I AM just returned from a pleasant ride to Cahawba; it was solitary indeed, but not the less pleasant for that. The first part of the way lay through the forest, with nothing to be seen. but tall pines on this side, and tall pines on that side. I quickly cantered through this, and came to the banks of Mush Creek, the same little stream that surrounds the school, but several miles nearer its outlet. The banks were high, but they had been cut away for the road to cross; most of the "creeks" have to be forded, few bridges being yet erected. When they are flooded by the winter rains, this is often an unpleasant, and sometimes a dangerous business, especially for ladies, as they are frequently so high that it is necessary to swim the horse; and to keep the saddle when the beast's back is entirely submerged, amidst his struggles with the foaming rushing flood, is by no means an easy thing. However, I had nothing of this sort to encounter, the water scarcely reaching the stirrups.

The steep banks of this rivulet were ornamented with a very handsome shrub, the Oak-leafed Hydrangea (Hydrangea quercifolia), whose large sinuous leaves of dark green were admirably set off by its noble spikes of white flowers, thickly clustered like snowballs. Common and indigenous flowers are apt to be disregarded by horticulturists, even if beautiful; but this one, though by no means uncommon, seems to have its claims to notice acknowledged, and is a favourite in our gardens. It thrives most in low, damp situations, and affects the vicinity of water.

By-and-by I came to some extensive plantations, in the immediate vicinity of King's Landing, where I had landed from the Alabama. Hereabout, on the sides of the road and in the angles of the fences, the Prickly-pear (Opuntia?) was growing in abundance; it was a smaller variety than that which I noticed on the shore at Mobile, not rising more than a foot in height, and the oval leaf-like divisions of the stem were also smaller. They were profusely adorned with the beautiful yellow flowers; but, warned by experience, I did not meddle with them. The tops of those receptacles from which the flowers had fallen were concave, and of a delicate pink hue.

VOL. II.*

2 G

On suddenly turning round a point of the forest, where the road was overflowed with water, forming a large pond, I surprised a Blue Heron (Ardea cærulea), which was standing, in the silent and motionless manner of the genus, on the very edge of the pool, intently gazing into the water, as if cut in stone. It was doubtless watching for water-insects and worms. On seeing me, it rose to flight, when it seemed all wings, and was soon lost in the deep woods. The Herons are shy, retiring birds, delighting in the gloomy solitude of marshes, or unfrequented lakes, or where the large rivers flow through the untouched forest. Their form is gracefully slender, and their colour usually chaste and pleasing; that of the present species is a lavender-blue, the head and neck purplish.

A pretty moth which I had not seen before (Callimorpha Lecontei) was rather numerous: the wings were horizontal, white, fantastically marked into numerous divisions by bands of darkbrown, much more conspicuous in some specimens than in others.

Cahawba lies on the opposite bank of the Alabama from me, that is, the right bank as you go down. The Cahawba River empties itself into the Alabama just above it, so that the town stands on a point of land. This is a river of considerable length, and is navigable for some distance by steamers during the winter. The summer heats diminish the volume of all the rivers materially; even the Alabama is now so much shrunk, that steamers can no longer come up so far as this, so that water communication with Mobile is cut off for some months, except for very small boats.

In going, I had heard, from a wet marshy place beside the road, a continued, most deafening shrieking, extremely shrill and loud. When I came to the place in returning, the noise was still kept up, and my curiosity was much excited. I watched, and had reason to believe it was produced by a small dusky species of frogs (Rana clamata ?), for on approaching the spots whence it proceeded, it instantly ceased, at least there, and two or three of these frogs would dash into the water and dive. Wishing much to witness the act of uttering the sound, (which was no easy matter, for, as I have said, it ceased on the approach of a foot,) I crept cautiously to the edge of one of the little pools, in which I saw two or three frogs: they were very shy, and kept under water, but I waited patiently, quiet and motionless, a long time, taking care not to stir hand or foot. At length, one of them taking courage, raised his head and half of his body out of water, sitting up as it were, and resting on the toes of his fore-feet, and thus uttered the

piercing shriek, which had a kind of cracked or ringing sound, somewhat like that of a penny trumpet. When about to cry, he first fluttered the skin of the throat a few times, then suddenly inflated it, till it was like a blown bladder, perfectly round, as big as his head, which continued so all the time of the shriek, about four or five seconds. I saw him do it many times close to my feet it was a very singular sight. The skin of the throat seemed, when thus inflated, like a thin transparent membrane.

I had always supposed that the food of the Ladybirds (Coccinellida) was wholly confined to the different species of Plant-lice (Aphides), or at least to insects. We have a large species common here, which is yellow, with seven black spots on each elytron, and six on the thorax (Coccinella borealis), and I frequently find this species sometimes congregated in groups amounting to a dozen, and sometimes single individuals, on the leaves of the water-melon (Cucurbita citrullus) on which they feed, gnawing ragged holes on the surface of the leaf, not at the edge.

