reddish-brown patch at either extremity. It lives in the interior of many trees, avoiding, however, those which have a very hardgrained wood. Most of the forest trees are subject to its attacks, and the ordinary fruit-trees of our gardens, such as the apple, pear, chestnut, and walnut, are often seriously damaged by this pretty but destructive insect. Like the goat moth, it makes a strong cocoon, in which it can lie safely throughout its pupal condition, and, as with that insect, the walls of the cocoon are rather rough outside and smooth within. When the cocoon is quite dry it is very brittle, and is apt to snap if carelessly handled. This cocoon may often be found when the trees are cut up for firewood; and as it generally lies very near the exterior, a strong pocket-knife will sometimes disclose it.

The perfect insect is remarkably pretty, considering the simplicity of its coloring, which consists of black upon white. The former color, however, is so disposed, that the wings look as if they were made of the minutest miniver, and the feathery antennæ add considerably to its beauty.

SOME of the most elegant and curious British Lepidoptera are also among the most destructive.

The various species belonging to the remarkable family Ægeriada, properly called Clear-wing Moths, are terrible enemies to the gardener, as well as to the landowner, their larvæ feeding upon the pith, and generally preferring the young wood to that of a more advanced growth. In some cases they live in the roots, and are quite as destructive as their relations who prefer the branches. All the Clear-wings are distinguished by the fact that the greater part of their wings is simply membraneous and transparent, without the beautiful feathery scales that are worn by the Lepidoptera as an order. Some of them resemble hornets, others are often mistaken for wasps, while several species are wonderfully like gnats, and as they fly about in the sunshine may readily be mistaken for these insects.

Of one of these insects, Egeria asiliformis, known to collectors as the BREEZE-FLY CLEAR-WING, Mr. J. Rennie writes as follows: "We observed aboye. a dozen of them, during this summer, in the trunk of a poplar, one side of which had been stripped of its bark. It was this portion of the trunk which all the caterpillars selected for their final retreat, not one having been observed where the tree was covered with bark. The ingenuity of the little archi

tect consisted in scraping the cell almost to the surface of the wood, leaving only an exterior covering of unbroken wood, as thin as writing-paper. Previous, therefore, to the chrysalis making its way through this feeble barrier, it could not have been suspected that an insect was lodged under the smooth wood. We observed more than one of these insects in the act of breaking through this covering, within which there is besides a round movable lid, of a sort of brown wax."

The last-mentioned peculiarity is worthy of special notice, because it is not a general feature in the history of the Clear-wings. Just when they are about to change into the pupal form, they usually nibble a hole through the exterior of the branch, and then make a partial cocoon out of the débris, taking care to place themselves so that the head is toward the orifice. The abdominal segments of the chrysalis are furnished with points directed backward, so that by alternately extending and contracting the abdomen, the creature is pushed onward. When it is going to break out of its chrysalis case it uses these little points, and forces itself partially through the hole, thus allowing the perfect moth to issue at once into the world.

All gardeners should beware of one very pretty little species, the GNAT CLEAR-WING (Ægeria tipuliformis), which is often to be found upon currant-bushes, sitting itself upon the leaves, enjoying the warm sunbeams, and ever and anon opening and closing its fan-like tail. The larva of this insect lives in the young shoots of the currant, and in some seasons damages the crops considerably.

With two more species of lepidopteran burrowers we must close our list, one of them boring into wood and the other into wax.

The first of these insects, Tinea granella, is sometimes called the WOLF MOTH. It is a very small insect, and is closely allied to the common clothes moth, so deservedly hated by fur-dealers, careful housewives, and keepers of museums. The larva of this insect feeds upon the corn, covering it at the same time with a tissue of silken threads. The most curious portion of the life of this insect is, that after the larva has finished eating the corn, it proceeds to the sides of the granary, and there burrows into the wood, making its holes so closely together that, if the timber had been taken out of the sea, the Gribble would have had the credit of the tunnels. Nothing seems to stop this little creature, and it bores through deal planks with perfect ease, making its way even

through the knots without being checked either by the hardness of the wood, or the abundance of turpentine with which the knots in deal are saturated. This is the more astonishing, because turpentine is mostly fatal to insects, and a little spirit of turpentine in a box will effectually keep off all moths and beetles.

In these burrows the larvæ change into the pupal state, and there remain until the following summer, when they emerge in hosts, ready to deposit their eggs upon the corn, and raise up fresh armies of devourers. Another singular fact is, that after these caterpillars have lived for so long upon corn, their tastes should change so suddenly as to induce them to take to wood, and wood moreover which is never free from turpentine, however well it may be seasoned.

THE last of our burrowers is the HONEY-COMB MOTH, belonging to the genus Galleria. Two species of this genus are known in England, both of which are plentiful in this country.

