{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_28274/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_28274","id":"gutenberg_28274","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28274","summary":null,"tags":["Astronomy","Category: Environmental Issues","Category: Nature/Gardening/Animals","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Natural history","Physical geography"],"text":"Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttps://www.pgdp.net. (This file was produced from images\ngenerously made available by The Internet Archive/American\nLibraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE BEAUTIES OF NATURE\n\n[Illustration: _Frontispiece._\n\nGROUP OF BEECHES, BURNHAM. _Page 167._]\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nBEAUTIES OF NATURE\n\nAND THE\n\nWONDERS OF THE WORLD\n\nWE LIVE IN\n\nBY\n\nTHE RIGHT HON.\n\nSIR JOHN LUBBOCK, BART., M.P.\n\nF.R.S., D.C.L., LL.D.\n\nNew York\n\nMACMILLAN AND CO.\n\nAND LONDON\n\n1892\n\n_All rights reserved_\n\n\nCOPYRIGHT, 1892,\n\nBY MACMILLAN AND CO.\n\nTYPOGRAPHY BY J. S. CUSHING & CO., BOSTON, U.S.A.\n\n\nPRESSWORK BY BERWICK & SMITH, BOSTON, U.S.A.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n PAGE\n\nINTRODUCTION 1\n\nBeauty and Happiness 3\nThe Love of Nature 5\nEnjoyment of Scenery 14\nScenery of England 19\nForeign Scenery 21\nThe Aurora 33\nThe Seasons 34\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nON ANIMAL LIFE 39\n\nLove of Animals 41\nGrowth and Metamorphoses 43\nRudimentary Organs 45\nModifications 48\nColour 50\nCommunities of Animals 57\nAnts 58\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nON ANIMAL LIFE--_continued_ 71\n\nFreedom of Animals 73\nSleep 78\nSenses 84\nSense of Direction 93\nNumber of Species 96\nImportance of the Smaller Animals 97\nSize of Animals 100\nComplexity of Animal Structure 101\nLength of Life 102\nOn Individuality 104\nAnimal Immortality 112\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nON PLANT LIFE 115\n\nStructure of Flowers 128\nInsects and Flowers 134\nPast History of Flowers 136\nFruits and Seeds 137\nLeaves 138\nAquatic Plants 144\nOn Hairs 148\nInfluence of Soil 151\nOn Seedlings 152\nSleep of Plants 152\nBehaviour of Leaves in Rain 155\nMimicry 156\nAnts and Plants 156\nInsectivorous Plants 158\nMovements of Plants 159\nImperfection of our Knowledge 163\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nWOODS AND FIELDS 165\n\nFairy Land 172\nTropical Forests 179\nStructure of Trees 185\nAges of Trees 188\nMeadows 192\nDowns 194\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nMOUNTAINS 201\n\nAlpine Flowers 205\nMountain Scenery 206\nThe Afterglow 213\nThe Origin of Mountains 214\nGlaciers 227\nSwiss Mountains 232\nVolcanoes 236\nOrigin of Volcanoes 243\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nWATER 249\nRivers and Witchcraft 251\nWater Plants 252\nWater Animals 253\nOrigin of Rivers 255\nThe Course of Rivers 256\nDeltas 272\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nRIVERS AND LAKES 277\n\nOn the Directions of Rivers 279\nThe Conflicts and Adventures of Rivers 301\nOn Lakes 312\nOn the Configuration of Valleys 323\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE SEA 335\n\nThe Sea Coast 337\nSea Life 344\nThe Ocean Depths 351\nCoral Islands 358\nThe Southern Skies 365\nThe Poles 367\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE STARRY HEAVENS 373\n\nThe Moon 377\nThe Sun 382\nThe Planets 387\nMercury 388\nVenus 390\nThe Earth 391\nMars 392\nThe Minor Planets 393\nJupiter 394\nSaturn 395\nUranus 396\nNeptune 397\nOrigin of the Planetary System 398\nComets 401\nShooting Stars 406\nThe Stars 410\nNebulae 425\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\nFIG. PAGE\n\n1. Larva of Choerocampa porcellus 53\n\n2. Bougainvillea fruticosa; natural size. (After Allman) 107\n\n3. Do. do. magnified 108\n\n4. Do. do. Medusa-form 109\n\n5. Medusa aurita, and progressive stages of development.\n(After Steenstrup) 110\n\n6. White Dead-nettle 124\n\n7. Do. 125\n\n8. Do. 125\n\n9. Salvia 127\n\n10. Do. 127\n\n11. Do. 127\n\n12. Primrose 131\n\n13. Do. 131\n\n14. Arum 135\n\n15. Twig of Beech 140\n\n16. Arrangement of leaves in Acer platanoides 142\n\n17. Diagram to illustrate the formation of Mountain Chains 216\n\n18. Section across the Jura from Brenets to Neuchatel. (After Jaccard) 219\n\n19. Section from the Spitzen across the Brunnialp, and the\nMaderanerthal. (After Heim) 221\n\n20. Glacier of the Bluemlis Alp. (After Reclus) 228\n\n21. Cotopaxi. (After Judd) 237\n\n22. Lava Stream. (After Judd) 239\n\n23. Stromboli, viewed from the north-west, April 1874. (After Judd) 242\n\n24. Upper Valley of St. Gotthard 257\n\n25. Section of a river valley. The dotted line shows a slope or\ntalus of debris 260\n\n26. Valley of the Rhone, with the waterfall of Sallenches, showing\na talus of debris 261\n\n27. Section across a valley. _A_, present river valley; _B_, old\nriver terrace 262\n\n28. Diagram of an Alpine valley, showing a river cone. Front view 263\n\n29. Diagram of an Alpine valley, showing a river cone. Lateral view 265\n\n30. Map of the Valais near Sion 266\n\n31. View in the Rhone Valley, showing a lateral cone 267\n\n32. Do. showing the slope of a river cone 268\n\n33. Shore of the Lake of Geneva, near Vevey 269\n\n34. View in the district of the Broads, Norfolk 271\n\n35. Delta of the Po 273\n\n36. Do. Mississippi 274\n\n37. Map of the Lake District 281\n\n38. Section of the Weald of Kent, _a, a_, Upper Cretaceous strata,\nchiefly Chalk, forming the North and South Downs; _b, b_, Escarpment of\nLower Greensand, with a valley between it and the Chalk; _c, c_, Weald\nClay, forming plains; _d_, Hills formed of Hastings Sand and Clay. The\nChalk, etc., once spread across the country, as shown in the dotted\nlines 283\n\n39. Map of the Weald of Kent 284\n\n40. Sketch Map of the Swiss Rivers 291\n\n41. Diagram in illustration of mountain structure 296\n\n42. Sketch Map of the Aar and its tributaries 299\n\n43. River system round Chur, as it used to be 308\n\n44. River system round Chur, as it is 309\n\n45. River system of the Maloya 311\n\n46. Final slope of a river 317\n\n47. Do. do. with a lake 318\n\n48. Diagrammatic section of a valley (exaggerated). _R R_, rocky basis of\na valley; _A A_, sedimentary strata; _B_, ordinary level of river;\n_C_, flood level 329\n\n49. Whitsunday Island. (After Darwin) 359\n\n50. A group of Lunar volcanoes; Maurolycus, Barocius, etc.\n(After Judd) 380\n\n51. Orbits of the inner Planets. (After Ball) 388\n\n52. Relative distances of the Planets from the Sun. (After Ball) 389\n\n53. Saturn, with the surrounding series of rings. (After Lockyer) 395\n\n54. The Parallactic Ellipse. (After Ball) 413\n\n55. Displacement of the hydrogen line in the spectrum of Rigel.\n(After Clarke) 416\n\n\n\n\nPLATES\n\n\nBURNHAM BEECHES _Frontispiece_\n\nWINDSOR CASTLE. (From a drawing by J. Finnemore) _To face page_ 13\n\nAQUATIC VEGETATION, RIO. (Published by Spooner and Co.) 145\n\nTROPICAL FOREST, WEST INDIES. (After Kingsley) 179\n\nSUMMIT OF MONT BLANC 203\n\nTHE MER DE GLACE, MONT BLANC 229\n\nRYDAL WATER. (From a photograph by Frith and Co., published by\nSpooner and Co.) 247\n\nWINDERMERE 253\n\nVIEW IN THE VALAIS BELOW ST. MAURICE 264\n\nVIEW UP THE VALAIS FROM THE LAKE OF GENEVA 268\n\nTHE LAND'S END. (From a photograph by Frith and Co., published by\nSpooner and Co.) 334\n\nVIEW OF THE MOON NEAR THE THIRD QUARTER. (From a photograph by Prof.\nDraper) 371\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n If any one gave you a few acres, you would say that you had\n received a benefit; can you deny that the boundless extent of\n the earth is a benefit? If any one gave you money, you would\n call that a benefit. God has buried countless masses of gold\n and silver in the earth. If a house were given you, bright with\n marble, its roof beautifully painted with colours and gilding,\n you would call it no small benefit. God has built for you a\n mansion that fears no fire or ruin ... covered with a roof\n which glitters in one fashion by day, and in another by\n night.... Whence comes the breath you draw; the light by which\n you perform the actions of your life? the blood by which your\n life is maintained? the meat by which your hunger is\n appeased?... The true God has planted, not a few oxen, but all\n the herds on their pastures throughout the world, and furnished\n food to all the flocks; he has ordained the alternation of\n summer and winter ... has invented so many arts and varieties\n of voice, so many notes to make music.... We have implanted in\n us the seed of all ages, of all arts; and God our Master brings\n forth our intellects from obscurity.--SENECA.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nThe world we live in is a fairyland of exquisite beauty, our very\nexistence is a miracle in itself, and yet few of us enjoy as we might,\nand none as yet appreciate fully, the beauties and wonders which\nsurround us. The greatest traveller cannot hope even in a long life to\nvisit more than a very small part of our earth, and even of that which\nis under our very eyes how little we see!\n\nWhat we do see depends mainly on what we look for. When we turn our eyes\nto the sky, it is in most cases merely to see whether it is likely to\nrain. In the same field the farmer will notice the crop, geologists the\nfossils, botanists the flowers, artists the colouring, sportsmen the\ncover for game. Though we may all look at the same things, it does not\nat all follow that we should see them.