The following accounts of a hurricane in New Zealand, and one in South Australia, are from the travels of Mr. Angas in those countries:—"The sirocco continued until sunset, when the sky assumed a strange and lurid aspect; smoky-looking clouds rose rapidly from the southward, and a dirty sand came flying very quickly from the south and west. The sun went down in a heavy bank, flashing dull rose-coloured rays from the blue and leaden mass that obscured the western horizon. Then there was a lull; the foaming crests of the northern waves gradually sank into repose, and a dead and breathless calm followed. The grey hour of twilight was rendered far more gloomy by the sky all round to the south and west becoming intensely black; the clouds rising like a wall, slowly and gradually, until they reached our vessel, now becalmed on the sullen bosom of the ocean, enveloped us in an almost Egyptian darkness. The awful stillness and gloom, portending a tempest, was rendered more fearful by the sudden oppressive heat that came over us, like the breath of an oven. The sails that flapped in the calm were quickly stowed, and the men, just discernible as black masses in the rigging, were busily engaged in preparing the vessel for conflict with the approaching storm. After waiting about ten minutes in breathless anxiety, the fury of the tempest burst upon us. It came sudden as thought, rushing up from the south, black and awful, with a noise like the blast of a trumpet; and, laying the vessel over on her side, the wind whistled through the cordage till every mast shook, and every rope trembled. The violence of the wind on the water, meeting the northerly swell, sent the foam drifting along like sand; and the dead silence of the preceding moment was followed by a loud and deafening noise, that grew more terrible as the tempest waxed stronger. The sudden rushing of the storm—the sweeping foam—the roaring of the wind, howling and moaning through the rigging—the broad flashes of lightning that lit the gloom, followed by hoarse peals of thunder, audible even above the voice of the elements, and the big drops of rain—the tears of the tempest—all combined to render the scene truly grand and terrific. These hurricanes, which occur periodically on this part of the New South Wales coast, are termed 'Brickfielders,' and are occasioned by the air being greatly heated by the northerly winds that blow from the tropic, rising and causing a vacuum, into which the cold south wind then rushes with great violence. The fury of the storm generally abates after two hours, and it seldom lasts more than six or eight."
"The position of the harbour of Port Nicholson, at the south-eastern entrance of Cook's Straits, is open to the heavy gales that frequently blow from that quarter in the winter season: between the high lands that rise on each side of the entrance to the harbour, the wind, at such seasons, rushes in, as through a funnel, with unrelenting fury. These 'south-easters,' as they are termed, generally continue two or three days, the storm being at its height on the second day. During a very severe gale of this kind, we were unable to hold communication with the vessel for three days; and in many of the houses no lights could be burned. So great was the violence of the wind, that it was impossible to stand out of doors, and the wooden houses rocked in such a manner at night, that many were afraid they should be blown out of their beds. Not long since, a sudden gust of wind, during one of these gales, actually raised a large boat that was on the beach, and carried it along for a considerable distance, a woman being killed on the spot where it fell. The vessels in the anchorage were rolling about tremendously; several dragged their anchors; boats were swamped and driven ashore; and
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the squalls swept down from the hills with an impetuosity that almost stove in the houses."
Whirlwinds sometimes arise from winds blowing among lofty and precipitous mountains, which occasion the gusts to ascend with a spiral or whirling motion. They are frequently, however, formed by two winds meeting each other at an angle, and then turning upon a centre. When two winds thus encounter one another, any cloud which happens to be between them is, of course, condensed, and turned rapidly round; and all substances, sufficiently light, are carried up into the air by the whirling motion which ensues. The action of a whirlwind at sea occasions the curious phenomenon called a waterspout, which is thus described by those who have witnessed it:—"From a dense cloud a cone descends, in the form of a trumpet, with the small end downwards; at the same time the surface of the sea under it is agitated and whirled round, the waters are converted into vapour, and ascend, with a spiral motion, till they unite with the cone proceeding from the cloud: frequently, however, they disperse before the junction is effected. Both columns diminish towards their point of contact, where they are not above three or four feet in diameter. In the middle of the cone forming the water-spout, there is a white transparent tube, which becomes less distinct on approaching it; and it is then discovered to be a vacant space, in which none of the small particles of water ascend; and in this, as well as around the outer edges of the water-spout, large drops of rain precipitate themselves. In calm weather, water-spouts generally preserve the perpendicular in their motion; but when acted on by winds, they move on obliquely. Sometimes they disperse suddenly; at others, they pass rapidly along the surface of the sea, and continue a quarter of an hour or more before they disappear. A notion has been entertained that they are dangerous to shipping, owing to the descent, at the instant of their breaking, of a large body of water, sufficient to sink a ship; but this does not appear to be the case, for the water descends only in the form of heavy rain."
BOOK IV.
WONDERS OF ANIMAL LIFE.
