this word, which you repeat no less than *four times in your short note. From this we also should judge that two years more of schooling, at least, would be needed to complete your education, and to prevent the possibility of your future husband being ashamed of the ignorance of the girl whom he has made his wife. You say your age is seventeen, and if this be true, be advised by us and take the next two years for study, making an earnest effort to fit yourself  for the life before you. If your lover be truly attached to you, he will wait; and if not, you must remember that marriage is by o means the chief aim or end of life, and that such early marriages do not tend to permanent happiness. 2. Brides' dresses are usually made of white satin at present, and the bridesmaids may be dressed alike in pairs. 3. Go at once to your mother, or whoever is your chaperone at the time. No well-bred young ladies do otherwise.

LEEK - 1. Feed your pug from the scraps of the table, and let him have milk and bread, and green vegetables. Not too much meat, nor too much food of any kind.  2. Silver ornaments are very fashionable. 3. Yes, your writing is very bad. We are bound to be candid.

A COASTGUARDSMAN'S BRIDE - To go to a wedding in deep mourning is not good taste; either stay at home or change your apparel  for the day.

27 March 1880 - 'The Blackbird' by Harrison Weir

No English bird is better known and appreciated than the blackbird - ousel, or merle, as it is sometimes called. It is naturally of a very shy and timid nature, hiding amongst the thick foliage of evergreens, high grass, and weeds, or in the hedgerows, and then watching an opportunity to dart away into the nearest copse, making known its presence by its shrill alarm-note. Its food consists chiefly of wild fruit, berries, worms and insects. In an orchard it is a sad rogue, clearing off the fruit from cherry-trees, or current and gooseberry bushes, in a very short space of time. Nor is this the worst, from it has a bad habit of tasting pears and apples to a large extent, without confining itself  to any particular fruit, thereby spoiling a quantity, for you cannot preserve fruit after a hole, however small, has been picked in it.

In dry weather their depredation in fruit gardens is very serious. I have known nearly two dozen blackbirds in and about one tree in early morning. They are particularly fond of the berries of the mountain-ash, and those of the white thorn, also the holly in snowy weather. It is quite a mistake to suppose blackbirds eat slugs, and I have never known them when wild to eat snails. Taken altogether they are not so desirable in a garden as many imagine, and were it not for their delightfully melodious song I fear strong measures would be taken to get rid of them. But I prefer scaring them from any particular trees by scarlet worsted being laced about the branches, and a few pieces of tin, with feathers being hung here and there. Strawberries can be netted; also currants, raspberries, and gooseberries - but the net should be raised three feet above the plants, as the birds would rest upon it, and the net sinking with their weight, they would quickly put their heads through and enjoy the ripest of the fruit.

For keeping in a cage they are best brought up from the nest, and should be taken just as the feathers are showing beyond the quill part. The young may be reared with food made of oatmeal, with a little chopped beef and some sugar, but not much. As they grow older, stale buns mixed with bread-crumbs and beef cut up finely will serve to keep them in health. Now and then a piece of apple, pear, or cherry, or a few mountain ash berries for a change, will prove beneficial.

The cage should be large, and kept scrupulously clean, and a pan of soft water should be put in it every day, in which the bird might bathe, while water for drinking should be pure and fresh, not allowed to stand day after day.

It is most needful that the bottom of the cage be strewed with nice gravel, as swallowing grit and stones assists the digestion. In my opinion the best cage is the wicker one; it can be easily washed, and all insects that would otherwise be of much annoyance to the occupant thereby destroyed.

The blackbird may easily be caught by baiting a brick or other trap with fruit, such as cherries, plums or a ripe apple; but it is not well to catch them in summer, as they are then breeding, and their young would be left to starve in the nest. In the winter bait the trap with berries, bread and meat. Blackbirds when well taken care of will live in cages many years. I have heard of one fifteen years old.