\n\nIt is good, as Keble says, \"to have our thoughts lift up to that world\nwhere all is beautiful and glorious,\"--but it is well to realise also\nhow much of this world is beautiful. It has, I know, been maintained, as\nfor instance by Victor Hugo, that the general effect of beauty is to\nsadden. \"Comme la vie de l'homme, meme la plus prospere, est toujours au\nfond plus triste que gaie, le ciel sombre nous est harmonieux. Le ciel\neclatant et joyeux nous est ironique. La Nature triste nous ressemble et\nnous console; la Nature rayonnante, magnifique, superbe ... a quelque\nchose d'accablant.\"[1]\n\nThis seems to me, I confess, a morbid view. There are many no doubt on\nwhom the effect of natural beauty is to intensify feeling, to deepen\nmelancholy, as well as to raise the spirits. As Mrs. W. R. Greg in her\nmemoir of her husband tells us: \"His passionate love for nature, so\namply fed by the beauty of the scenes around him, intensified the\nemotions, as all keen perception of beauty does, but it did not add to\ntheir joyousness. We speak of the pleasure which nature and art and\nmusic give us; what we really mean is that our whole being is quickened\nby the uplifting of the veil. Something passes into us which makes our\nsorrows more sorrowful, our joys more joyful,--our whole life more\nvivid. So it was with him. The long solitary wanderings over the hills,\nand the beautiful moonlight nights on the lake served to make the\nshadows seem darker that were brooding over his home.\"\n\nBut surely to most of us Nature when sombre, or even gloomy, is soothing\nand consoling; when bright and beautiful, not only raises the spirits,\nbut inspires and elevates our whole being--\n\n Nature never did betray\n The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,\n Through all the years of this our life, to lead\n From joy to joy: for she can so inform\n The mind that is within us, so impress\n With quietness and beauty, and so feed\n With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,\n Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,\n Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all\n The dreary intercourse of daily life,\n Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb\n Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold\n Is full of blessings.[2]\n\nKingsley speaks with enthusiasm of the heaths and moors round his home,\n\"where I have so long enjoyed the wonders of nature; never, I can\nhonestly say, alone; because when man was not with me, I had companions\nin every bee, and flower and pebble; and never idle, because I could not\npass a swamp, or a tuft of heather, without finding in it a fairy tale\nof which I could but decipher here and there a line or two, and yet\nfound them more interesting than all the books, save one, which were\never written upon earth.\"\n\nThose who love Nature can never be dull. They may have other\ntemptations; but at least they will run no risk of being beguiled, by\nennui, idleness, or want of occupation, \"to buy the merry madness of an\nhour with the long penitence of after time.\" The love of Nature, again,\nhelps us greatly to keep ourselves free from those mean and petty cares\nwhich interfere so much with calm and peace of mind. It turns \"every\nordinary walk into a morning or evening sacrifice,\" and brightens life\nuntil it becomes almost like a fairy tale.\n\nIn the romances of the Middle Ages we read of knights who loved, and\nwere loved by, Nature spirits,--of Sir Launfal and the Fairy Tryamour,\nwho furnished him with many good things, including a magic purse, in\nwhich\n\n As oft as thou puttest thy hand therein\n A mark of gold thou shalt iwinne,\n\nas well as protection from the main dangers of life. Such times have\npassed away, but better ones have come. It is not now merely the few,\nwho are so favoured. All those who love Nature she loves in return, and\nwill richly reward, not perhaps with the good things, as they are\ncommonly called, but with the best things, of this world; not with money\nand titles, horses and carriages, but with bright and happy thoughts,\ncontentment and peace of mind.\n\nHappy indeed is the naturalist: to him the seasons come round like old\nfriends; to him the birds sing: as he walks along, the flowers stretch\nout from the hedges, or look up from the ground, and as each year fades\naway, he looks back on a fresh store of happy memories.\n\nThough we can never \"remount the river of our years,\" he who loves\nNature is always young. But what is the love of Nature? Some seem to\nthink they show a love of flowers by gathering them. How often one finds\na bunch of withered blossoms on the roadside, plucked only to be thrown\naway! Is this love of Nature? It is, on the contrary, a wicked waste,\nfor a waste of beauty is almost the worst waste of all.\n\nIf we could imagine a day prolonged for a lifetime, or nearly so, and\nthat sunrise and sunset were rare events which happened but a few times\nto each of us, we should certainly be entranced by the beauty of the\nmorning and evening tints. The golden rays of the morning are a fortune\nin themselves, but we too often overlook the loveliness of Nature,\nbecause it is constantly before us. For \"the senseless folk,\" says King\nAlfred,\n\n is far more struck\n At things it seldom sees.\n\n\"Well,\" says Cicero, \"did Aristotle observe, 'If there were men whose\nhabitations had been always underground, in great and commodious houses,\nadorned with statues and pictures, furnished with everything which they\nwho are reputed happy abound with; and if, without stirring from thence,\nthey should be informed of a certain divine power and majesty, and,\nafter some time, the earth should open, and they should quit their dark\nabode to come to us; where they should immediately behold the earth, the\nseas, the heavens; should consider the vast extent of the clouds and\nforce of the winds; should see the sun, and observe his grandeur and\nbeauty, and also his creative power, inasmuch as day is occasioned by\nthe diffusion of his light through the sky; and when night has obscured\nthe earth, they should contemplate the heavens bespangled and adorned\nwith stars; the surprising variety of the moon, in her increase and\nwane; the rising and setting of all the stars, and the inviolable\nregularity of their courses; when,' says he, 'they should see these\nthings, they would undoubtedly conclude that there are Gods, and that\nthese are their mighty works.'\"[3]\n\n Is my life vulgar, my fate mean,\n Which on such golden memories can lean?[4]\n\nAt the same time the change which has taken place in the character of\nour religion has in one respect weakened the hold which Nature has upon\nour feelings. To the Greeks--to our own ancestors,--every River or\nMountain or Forest had not only its own special Deity, but in some sense\nwas itself instinct with life. They were not only peopled by Nymphs and\nFauns, Elves and Kelpies, were not only the favourite abodes of Water,\nForest, or Mountain Spirits, but they had a conscious existence of their\nown.\n\nIn the Middle Ages indeed, these spirits were regarded as often\nmischievous, and apt to take offence; sometimes as essentially\nmalevolent--even the most beautiful, like the Venus of Tannhaeuser, being\noften on that very account all the more dangerous; while the Mountains\nand Forests, the Lakes and Seas, were the abodes of hideous ghosts and\nhorrible monsters, of Giants and Ogres, Sorcerers and Demons. These\nfears, though vague, were none the less extreme, and the judicial\nrecords of the Middle Ages furnish only too conclusive evidence that\nthey were a terrible reality. The light of Science has now happily\ndispelled these fearful nightmares.\n\nUnfortunately, however, as men have multiplied, their energies have\nhitherto tended, not to beautify, but to mar. Forests have been cut\ndown, and replaced by flat fields in geometrical squares, or on the\ncontinent by narrow strips. Here and there indeed we meet with oases, in\nwhich beauty has not been sacrificed to profit, and it is then happily\nfound that not only is there no loss, but the earth seems to reward even\nmore richly those who treat her with love and respect.\n\nScarcely any part of the world affords so great a variety in so small an\narea as our own island. Commencing in the south, we have first the blue\nsea itself, the pebbly beaches, the white chalk cliffs of Kent, the\ntinted sands of Alum Bay, the Red Sandstone of Devonshire, Granite and\nGneiss in Cornwall: inland we have the chalk Downs and clear streams,\nthe well-wooded weald and the rich hop gardens; farther westwards the\nundulating gravelly hills, and still farther the granite tors: in the\ncentre of England we have to the east the Norfolk Broads and the Fens;\nthen the fertile Midlands, the cornfields, rich meadows, and large oxen;\nand to the west the Welsh mountains; farther north the Yorkshire Wolds,\nthe Lancashire hills, the Lakes of Westmoreland; lastly, the swelling\nhills, bleak moors, and picturesque castles of Northumberland and\nCumberland.\n\nThere are of course far larger rivers, but perhaps none lovelier than\n\n The crystal Thamis wont to glide\n In silver channel, down along the lee,[5]\n\n[Illustration: WINDSOR CASTLE.