The most remarkable of these is the climbing-perch, which is found in the mangrove swamps. It ascends trees by using a pair of prickles from its gill-flaps, as a man might hoist himself up by his elbows, and thus it gains the tops of stems many feet above high-water mark, picking off the flies that alight on the tree up which it climbs. The class of fish which have the power of moving on land have some of their bones so disposed in plates and cells as to retain a supply of moisture, that exudes and keeps the gills damp, this being necessary to enable the animal to respire.
It is well known that Mr. Jesse has devoted a great deal of attention to bees, so much so that a collection of heterogeneous papers on Natural History, by Mr. Jesse, would hardly be complete without some mention of those insects. Accordingly we find, in these lectures, several anecdotes about them. In a hive belonging to Mr. Jesse, the entrance was made rather too broad, and a large slimy slug crawled in through this hole. The bees killed it; but their united strength could not drag it out of the hive. Of course the dead slug would soon begin to decompose, and some plan must be invented to prevent his carcase from polluting the hive and rendering it uninhabitable. What, think you, did these little insects do? We have proposed this difficulty to numerous friends, and hitherto not one of them has been able to suggest to us any reasonable solution. The bees, however, soon found a way out the scrape. They coated the dead slug completely over with a covering of coarse wax, called propolis. The sequel of this story is most remarkable. It so happened that one of the common, brown-shelled snails got into the same hive. It was soon stung to death; but instead of covering it over with wax, the bees merely glued the edge of the shell to the board of the hive, and thus left the snail hermetically sealed within. They must have reasoned that no unpleasant odour could issue through the shell.
In the course of another lecture “On Instinct in Animals,” it is stated that bees have a great variety of peculiar instincts, many of which are well known. Probably other animals, if watched as closely as bees have been, would furnish equally numerous instances of peculiar instincts. These instincts, Mr. Jesse well remarks, all tend, in different ways, to the well-being of the bees. One of these instincts is this. When a young queen-bee is ready to leave a hive, followed by a swarm, scouts are sent out to search for a proper place for her to settle on, or for a suitable abode. Another is, for a certain number of bees to rush out of the hive after the queen that leads forth the swarm, and to follow her wherever she goes. It is an unexplained fact how these are selected, for they are not all young bees. It seems as though a colony formed entirely of youngsters can hardly be trusted among bees, any more than with us. In order to prosper they must have some old heads among them. But the most curious part of the phenomenon is yet to be told. If one of the selected emigrants should, even the next day, be returned to the parent hive, it is immediately killed as an intruder. When the swarm is hived a third instinct teaches the bees to cleanse their abode from all impurities; a fourth, to collect propolis, and with it to stop up every crevice except the entrance. A fifth teaches them to ventilate the hive, which is done by a number of bees at the bottom of the hive, fanning their wings very rapidly, which produces a current of air; a sixth instinct teaches them to keep a constant guard at the door or entrance of the hive; another instinct teaches them to collect honey. They are also taught by instinct to avoid rain, and they return in great haste to the hive if a cloud passes over the sun; they fly there with great rapidity, and invariably in a straight line.
A most singular discovery, the whole credit of which appertains, we believe, to Mr. Jesse, is that of the antennal language of insects. Bees and other insects are provided, as everybody knows, with feelers or antennæ. These are, in fact, most delicate organs of touch, warning of dangers, and serving the animals to hold a sort of conversation with each other, and to communicate their desires and wants. A strong hive of bees will contain thirty-six thousand workers. Each of these, in order to be assured of the presence of their queen, touches her every day with its antennæ. Should the queen die, or be removed, the whole colony disperse themselves, and are seen in the hive no more, perishing every one, and quitting all the store of now useless honey which they had laboured so industriously to collect for the use of themselves and of the larvæ. On the contrary, should the queen be put into a small wire cage placed at the bottom of the hive, so that her subjects can touch and feed her, they are contented, and the business of the hive proceeds as usual. Mr. Jesse has also shown that this antennal power of communication is not confined to bees. Wasps and ants, and probably other insects, exercise it. If a caterpillar is placed near an ants’ nest, a curious scene will often arise. A solitary ant will perhaps discover it, and eagerly attempt to draw it away. Not being able to accomplish this, it will go up to another ant, and, by means of the antennal language, bring it to the caterpillar. Still, these two are perhaps unable to perform the task of moving it. They will separate and bring up reinforcements of the community by the same means, till a sufficient number are collected to enable them to drag the caterpillar to their nest.
Perhaps as striking a lecture as any in the book is the one on “Dogs.” The lecturer expresses his surprise that these noble creatures should be made the subject of so many unfeeling allusions in colloquial speech. Thus we hear of a “lazy dog,” a “drunken dog,” a “dirty dog,” a “shabby dog,” of leading a “dog’s life,” and of a “dogged temper.” We call a dandy a “puppy,” and a coward, a “cur.” Mr. Jesse proceeds to explain that all these epithets are absurdly misapplied. The dog is a friend so faithful, a protector so disinterested and courageous, that instead of being coupled with these despicable adjectives, he deserves all the kindness and affection we can bestow on him. A French writer has boldly affirmed that with the exception of women, there is nothing on