Speckled, white and black birds - and white birds are not uncommon - and some beautifully-marked have been exhibited at the various shows. The notes of the blackbird is soft and melodious, being very rich and sweet at times. In its wild state it does not sing for long together, as it generally commences about the end of February and finishes at the beginning of June. As a rule birds only sing while they are nesting. In a cage the blackbird sings six or seven months in the year, or even more, but much depends on the food given to it.

Before closing this article, let me strongly impress on all those who keep birds in cages to look to their comfort and welfare themselves, every day. There is an old saying, "If you wish for a thing well done, do it yourself."

10 January 1880 - 'How We Saved the Poor Birds in the Winter'

Now that the cold weather has set in, I should like to interest every young reader of the GIRL'S OWN PAPER on behalf of the birds, so that something may be done to preserve such of our dear little feathered friends as are now left to us. I say such as are left, for no doubt both town and country girls have noticed how few birds there are about, and how silent the fields and woods have seemed to be this year in comparison with former ones.

It would take up many pages to tell the stories of bird-distress, famine, and death from starvation which took place during last winter's long frost. I was in the English Lake district in the summer, and there I was told how the songbirds were found dead in all directions.

"The fruit hangs on the trees untouched except by human hands, and last year we could hardly get a ripe cherry from that large tree," said a lady friend to me. "This summer I have not seen a single blackbird, and the only uninvited visitor that has shared with us is the little brown fellow yonder," pointing to a bushy-tailed squirrel which was at that moment busy amongst the boughs.

"It makes the garden quite dull," she added. "I would rather have less fruit and more birds."

A gentleman at the same table told us of his experiences on the shores of Derwent Water during the long frost, and said one day he was surprised to notice a bonny, spotted thrush standing quite still on one foot, and with his head under his wing. It did not move as he came near, and, on touching it, he found it was frozen to death. In fact, our English birds perished by thousands of hunger and cold.

Now, I want to tell you how we saved our birds last winter, and I hope all who read this will do something to preserve those in their own neighbourhoods, should they again need a helping hand.

We live in a sort of oasis of green fields, surrounded now with a brick and mortar desert, which has gathered all about us without being able to enter the Polygon as our enclosure, or park, with its few good houses, is called. Though comparatively near a large busy city, we have great numbers of birds living amongst us. Both kinds of thrushes, chaffinches, countless starlings, and sparrows, and an occasional blackbird and robin may be seen and heard in due season.

We scatter food for them all the year round, every scrap of crust or morsel left on the plates being put aside, the hard bits soaked and thrown out on the grass at the back, each day, for bird consumption.

One day, as I was dressing before dinner, I noticed that a pear-tree opposite my window was swarming with birds. And what a clatter they were making!

I asked the waitress, who was bird-almoner at that time, if she could give any reason for the uproar.

"Oh, dear, dear," she said ,looking quite guilty and troubled. "I had forgotten to feed them!" and rushing out, basin in hand, she soon made things right with the birds, and the noise ceased.

They are used to a chirrup or whistle, and as soon as it sounds, though not a bird might be visible the moment before, little knowing heads begin to pop out from the eaves and the ivy, which is packed with nests, and down they come in all directions to share the feast.

But about our special arrangement for last winter, these being our all-the-year-round arrangements.

One day, when the snow had been long on the frost-bound earth, the greengrocer's boy came into the kitchen in a state of great excitement.

"There are two big crowd in the Polygon, seeking for something to eat," said he.

We have no rookery in our neighbourhood, the nearest being about a couple of miles away, so their appearance set me thinking what could be done, and I decided to institute free breakfast and dinner parties for their benefit. Instead of confining ourselves to crumbs, we began to gather all the odd bits of fat, gristle, scraps of rind of meat, occasional bones, spare potatoes, in fact any and everything that could help to feed these feathered vagrants.

The first spread was made on the lawn in the forenoon, and repeated at three o'clock.

The two rooks were at the first, and at the second there were five, and members of other birds.

