complete the structure, and to give it a solid
regularity of which any carpenter might be
proud. When the framework is finished, he
fetches clay to fill up the interstices, and
finally plasters it outside with a coat of
granulous earth, perfectly waterproof, and
capable of resisting the beak of the strongest
bird of prey. When the nest is finished, it
looks like a miniature Arab tent, divided, as
I have said, into three rooms. No one has
yet discovered the purpose of the two first;
they are always kept perfectly clean, and
apparently uninhabited. In the third lives
the Scopus umbretta. There, on a couch of
soft moss and feathers, the female lays her
eggs, and hatches her young ones. When
her mate goes out to fish, he carefully closes
up the three doors, by the aid of small stones
and clay, and thus immures his family to
preserve them from the attacks of reptiles.
He returns with his store of fish, demolishes
with his beak the fortification, carefully
ejects its fragments, and then rejoins his
family in the inner chamber. If any noise is
heard, or any danger threatens the household,
the Scopus umbretta hastens immediately to
place himself before the outer entrance. There,
with beak advanced and ready to strike, he
awaits the enemy, strikes him ere he can
enter, and usually comes off victorious. It is
not rare to find near the nest dead reptiles,
lying with crushed heads, trophies of the
valour of this sagacious bird.

These nests are as common at the Cape as
the nests of the common swallow are with
us; but to them we usually take little heed,
because they are to be found under the eaves
of our houses, and we need only raise our
eyes to see them.

All Paris felt interested in the famous well
of Grenelle, since known as the Artesian well:
during five years the public attention, and
that of the Institute of France, has been
  pre-occupiedby the labours of M. Mulot; and
there was a general cry of joy and admiration
when the water spouted upwards from the
bosom of the earth. During centuries past,
the animals which inhabit the arid sands of
Africa excavate the soil to discover water,
and have no need of the hazel wand cut by
moonlight, which the ancient water-seekers
in the South used to employ; nor of the
science of the Abbé Paramelle, that skilful
discoverer of hidden springs.

During the mission with which I—we are
still quoting M. Berthoud—was charged in
1848 to Algeria, some of the natives gave
me a young hyæna, which soon became attached
to me, after the manner of a faithful
and gentle dog. This creature became the
inseparable companion of my rambles. With
an instinct aided by her uncommonly acute
sense of smell, she served me as a guide, and
with her I felt certain of never going astray,
to whatever distance I might penetrate,
either into a forest or a mountain ravine,
or amongst those immense sandy plains which

so much resemble the sea. As soon as I
wished to return—or even before it, if she
herself felt weary—the hyæna, with dilated
nostrils, snuffed the soil; and after a few
moments spent in careful investigation, she
used to walk rapidly on before me. Never
did she deviate from the track by which
we had come, as I constantly perceived by
the mark which my foot had made in stopping
to pluck some rare herb, or the evidence
of where my hand had broken a branch from
some stunted shrub. From time to time she
used to stop, and seat herself on her haunches
like a dog, fawning for a caress, and after
having obtained it, she would trot on again.
If any noise were heard in the midst of the
profound silence of the desert, she used to
erect her ears, and make inquisition with her
quick scent and hearing. If the result produced
nothing alarming, she would gaily
pursue her route. If an Arab appeared, she
bristled up her long mane, took refuge between
my legs, and remained there until she
saw him pass on, after exchanging with me
the salutation which every native bestows on
the traveller whom he meets on the way.

One morning, enticed onwards by the
strange phantasmagoria of a mirage, in the
sandy plain near Thebessa, I found myself at
length in the midst of a desert. I could see
nothing on every side but sand, heaped up
like waves, and over which the burning heat
of the atmosphere formed that sort of undulating
reflection which produces the illusions
of the mirage. Fatigue at length overcame
me: suddenly I fell on the ground without
strength, my head burning, and ready to
perish with thirst. The panting hyæna came
up to me, and smelt to me with apparent
disquietude. Suddenly she darted off so
abruptly, and with such rapidity, that I
thought she had left me to my fate. I tried
to rise and follow her, but I could not.
Ten minutes passed, and I saw my faithful
pet returning. She rushed towards me, and
began to lick my hands with her cool tongue,
while her lips were dripping with fresh
water. I observed that her track through
the sand was marked by drops of moisture.

The certainty of finding water restored my
strength. I arose, and managed to follow
the hyæna, who walked on slowly in advance,
turning her head from time to time towards
me. Ere long I reached a hole scooped out
of the sand; its bottom was moist, but contained
no water. I tried to dig it deeper,
but my hands, scorched by the sand, reached
no water. Meantime the hyæna wandered
about scenting the ground. Suddenly she
began to work with her paws, and made a
small hole, which speedily became filled with
water. Although somewhat brackish, it
seemed to me delicious; I drank of it freely,
bathed my hands and face, and then proceeded
homewards, following my faithful
guide.

Such was the extreme acuteness of this