EDITORIAL GLEANINGS.
The recent Meeting of the British Association at Bradford, as usual, provided thought for the zoologist. Section D—Zoology—was presided over by Dr. Ramsay H. Traquair, and his address was devoted to the teachings of Palæontology, particularly as referring to fossil ichthyology. Dr. Traquair emphasized the necessary position of Palæontology in the domain of Biology, and pertinently remarked:—"As I have asked on a previous occasion, 'Does an animal cease to be an animal because it is preserved in stone instead of spirits? Is a skeleton any the less a skeleton because it has been excavated from the rock, instead of prepared in a macerating trough?' And I may now add—Do animals, because they have been extinct for it may be millions of years, thereby give up their place in the great chain of organic being, or do they cease to be of any importance to the evolutionist because their soft tissues, now no longer existing, cannot be imbedded in paraffin, and cut with a Cambridge microtome?"
In this Section, Mr. Borchgrevink read a most interesting paper on the results obtained by the British Antarctic Expedition, organised by Sir George Newnes. On the coast of Victoria Land, and on an island which was discovered and named Duke of York Island, the Penguins literally covered the ground, their nests lying on the top of the guano deposits, and consisting of pebbles. From Oct. 15th one continual stream of Penguins waddled over the ice towards their summer residence; like so many people, they walked after one another. On sunny days the male bird stood erect in the old nest, his beak towards the zenith, and, while he moved his flippers backwards and forwards, he produced a hoarse suffocating sound. The female listened attentively to this antarctic love-song.
It was curious to see how some lazy Penguins picked those pebbles, which, through the care and work of years, had successfully been accumulated by one, when this one happened to turn his back; and the evident unconcern and innocent behaviour of these scoundrels when caught in the act was a source of great amusement. The rightful proprietor of the pebbles would pursue the culprit most energetically, running after it and hitting it with its flippers until both were quite exhausted and covered with blood. During these fights they generally seemed to remember the cause of the quarrel, but it was noticed that as a rule the one who first gave in walked off with the pebble, while the victorious one, blinded by success, was left