The next day everybody in the house came to look at the assemblage. There were nine rooks, six chaffinches, three thrushes,  one dear little robin, more than a hundred starlings, and innumerable sparrows. Daily through all the cold weather we continued our free meals, all made up of odds and ends that would neither be missed nor wanted - most of them, indeed, would have been thrown away.

The birds knew our times and, if we were a little late, would be sitting on the trees, waiting for their supply. As soon as the chirrup of the feeder was heard, down they came, and as the children used to say, "it seemed to rain birds all round them" for the hungry creatures did not trouble themselves about the presence of the youngster, who was scattering the food, but set to work, with right good will, to secure an ample share of the feast.

There was another pensioner that used to join; but he went on four legs, and had a furry coat instead of a feathered one. It was a huge Tom Cat with white breast and paws, evidently homeless, poor fellow! He knew these meal-times as well as the birds, and came to claim his share amongst them. He used to feed, literally in their midst, with the birds not a yard off him; for after a time or two they were so accustomed to his presence that they took no more notice of him than he did of them! Poor Tom! We used to invite him in for a warm by the kitchen fire, and a share of our pussy's milk and scraps. He is one of many stray animals of his kind, left behind them by people who remove from streets of small houses which run up to our ground at the back, there being, amongst some persons, a foolish superstition "it is not lucky to flit the cat".

Believe me, it is always lucky to be kind to every creature that God has made.

We continued to feed the birds until quite the early summer months, and used to like to see the rooks with their fashionable black satin dresses, glistening in the sunshine. Often the children used to laugh at these great, greedy fellows cramming piece after piece into their mouths, until the distended beaks would hold no more, and then flying off to a little distance to consume their spoil. The first pair stayed with us, or rather visited us daily, long after the others had gone back to their homes, and were too busily occupied with family cares to spend any time in lounging round the Polygon, like study beggars. So we ceased to feed them when we felt they could shift for themselves; for we did not want to encourage pauperism or demoralise even the rooks when self-dependence was possible, and the best thing for them.

I should say the little gentle hedge-sparrows which live in the next garden were too timid to join the bird throng on the lawn, with puss in their midst, so we always made a little separate spread for them under the hedge where they could eat in peace.

Thus we saved our birds at literally no cost, except that of a little trouble, and occasionally a few pence spent in potatoes or stale bread. Even every drop of gravy left on a plate was mixed up with the scraps to make the meal more savoury.

If in each house a little were saved for our feathered neighbours, and all the children in our homes were accustomed to do something to preserve our bird-life, our woods and fields would soon be flooded with melody again, and there would be no more complaints of the unnatural silence amongst the trees.

We need not be ashamed of caring  for the birds, and thus acting as the almoners of the Heavenly

21 August 1880 - 'Our Aquarium at the Seaside'

How to bring a bit of the natural world into the sitting-room.

Nothing is more interesting, during a visit to the seaside, than the institution of an aquarium; but, unfortunately, it is not always so popular as it is interesting.

The lodging-house keeper is apt to say that she "don't want them nasty things lol-olloping all over the place, and making a swim everywhere;" and if we are as careless as some young people I have known, who put scratchy shells and damp seaweed on polished tables, and spilt fishy water over new carpets, I do not much wonder at the poor woman's objections. But a little suavity and a good deal of care will probably soon soothe her into resignation, if not acquiescence, and a square of oil or America cloth laid under our aquarium will be a further balm to her suspicious fears.

But if we are to have a successful aquarium, more than this will be required of us.

We must be endowed with some proportion of those useful qualities, patience and perseverance, as our fish will die and our pans become unsavoury mortuaries if we are not both constant and tender in the care of our marine nursery.

And first we must be particular as to the kind of vessel in which we place our aquarium, for fishes and anemones will not live anywhere and anyhow.

The pan or pans must not be of glass, if we are to make the inmates happy, for these little rovers and climbers of the deep love occasional darkness and retirement.  For the same reason they should not be left too long in the sun or before a glaring window.