\n\n_To face page 13._]\n\nby lawns and parks, meadows and wooded banks, dotted with country houses\nand crowned by Windsor Castle itself (see Frontispiece). By many\nScotland is considered even more beautiful.\n\nAnd yet too many of us see nothing in the fields but sacks of wheat, in\nthe meadows but trusses of hay, and in woods but planks for houses, or\ncover for game. Even from this more prosaic point of view, how much\nthere is to wonder at and admire, in the wonderful chemistry which\nchanges grass and leaves, flowers and seeds, into bread and milk, eggs\nand cream, butter and honey!\n\nAlmost everything, says Hamerton, \"that the Peasant does, is lifted\nabove vulgarity by ancient, and often sacred, associations.\" There is,\nindeed, hardly any business or occupation with reference to which the\nsame might not be said. The triviality or vulgarity does not depend on\nwhat we do, but on the spirit in which it is done. Not only the regular\nprofessions, but every useful occupation in life, however humble, is\nhonourable in itself, and may be pursued with dignity and peace.\n\nWorking in this spirit we have also the satisfaction of feeling that, as\nin some mountain track every one who takes the right path, seems to make\nthe way clearer for those who follow; so may we also raise the\nprofession we adopt, and smooth the way for those who come after us.\nBut, even for those who are not Agriculturists, it must be admitted that\nthe country has special charms. One perhaps is the continual change.\nEvery week brings some fresh leaf or flower, bird or insect. Every month\nagain has its own charms and beauty. We sit quietly at home and Nature\ndecks herself for us.\n\nIn truth we all love change. Some think they do not care for it, but I\ndoubt if they know themselves.\n\n\"Not,\" said Jefferies, \"for many years was I able to see why I went the\nsame round and did not care for change. I do not want change: I want the\nsame old and loved things, the same wild flowers, the same trees and\nsoft ash-green; the turtle-doves, the blackbirds, the coloured\nyellow-hammer sing, sing, singing so long as there is light to cast a\nshadow on the dial, for such is the measure of his song, and I want\nthem in the same place. Let me find them morning after morning, the\nstarry-white petals radiating, striving upwards up to their ideal. Let\nme see the idle shadows resting on the white dust; let me hear the\nhumble-bees, and stay to look down on the yellow dandelion disk. Let me\nsee the very thistles opening their great crowns--I should miss the\nthistles; the reed grasses hiding the moor-hen; the bryony bine, at\nfirst crudely ambitious and lifted by force of youthful sap straight\nabove the hedgerow to sink of its weight presently and progress with\ncrafty tendrils; swifts shot through the air with outstretched wings\nlike crescent-headed shaftless arrows darted from the clouds; the\nchaffinch with a feather in her bill; all the living staircase of the\nspring, step by step, upwards to the great gallery of the summer, let me\nwatch the same succession year by year.\"\n\nAfter all then he did enjoy the change and the succession.\n\nKingsley again in his charming prose idyll \"My Winter Garden\" tries to\npersuade himself that he was glad he had never travelled, \"having never\nyet actually got to Paris.\" Monotony, he says, \"is pleasant in itself;\nmorally pleasant, and morally useful. Marriage is monotonous; but there\nis much, I trust, to be said in favour of holy wedlock. Living in the\nsame house is monotonous; but three removes, say the wise, are as bad as\na fire. Locomotion is regarded as an evil by our Litany. The Litany, as\nusual, is right. 'Those who travel by land or sea' are to be objects of\nour pity and our prayers; and I do pity them. I delight in that same\nmonotony. It saves curiosity, anxiety, excitement, disappointment, and a\nhost of bad passions.\"\n\nBut even as he writes one can see that he does not convince himself.\nPossibly, he admits, \"after all, the grapes are sour\"; and when some\nyears after he did travel, how happy he was! At last, he says,\ntriumphantly, \"At last we too are crossing the Atlantic. At last the\ndream of forty years, please God, would be fulfilled, and I should see\n(and happily not alone), the West Indies and the Spanish Main. From\nchildhood I had studied their Natural History, their Charts, their\nRomances; and now, at last, I was about to compare books with facts, and\njudge for myself of the reported wonders of the Earthly Paradise.\"\n\nNo doubt there is much to see everywhere. The Poet and the Naturalist\nfind \"tropical forests in every square foot of turf.\" It may even be\nbetter, and especially for the more sensitive natures, to live mostly in\nquiet scenery, among fields and hedgerows, woods and downs; but it is\nsurely good for every one, from time to time, to refresh and strengthen\nboth mind and body by a spell of Sea air or Mountain beauty.\n\nOn the other hand we are told, and told of course with truth, that\nthough mountains may be the cathedrals of Nature, they are generally\nremote from centres of population; that our great cities are grimy,\ndark, and ugly; that factories are creeping over several of our\ncounties, blighting them into building ground, replacing trees by\nchimneys, and destroying almost every vestige of natural beauty.\n\nBut if this be true, is it not all the more desirable that our people\nshould have access to pictures and books, which may in some small\ndegree, at any rate, replace what they have thus unfortunately lost? We\ncannot all travel; and even those who can, are able to see but a small\npart of the world. Moreover, though no one who has once seen, can ever\nforget, the Alps, the Swiss lakes, or the Riviera, still the\nrecollection becomes less vivid as years roll on, and it is pleasant,\nfrom time to time, to be reminded of their beauties.\n\nThere is one other advantage not less important. We sometimes speak as\nif to visit a country, and to see it, were the same thing. But this is\nnot so. It is not every one who can see Switzerland like a Ruskin or a\nTyndall. Their beautiful descriptions of mountain scenery depend less on\ntheir mastery of the English language, great as that is, than on their\npower of seeing what is before them. It has been to me therefore a\nmatter of much interest to know which aspects of Nature have given the\ngreatest pleasure to, or have most impressed, those who, either from\nwide experience or from their love of Nature, may be considered best\nable to judge. I will begin with an English scene from Kingsley. He is\ndescribing his return from a day's trout-fishing:--\n\n\"What shall we see,\" he says, \"as we look across the broad, still, clear\nriver, where the great dark trout sail to and fro lazily in the sun?\nWhite chalk fields above, quivering hazy in the heat. A park full of\nmerry hay-makers; gay red and blue waggons; stalwart horses switching\noff the flies; dark avenues of tall elms; groups of abele, 'tossing\ntheir whispering silver to the sun'; and amid them the house,--a great\nsquare red-brick mass, made light and cheerful though by quoins and\nwindows of white Sarsden stone, with high peaked French roofs, broken by\nlouvres and dormers, haunted by a thousand swallows and starlings. Old\nwalled gardens, gay with flowers, shall stretch right and left. Clipt\nyew alleys shall wander away into mysterious glooms, and out of their\nblack arches shall come tripping children, like white fairies, to laugh\nand talk with the girl who lies dreaming and reading in the hammock\nthere, beneath the black velvet canopy of the great cedar tree, like\nsome fair tropic flower hanging from its boughs; and we will sit down,\nand eat and drink among the burdock leaves, and then watch the quiet\nhouse, and lawn, and flowers, and fair human creatures, and shining\nwater, all sleeping breathless in the glorious light beneath the\nglorious blue, till we doze off, lulled by the murmur of a thousand\ninsects, and the rich minstrelsy of nightingale and blackcap, thrush and\ndove.\n\n\"Peaceful, graceful, complete English country life and country houses;\neverywhere finish and polish; Nature perfected by the wealth and art of\npeaceful centuries! Why should I exchange you, even for the sight of all\nthe Alps?\"\n\nThough Jefferies was unfortunately never able to travel, few men have\nloved Nature more devotedly, and speaking of his own home he expresses\nhis opinion that: \"Of all sweet things there is none so sweet as fresh\nair--one great flower it is, drawn round about; over, and enclosing us,\nlike Aphrodite's arms; as if the dome of the sky were a bell-flower\ndrooping down over us, and the magical essence of it filling all the\nroom of the earth. Sweetest of all things is wild-flower air. Full of\ntheir ideal the starry flowers strained upwards on the bank, striving to\nkeep above the rude grasses that push by them; genius has ever had such\na struggle. The plain road was made beautiful by the many thoughts it\ngave. I came every morning to stay by the star-lit bank.