"While effecting some repairs in the pavement of the aisle of my church, a short time since, the masons found it necessary to remove some bricks from the solid wall of an adjacent vault, in order the better to adjust an iron bar intended to support the superincumbent flagstone. It seems that one or two bricks being removed, and several large and handsome coffins being exposed to view, curiosity tempted one of the workmen to reach his hand in with a lighted candle, in order to see the names and dates on the coffins; the result of which investigation shewed that the last coffin was placed there in 1748. During this search I entered the church, just in time to witness the extreme surprise, and the no little consternation, of the man, whose hand had suddenly come in contact with a Bat, suspended from the roof of the vault. The Bat was soon brought to light; and, in its half-torpid state, placed in my hand. We then proceeded to make a very minute examination of this vault with a lighted candle, in order to discover, if possible, by what means the Bat could have penetrated to its resting-place: but, although our search was very careful and long continued, we failed to discover the smallest crack or crevice in which a pin could be thrust. The roof was an arch of brick, surmounted by flagstones; the sides were solid masonry, bearing no appearance internally of decay; and the position of the vault was very near the centre of the church: so that I was much puzzled to account for the occurrence of the Bat in a place apparently hermetically sealed for above a hundred years; and knew not how to combat the opinion of the workmen, that it must have been entombed there alive since the year 1748.
"I now proceeded to institute inquiries regarding the vault in which the Bat was found. The marble monument above, recorded the names of an old Wiltshire family long since extinct in these parts, and the dates of the three coffins below, corroborating the statement of the brass plate, that the individual last buried died A.D. 1748. Several old men in the parish remembered an adjacent vault being opened, when they were boys, nearly sixty years since: but all positively denied that the vault in question had ever been opened in their lives: and one, a very old man, formerly clerk, and whose then residence abutted on the churchyard, was very emphatic on this point. So that I am constrained to believe that the vault has remained untouched since it received its last occupant, a hundred and six years ago: and I am the more convinced of this from the excessive freshness of the last coffin, the brass plate and nails of which are as bright, and its whole appearance as new, as if it had been placed there but yesterday, which would not have been the case had the external air been admitted at any time since the vault was closed.
"During the time of the examination of the vault, the Bat was held in my hand, and above an hour must have elapsed since its capture before I was enabled to take it to the Rectory, and place it under an inverted glass: by this time the warmth of my hand had considerably revived it, and it wandered round its prison, snuffing about with its curious nose, and standing up, and trying to hook itself on to the smooth glass, which baffled all its attempts. As it obstinately refused to eat small pieces of chopped meat, with which I tempted it to break its fast, which may have continued a hundred and six years, and after which I should have imagined it to be ravenous; and as it lay on its side, apparently in a dying state, humanity urged me to give it a chance of life, by restoring it to liberty, and I accordingly carried it to the garden, where I placed it upon the turf, and watched its movements. At first it clung to the blades of grass, and shivered a good deal; presently it fluttered along the ground; soon it rose upon the wing, though in an awkward manner, and although it sank several times, as if about to fall to the ground, and as if it had not found the use of its wings, (which might have been a little stiff for want of exercise, if they had been closed above a hundred years), it passed behind a clump of trees and I saw it no more; and then I began to regret, when too late, that I had not made more efforts to keep it alive and watch its recovery. I know little of the different species of Bats, but, from its diminutive size, and extremely long ears, I should imagine it to be the Vespertilio auritus of Gilbert White.
"Now, if the hypothesis be deemed absurd that the Bat had been immured in the vault since 1748, how then are we to account for its presence there? For although I am aware that a Bat, and especially one of the smallest species, would creep through a very small crack or crevice, yet the evidence of my own senses, after a very close examination, convinces me that not even the smallest crack existed between the bricks of the vault; and I think the evidence no less conclusive that the vault has remained untouched for a great number of years. Again, notwithstanding the disbelief of some, it is very generally acknowledged that Toads do occasionally exist in blocks of stone and in timber; and the material in which they are inclosed having gradually formed around them, they must necessarily have been entombed, in some well-authenticated cases, for a very long period of time. Why then, I ask, should we deny that to be possible with the Bat, which we so readily concede to be an occurrence by no means unusual with the Toad? I own, that, taking all these things into account, and finding no other possible solution for the mystery, I came to the conclusion, after mature deliberation, that the Bat had been entombed in the vault since it last was opened in the year 1748. That impression has increased upon longer reflection, and has been further strengthened almost into certainty, from the perusal of a very interesting and very similar case, recorded by the Rev. J. P. Bartlett in an early volume of the Zoologist (Zool., 613.)[111] That gentleman states, that on opening a vault which had been closed for twenty-one years, a Bat was discovered in a torpid state; that he himself made a very careful search about the vault, and was unable to discover any crack through which the smallest Bat could have crept; that the vault was surrounded with brickwork; the entrance was bricked up, and over the steps was placed a close-fitting slab; and that he could come to no other conclusion than that the Bat had been inclosed there for twenty-one years. I confess that I quite agree in opinion with Mr Bartlett, and believe that the Bat discovered in the vault in Bishopsbourne church crept in on the occasion of its last opening: and so in the like manner with the one found in my own church; for although there is unquestionably a vast difference between twenty-one and a hundred and six years, yet, if we can establish the fact of a Bat remaining torpid for the shorter period, I find no difficulty in understanding that a sleep which would endure so long as that did, might be protracted to a far longer period. It is most probable that many will differ from me in opinion, and perhaps some will ridicule the idea: if they can discover any other probable or even possible means of accounting for the presence of the Bat in the vault, exclusive of a crack or chink in it, or of its having been opened within the memory of living man, both of which views I firmly oppose, I shall feel greatly obliged by their stating their opinions in the Zoologist: meanwhile I hold to my belief, that the Bat had been there for not less than one hundred and six years!"[112]
V.
HYBERNATION OF SWALLOWS.
What becomes of our swallows in the winter? They migrate, you reply, to a warmer parallel. That is true, no doubt; though there have not been wanting naturalists of respectable name who have maintained that none of them ever leave the country. No doubt, however, they do migrate; but is this true of the entire body, or only of a portion? That the whole hirundinal population—swifts, swallows, martins, and bank-martins—disappear from view, every one knows; for who ever saw any of the tribe wheeling and traversing through the sky in the frosts of January or February? But so do the Bats and the Butterflies. Now, the Bats hybernate with us, concealing themselves in crevices, caves, hollow trees, unused buildings, and similar places; so do the house-flies; so do the butterflies, some species at least, and many other insects. Do the Swallows hybernate? That they do is a very old opinion; and those homely but wide-spread rhymes that record so many accepted facts in popular natural history, record this as a fact. Our rustic children sing—
"The bat, the bee, the butterfly,
The cuckoo and the swallow,
The corn-crake and the wheat-ear,
They all sleep in the hollow."