Then, again, they must not be too deep. A large surface is absolutely necessary for evaporation, and  for the water to absorb sufficient of the oxygen of the air, without which our fishes could not live or breathe. The liquid, again, should be renewed daily. But we need not trudge all the way down to the sands for this. Our bedroom jug, if tolerably fresh, will do, for soft water may be put in without injury, since the salt remains when the water evaporates. Then put in a little sand, a few pebbles, and only the right sort of seaweed.

Green laver - (Ulva latissima), a common seaweed, with a thin green crenellated leaf, like a broad ribbon, is a good kind, as it absorbs the gases given out by the fishes, and itself gives out the oxygen gas which they require. Purple laver is equally good. Now raise a cone of stone or sand - a miniature Mont Blanc - in one part of your aquarium, for your crabs and other animals to "take the air" when they desire it; but take care that your cairn is not near the edge of your vessel, or you will soon have all the crustaceans and shell-fish taking voyages of discovery over your sitting-room floor.

From all this you will see that those showy glass tanks kept in the fashionable shops are not at all the right things to have, and that earthenware pans, though less ornamental, are really far better for your little prisoners. They will by no means disdain a footpan if you are short of better accommodation.

But now  for the inmates themselves.

We will begin with bona fide fishes, for it would never do to have only crabs and anemones (or crustacean and acalepha, as we ought to call them) in our aquarium.

The grey mullet and the basse are both nice fishes, if not too big for us. The grey mullet is specially lively, and thinks nothing of taking a flying leap out of his tank on to the floor, to his own inevitable destruction, so that we must be careful to see that his prison is covered.

The basse is very hardy and very lively, and if we can manage to get a small one out of the fisherman's seine net, his blue back and silver stomach will look well darting about our aquarium.

The pluck, or pogge, is a very queer little fish, with a striped brown body, white underneath, and covered with a quantity of spiked tubercles, that gain for it in some parts of the country the name of the armed bullhead. We must decidedly get a seiner or a shrimper to find a pogge for us in their nets.

Among fishes that we may find for ourselves by hunting among the rock pools is the spotted gunnell. It is a little, dappled brown, eel-like creature, ornamental along the bottom of the dorsal fin with a line of black spots in a white rim, and is so agile and slippery that it requires a wary fisher to entrap it even with the net. It is a little bit large, perhaps, for our collection, being unusually about six inches long, but is hardy and a curious variety.

Montague's Blenny is its cousin, and is another pretty fish that we may capture for ourselves when we clamber over the slippery rocks at low tide.  It is much more highly coloured than its relative, however, wearing a dark green coat, spotted with blue, with a white waistcoat, and orange-dotted fins.

At the same time we may "happen" across a goby, a dark little fish belonging to the same family, but of quaker-like dress, who is distinguished by the rapidity of his motions and by his habit of carrying off his prey, when caught, to some convenient retiring place, where, like a dog with a bone, he devours his prey in private.

It is decidedly worth while, and by no means difficult, to get one of the pipe or bill fishes for our marine happy family. They have most queer, snake-like little bodies, long and thin, and their tails are prehensile. That is to say, they fasten themselves to the seaweed tufts by these appendages, precisely as monkeys do to forest trees. They have a decided predilection, like monkeys, for hanging head downwards; but, unlike monkeys, they show an equal enjoyment in balancing themselves the other way up, upon the tips of their tails! The dorsal fin of the pipe fish is beautifully and delicately formed; and it is by means chiefly of this fin that the owner can perform his acrobatic feats.

The pipe fish, too, has another peculiarity. If he resembles the monkey in his tail, he resembles the kangaroo in his pouch. In this pouch the paternal pipe fish carries about his numerous little family, until they are old enough to be cast adrift and to provide for themselves.

If we have room for another fish in our aquarium, we should not omit to put in one little dab or flounder. The movement of these flat fishes when swimming is the perfection of undulatory grace, and the brown and silver curves rippling through the water, circle in and out like a broad ribbon.