\"\n\nPassing to countries across the ocean, Humboldt tells us that: \"If I\nmight be allowed to abandon myself to the recollection of my own distant\ntravels, I would instance, amongst the most striking scenes of nature,\nthe calm sublimity of a tropical night, when the stars, not sparkling,\nas in our northern skies, shed their soft and planetary light over the\ngently heaving ocean; or I would recall the deep valleys of the\nCordilleras, where the tall and slender palms pierce the leafy veil\naround them, and waving on high their feathery and arrow-like branches,\nform, as it were, 'a forest above a forest'; or I would describe the\nsummit of the Peak of Teneriffe, when a horizon layer of clouds,\ndazzling in whiteness, has separated the cone of cinders from the plain\nbelow, and suddenly the ascending current pierces the cloudy veil, so\nthat the eye of the traveller may range from the brink of the crater,\nalong the vine-clad slopes of Orotava, to the orange gardens and banana\ngroves that skirt the shore. In scenes like these, it is not the\npeaceful charm uniformly spread over the face of nature that moves the\nheart, but rather the peculiar physiognomy and conformation of the land,\nthe features of the landscape, the ever-varying outline of the clouds,\nand their blending with the horizon of the sea, whether it lies spread\nbefore us like a smooth and shining mirror, or is dimly seen through the\nmorning mist. All that the senses can but imperfectly comprehend, all\nthat is most awful in such romantic scenes of nature, may become a\nsource of enjoyment to man, by opening a wide field to the creative\npower of his imagination. Impressions change with the varying movements\nof the mind, and we are led by a happy illusion to believe that we\nreceive from the external world that with which we have ourselves\ninvested it.\"\n\nHumboldt also singles out for especial praise the following description\ngiven of Tahiti by Darwin[6]:--\n\n\"The land capable of cultivation is scarcely in any part more than a\nfringe of low alluvial soil, accumulated round the base of mountains,\nand protected from the waves of the sea by a coral reef, which encircles\nat a distance the entire line of coast. The reef is broken in several\nparts so that ships can pass through, and the lake of smooth water\nwithin, thus affords a safe harbour, as well as a channel for the native\ncanoes. The low land which comes down to the beach of coral sand is\ncovered by the most beautiful productions of the inter-tropical regions.\nIn the midst of bananas, orange, cocoa-nut, and breadfruit trees, spots\nare cleared where yams, sweet potatoes, sugar-cane, and pine-apples are\ncultivated. Even the brushwood is a fruit tree, namely, the guava,\nwhich from its abundance is as noxious as a weed. In Brazil I have often\nadmired the contrast of varied beauty in the banana, palm, and orange\ntree; here we have in addition the breadfruit tree, conspicuous from its\nlarge, glossy, and deeply digitated leaf. It is admirable to behold\ngroves of a tree, sending forth its branches with the force of an\nEnglish Oak, loaded with large and most nutritious fruit. However little\non most occasions utility explains the delight received from any fine\nprospect, in this case it cannot fail to enter as an element in the\nfeeling. The little winding paths, cool from the surrounding shade, led\nto the scattered houses; and the owners of these everywhere gave us a\ncheerful and most hospitable reception.\"\n\nDarwin himself has told us, after going round the world that \"in calling\nup images of the past, I find the plains of Patagonia frequently cross\nbefore my eyes; yet these plains are pronounced by all to be most\nwretched and useless. They are characterised only by negative\npossessions; without habitations, without water, without trees, without\nmountains, they support only a few dwarf plants. Why then--and the case\nis not peculiar to myself--have these arid wastes taken so firm\npossession of my mind? Why have not the still more level, the greener\nand more fertile pampas, which are serviceable to mankind, produced an\nequal impression? I can scarcely analyse these feelings, but it must be\npartly owing to the free scope given to the imagination. The plains of\nPatagonia are boundless, for they are scarcely practicable, and hence\nunknown; they bear the stamp of having thus lasted for ages, and there\nappears no limit to their duration through future time. If, as the\nancients supposed, the flat earth was surrounded by an impassable\nbreadth of water, or by deserts heated to an intolerable excess, who\nwould not look at these last boundaries to man's knowledge with deep but\nill-defined sensations?\"\n\nHamerton, whose wide experience and artistic power make his opinion\nespecially important, says:--\n\n\"I know nothing in the visible world that combines splendour and purity\nso perfectly as a great mountain entirely covered with frozen snow and\nreflected in the vast mirror of a lake. As the sun declines, its\nthousand shadows lengthen, pure as the cold green azure in the depth of\na glacier's crevasse, and the illuminated snow takes first the tender\ncolour of a white rose, and then the flush of a red one, and the sky\nturns to a pale malachite green, till the rare strange vision fades into\nghastly gray, but leaves with you a permanent recollection of its too\ntransient beauty.\"[7]\n\nWallace especially, and very justly, praises the description of tropical\nforest scenery given by Belt in his charming _Naturalist in\nNicaragua_:--\n\n\"On each side of the road great trees towered up, carrying their crowns\nout of sight amongst a canopy of foliage, and with lianas hanging from\nnearly every bough, and passing from tree to tree, entangling the giants\nin a great network of coiling cables. Sometimes a tree appears covered\nwith beautiful flowers which do not belong to it, but to one of the\nlianas that twines through its branches and sends down great rope-like\nstems to the ground. Climbing ferns and vanilla cling to the trunks, and\na thousand epiphytes perch themselves on the branches. Amongst these are\nlarge arums that send down long aerial roots, tough and strong, and\nuniversally used instead of cordage by the natives. Amongst the\nundergrowth several small species of palms, varying in height from two\nto fifteen feet, are common; and now and then magnificent tree ferns\nsend off their feathery crowns twenty feet from the ground to delight\nthe sight by their graceful elegance. Great broad-leaved heliconias,\nleathery melastomae, and succulent-stemmed, lop-sided leaved and\nflesh-coloured begonias are abundant, and typical of tropical American\nforests; but not less so are the cecropia trees, with their white stems\nand large palmated leaves standing up like great candelabra. Sometimes\nthe ground is carpeted with large flowers, yellow, pink, or white, that\nhave fallen from some invisible tree-top above; or the air is filled\nwith a delicious perfume, the source of which one seeks around in vain,\nfor the flowers that cause it are far overhead out of sight, lost in the\ngreat over-shadowing crown of verdure.\"\n\n\"But,\" he adds, \"the uniformity of climate which has led to this rich\nluxuriance and endless variety of vegetation is also the cause of a\nmonotony that in time becomes oppressive.\" To quote the words of Mr.\nBelt: \"Unknown are the autumn tints, the bright browns and yellows of\nEnglish woods; much less the crimsons, purples, and yellows of Canada,\nwhere the dying foliage rivals, nay, excels, the expiring dolphin in\nsplendour. Unknown the cold sleep of winter; unknown the lovely\nawakening of vegetation at the first gentle touch of spring. A ceaseless\nround of ever-active life weaves the fairest scenery of the tropics into\none monotonous whole, of which the component parts exhibit in detail\nuntold variety of beauty.\"\n\nSiberia is no doubt as a rule somewhat severe and inhospitable, but M.\nPatrin mentions with enthusiasm how one day descending from the frozen\nsummits of the Altai, he came suddenly on a view of the plain of the\nObi--the most beautiful spectacle, he says, which he had ever witnessed.\nBehind him were barren rocks and the snows of winter, in front a great\nplain, not indeed entirely green, or green only in places, and for the\nrest covered by three flowers, the purple Siberian Iris, the golden\nHemerocallis, and the silvery Narcissus--green, purple, gold, and white,\nas far as the eye could reach.\n\nWallace tells us that he himself has derived the keenest enjoyment from\nhis sense of colour:--\n\n\"The heavenly blue of the firmament, the glowing tints of sunset, the\nexquisite purity of the snowy mountains, and the endless shades of green\npresented by the verdure-clad surface of the earth, are a never-failing\nsource of pleasure to all who enjoy the inestimable gift of sight. Yet\nthese constitute, as it were, but the frame and background of a\nmarvellous and ever-changing picture. In contrast with these broad and\nsoothing tints, we have presented to us in the vegetable and animal\nworlds an infinite variety of objects adorned with the most beautiful\nand most varied hues. Flowers, insects, and birds are the organisms\nmost generally ornamented in this way; and their symmetry of form, their\nvariety of structure, and the lavish abundance with which they clothe\nand enliven the earth, cause them to be objects of universal admiration.