brown above and greyish tinge beneath; the fur is short, soft, and silky; the ears small; the snout singularly long, somewhat overhanging, and tapering to a point. It is with this instrument that it so readily grubs up the soft earth in search of worms, larvæ, &c., and burrows, where it usually remains during the day, coming forth at night with great wariness to seek its food, for the owls flit by, and the slightest motion is death. The cat's fondness for mice is proverbial, but, though the cat will kill a shrew, she immediately retires from it in disgust, possibly from the strong musky odour emitted by the animal.

The shrew was worshipped by the ancient Egyptians. Numbers of shrew mummies in the most perfect preservation have been from time to time found in the crypts of Thebes and Memphis. The animal was held sacred, and considered the earthly representative of Latona, dedicated possibly to one of the deities of darkness from its supposed blindness, for, like the mole, having little occasion for vision in its subterranean life, the eyes are very small.

Every ancient writer on natural history gives the shrew an ill name. Aristotle points out the injury inflicted by it on cattle. Pliny and Agricola state its bite to be highly poisonous; and down to our own time the belief has been general in its noxious powers. To be "shrew-struck" was to have the limbs paralysed; the mere running of a shrew over the foot of a cow or horse was believed to inflict upon the animal the greatest torture; fortunately, the wise men of old had discovered a remedy whereby the animal was speedily relieved. It was only necessary to drag the horse or cow through the arch formed by brambles rooted at each end; or, if this could not be done, then the branch of a "shrew ash" was to be applied to the tortured limbs, and relief was certain. The manufacture of this shrew ash was the most marvellous part of the business; a hole was bored into the centre of an ash tree, and into this hole was thrust a live shrew, the hole being securely plugged up. The tree thus became a charmed tree, effectual in its smallest branch against the ills caused by shrews.

JANUARY 16TH.

NORWAY SPRUCE FIR.(Abies excelsa.)

WHEN growing in congenial soil and with sufficient space, the spruce fir shoots up rapidly, soon becoming a very graceful and beautiful tree, and often at its prime attaining to an altitude of upwards of 150 feet-the lofty cone terminating in a taper finger pointing heavenward, the branches spreading out on each side, and regularly increasing in length as approaching the earth, until the long lateral branches at the base, extending to a considerable distance, sweep the ground. It was probably this grandeur and nobleness of form that furnished the prophet Hosea with the striking image, "I am like a green fir tree." The timber of the tree is well known as the white deal or the Christiana deal; it is a wood of a white fine even grain, extensively used. The tree is probably a native of a mountainous parts of the north of Europe: it has, however, been successfully cultivated with us for upwards of 400 years, more for ornamental purposes than for timber. In confined shrubberies the tree is apt to become stunted; the lower branches, from the confined space, become rugged and dwarfed. Its regularity of growth has been also objected to as formal in appearance, but seen under favourable circumstances, and when left to nature, this objection is never urged.

Towards the middle of the month there was a fall of fine snow in early morning. This tree then presented, in many situations, an object of the most striking beauty. The beautiful feathery foliage was lightly clothed with the finest snow— not matting together in a heavy clod of white, but just sufficient to completely hide the green, and still preserving the feathery appearance of the foliage in the purest white; the rugged trunk, also draped in snow, presenting in the wintry morning a magnificent snow tree, to the beauty of which it seemed impossible to do justice. The robin was flitting among the branches, here and there flirting off a few particles of snow, and giving forth a broken warble. It was just such a scene as that described by Cowper in "Winter's Walk":

No noise is heard, or none that hinders thought;
The redbreast warbles still, but is content

With slender notes, and more than half suppressed,
Pleased with its solitude, and flitting light

From spray to spray."

As the morning advanced the fair white robe rapidly melted away, and then the rich greenness and quiet beauty of the tree became scarcely less remarkable-so strikingly did it contrast with the withered branches of the larches and the barren aspect of the deciduous trees.

JANUARY 17TH.

THE HOUSE CRICKET. (A cheta domestica.)

"Little inmate, full of mirth,

Chirping on my kitchen hearth,
Wheresoe'er be thine abode,

Always harbinger of good."-COWPER.