But we must begin now to think of shellfish for our aquarium, and of course we must have some crabs, both common crustaceans and hermit crabs. The common green crab is not a very desirable inmate, although he is an amusing and lively fellow. But his voracious appetite and sanguinary proclivities make it advisable for us either to give him a separate establishment of his own, or to choose from his species one young and small enough not to be a very formidable foe. We must also take care to provide him with a dry landing place, remembering that crabs are amphibious creatures. But we must look to his security.

I had, a few years ago, an interesting little crab who met with a most untimely fate. He had attained to intimate and almost affectionate terms with me, when one day, to my sorrow, he disappeared, and my footpan knew him no more.

I had almost forgotten my little crab, when, a week or two latter, happening to remove the sofa cushion against which I had been leaning, I found the stiffened corpse of my friend pressed between it and the sofa back. What induced him to go to such an unsuitable place I never knew; whether curiosity, or desire for warmth, or simple chance. I fear, however, it could scarcely have been affection for myself.

The way the crab eats is very interesting, using his claws like a human hand to hold and to dissever. 

The spider crab is a curious-looking little animal, worth having, and easily obtained at low water; and the velvet fiddler or lady crab is a handsome creature, with soft velvety brown back, and legs striped blue and scarlet. But of all crabs the hermit or soldier crabs will interest us most. They are called hermits, I suppose, because of their solitary lives, and soldiers because of their pugnacious love of warfare.

But they might, with reason, be called cuckoo crabs, too, since, like that dishonest bird, they have the audacious habit of turning their neighbour out of house and home, and appropriating his tenement.

The hermit chiefly affects the whelk's shell; but he is not above putting up with a less suitable one if that is not procurable, and, watching his absurd efforts sometimes to insert the whole of a large body into a very small shell, one is irresistibly reminded of an overgrown schoolboy in last year's trousers.

The hermit crab's excuse for his burglary lies in the fact that nature has not provided a shell for his body, which at one part is soft and defenceless.  At its termination is a sort of T-shaped hook or grasper, by which he clings so tightly to his stolen property that you may tear the animal to pieces before dislodging him. 

The soldier crabs will fight fiercely over an empty shell placed between the two of them, and I had one valiant specimen that used to go out to battle with a cuttlefish six inches long. The opal-coloured cuttlefish blushed all over in crimson patches with anger at the crab's temerity and at his opening nips, but after a minute or two always got the best of it, and persuaded the crab (who scuttled ignominiously away, shell on back), that discretion was the better part of valour.

Belonging to the same family are the shrimps and the prawns, of which we must have one or two. The shrimps we can catch for ourselves in the rock pools, and we shall do well to examine their method of swimming and the delicate shell-plates upon their "tails," so constructed as to enable their possessor to dart through the sea with a marvellous rapidity. The prawns, too, are pretty little creatures in the water, with their glowing eyes and diamond-hued bodies. Perhaps, however, some of my readers may agree with a small friend of mine who, on first seeing a live prawn, exclaimed in disappointment, "O, auntie, I like the pink prawns much better!" 

A minute ago I named the cuttlefish. Mine was a very fine specimen, and rather rare on these coasts, I fancy; but the squid may be procured almost anywhere with a little care, and is a better size for our aquarium. He is a most singular little creature, looking all head, eyes, and suckers, and well worthy of our observation.

We may perhaps hatch our squid from the eggs which are to be found, about June, upon the seashore, and this of course will double our interest in our eccentric little friend. If we have a taste for hatching marine animals, we may do the same with the whelk's eggs, which are found in such countless clusters on the rocks.

The Trochus zisiphinus, or top shell, is a pretty inhabitant for the stones at the bottom of our pan, with its dappled pink, white, and mauve shell; and the dog winkle, also, though we must beware he does not use his long sword-like tongue (with which he perforates the abode of his enemies and devours them) to work too much havoc amongst his companions.