To do justice to this subject, it would be necessary to write a work on zoology; and, indeed, no work on zoology has ever yet been written that contains one hundredth part of what may fairly be called the wonders of animal existence. Animals approach so near to man in intelligence, and yet there is a line so broadly marked between those animals which are the mere creatures of instinct, and man, who has been gifted with a portion of the divine spirit, that it is impossible not to be struck with wonder and admiration whenever the subject is investigated. Animals seem only endowed with the powers necessary to make them useful to man, and to enable them to protect themselves; and though they may be taught many ingenious tricks, that seem for the moment almost to rival human intelligence, they can make no improvement on what they have learnt, and they are quite incapable of imparting what they have acquired to other creatures of their own kind. Notwithstanding the narrow limits within which it is manifest the Creator has confined the intelligence of animals, there is much in their habits which it is very interesting to study. They undoubtedly possess different dispositions and different degrees of capacity; and they are capable of affection, gratitude, friendship, and even revenge. The most extraordinary circumstance, however, is, that they appear evidently to have some means of communicating their wishes to each other, which we cannot understand. When two dogs, one much larger than the other, are kept together, and are friendly with each other, if the little dog chances to be attacked by a stranger, he generally gets the assistance of his larger friend to beat the assailant. A gentleman who had heard stories of this kind, and who kept two dogs, one of which was much larger than the other, chanced one day to see the little dog attacked by a terrier, who was much too strong for him. The little dog had been very severely treated, and rolled in the mud, but the moment his assailant left him, he trotted homewards, and his master followed him. The large dog was lying asleep in the yard, too far from the scene of battle to have seen or heard anything of it, even if he had been awake; but he roused himself at the approach of the little dog, and though neither of them uttered the slightest sound, they had no sooner smelt each other all over than they trotted off together to find the terrier, to whom the large dog gave a severe beating. Here was evidently a communication of ideas by some means which we are totally unable to explain, and numerous examples might be given, from which it is evident that not only dogs and other quadrupeds, but birds, and even insects, communicate with each other, without uttering any sound. Bees are said to converse by crossing their antennae; and birds, though they have a chirp which indicates danger and other violent sensations, and which appears intended to call for assistance, or at any rate to give an alarm, like the barking of dogs, have certainly some other way of giving information to each other, which is at present quite beyond our comprehension.
Some animals appear to have a practical love of mischief, particularly monkeys, who, Mrs. Lee tells us, pull the red feathers out of the parrots' tails, and run away with them, while the parrots give vent to their rage in incessant jabbering, and pecking at the monkeys with their strong beaks.
CHAPTER I. MAMMALIA.
The Mammalia constitute the highest class of animals; they have a back-bone and complete skeleton; they produce their young alive, and nourish them by means of milk; and they possess a heart, a brain, and a complete nervous system, so that they are acutely sensitive to pain.
MONKEYS AND APES.
Many curious stories are told of monkeys, particularly of their imitative powers; but the most interesting of their habits is the affection which most of the kinds show to their young. A pair of the little marmoset monkeys, who had young ones in Paris, nursed them almost as human beings would have done, the male monkey being much more awkward than the female, to whom the father always gave the young ones when they became troublesome. Monkeys almost always sit erect, and both their paws and feet bear considerable resemblance to the human hand, the feet having a thumb even more distinctly than the hands. Indeed, in some species, the thumb is wanting in the hands, but perfectly formed in the feet. The apes or baboons, which are natives of the old world, differ from the monkeys in being larger, generally without tails, and without any pouches in the cheeks; whereas, what are called monkeys, which are natives of America, have mostly long tails, with which some of the species can lay hold of a tree, or any similar object, and swing the whole weight of the body from it; and they have large pouches in the cheeks, into which they can put an immense quantity of nuts or other food, as if into a store-house, from which the animal can draw them forth to devour at pleasure.
BATS.
If bats were not so common, how astonished we should be to hear of a mouse-like animal that could fly like a bird, particularly if we were told that the females frequently carry their young with them in their flight; yet this is the case, and the young bats, of which there are generally two, adhere so closely to their mother, as to appear like excrescences on her sides. The largest of the bat tribe occur chiefly in the islands of the Indian Archipelago, and those of the coast of Africa. These bats sometimes measure between five and six feet from tip to tip of their extended wings. The bats of one of these species, called Kalong by the Javanese, are always found in large societies. "Numerous individuals," says Dr. Horsfield, "select a large tree for their resort and suspending themselves with the claws of their posterior extremities to the naked branches, often in companies of several hundreds, afford to the stranger a very singular spectacle. A species of fig-tree, which is often found near the villages of the natives, affords them a very favourable retreat, and the extended branches of one of these trees are sometimes covered by them. They pass the greater portion of the day in sleep, hanging motionless,—ranged in succession, with the head downwards, the membrane or wings contracted about the body, and often in close contact with it; so that, as they hang, they have little resemblance to living beings, and by a person not accustomed to their habits, are readily mistaken for a part of the tree, or for a fruit of uncommon size suspended from its branches. In general, these societies preserve a perfect silence through the day; but if they are disturbed, or if a contention arises among them, they emit sharp piercing shrieks, and their awkward attempts to extricate themselves, when oppressed by the light of the sun, exhibit a ludicrous spectacle." In consequence of the sharpness of their claws, they attach themselves so strongly, that they cannot leave their hold without the assistance of their wings, and if killed in this position, they continue suspended after death.