THE poet is not quite correct in the statement made in the last line, for old housewives prognosticated from the chirp of the cricket sometimes good and sometimes ill luck, losses or the death of friends; whilst the merry maiden heard in the cheerful sound a sure indication of the approach of her lover. In Devon the presence of the cricket is generally considered as an indication of misfortune or loss.

The cricket is plentifully distributed all over Europe, frequenting houses, especially where large fires are kept, brewhouses, bakehouses, &c.; it is, in fact, common in most kitchens, apparently preferring newly-built premises, possibly from the dampness, for, as White observes, they are not only lovers of warmth, but also of moisture; indeed, a thirsty race, showing a great propensity for liquors, for they are often found drowned in pans, &c. The insect is about three-fourths of an inch in length, of a sooty brown colour, with darker markings about the head and thorax. Those found without wings are the larvæ, and those which have only rudimentary wings the pupæ. The fully developed crickets will in summer time not unfrequently take wing from the kitchen hearth and locate themselves during the warm weather in some dry, sunny

hedgebank, where, in the dog days, they may be heard chirping as merrily during the evenings as by the fire in winter. The shrill chirp is caused by the males only (as crickets have all silent wives); it is caused by a brisk attrition of the wings. M. Bory St. Vincent states that "the Spaniards were so enamoured of the song of crickets that they kept them in cages like singing birds." We are not aware that any other traveller has noted the fact. The cricket has, however, certainly one advantage over the birds, for

"Theirs is but a summer's song,

Thine endures the winter long."-COWPER.

The song of the insect has been usually considered a cheerful, contented, mirthful sound. Milton says, in “Il Penseroso"

"Far from all resort of mirth,

Save the cricket on the hearth."

The insect is remarkable for the large size of its anterior legs, and thus it is enabled readily to leap to an astonishing distance. Where crickets abound cockroaches rapidly disappear. It is generally believed that the former feed on the latter.

THE English fungi is a very extensive and interesting tribe of flowerless plants, some so minute as to be scarcely visible to the naked eye, and yet as perfect and little less beautiful than the choicest exotics; others attain considerable size-from two to three feet round.

Fungi spring up everywhere: we find the smaller varieties in old books, decaying cheese, or the preserve jar; on the living fly or the leaves of growing plants; the larger specimens in meadows and woods, on the decaying branches and bark of trees, &c.

Mild and moist weather prove favourable to the growth of fungi. A walk in the woods will reward us with the discovery of many curious varieties. The winter aspect of the woods.

may not, perhaps, prove inviting; they may seem bare and bleak, and the sighing of the wind through the naked branches will remind us of the wail of distress; yet the scene has its charms, for although we shall meet no artists sketching the foliage of the feathery birch, no pic-nics under the broad shadows of the oaks, nor mark the flickering lights slanting through the arboured recess upon pensive lovers, yet objects of interest are continually presented to the notice-fresh, soft mosses, with their fairy urns; lichens and curious fungi, all full of instruction to the observer, speaking eloquently of the Great Author of all

66

"Was ev'ry falt'ring tongue of man,

Almighty Father! silent in Thy praise,

Thy works themselves would raise a general voice;
Even in the depths of solitary woods,

By human foot untrod, proclaim Thy power."

The

The carmine peziza is one of our most beautiful fungi. We found several springing from the decaying branch of a tree that had become partly buried in the moss and earth. outside of this fungus is somewhat white and woolly, but when the interior opens it spreads out into a goblet of intensely bright vermillion (as large as a wineglass); four or five of these beautiful coral cups often spring from the same branch. At the least touch, when fully ripe, the cups send out a cloud of seed, like smoke.

We have heard of this fungus being used medicinally, but it belongs to a dangerous tribe, and is best avoided.

JANUARY 19TH.

THE DORMOUSE.-(Myoxus avellanarias.)

It is now several years since, when in the depth of winter we were exploring part of an old wood, that we accidentally discovered, nestled in the hollow of an old tree, a dormouse comfortably rolled up in a ball of soft moss; this ball was so ingeniously put together that we were for some time quite unable to discover the opening. As we rolled it to and fro and handled it, the inmate gave no signs of vitality, nor was