two hundred and fifty yards, but at the time of our visit the disturbances about one and a-half miles distant had destroyed the lake, leaving only a boiling spring of about fifteen by twelve feet. Here the water issued with tremendous ebullition. It was unsafe to approach within a few feet of the spring after the descent to the former lake bottom had been made, and it thus became impossible to ascertain the exact temperature. The spring was located near the center of the lake bed, from where its water flowed off through a narrow opening in the enclosing walls. Every step was taken on hot ground, and a cane pressed down into the earth would be followed by the hissing sound of escaping steam upon withdrawal. Fortunately we found cold water, at the upper end of the lake, trickling down on the face of a rock, and we were spared the torture of "Water, water everywhere From examinations made we found that the lake had not been filled up by masses of rock or soil projected into it, but that the confining dam had broken away and the water had flowed off. In view of the fact that seismic action appears to have been very subordinate at the time of the " eruption," it seems probable that the lake suddenly received accessions of water and thus forced its way downward, carrying with it the former barrier. At best the depth of water, unless perhaps immediately over the hot spring, which once formed an integral portion of the lake, must have been inconsiderable. Its elevation is about 2400 feet above sea level. Had not personal inspection of the surroundings of the lake been convincing that the "eruption" did not take place there, the evidence afforded by mutilated plants would have been conclusive. No other word but "terrific" can express the conception of the mass and overwhelming force with which rocks and boulders were hurled into the forest. On the southerly sidetowards the above-mentioned crater-like depression-the bare broken trunks and stumps of trees, rarely over fifteen feet high, were literally mashed, while comparatively untouched on the reverse. About one-sixth to one-tenth of the total diameter was worn away by repeated concussion, and trees of tough fiber, so much as remained of them, were absolutely torn to shreds. Nowhere did we find indications of heat which might have been sufficiently great to fuse any of the minerals contained in the trachyte. The reduction of the latter in size was purely mechanical, largely due to attrition, although certainly the force producing it was owing to causes entirely different. We estimated the area thus razed, of timber, at about nine square miles, and the average thickness of deposited lithological material at eighteen inches. Allowing for the fact that the latter was not densely packed, this estimate furnishes a total amount of more than 27,000,000 tons which had been removed from their normal position by catastrophic action. As to the causes which produced the "eruption," the evidence on hand is sufficient to arrive at some conclusions. First of all, the idea of volcanic eruption must be dismissed. No grounds for such assumption can be found, and the immediate vicinity of the scene of action exhibits no trace thereof. On the other hand, the decomposition of pyrite and associated minerals is here the evident source of heat. Water is plentifully supplied by precipitation as well as by superficial and subterranean drainage. If we can assume, and it seems reasonable that we should, that either the supply of heat-producing material had increased without adequate vents for accumulating pressure being in existence, or that the vents, at the time acting as safety valves, were by some means reduced in area of cross-section, then, necessarily, an explosion must follow as soon as the pressure of steam and gases is able to overcome superincumbent weight. Added to this we have learned that decided barometric disturbances were observed on Dominica at a time immediately preceding the catastrophy. In case a bare equilibrium were maintained, certain changes of atmospheric pressure alone might account for a sudden release of gases under pressure. Every indication speaks for the assumption that the phenomenon is to be regarded as an explosion and not as an eruption, so far as the latter pertains to vulcanicity. In the course of a few years the damages so suddenly wrought will have been repaired again. Plant life in this climate is vigorous, and it will seem but a short time ere the now barren slopes will once more be clothed in green. Nothing will remain but some scarred veterans to tell the tale of the disastrous explosion of 1880. Although a repetition of such occurrences may be looked for, the area is too limited and the seat of disturbing chemical action too superficial to endanger the safety of Dominica. SOME THE SAND-HILL CRANE. BY HON. J. D. CATON. IE observations which I have made of the habits of the sand-hill crane (Grus americana) in domestication in my acclimatation grounds, may be interesting, as I am not aware that this interesting bird has been much studied under such conditions. Seven years ago Father Terry, the Catholic priest in Ottowa, Illinois, presented me with two sand-hill cranes, then three years old. They had run about his house and yards, and in the street of the city near by. They manifested a strong appreciation of the kindness he had shown to them, and whenever he returned home, whether in the day or the night time, they manifested their satisfaction by their loud calls and uncouth gestures. If in the street they were pursued by a dog, they took wing and flew home with the ease and facility of the wild bird, and yet they showed no disposition to leave and revert to the wild state, even at the migratory season of the species. In my grounds they necessarily received less personal attention and gradually became less attached to