As for limpets, a few of the handsomest common limpets, or fisherman's hats (Patella vulgate), and of the common periwinkle, will be sufficient for us. The latter is a useful member of an aquarium, as he keeps in order for us the too luxuriant, freshly-growing seaweed, with his long scythe-like tongue. This tongue, covered with its numerous teeth, is a most interesting object under a microscope.

If we have our friend with the dredge still at our beck and call, we must get him to try and fish up for us one of those beautiful creatures called Aphrodite aculeate, or the sea mouse. It is not unlike the shape of a mouse, only requiring legs and tail, but is covered all over its sides with spines or hairs of every conceivable shade of brilliant colouring. These spines change their hue with every fresh ray of light, making the sea mouse a thing of rare beauty. 

It seems strange that so fascinating a creature should prefer darkness and retirement, but so it is; and we shall find some difficulty in persuading it to display itself to our admiring eyes. The Aphrodite is essentially a practical-minded animal, and what little energy it possesses, it lends to the cause of gastronomy, eating up many of its more defenceless companions by means of a terrible aggressive proboscis, which it can dart out, when hungry, to a surprising length, but which it keeps almost concealed when not in use.

But (at the risk of mixing up our company without much regard to ties of relationship or rights of precedence), I must remind you that we must not forget to get a sea-cucumber for our aquarium. He is a most curious-looking, though retiring animal, often found in the dredge, and owes his name to his queer shape, which is not unlike that of a cucumber with a bunch of leaves at one end. His skin is spiny and perforated with holes, out of which come curious suckers, used in breathing and digestion. 

This Holathuria, as he and his family are called, has one very odd and unpleasant trick, which is, that he will not only at times turn himself inside out, but will subsequently, if properly nourished, live to replace his ejected inside.

The holathuria differ as to their choice of homes, some living in the deep sea and some burrowing in the sand or hiding under rocks or seaweed. The poor people of Naples sometimes eat them; whilst the Chinese have a perfect mania for a certain member of the holothurian fraternity, which they call "trepang."

They make it into rich soups and stews, and thousands of pounds worth of these queer unsavoury-looking animals are yearly imported into China  for the delectation of the Celestials.

A sea urchin, too, we must have, or sea hedgehog, as his picturesque spikes entitle him to be called. In Latin he is termed the echinus. The empty shell of the echinus, that very probably we have picked up on the shore, bears very little resemblance to the beautiful creature when alive. It was bare, smooth, and brown, and covered with little circular sockets.

But when the echinus is alive every socket bears its pointed spike, so delicately fixed that it can move at will; and intended party as a means of defence, and partly as numerous crutches to assist the little suckers which serve as feet.

The echinus differs a good deal in size on our own shores; but he excels both in beauty and magnitude abroad. I have picked up very beautiful ones by the Mediterranean - a rich brown, deep purple, and even crimson, in colour, nearly four inches in diameter, and with spikes quite three inches long.

The sea urchin does not look a tempting dish to us, but both Greeks and Romans of old appear to have thought it so. It was served up at marriage and other feasts, flavoured with vinegar, sweet wine, and herbs, and considered quite a dainty.

Belonging to the same family as the sea cucumbers and the sea urchins, although to a different branch, are the star-fishes, which lie all about us as we climb along the rocks and over the loose shingle. After a storm these fat, red stars almost cover the shore, thrown up by the retiring waves; and in some places their corpses have even been used to manure the land.

It is worth taking a star-fish (Uraster rubens) home with us, in order to study the action of the five rays, or limbs, which, covered with their thousands of strong minute suckers, make themselves useful as feelers and as propellers. It is a funny thing to see a star-fish walk or turn himself over. He is a lively and intelligent animal, and although apparently he has no eyes, he boasts a pair of little organs like insect antennae, which are very sensitive. But if you keep a star-fish, he must be put into a pot by himself. Mind you do not let him associate with the rest of the marine aquarium or you will find your aquarium speedily turned into a slaughter-house, with only shells of the inhabitants left to explain their mournful ends. For our friend has a vulgar appetite, and a fierce and determined mode of gratifying it. In his turn, however, he is much relished by larger fish, and especially by cod and haddock, and has many foes to contend against.