\nThe relation of this wealth of colour to our mental and moral nature is\nindisputable. The child and the savage alike admire the gay tints of\nflowers, birds, and insects; while to many of us their contemplation\nbrings a solace and enjoyment which is both intellectually and morally\nbeneficial. It can then hardly excite surprise that this relation was\nlong thought to afford a sufficient explanation of the phenomena of\ncolour in nature; and although the fact that--\n\n Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,\n And waste its sweetness on the desert air,\n\nmight seem to throw some doubt on the sufficiency of the explanation,\nthe answer was easy,--that in the progress of discovery man would,\nsooner or later, find out and enjoy every beauty that the hidden\nrecesses of the earth have in store for him.\"\n\nProfessor Colvin speaks with special admiration of Greek scenery:--\n\n\"In other climates, it is only in particular states of the weather that\nthe remote ever seems so close, and then with an effect which is sharp\nand hard as well as clear; here the clearness is soft; nothing cuts or\nglitters, seen through that magic distance; the air has not only a new\ntransparency so that you can see farther into it than elsewhere, but a\nnew quality, like some crystal of an unknown water, so that to see into\nit is greater glory.\" Speaking of the ranges and promontories of sterile\nlimestone, the same writer observes that their colours are as austere\nand delicate as the forms. \"If here the scar of some old quarry throws a\nstain, or there the clinging of some thin leafage spreads a bloom, the\nstain is of precious gold, and the bloom of silver. Between the blue of\nthe sky and the tenfold blue of the sea these bare ranges seem, beneath\nthat daylight, to present a whole system of noble colour flung abroad\nover perfect forms. And wherever, in the general sterility, you find a\nlittle moderate verdure--a little moist grass, a cluster of\ncypresses--or whenever your eye lights upon the one wood of the\ndistrict, the long olive grove of the Cephissus, you are struck with a\nsudden sense of richness, and feel as if the splendours of the tropics\nwould be nothing to this.\"\n\nMost travellers have been fascinated by the beauty of night in the\ntropics. Our evenings no doubt are often delicious also, though the mild\nclimate we enjoy is partly due to the sky being so often overcast. In\nparts of the tropics, however, the air is calm and cloudless throughout\nnearly the whole of the year. There is no dew, and the inhabitants sleep\non the house-tops, in full view of the brightness of the stars and the\nbeauty of the sky, which is almost indescribable.\n\n\"Il faisait,\" says Bernardin de St. Pierre of such a scene, \"une de ces\nnuits delicieuses, si communes entre les tropiques, et dont le plus\nabile pinceau ne rendrait pas le beaute. La lune paraissait au milieu du\nfirmament, entouree d'un rideau de nuages, que ses rayons dissipaient\npar degres. Sa lumiere se repandait insensiblement sur les montagnes de\nl'ile et sur leurs pitons, qui brillaient d'un vert argente. Les vents\nretenaient leurs haleines. On entendait dans les bois, au fond des\nvallees, au haut des rochers, de petits cris, de doux murmures\nd'oiseaux, qui se caressaient dans leurs nids, rejouis par la clarte de\nla nuit et la tranquillite de l'air. Tous, jusqu'aux insectes,\nbruissaient sous l'herbe. Les etoiles etincelaient au ciel, et se\nreflechissaient au sein de la mer, qui repetait leurs images\ntremblantes.\"\n\nIn the Arctic and Antarctic regions the nights are often made quite\ngorgeous by the Northern Lights or Aurora borealis, and the\ncorresponding appearance in the Southern hemisphere. The Aurora borealis\ngenerally begins towards evening, and first appears as a faint glimmer\nin the north, like the approach of dawn. Gradually a curve of light\nspreads like an immense arch of yellowish-white hue, which gains rapidly\nin brilliancy, flashes and vibrates like a flame in the wind. Often two\nor even three arches appear one over the other. After a while coloured\nrays dart upwards in divergent pencils, often green below, yellow in the\ncentre, and crimson above, while it is said that sometimes almost\nblack, or at least very dark violet, rays are interspersed among the\nrings of light, and heighten their effect by contrast. Sometimes the two\nends of the arch seem to rise off the horizon, and the whole sheet of\nlight throbs and undulates like a fringed curtain of light; sometimes\nthe sheaves of rays unite into an immense cupola; while at others the\nseparate rays seem alternately lit and extinguished. Gradually the light\nflickers and fades away, and has generally disappeared before the first\nglimpse of dawn.\n\nWe seldom see the Aurora in the south of England, but we must not\ncomplain; our winters are mild, and every month has its own charm and\nbeauty.\n\nIn January we have the lengthening days.\n\n \" February \" the first butterfly.\n\n \" March \" the opening buds.\n\n \" April \" the young leaves and spring flowers.\n\n \" May \" the song of birds.\n\n \" June \" the sweet new-mown hay.\n\n \" July \" the summer flowers.\n\n \" August \" the golden grain.\n\n \" September \" the fruit.\n\n \" October \" the autumn tints.\n\n \" November \" the hoar frost on trees and the pure snow.\n\n \" December \" last not least, the holidays of Christmas, and the\nbright fireside.\n\nIt is well to begin the year in January, for we have then before us all\nthe hope of spring.\n\n Oh wind,\n If winter comes, can spring be long behind?[8]\n\nSpring seems to revive us all. In the Song of Solomon--\n\n My beloved spake, and said unto me,\n Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.\n For, lo, the winter is past,\n The rain is over and gone;\n The flowers appear on the earth;\n The time of the singing of birds is come,\n The voice of the turtle is heard in our land,\n The fig tree putteth forth her green figs,\n And the vines with the tender grape give a good smell.\n\n\"But indeed there are days,\" says Emerson, \"which occur in this climate,\nat almost any season of the year, wherein the world reaches its\nperfection, when the air, the heavenly bodies, and the earth make a\nharmony, as if nature would indulge her offspring.... These halcyon days\nmay be looked for with a little more assurance in that pure October\nweather, which we distinguish by the name of the Indian summer. The day,\nimmeasurably long, sleeps over the broad hills and warm wide fields. To\nhave lived through all its sunny hours, seems longevity enough.\" Yet\ndoes not the very name of Indian summer imply the superiority of the\nsummer itself,--the real, the true summer, \"when the young corn is\nbursting into ear; the awned heads of rye, wheat, and barley, and the\nnodding panicles of oats, shoot from their green and glaucous stems, in\nbroad, level, and waving expanses of present beauty and future promise.\nThe very waters are strewn with flowers: the buck-bean, the\nwater-violet, the elegant flowering rush, and the queen of the waters,\nthe pure and splendid white lily, invest every stream and lonely mere\nwith grace.\"[9]\n\nFor our greater power of perceiving, and therefore of enjoying Nature,\nwe are greatly indebted to Science. Over and above what is visible to\nthe unaided eye, the two magic tubes, the telescope and microscope, have\nrevealed to us, at least partially, the infinitely great and the\ninfinitely little.\n\nScience, our Fairy Godmother, will, unless we perversely reject her\nhelp, and refuse her gifts, so richly endow us, that fewer hours of\nlabour will serve to supply us with the material necessaries of life,\nleaving us more time to ourselves, more leisure to enjoy all that makes\nlife best worth living.\n\nEven now we all have some leisure, and for it we cannot be too grateful.\n\n\"If any one,\" says Seneca, \"gave you a few acres, you would say that you\nhad received a benefit; can you deny that the boundless extent of the\nearth is a benefit? If a house were given you, bright with marble, its\nroof beautifully painted with colours and gilding, you would call it no\nsmall benefit. God has built for you a mansion that fears no fire or\nruin ... covered with a roof which glitters in one fashion by day, and\nin another by night. Whence comes the breath which you draw; the light\nby which you perform the actions of your life? the blood by which your\nlife is maintained? the meat by which your hunger is appeased?... The\ntrue God has planted, not a few oxen, but all the herds on their\npastures throughout the world, and furnished food to all the flocks; he\nhas ordained the alternation of summer and winter ... he has invented so\nmany arts and varieties of voice, so many notes to make music.... We\nhave implanted in us the seeds of all ages, of all arts; and God our\nMaster brings forth our intellects from obscurity.\"[10]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] _Choses Vues._\n\n[2] Wordsworth.\n\n[3] Cicero, _De Natura Deorum_.\n\n[4] Thoreau.\n\n[5] Spenser.\n\n[6] Darwin's _Voyage of the Beagle_.\n\n[7] Hamerton's _Landscape_.\n\n[8] Shelley.\n\n[9] Howitt's _Book of the Seasons_.\n\n[10] Seneca, _De Beneficiis_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nON ANIMAL LIFE\n\n If thy heart be right, then will every creature be to thee a\n mirror of life, and a book of holy doctrine.\n\n THOMAS A KEMPIS.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nON ANIMAL LIFE\n\n\nThere is no species of animal or plant which would not well repay, I\nwill not say merely the study of a day, but even the devotion of a\nlifetime. Their form and structure, development and habits, geographical\ndistribution, relation to other living beings, and past history,\nconstitute an inexhaustible study.