ter at the base, or provided with fibrillæ, those of the opposite sides interlocking as in feathers generally. The terminal portion, however, of the stem of the fibre is much enlarged and expanded laterally to twice or more the diameter at the root, and converted into quite a stiff bristle, nearly smooth, or with very slight indications in places of the fibrilla."

The colours of this hairy-looking bird are also somewhat strangely blended. The back is glossy bottle green, but the breast, lower part of the neck, and a collar that goes all round it, are of an indescribable grey colour, tinted with pink. A blood-red ring encircles the base of the bill, and the greater part of the head is dark crimson. Belly a lighter shade of the same colour, streaked with white. Wings and tail bottle green and shiny like the back. The female in plumage differs but very little from the male. Length, ten and three-quarter inches, wing six and a-half inches.

This very interesting bird appears to combine the habits of the "flicker" with those of the "white-headed woodpecker." In a great degree arboreal, and sometimes chiselling off the bark to hunt for insects, after the manner of the whiteheaded woodpeckers; still it may be as constantly observed on the ground, picking insects from off the grass and flowers, and rooting out the ant's nests, as does the "flicker." Its mode of flight is not the least like that of a woodpecker, but is swift and straight, and when alighting on a branch, for it seldom if ever pitches against a tree, the feet grasp it, and the wings close, like those of an ordinary percher; more than this, I have frequently discovered seeds and berries mixed with insect remains in their stomachs. All this goes to prove that in habit at any rate Lewis's woodpecker (so named in honour of one of the two explorers who first visited these remote regions of the far north-west, Captains Lewis and Clark), closely links the jays (Cyanura) with Picus and Colaptes.

They nest in a hole excavated in the stump of a tree, and here again they differ from most other woodpeckers; these birds make a very substantial nest of grass and feathers at the bottom of the capacious chamber, hollowed out for its reception, whereas the others simply deposit their eggs on the bare wood, or at best only on the dust, accruing from gouging out

the hole.

Lewis's woodpecker lays about seven eggs. The colour of the egg is pure white when the shell is emptied of its contents, but quite pink when taken from the nest. The entrance hole is never larger than is sufficient to barely admit the bird, forming, as it were, a narrow tunnel, that leads to a large globular-shaped chamber. Nothing much larger than a mouse could manage to squeeze its body through the passage; hence

there is but trifling danger of robbery from predatory mammals. At least a small basketful of chips must result from digging out so large a chamber, but what becomes of them is somewhat mysterious. I would defy the keenest vision to detect even a single bit of dust under or near to the hollowed tree. The birds must carry the chips and debris away and hide it-still I cannot say that I have ever seen them so employed-instinct surely treading very closely on the heels of reason, methinks.

Thus far, we have visited the open timber, the detached clumps of trees, and the "dark dismal swamp," and find each locality has its appropriate woodpecker. Did time and space permit it, we could climb the craggy hill side to reach the frontier dividing life from icy desolation, where we should find the three-toed woodpecker (P. arcticus) busy in its favourite tree, the Pinus contorta, or diving into the very heart and depths of the forest to scramble through rock-walled ravines, and dark solitary glens, there, also, if we do not see, we shall be sure to hear the rap, rap, rap, rap, and noisy laugh of the log-cock (Hylatomus pileatus). Frightening out the terror-stricken insects from their snug retreats, with the noise of his formidable hammer, he gobbles them up, and then, so one would imagine, laughs loudly at the success of his ruse. This woodpecker, the largest of all the north-western species, makes a hammering that can be heard distinctly quite a half a mile away. It is the scarlet plume of the log-cock the Indians so highly prize as a "medicine" or charm.

Go where you will, woodpeckers are sure to be met with, and, as the harbingers of summer, their arrival is always looked forward to, and hailed with delight by the lonely hunter, be he white or red man, for he knows when the woodpeckers make their appearance, that the ice-king has unlocked the crystal doors of his prison, and given his sceptre to the god of summer.

CONNEMARA.

BY GEORGE S. BRADY, M.R.C.S.,

Corresponding Member of the Zoological Society of London.

AMONG the many interesting corners of the British Islands, which present themselves before the mental vision of the naturalist, when he is cogitating as to whither he shall betake himself for his next holiday, there is perhaps scarcely one that combines so many points of interest-botanical, zoological, geological, physical-as that western district of the county of Galway, called Connemara. And, if attractive to the naturalist, it is scarcely less so to the lover of the picturesque; its mountain scenery being wonderfully wild and impressive. I propose, then, in the following pages, to give some account of my own impressions and observations during two short excursions, devoted to the zoology and botany of this region.