The logs of which the school-house is built, being dry, the bark of course is loose and easily separable: on pulling it off, we see some curious little insects (Lepisma), which on being exposed run very swiftly, endeavouring to hide themselves from the light. They have no wings in any of their stages, being one of the few genera of true insects belonging to the order Aptera. The tail is composed of three slender bristles (sete), of which the external ones are held sometimes parallel to the central one, forming apparently but one, and sometimes diverging so much as to make two right angles with it. They are covered with powdery scales of a silvery lustre, in which respect they resemble the Lepidoptera, as also in the very slight tenacity with which they adhere, coming off upon the finger on the slightest touch.

One of the most prominent and most frequent of the sounds which strike a stranger here, and one which cannot fail to awaken the curiosity and excite the inquiries of even the most unobservant, is the call of the Quail (Ortyx Virginiana). All day long, from morning till night, we hear the words "Bob White," whistled with invincible pertinacity in every direction. The sound is exactly what may be produced by a person attempting to whistle these words, making the second syllable seven or eight nofes higher than the first. It is loud and clear, and may be heard a long way off The position of the bird, when uttering his call, may be the top of an outhouse, or a pile of logs; but his favourite place is the top

most rail of the fence; for it is to the plantations he chiefly resorts, being rarely seen in the forest. I found a few days ago an egg of the Quail, lying on the bare ground in the midst of the public road; it was pure white, very sharp at the small end, almost conical. Though it generally makes a large nest, well covered over, I am told that it is not uncommon for them to drop their eggs on the ground, without any nest.

Going home from school one evening, we saw crossing the path before us a very beautiful species of snake, which I suppose to have been the Scarlet Viper (Vipera fulvia, HARLAN; Coluber coccineus, SAY). The boys gave chase to it, and killed it; they called it the Blunt-tailed Moccasin Snake. It was bright scarlet, with transverse bands of black. I examined its head, and found that, by the rule given by Shaw, it should be harmless, as it had small teeth in the palate as well as in the jaw, and I perceived no poison fangs; but if I am right as to the species, it must have them: it has the reputation of being highly poisonous, but with the common people this accusation is so indiscriminately brought against all the tribe of serpents, that it is of very little weight; as I have found in most other instances of the kind, when I inquired if they had ever heard of any one who was bitten by it, they acknowledged that they had not, but "everybody said that it was venomous.' The children are very expert in discovering indications of the wild animals: they often show me a slight line in the dust across the road, where they say a snake has crossed, and they can even determine in which direction it travelled by a still more shadowy mark made by its tail.

There are some insects which, without any particular or assignable reason, I have always had ever since I cared anything about entomology-an especial desire to see. A living specimen of some of the larger species of Cicada was of this sort. I have at length been gratified. For some time I have observed on the trunks of trees, especially pines, the empty pupa-skin of a very large species, very firmly attached by the claws to the bark of the tree, at some feet above the ground. From its position and shape, one might easily mistake it at first sight for the living pupa, but a nearer inspection shows the opening in the back and head from which the perfect insect has disengaged itself. And I have also found lately, in the sandy paths, round holes about two inches deep and an inch in diameter, each containing a living pupa of this species. I have taken two or three to endeavour to rear them, but they all died; one of them arrived so near its change, as to

show the discoloration which always immediately precedes the evolution of the imago, and the skin of the back had even begun to split; but it died in the act, and was never perfected. The children had told me that they occasionally find the perfect insects in the summer, lying on their backs on the ground, from which position they are unable to rise. I hear their shrill ringing crink kept up unceasingly in the trees every day, generally high up among the branches. Once or twice I heard one on a low branch within reach, and carefully watched and searched with my eyes to discover the songster, but I found that with all my caution I could not get within several yards of the bough before they ceased, and they would not tune up again while I remained. Their song, though monotonous and pertinacious, is musical and cheerful, and therefore, to me at least, not unpleasing.

I have, at length, obtained one in the perfected state. I found it lying on the floor of the school, having just come in at the open door; it was lying on its back in the sun, and, as the children had described, vainly endeavouring, by fruitless kickings and strugglings, to regain a prone position, its feet being very short. It is a smaller species than the one which I had found in pupa, being only about three-fourths of an inch in length, and two inches and a half in spread of wing; the body is greyish-green, spotted with black, the abdomen yellow; the wings are ample, perfectly transparent, colourless, (except the nervures, and a few black dots,) and glistening, very much like a thin lamina of talc. It is a pretty little creature. As I was examining it in my hand, contemplating the addition it would make to my cabinet, it suddenly stretched out its shining wings, and away it flew to the leafy branches of a tall hickory tree. Its flight was straight, and somewhat heavy. The genus is commonly known here by the erroneous name of locust.

The Purple Grakles (Quiscalus versicolor) are now numerous; in the evening they sit congregated together side by side, as close as they can place themselves, on the high branches of the dead pines that overlook the clearings. As they sit, they every now and then open their wings, uttering at the same time a querulous sort of low note.

What a most magnificent plant is the trumpet-flower (Bignonia radicans)! It is a climbing shrub, embracing the trunks of the largest oaks to the height of thirty or forty feet, with handsome pinnate leaves, and spikes of splendid trumpet-shaped blossoms, each three inches in length, of a brilliant orange-red, projecting