\n\nWhen we consider how much we owe to the Dog, Man's faithful friend, to\nthe noble Horse, the patient Ox, the Cow, the Sheep, and our other\ndomestic animals, we cannot be too grateful to them; and if we cannot,\nlike some ancient nations, actually worship them, we have perhaps fallen\ninto the other extreme, underrate the sacredness of animal life, and\ntreat them too much like mere machines.\n\nSome species, however, are no doubt more interesting than others,\nespecially perhaps those which live together in true communities, and\nwhich offer so many traits--some sad, some comical, and all\ninteresting,--which reproduce more or less closely the circumstances of\nour own life.\n\nThe modes of animal life are almost infinitely diversified; some live on\nland, some in water; of those which are aquatic some dwell in rivers,\nsome in lakes or pools, some on the sea-shore, others in the depths of\nthe ocean. Some burrow in the ground, some find their home in the air.\nSome live in the Arctic regions, some in the burning deserts; one little\nbeetle (Hydrobius) in the thermal waters of Hammam-Meskoutin, at a\ntemperature of 130 deg.. As to food, some are carnivorous and wage open war;\nsome, more insidious, attack their victims from within; others feed on\nvegetable food, on leaves or wood, on seeds or fruits; in fact, there is\nscarcely an animal or vegetable substance which is not the special and\nfavourite food of one or more species. Hence to adapt them to these\nvarious requirements we find the utmost differences of form and size\nand structure. Even the same individual often goes through great\nchanges.\n\n\nGROWTH AND METAMORPHOSES\n\nThe development, indeed, of an animal from birth to maturity is no mere\nquestion of growth. The metamorphoses of Insects have long excited the\nwonder and admiration of all lovers of nature. They depend to a great\nextent on the fact that the little creatures quit the egg at an early\nstage of development, and lead a different life, so that the external\nforces acting on them, are very different from those by which they are\naffected when they arrive at maturity. A remarkable case is that of\ncertain Beetles which are parasitic on Solitary Bees. The young larva is\nvery active, with six strong legs. It conceals itself in some flower,\nand when the Bee comes in search of honey, leaps upon her, but is so\nminute as not to be perceived. The Bee constructs her cell, stores it\nwith honey, and lays her egg. At that moment the little larva quits the\nBee and jumps on to the egg, which she proceeds gradually to devour.\nHaving finished the egg, she attacks the honey; but under these\ncircumstances the activity which was at first so necessary has become\nuseless; the legs which did such good service are no longer required;\nand the active slim larva changes into a white fleshy grub, which floats\ncomfortably in the honey with its mouth just below the surface.\n\nEven in the same group we may find great differences. For instance, in\nthe family of Insects to which Bees and Wasps belong, some have grub\nlarvae, such as the Bee and Ant; some have larvae like caterpillars, such\nas the Sawflies; and there is a group of minute forms the larvae of which\nlive inside the eggs of other insects, and present very remarkable and\nabnormal forms.\n\nThese differences depend mainly on the mode of life and the character of\nthe food.\n\n\nRUDIMENTARY ORGANS\n\nSuch modifications may be called adaptive, but there are others of a\ndifferent origin that have reference to the changes which the race has\npassed through in bygone ages. In fact the great majority of animals do\ngo through metamorphoses (many of them as remarkable, though not so\nfamiliar as those of insects), but in many cases they are passed through\nwithin the egg and thus escape popular observation. Naturalists who\naccept the theory of evolution, consider that the development of each\nindividual represents to a certain extent that which the species has\nitself gone through in the lapse of ages; that every individual contains\nwithin itself, so to say, a history of the race. Thus the rudimentary\nteeth of Cows, Sheep, Whales, etc. (which never emerge from their\nsockets), the rudimentary toes of many mammals, the hind legs of Whales\nand of the Boa-constrictor, which are imbedded in the flesh, the\nrudimentary collar-bone of the Dog, etc., are indications of descent\nfrom ancestors in which these organs were fully developed. Again, though\nused for such different purposes, the paddle of a Whale, the leg of a\nHorse and of a Mole, the wing of a Bird or a Bat, and the arm of a Man,\nare all constructed on the same model, include corresponding bones, and\nare similarly arranged. The long neck of the Giraffe, and the short one\nof the Whale (if neck it can be called), contain the same number of\nvertebrae.\n\nEven after birth the young of allied species resemble one another much\nmore than the mature forms. The stripes on the young Lion, the spots on\nthe young Blackbird, are well-known cases; and we find the same law\nprevalent among the lower animals, as, for instance, among Insects and\nCrustacea. The Lobster, Crab, Shrimp, and Barnacle are very unlike when\nfull grown, but in their young stages go through essentially similar\nmetamorphoses.\n\nNo animal is perhaps in this respect more interesting than the Horse.\nThe skull of a Horse and that of a Man, though differing so much, are,\nsays Flower,[11] \"composed of exactly the same number of bones, having\nthe same general arrangement and relation to each other. Not only the\nindividual bones, but every ridge and surface for the attachment of\nmuscles, and every hole for the passage of artery or nerve, seen in the\none can be traced in the other.\" It is often said that the Horse\npresents a remarkable peculiarity in that the canine teeth grow but\nonce. There are, however, in most Horses certain spicules or minute\npoints which are shed before the appearance of the permanent canines,\nand which are probably the last remnants of the true milk canines.\n\nThe foot is reduced to a single toe, representing the third digit, but\nthe second and fourth, though rudimentary, are represented by the splint\nbones; while the foot also contains traces of several muscles,\noriginally belonging to the toes which have now disappeared, and which\n\"linger as it were behind, with new relations and uses, sometimes in a\nreduced, and almost, if not quite, functionless condition.\" Even Man\nhimself presents traces of gill-openings, and indications of other\norgans which are fully developed in lower animals.\n\n\nMODIFICATIONS\n\nThere is in New Zealand a form of Crow (Hura), in which the female has\nundergone a very curious modification. It is the only case I know, in\nwhich the bill is differently shaped in the two sexes. The bird has\ntaken on the habits of a Woodpecker, and the stout crow-like bill of the\ncock-bird is admirably adapted to tap trees, and if they sound hollow,\nto dig down to the burrow of the Insect; but it lacks the horny-pointed\ntip of the tongue, which in the true Woodpecker is provided with\nrecurved hairs, thus enabling that bird to pierce the grub and draw it\nout. In the Hura, however, the bill of the hen-bird has become much\nelongated and slightly curved, and when the cock has dug down to the\nburrow, the hen inserts her long bill and draws out the grub, which\nthey then divide between them: a very pretty illustration of the wife as\nhelpmate to the husband.\n\nIt was indeed until lately the general opinion that animals and plants\ncame into existence just as we now see them. We took pleasure in their\nbeauty; their adaptation to their habits and mode of life in many cases\ncould not be overlooked or misunderstood. Nevertheless the book of\nNature was like some missal richly illuminated, but written in an\nunknown tongue. The graceful forms of the letters, the beauty of the\ncolouring, excited our wonder and admiration; but of the true meaning\nlittle was known to us; indeed we scarcely realised that there was any\nmeaning to decipher. Now glimpses of the truth are gradually revealing\nthemselves, we perceive that there is a reason, and in many cases we\nknow what the reason is, for every difference in form, in size, and in\ncolour; for every bone and every feather, almost for every hair.[12]\n\n\nCOLOUR\n\nThe colours of animals, generally, I believe, serve as a protection. In\nsome, however, they probably render them more attractive to their mates,\nof which the Peacock is one of the most remarkable illustrations.\n\nIn richness of colour birds and insects vie even with flowers. \"One fine\nred admiral butterfly,\" says Jefferies,[13] \"whose broad wings,\nstretched out like fans, looked simply splendid floating round and round\nthe willows which marked the margin of a dry pool. His blue markings\nwere really blue--blue velvet--his red and the white stroke shone as if\nsunbeams were in his wings. I wish there were more of these butterflies;\nin summer, dry summer, when the flowers seem gone and the grass is not\nso dear to us, and the leaves are dull with heat, a little colour is so\npleasant. To me colour is a sort of food; every spot of colour is a drop\nof wine to the spirit.