the carpus. All below it answers to our hand—a hand consisting of one finger.
Take even a wider instance. Compare the arm of a man and the wing of a bird. Still greater adaptations have taken place, and yet the plan remains the same. We still find the clavicle or collar-bone, the scapula or shoulder-blade, the humerus, ulna, and radius, answering to the same bones of our arm, a small carpus or wrist, and finally the phalanges or fingers, simplified and lengthened and anchylosed to form but one series of bone, with the exception of a rudimentary thumb. It is not uncommon to find a rudimentary bone like this which in some allied species is fully developed. The leg of the horse again gives us a very striking example of this. There is, so to speak, only a single finger, but we find, one on each side of this single finger, two small bones, commonly known only as splint-bones. These are the rudimentary traces of the same finger-bones, which in the rhinoceros are fully developed.
Now Osteology abounds in wonderful forms of structure like these. It is a study pregnant with pleasurable results, and is a real profitable study, and one in which each fresh student may do real solid work. It is all the little facts observed by naturalists from time to time all over the world, which on being collected together form the nucleus of knowledge; for indeed all the scientific knowledge which we possess is little more than a nucleus, with which we are supplied. The mere collector of curious objects in no way furthers science. Plenty of people have amassed beautiful collections of insects interesting in their way, but of very transient interest if it goes no farther. The collector possibly knows nothing at all of the wonderful internal structure of the animals he preserves. His insects are to him simply a mosaic—a collection of pretty works of art. So also the shell-collector—for I cannot call such a one as I describe a conchologist—has often, I believe, the most vague ideas of what kind of animals they were that dwelt in the cases he so carefully treasures, and his collection is consequently of a dubious worth to him. Now, to those who study the anatomy of the mollusc as well as its shell, such a collection is full of the deepest interest. He has learnt from his dissections that the habits of every variety of mollusc are accompanied by a variety of structure, which occasions a variety in the shape of the case which envelopes it. It all blends together, and forms a harmonious whole. With a real love for science, as doubtless some of these collectors have, one is sorry to see so much time and money wasted on a pursuit which in their hands yields no fruit of any worth. The work of the mere collector can only be classed with that of the compiler of a stamp-album. Whereas, collections of natural objects, combined with intelligent study, are invaluable and almost indispensable to the naturalist.
In Mr. Chivers's note on Preserving Animals, No. 117 of 'Science-Gossip,' the following passage occurs:—"The skeleton must be put in an airy place to dry, but not in the sun or near the fire, as that will turn the bones a bad colour." I cannot comprehend how this idea should have arisen. Perhaps the most indispensable assistant to the skeleton preparer is that very sun which Mr. Chivers warns him against. The bleaching power of the rays of a hot summer sun is astounding, and bones of the most inferior colour can rapidly be turned to a beautiful white by this means. It is for want of time and care in following out this method that the professional skeleton preparers in London resort to the aid of lime, which, although it makes them white, is terribly detrimental to the bones themselves. In a smoky city like London, the principle of sun-bleaching would be hard to follow; but so great is its value, that more than once I have had valuable specimens sent down to me in the country, by a comparative anatomist in London, to undergo a course of sun-bleaching; and a specimen which I have received stained and blotched, I have returned of a beautiful uniform white, a change entirely due to that sun which we are told to beware of.
The question, How are skeletons to be prepared? is one which is repeatedly asked. People desire a method by which with little trouble the flesh may be removed from a specimen, and a beautiful skeleton of ivory whiteness left standing in its natural position. I can assure all such inquirers that this cannot be accomplished by any method at all. The art of preparing bones is a long, elaborate, and difficult one, and he who wishes to become a proficient in it must be alike regardless to the most unpleasant odours, and to handling the most repulsive objects. Mr. Chivers's receipt for the maceration of specimens is about the best which one could have, only I should not advise so frequent a change of the water. What is needed is as rapid a decomposition of the flesh as is possible, and then the cleaning of the skeleton just before the harder ligaments have also dissolved. But this requires very careful watching, and with the utmost pains it is almost impossible to get a skeleton entirely connected by its own ligaments.
Another point which must be taken into consideration is this: What use is to be made of the specimens after they are prepared? Are they for purposes of real study, or simply as curious objects to look at? If the latter is the purpose, I must confess I do not think they are worth the trouble of preparing. If the former is the object for which they are intended, then I think no care or pains are thrown away. But for the real student of Osteology the separated bones, as a rule, are far more valuable than those which are connected. He needs one or two set up for purposes of reference, but the great bulk of his specimens should be separate bones. Osteology is one of the most delightful branches of comparative anatomy, and one not very hard to master. Let anyone try the experiment by getting together a few bones—and those from the rabbit or the partridge we have had for dinner are by no means to be despised—and then, by purchasing Flower's 'Osteology of the Mammalia,' which is a cheap and first-rate book, he will learn what the study of the skeleton really is. And then let him be on the look-out for specimens of all kinds on all occasions, bringing home all suitable objects he meets with in his walks, however unsavoury they may be, and he will be astonished to find how many specimens he will get together in the course of a year. I have now myself upwards of seventy skulls of various kinds, with often the rest of the skeleton as well, the greater part of which were gradually collected, by keeping constantly on the watch for them, within a year and a half.
III.
BIRDS' EGGS.
By Thomas Southwell, F.Z.S., etc.
I can imagine no branch of natural history more fascinating in its nature, or more calculated to attract the attention of the young, than the study of the nests and eggs of birds; the beauty of the structure of the one, and of the form and colour of the others, cannot fail to excite wonder and admiration; and the interest thus excited, if rightly directed, may, and indeed has, in many instances, led to the development of that passionate love for all nature's works, that careful and patient spirit of investigation, and that deep love for truth which should all be characteristics of the true naturalist. Who can look back upon the days, perhaps long passed away, when as a school-boy he wandered through the woods and fields, almost every step unfolding to him some new wonder, some fresh beauty—glimpses of a world of wonders only waiting to be explored—who can look back to such a time without feeling that in those wanderings there dawned upon his mind a source of happiness which in its purity and intensity ranks high amongst those earthly pleasures we are permitted to enjoy, and which has influenced him for good in all the changes which have since come upon him, lightening the captivity of the sick room, and adding fresh brightness to the enjoyments of health.
Between the true naturalist and the mere "collector" there is a wide gap, and I trust that none for whom I am writing will allow themselves to drift into the latter class; the incalculable mischief wrought by those who assist in the extermination of rare and local species by buying up every egg of a certain species which can be obtained, for the mere purpose of exchange, cannot be too much deprecated, and I hope that none of my readers will be so guilty; to them the pleasures of watching the nesting habits of the bird, the diligent search and the successful find are unknown; the eggs in such a cabinet are mere egg-shells, and not objects pregnant with interest, recalling many a happy ramble, and many a hardly-earned reward in the discovery of facts and habits before unknown. Every naturalist must be more or less a collector, but the naturalist should always be careful of drifting into the collector, his note-book and his telescope should be his constant and harmless companions.
When