The stellerides, as they are called, are remarkably full of vitality, and indeed may almost be said to have  as many lives as a cat, since, were every one of their arms lopped off by a cruel hand, each to which a little portion of the circular body adhered, would become in time a new starfish.

Another kind of starfish, called the brittle star, may be found on the shore or among the rock pools at low water, generally buried among the tufts of green seaweed. The brittle stars are delicate and pretty, and more lively than their heavier cousins, the common stars, and owe their name to their embarrassing habit of tumbling to pieces when touched or frightened.

But all this time we have forgotten the actiniae, or sea anemones, who perhaps after all will form our chief delight in our new aquarium. The commonest kind, found all over England, is the beadlet (I will not attempt its terrible scientific name, which boats sixteen letters in one word).

The beadlet, when closed, is a little roundish lump of crimson or green jelly, sticking firmly to the rock; when open, he is a soft hamper, full of waving leaflets, a rim of bright blue ornamenting the base of the hamper. The beadlets, when on their native rocks, are often to be seen surrounded by a happy family of baby beadlets, and will populate the aquarium rapidly with fresh members. They are very hardy little animals, and will stand unintentional neglect or maltreatment with greater good temper than most of our marine friends. 

There is another fish, the dahlia wartlet. It is another common but beautiful sea anemone. This fine creature is more than five inches in diameter, and is coloured white, crimson and green. When open it resembles a soft basketful of fine buds, something like the dahlia in appearance. Its name of wartlet it gets from the little protuberances, like warts, which cover its body. These protuberances attract small bits of shell and stone, which so cover the anemone that it is difficult to discover it when closed.

But the dahlia wartlet, like the starfish, is a dangerous addition to an aquarium. It is a hungry creature, and so skilful with its tentacles, that shellfish, crabs, and even prawns fall victims to its voracious dexterity. There is no such objections to the plume anemone (Actinoloba dianthus), who is an exceedingly pretty little fellow, white, yellow, and red. When open its outer edge is beautifully fringed, resembling a circle of fairy feathers. This little anemone loves the dark, and I have found a beautiful species of it in caves on the Bristol Channel, coloured scarlet, with a white fringe.

Another curious anemone is the snake-locked (or Sagartia viduarta), which, when closed, is an uninteresting little object, like a flattened lobster-pot, but when open becomes a long waving arm, the hand being represented by a numerous quantity of snake-like locks floating in every direction.

A few acelepha or sea jellies will make a nice variety in our aquarium. I would scarcely advise you to burden your can with one of those huge rainbow-hued crystal bowls lying upon the sands, but I would advise you, in passing, to bend down and admire its opal, transparent brilliancy; and then, turning it gently over, to mark its strange india-rubber-like appendages or tentacles, and the shape of its body, which - convex or pointed above  is concave or hollowed below.

Many of the jelly-fish are called Medusida on account of the long tendrils which fall from their bodies or float after them like the locks of Medusa - as they lie lazily and gracefully on the summer sea.

In the region of the tropics, jelly-fish or Medusae of all kinds and sizes swarm, extending for miles over the sea, and positively checking the progress of ships, whilst the phosphorescent light they emit gives the appearance of an infinite host of stars twinkling and dancing over the bosom of the waters.

The medusa, however, is an unpleasant customer to deal with when out bathing, as he has a most irritating sting.

One of the prettiest ornaments for our aquarium will be the cydippe or sea acorn - a little cone-shaped medusa, with long dependent strings - which is exquisitely formed and tinted, and which can be caught in a net a little distance from land. When first captured, it will appear like a little colourless ball of jelly; but, when freed and at ease in the aquarium, it will spread out its tentacles, adopt its rainbow hues, and become an object of beauty.