man, but could often be induced to dance and play with me in their awkward but very amusing way. They are inclined to be imitative. Forty years ago, when they were very abundant in this country, a farmer whom I well knew, assured me that he had one in domestication which when a year old would fly on to the hay stack and tramp around in imitation of the boy, and would also take the lines in its beak and follow the horses, breaking prairie, for a considerable time, with a stately strut that was very amusing. For the first year or two in my grounds they were inclined to associate together, but gradually become estranged and avoided each other's society. Indeed for years they avoided each other, and were never seen together. One season one of these birds got into the north park and attached itself to the pigs, which it followed about constantly, and when it returned to the south park seemed quite disconsolate, and kept near the dividing fence where it could see its friends on the other side, and if they came near would greet them with its loud harsh note, which could be heard half a mile away. Several times during the summer she managed to join her unnatural associates and followed them with a constant devotion; this is the only instance in which I have seen one of these birds attach itself to any other animal in the grounds. I have never observed these birds to eat grass. When they were abundant here in the wild state, they were considered very destructive to the winter wheat after it had sprung up and attained a considerable growth in the fall. I have seen hundreds together on a wheat field in November, but I was so careless an observer then that I cannot tell whether they took the blades of the plant or the decayed seed or roots. The only food I have observed them to take in my grounds was maize and insects. -There are two ponds of water in the grounds, in which there are small frogs, but I have never seen them step into the water or hang about them as if hunting for food. Others seem to have proved that in the wild state they habitually feast on frogs and small snakes, but if they do this in domestication it has escaped my observation. When these birds were eight years old, that is two years ago last spring, both laid eggs-two each-both eggs were laid on the bare ground without the least attempt to make a nest, and neither attempted to set upon the eggs, though one of them stood about them for a few days as if to guard them, and made a great outcry if any one came near. The next year (1879) they again laid two eggs each, on the naked ground as before, without any nest. This time one sat upon her eggs with apparent devotion for three days, when, as if appreciating that it was labor lost, she left them without further attention. Last summer, through the kindness of Dr. Row, of the Chicago Field, I obtained a male bird, one year old, as I understood, and placed him in the grounds with the others. He was not quite as large as the adult females. He manifested no disposition to associate with either of them. All three wandered about the grounds separately, though the females when they chanced to meet the youngster treated him as though they regarded him as an intruder. In October last one of the females was killed by a mink who ate off the head and part of the neck, leaving the body untouched. (The same rascal no doubt killed a pair of Hawaiian geese which I valued above price.) I had it cooked, and though nine years old found it tender and of excellent flavor. During the winter the remaining pair of cranes were forced into a closer companionship, as they remained about the premises where all the fowls were fed with Indian corn. Early in the spring they manifested their natural instinct by a closer intimacy, and soon became inseparable. On my return home about the first of June I found the female setting on four eggs in a nest consisting of a slight depression on the border of a bunch of leaves which had been arrested by a pile of brush. The nest was not protected by the brush but quite outside of it. The keeper informed me that she had been thus faithfully employed for four weeks, and I hoped soon to see the young birds and determine the period of incubation. She sat upon that nest with great constancy for four weeks longer, when I ordered the eggs to be removed. The habit of the cock during this time was quite interesting. He spent most of his time pretty near the nest, and guarded it with great fidelity and defended it with courage. If a cow or a deer came near it he flew at it in a rage, and few thrusts with his sharp beak sent it away in a hurry, and if he saw a buggy coming in that direction, he raised his coarse harsh voice in so threatening a way as not to be mistaken, and if it came too near he flew at it, attacking either the buggy or the horse, whichever he happened to be nearest, and if it went within say fifteen or twenty feet of the nest, the female would leave the eggs and join in the attack, and the premises were soon cleared. Indeed, my friends who are in the habit of visiting my grounds soon learned to give that family domain a wide berth. In fact he was almost as constant in his watchfulness, and as pugnacious in his conduct as a wild (Canada) gander whose goose was sitting across the ravine. It was the habit of this cock whenever the hen left the nest to seek for food, to take her place, and do the best he could, but he cut an awkward figure sitting on the nest, for his long legs seemed to be much in his way, while the female had managed to assume rather a graceful position while performing that maternal duty. The eggs probably were not in fact fertilized. I hope to be more fortunate next season, and raise a brood of young sandhill cranes. The male is now fully one-third larger than the female, though he is but two years old. Since the nest was broken up both are |