The naturalist bent upon the discovery of new species, or new habitats, would probably do better to turn his attention to some less thoroughly explored portion of the western Irish coast; the frequent quotation of "Connemara" after descriptions of species in scientific works, shows that the district has long been a favourite and productive collecting ground, so that perhaps the chances of absolutely new species turning up there, though by no means slender, are not so great as in some other places. Much of our knowledge of the flora and fauna of Connemara is, indeed, due to the explorations of the late William M'Calla, an enthusiastic young naturalist, resident at Roundstone, who fell a victim to cholera in 1849. His researches were rewarded by the addition of many species to the botany and zoology of the British Islands, as well as by the discovery of not a few forms of life altogether new to science. But other portions of the western coast are almost entirely unknown to naturalists. Dr. Perceval Wright says, "any young ardent zoologist will still find plenty of work to do among the western phocidæ and fish, and almost a new field in the shellless molluscs, annelids, and cælenterata, of Donegal, Sligo, Mayo, Clare and Kerry."*

Connemara is easily reached from Westport on the north, or from Galway on the south. The latter is the most direct route from Dublin, but the former is much more interesting, as to the scenery amongst which it lies; and if economy of time be not a matter of very great importance, it is worth while to make the circuit by Castlebar, for the sake of the car-drive

* Quarterly Journal of Microscopical Science, July, 1865, p. 213.

between Westport and Clifden. The road between these two places passes through the most magnificent mountain scenery in Ireland, and, for part of the distance, close by the shore of the Killery, an extraordinary inlet of the sea, which is said to bear a very close resemblance to a Norwegian fiord. The Killery, though only about half a mile in breadth, is full ten miles long, and is hemmed in by mountains, which descend steeply to the water's edge. It would indeed be difficult to imagine it other than a fresh-water lake, were it not for the sea-weedy smell and the sight of seals swimming on its surface. Edward Forbes relates that, when dredging in the bay, he and his companions were much astonished to observe that the star-fishes and other animals, on being brought to the surface, seemed to be seized with convulsions. The reason of this they discovered to be that the upper stratum of water was fresh, being in fact the rain collected from the surrounding mountains, and prevented from finding free access to the sea, or from mixing with the lower strata of water by the contracted character of the basin. Of course the superficial layer of fresh water was quite sufficient to exercise a deadly effect upon creatures so sensitive to that element as star-fish.

If botany be the primary object, it will be advisable to make Roundstone our head-quarters for two or three days at least, and for a much longer time, if devoted to zoology. This little village is situated at the foot of the mountain Urrisbeg; it consists of a single straggling street, which runs parallel and nearly close to the shore of Roundstone Bay, a narrow creek separated from the much larger Birterbuy Bay by the Island of Inishnee. There is a comfortable little inn, and a much better supply of butcher-meat than is often to be met with in more accessible places in England. We had provided ourselves with a supply of Liebig's" Extractum Carnis" in view of any emergency, but Mr. Kelly, our host, paid good attention to the commissariat department, so that we were not driven to this resource. There is a Franciscan Monastery at Roundstone, the principal use of which is, so far as our experience goes, to supply boats to naturalists who want to dredge. There are about a dozen monks, who employ themselves in the tillage of the ground attached to the monastery, and in visiting the poor of the neighbourhood; and their residence has the aspect of being decidedly the snuggest and most comfortable place thereabouts. There are no public cars to Roundstone, but it is easily reached by hiring a conveyance from Clifden. The plan which we adopted on our last visit, was to go by the Clifden coach from Galway to Canal Bridge-the point of the road nearest to Roundstone-where Mr. Kelly's car was in waiting to take us up. The drive from Canal Bridge is very picturesque, the

"Twelve Pins" forming a magnificent mountain background, and every turn of the road bringing into view some new foreground combination of granite boulders, heather-clad hill side, moorland lough, or mountain torrent. In the space of two or three miles the photographer might find material for many a beautiful study, of a kind for which his art is well adapted. It may be noted that the roads, even in the wildest districts, are exceedingly good, though the traffic over them is so small, as often to call to mind one of Dean Ramsay's Scotch "Reminiscences"-A pedestrian in some unfrequented part of Scotland met with a man mending the road, and expressed his surmise that there must be very few travellers over it. "Eh,” replied the stonebreaker, "it's no sae ill as that; there was a cadger body alang yestreen and there's yersel the day."

At a distance of five or six miles from Clifden, are situated the quarries from which the celebrated green marble or serpentine is chiefly derived. The formation in which this rock occurs is said by Professor Harkness to belong to the lowest series of the Silurian system, being of somewhat later date than the Laurentian rocks of America. Sir Roderick Murchison practically agrees in this view, but considers the so-called Laurentian rocks (we believe) not as a separate system, but as the base of the Silurians. The relative position of the two formations is, however, undisputed. Whether the Fozoon canadense has formed the groundwork of the Irish as well as of the Canadian serpentine must still be looked upon as an unsolved problem. The published evidence would lead us to believe that the Irish mineral is destitute of any visible organized structure, but we are inclined to believe that further investigation may reveal the existence of the Eozoon in a greatly altered condition. We imagine that after the admirably lucid drawings and descriptions of Dr. Carpenter, which appeared some months ago in the INTELLECTUAL OBSERVER, and taking into account the great extent and accuracy of his labours in that department of microscopical investigation, few will be disposed to accept the conclusions of Professors King and Rowney, as to the inorganic nature of the Canadian serpentine, though it may be freely admitted that, for the present, the organic character of the Connemara marble is "not proven."

The drive from Galway to Clifden cannot be called a particularly interesting one. For the first half or three-fourths of the distance, Lough Corrib is frequently visible, but its dreary shores never form a very attractive feature. The botanist may picture to himself the rare pond-weeds which inhabit its waters, but will find more gratification in keeping his eyes open for the ferns and other plants which deck the walls and banks