\"\n\nThe varied colours which add so much to the beauty of animals and\nplants are not only thus a delight to the eye, but afford us also some\nof the most interesting problems in Natural History. Some probably are\nnot in themselves of any direct advantage. The brilliant mother-of-pearl\nof certain shells, which during life is completely hidden, the rich\ncolours of some internal organs of animals, are not perhaps of any\ndirect benefit, but are incidental, like the rich and brilliant hues of\nmany minerals and precious stones.\n\nBut although this may be true, I believe that most of these colours are\nnow of some advantage. \"The black back and silvery belly of fishes\" have\nbeen recently referred to by a distinguished naturalist as being\nobviously of no direct benefit. I should on the contrary have quoted\nthis case as one where the advantage was obvious. The dark back renders\nthe fish less conspicuous to an eye looking down into the water; while\nthe white under-surface makes them less visible from below. The animals\nof the desert are sand-coloured; those of the Arctic regions are white\nlike snow, especially in winter; and pelagic animals are blue.\n\nLet us take certain special cases. The Lion, like other desert animals,\nis sand-coloured; the Tiger which lives in the Jungle has vertical\nstripes, making him difficult to see among the upright grass; Leopards\nand the tree-cats are spotted, like rays of light seen through leaves.\n\nAn interesting case is that of the animals living in the Sargasso or\ngulf-weed of the Atlantic. These creatures--Fish, Crustacea, and\nMollusks alike--are characterised by a peculiar colouring, not\ncontinuously olive like the Seaweed itself, but blotched with rounded\nmore or less irregular patches of bright, opaque white, so as closely to\nresemble fronds covered with patches of Flustra or Barnacles.\n\nTake the case of caterpillars, which are especially defenceless, and\nwhich as a rule feed on leaves. The smallest and youngest are green,\nlike the leaves on which they live. When they become larger, they are\ncharacterised by longitudinal lines, which break up the surface and thus\nrender them less conspicuous. On older and larger ones the lines are\ndiagonal, like the nerves of leaves. Conspicuous caterpillars are\ngenerally either nauseous in taste, or protected by hairs.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 1.--_Choerocampa porcellus._]\n\nI say \"generally,\" because there are some interesting exceptions. The\nlarge caterpillars of some of the Elephant Hawkmoths are very\nconspicuous, and rendered all the more so by the presence of a pair of\nlarge eyelike spots. Every one who sees one of these caterpillars is\nstruck by its likeness to a snake, and the so-called \"eyes\" do much to\nincrease the deception. Moreover, the ring on which they are placed is\nswollen, and the insect, when in danger, has the habit of retracting its\nhead and front segments, which gives it an additional resemblance to\nsome small reptile. That small birds are, as a matter of fact, afraid of\nthese caterpillars (which, however, I need not say, are in reality\naltogether harmless) Weismann has proved by actual experiment. He put\none of these caterpillars in a tray, in which he was accustomed to place\nseed for birds. Soon a little flock of sparrows and other small birds\nassembled to feed as usual. One of them lit on the edge of this tray,\nand was just going to hop in, when she spied the caterpillar.\nImmediately she began bobbing her head up and down in the odd way which\nsome small birds have, but was afraid to go nearer. Another joined her\nand then another, until at last there was a little company of ten or\ntwelve birds all looking on in astonishment, but not one ventured into\nthe tray; while one bird, which lit in it unsuspectingly, beat a hasty\nretreat in evident alarm as soon as she perceived the caterpillar. After\nwaiting for some time, Weismann removed it, when the birds soon attacked\nthe seeds. Other caterpillars also are probably protected by their\ncurious resemblance to spotted snakes. One of the large Indian\ncaterpillars has even acquired the power of hissing.\n\nAmong perfect insects many resemble closely the substances near which\nthey live. Some moths are mottled so as to mimic the bark of trees, or\nmoss, or the surface of stones. One beautiful tropical butterfly has a\ndark wing on which are painted a series of green leaf tips, so that it\nclosely resembles the edge of a pinnate leaf projecting out of shade\ninto sunshine.\n\nThe argument is strengthened by those cases in which the protection, or\nother advantage, is due not merely to colour, but partly also to form.\nSuch are the insects which resemble sticks or leaves. Again, there are\ncases in which insects mimic others, which, for some reason or other,\nare less liable to danger. So also many harmless animals mimic others\nwhich are poisonous or otherwise well protected. Some butterflies, as\nMr. Bates has pointed out, mimic others which are nauseous in taste, and\ntherefore not attacked by birds. In these cases it is generally only the\nfemales that are mimetic, and in some cases only a part of them, so that\nthere are two, or even three, kinds of females, the one retaining the\nnormal colouring of the group, the other mimicking another species. Some\nspiders closely resemble Ants, and several other insects mimic Wasps or\nHornets.\n\nSome reptiles and fish have actually the power of changing the colour of\ntheir skin so as to adapt themselves to their surroundings.\n\nMany cases in which the colouring does not at first sight appear to be\nprotective, will on consideration be found to be so. It has, for\ninstance, been objected that sheep are not coloured green; but every\nmountaineer knows that sheep could not have had a colour more adapted to\nrender them inconspicuous, and that it is almost impossible to\ndistinguish them from the rocks which so constantly crop up on hill\nsides. Even the brilliant blue of the Kingfisher, which in a museum\nrenders it so conspicuous, in its native haunts, on the contrary, makes\nit difficult to distinguish from a flash of light upon the water; and\nthe richly-coloured Woodpecker wears the genuine dress of a\nForester--the green coat and crimson cap.\n\nIt has been found that some brilliantly coloured and conspicuous animals\nare either nauseous or poisonous. In these cases the brilliant colour\nis doubtless a protection by rendering them more unmistakable.\n\n\nCOMMUNITIES\n\nSome animals may delight us especially by their beauty, such as birds or\nbutterflies; others may surprise us by their size, as Elephants and\nWhales, or the still more marvellous monsters of ancient times; may\nfascinate us by their exquisite forms, such as many microscopic shells;\nor compel our reluctant attention by their similarity to us in\nstructure; but none offer more points of interest than those which live\nin communities. I do not allude to the temporary assemblages of\nStarlings, Swallows, and other birds at certain times of year, nor even\nto the permanent associations of animals brought together by common\nwants in suitable localities, but to regular and more or less organised\nassociations. Such colonies as those of Rooks and Beavers have no doubt\ninteresting revelations and surprises in store for us, but they have not\nbeen as yet so much studied as those of some insects. Among these the\nHive Bees, from the beauty and regularity of their cells, from their\nutility to man, and from the debt we owe them for their unconscious\nagency in the improvement of flowers, hold a very high place; but they\nare probably less intelligent, and their relations with other animals\nand with one another are less complex than in the case of Ants, which\nhave been so well studied by Gould, Huber, Forel, M'Cook, and other\nnaturalists.\n\nThe subject is a wide one, for there are at least a thousand species of\nAnts, no two of which have the same habits. In this country we have\nrather more than thirty, most of which I have kept in confinement. Their\nlife is comparatively long: I have had working Ants which were seven\nyears old, and a Queen Ant lived in one of my nests for fifteen years.\nThe community consists, in addition to the young, of males, which do no\nwork, of wingless workers, and one or more Queen mothers, who have at\nfirst wings, which, however, after one Marriage flight, they throw off,\nas they never leave the nest again, and in it wings would of course be\nuseless. The workers do not, except occasionally, lay eggs, but carry on\nall the affairs of the community. Some of them, and especially the\nyounger ones, remain in the nest, excavate chambers and tunnels, and\ntend the young, which are sorted up according to age, so that my nests\noften had the appearance of a school, with the children arranged in\nclasses.\n\nIn our English Ants the workers in each species are all similar except\nin size, but among foreign species there are some in which there are two\nor even more classes of workers, differing greatly not only in size, but\nalso in form. The differences are not the result of age, nor of race,\nbut are adaptations to different functions, the nature of which,\nhowever, is not yet well understood. Among the Termites those of one\nclass certainly seem to act as soldiers, and among the true Ants also\nsome have comparatively immense heads and powerful jaws. It is doubtful,\nhowever, whether they form a real army. Bates observed that on a\nforaging expedition the large-headed individuals did not walk in the\nregular ranks, nor on the return did they carry any of the booty, but\nmarched along at the side, and at tolerably regular intervals, \"like\nsubaltern officers in a marching regiment.