nd support
themselves in some useful way. No money is in circulation on the island:
a system of exchange and barter with agents in Batavia for necessary
products takes its place. This thriving little community has, however,
terrible forces to contend against. Darwin recounts the effects of an
earthquake which took place two years before his visit to the islands in
1836; a fierce cyclone brought ruin and devastation in 1862; and in 1876
a terrible experience of cyclone and earthquake almost swept away the
whole settlement. This was followed by a most singular phenomenon.
"About thirty-six hours after the cyclone," writes Mr. Forbes, "the
water on the eastern side of the lagoon was observed to be rising up
from below of a dark color. The color was of an inky hue, and its smell
'like that of rotten eggs.' ... Within twenty-four hours every fish,
coral, and mollusc in the part impregnated with this discoloring
substance--probably hydrosulphuric or carbonic acid died. So great was
the number of fish thrown on the beach, that it took three weeks of hard
work to bury them in a vast trench dug in the sand." Wherever this water
touched the growing coral-reef, it was blighted and killed. Darwin saw
similar "patches" of dead coral, and attributed them to some great fall
of the tide which had left the insects exposed to the light of the sun.
But it is probable that a similar submarine eruption had taken place
after the earthquake which preceded his visit to the Keeling Islands in
1836.

"Birds in the Bush."
By Bradford Torrey.
Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

We like the name of Mr. Torrey's book, which seems to carry with it a
practical reversal of the proverb that a bird in the hand is worth two
in the bush. For although in many ways it is a good and pleasant sign to
note the increase of amateur naturalists among us, we yet feel a dread
of an incursion of those lovers of classified collections, "each with
its Latin label on," who believe that in gaining stuffed specimens they
may best arrive at the charm and the mystery of that exquisite
phenomenon which we call bird-life. Mr. Torrey has no puerile ambitions
for birds in the hand, and a bird in the bush makes to his perception
holy ground, where he takes the shoes from off his feet and watches and
waits, feeling a delightful surprise in each piquant caprice of the
little songster. He tells the story of his experiences and impressions
simply and pleasantly, often ut