These moths live in the comb of the hive-bee, and when once they have succeeded in depositing their eggs, the combs are generally doomed. The envenomed stings of the bees are useless against these little pests, for though their bodies are soft they take care to conceal themselves in a stout silken tube, and their heads are hard, horny, and penetrable by no sting borne by bee. I once had a very complete case of honey-comb utterly destroyed by the Galleria Moths, which draw their silken tubes through and through the combs, ate up even my beautiful royal cells, devoured all the bee-bread, and converted the carefully chosen specimens into an undistinguishable mass of dirty silk, débris and moths, both dead and living.

Not long ago, one of my friends, who was about to deliver a lecture on the structure of the bee's cell, and who had got together a collection of combs for the purpose of illustration, came to me in dire distress, and showed me the combs, all covered with the tunnels of the Galleria Moth. The damage which they had done was very great, but their presence was discovered in time to prevent them from utterly destroying the combs. After all the caterpillars that could be captured had been destroyed, a widemouthed bottle containing spirit of turpentine was placed in the box, and speedily killed the survivors, while a bath in a solution of corrosive sublimate protected the remaining combs against a future brood of Galleria Moth.

Although there are still in my list many names of burrowing insects which have not yet been described, it is necessary that we should take our leave of the burrowers and proceed to the next chapter.

CHAPTER X.

PENSILE MAMMALIA.

THE HARVEST-MOUSE-its Appearance.-Reason for its Name.-Mouse Nests.Home of the Harvest-mouse.-A curious Problem.-Food of the Harvest-mouse, and its Agility.-The SQUIRREL.-Its summer and winter "Cage."-Boldness of the Squirrel.-Materials for the Nest, and their Arrangement.

THERE are not many mammalia which make pensile nests, and we are, therefore, the more pleased to find that one of the most interesting inhabits this country. This is the well-known HARVEST-MOUSE (Micromys minutus), the smallest example of the mammalia in England, and nearly in the world.

This elegant little creature is so tiny that, when full-grown, it weighs scarcely more than the sixth of an ounce, whereas the ordinary mouse weighs almost an entire ounce. Its color is a very warm brown above, almost amounting to chestnut, and below it is pure white, the line of demarcation being strongly defined. The color is slightly variable in different lights, because each hair is red at the tip and brown at the base, and every movement of the animal naturally causes the two tints to be alternately visible and concealed.

It is called the Harvest-mouse because it is usually found at harvest-time, and in some parts of the country it is captured by hundreds, in barns and ricks. To the ricks it would never gain admission, provided they are built on proper staddles, were it not that it gets into the sheaves as they stand in the field, and is carried within them by the laborers. Other mice, however, are sometimes called by this name, although they have no fair title to it; but the genuine Harvest-mouse can always be distinguished by its very small size, and the bright ruddy hue of the back and the white of the abdomen. Moreover, the ears of the Harvest-mouse are shorter in proportion than those of the ordinary mouse, the head is larger and more slender, and the eyes are not so projecting, so that a very brief inspection will suffice to tell the observer whether he is looking at an adult Harvest-mouse or a young specimen of any other species.

Mice always make very comfortable nests for their young, gathering together great quantities of wool, rags, paper, hair, moss, feathers, and similar substances, and rolling them into a ball-like mass, in the middle of which the young are placed. I have seen many of these nests, and only once have known an exception to the rule, when the mouse had made its nest of empty and broken nutshells. The Harvest-mouse, however, surpasses all its congeners in the beauty and elegance of its home, which is not only constructed with remarkable neatness, but is suspended above the ground in such a manner as to entitle it to the name of a true pensile nest. Generally it is hung to several stout grass-stems; sometimes it is fastened to wheat-straws; and in one case, mentioned by Gilbert White, it was suspended from the head of a thistle.

It is a very beautiful structure, being made of very narrow grasses, and woven so carefully as to form a hollow globe, rather larger than a cricket-ball, and very nearly as round. How the little creature contrives to form so complicated an object as a hollow sphere with thin walls is still a problem. It is another problem how the young are placed in it, and another how they are fed. The walls are so thin that an object inside the nest can be easily seen from any part of the exterior; there is no opening whatever, and when the young are in the nest they are packed so tightly that their bodies press against the wall in every direction. As there is no defined opening, and as the walls are so loosely woven, it is probable that the mother is able to push her way between the meshes, and so to arrange or feed her young.

The position of the nest, which is always at some little height, presupposes a climbing power in the architect. All mice and rats are good climbers, being able to scramble up perpendicular walls, provided that their surfaces be rough, and even to lower themselves head downward by clinging with the curved claws of their hind feet. It is also a noticeable fact that the joint of the hind foot is so loosely articulated that it can be turned nearly half round, and so permits great freedom of movement. The Harvest-mouse is even better constructed for climbing than the ordinary mouse, inasmuch as its long and flexible toes can grasp the grass-stem as firmly as a monkey's paw holds a bough, and the long, slender tail is also partially prehensile, aiding the animal greatly in sustaining itself, though it is not gifted with the sensitive mobility of the same organ in the spider, monkey, or kinkajou.