Who has not heard of "Portuguese Man of War," with its luminous body and its tentacles of two lengths - the longer used to capture the prey and convey it to the shorter, which are furnished with mouths to receive it?

And now, before turning homewards with our well filled can, may I ask you to bend down and carefully gather up that little lump of sandy tubes lying at our feet upon the wet shore?

And don't say, contemptuously, "Why, those are nothing but worms!" for you will find, when you keep an aquarium, that some worms can be interesting acquaintances.

This sabella, as he is called, is very delicate, and you must beware that his house does not fall to pieces in your hands; but you will discover in time that he is a clever architect and industrious builder, who will carry on his work with perfect equanimity in captivity, if supplied with material.

Another "worm," probably not far off, and decidedly prettier, is the "terebella."

The sabella looks like a writhing mass of sandy pipes; but the terebella has the appearance of one large distinct tube, covered with sparkling incrustations of broken shell and grains of sand, from one end of which protrude many little snaky tentacles.

The terebella is sometimes a foot long, and is a burrower as well as a builder, often burying his body in the sand, leaving uncovered his tentacle and a part of his tube.

This tube is only the shell of the animal, which is quite distinct, and can not only move about the habitation, but if denuded of it can build a new one from surrounding materials by means of its skilful tentacles.

But we must pause. One could go on for ever enumerating new instances of the intricate beauties of creation, and the loving care of a divine Father. But we have now more than sufficient to stock the moderate aquarium of a beginner, who will find that a careful study of the habits of even these few among the countless multitudes of strange and beautiful little creatures will open out to her new fields of ever-widening thought, and many an hour of unexpected enjoyment.

5 May 1889 - Answers to Correspondents - Miscellaneous

A SHY GIRL – The only cure for shyness is to be found in the attainment of self-forgetfulness; and this latter is to be found in devoting your thoughts and practical attention to others.  To wait on them, to please them, to listen to and learn some good thing from them – their words, manners and appearance – if engrossing  your attention as it should, would involve that charming self-forgetfulness which, strange as it may appear, is consistent with a due amount of self-possession. Self-consciousness is an outcome of personal vanity and desire for admiration; self-possession has to do with seemly conduct, not vanity.

ELGIN – We should think that all house dogs living in the rooms should be washed. But it should be done carefully, so that they do not take cold, and the dog should be well rubbed, and kept warm, or given a good run afterwards.

AN ANXIOUS ONE – We have quite recently given an answer on the subject of squinting. If in an infant or very young child, some benefit may be derived from lightly bandaging the eye that is not affected, so as to force the other to work, and so bring the contracted muscles into play. Your second question we fail to understand. Do you mean “snoring”? If so, tie up your chin at night, and perhaps that may lessen the noise.

MAUDE FERRER’s – verses have some merit, but lack original thought, and are transcribed in very bad handwriting. The latter she should try to improve without delay, and if she derive enjoyment herself from writing the verses, there is no harm done.

14 July 1894 - Answers to Correspondents - Miscellaneous

I... did not know this. (and I googled, it's true, Queen Victoria was really given this dress.)

INCREDULOUS:- Yes, it is quite true that a woman's dress has been woven from spiders' webs. Our own Queen is in possession of it, having received it as a present from the late Empress of Brazil in 1877. It is said that it surpasses the most costly silk in both delicacy of fibre and beauty. The extraordinary strength of the web is almost incredible. A bar of highly tempered steel, of the same thickness as a cord produced from spiders' web, would break at a strain of 50 tons, while the web would break at 74 tons. Louis XIV had a coat made of this web, and Le Bon, of Languedoc, obtained silk of spiders which was woven into gloves and stockings. A drachm of the web would reach a distance of 200 miles. When in full work they spin half a grain a day, and to enable them to do so, they devour to the amount of twenty-seven times their own weight in food of any description in a day. They are exceedingly voracious and eat each other, as well as flies, and other insects.