\" He is disposed, however, to\nascribe to them a much humbler function, namely, to serve merely \"as\nindigestible morsels to the ant thrushes.\" This, I confess, seems to me\nimprobable.\n\nSolomon was, so far as we yet know, quite correct in describing Ants as\nhaving \"neither guide, overseer, nor ruler.\" The so-called Queens are\nreally Mothers. Nevertheless it is true, and it is curious, that the\nworking Ants and Bees always turn their heads towards the Queen. It\nseems as if the sight of her gave them pleasure. On one occasion, while\nmoving some Ants from one nest into another for exhibition at the Royal\nInstitution, I unfortunately crushed the Queen and killed her. The\nothers, however, did not desert her, or draw her out as they do dead\nworkers, but on the contrary carried her into the new nest, and\nsubsequently into a larger one with which I supplied them, congregating\nround her for weeks just as if she had been alive. One could hardly\nhelp fancying that they were mourning her loss, or hoping anxiously for\nher recovery.\n\nThe Communities of Ants are sometimes very large, numbering even up to\n500,000 individuals; and it is a lesson to us, that no one has ever yet\nseen a quarrel between any two Ants belonging to the same community. On\nthe other hand it must be admitted that they are in hostility, not only\nwith most other insects, including Ants of different species, but even\nwith those of the same species if belonging to different communities. I\nhave over and over again introduced Ants from one of my nests into\nanother nest of the same species, and they were invariably attacked,\nseized by a leg or an antenna, and dragged out.\n\nIt is evident therefore that the Ants of each community all recognise\none another, which is very remarkable. But more than this, I several\ntimes divided a nest into two halves, and found that even after a\nseparation of a year and nine months they recognised one another, and\nwere perfectly friendly; while they at once attacked Ants from a\ndifferent nest, although of the same species.\n\nIt has been suggested that the Ants of each nest have some sign or\npassword by which they recognise one another. To test this I made some\ninsensible. First I tried chloroform, but this was fatal to them; and as\ntherefore they were practically dead, I did not consider the test\nsatisfactory. I decided therefore to intoxicate them. This was less easy\nthan I had expected. None of my Ants would voluntarily degrade\nthemselves by getting drunk. However, I got over the difficulty by\nputting them into whisky for a few moments. I took fifty specimens,\ntwenty-five from one nest and twenty-five from another, made them dead\ndrunk, marked each with a spot of paint, and put them on a table close\nto where other Ants from one of the nests were feeding. The table was\nsurrounded as usual with a moat of water to prevent them from straying.\nThe Ants which were feeding soon noticed those which I had made drunk.\nThey seemed quite astonished to find their comrades in such a\ndisgraceful condition, and as much at a loss to know what to do with\ntheir drunkards as we are. After a while, however, to cut my story\nshort, they carried them all away: the strangers they took to the edge\nof the moat and dropped into the water, while they bore their friends\nhome into the nest, where by degrees they slept off the effects of the\nspirit. Thus it is evident that they know their friends even when\nincapable of giving any sign or password.\n\nThis little experiment also shows that they help comrades in distress.\nIf a Wolf or a Rook be ill or injured, we are told that it is driven\naway or even killed by its comrades. Not so with Ants. For instance, in\none of my nests an unfortunate Ant, in emerging from the chrysalis skin,\ninjured her legs so much that she lay on her back quite helpless. For\nthree months, however, she was carefully fed and tended by the other\nAnts. In another case an Ant in the same manner had injured her antennae.\nI watched her also carefully to see what would happen. For some days she\ndid not leave the nest. At last one day she ventured outside, and after\na while met a stranger Ant of the same species, but belonging to another\nnest, by whom she was at once attacked. I tried to separate them, but\nwhether by her enemy, or perhaps by my well-meant but clumsy kindness,\nshe was evidently much hurt and lay helplessly on her side. Several\nother Ants passed her without taking any notice, but soon one came up,\nexamined her carefully with her antennae, and carried her off tenderly to\nthe nest. No one, I think, who saw it could have denied to that Ant one\nattribute of humanity, the quality of kindness.\n\nThe existence of such communities as those of Ants or Bees implies, no\ndoubt, some power of communication, but the amount is still a matter of\ndoubt. It is well known that if one Bee or Ant discovers a store of\nfood, others soon find their way to it. This, however, does not prove\nmuch. It makes all the difference whether they are brought or sent. If\nthey merely accompany on her return a companion who has brought a store\nof food, it does not imply much. To test this, therefore, I made\nseveral experiments. For instance, one cold day my Ants were almost all\nin their nests. One only was out hunting and about six feet from home. I\ntook a dead bluebottle fly, pinned it on to a piece of cork, and put it\ndown just in front of her. She at once tried to carry off the fly, but\nto her surprise found it immovable. She tugged and tugged, first one way\nand then another for about twenty minutes, and then went straight off to\nthe nest. During that time not a single Ant had come out; in fact she\nwas the only Ant of that nest out at the time. She went straight in, but\nin a few seconds--less than half a minute,--came out again with no less\nthan twelve friends, who trooped off with her, and eventually tore up\nthe dead fly, carrying it off in triumph.\n\nNow the first Ant took nothing home with her; she must therefore somehow\nhave made her friends understand that she had found some food, and\nwanted them to come and help her to secure it. In all such cases,\nhowever, so far as my experience goes, the Ants brought their friends,\nand some of my experiments indicated that they are unable to send them.\n\nCertain species of Ants, again, make slaves of others, as Huber first\nobserved. If a colony of the slave-making Ants is changing the nest, a\nmatter which is left to the discretion of the slaves, the latter carry\ntheir mistresses to their new home. Again, if I uncovered one of my\nnests of the Fuscous Ant (Formica fusca), they all began running about\nin search of some place of refuge. If now I covered over one small part\nof the nest, after a while some Ant discovered it. In such a case,\nhowever, the brave little insect never remained there, she came out in\nsearch of her friends, and the first one she met she took up in her\njaws, threw over her shoulder (their way of carrying friends), and took\ninto the covered part; then both came out again, found two more friends\nand brought them in, the same manoeuvre being repeated until the whole\ncommunity was in a place of safety. This I think says much for their\npublic spirit, but seems to prove that, in F. fusca at least, the powers\nof communication are but limited.\n\nOne kind of slave-making Ant has become so completely dependent on their\nslaves, that even if provided with food they will die of hunger, unless\nthere is a slave to put it into their mouth. I found, however, that they\nwould thrive very well if supplied with a slave for an hour or so once a\nweek to clean and feed them.\n\nBut in many cases the community does not consist of Ants only. They have\ndomestic animals, and indeed it is not going too far to say that they\nhave domesticated more animals than we have. Of these the most important\nare Aphides. Some species keep Aphides on trees and bushes, others\ncollect root-feeding Aphides into their nests. They serve as cows to the\nAnts, which feed on the honey-dew secreted by the Aphides. Not only,\nmoreover, do the Ants protect the Aphides themselves, but collect their\neggs in autumn, and tend them carefully through the winter, ready for\nthe next spring. Many other insects are also domesticated by Ants, and\nsome of them, from living constantly underground, have completely lost\ntheir eyes and become quite blind.\n\nBut I must not let myself be carried away by this fascinating subject,\nwhich I have treated more at length in another work.[14] I will only say\nthat though their intelligence is no doubt limited, still I do not think\nthat any one who has studied the life-history of Ants can draw any\nfundamental line of separation between instinct and reason.\n\nWhen we see a community of Ants working together in perfect harmony, it\nis impossible not to ask ourselves how far they are mere exquisite\nautomatons; how far they are conscious beings? When we watch an ant-hill\ntenanted by thousands of industrious inhabitants, excavating chambers,\nforming tunnels, making roads, guarding their home, gathering food,\nfeeding the young, tending their domestic animals--each one fulfilling\nits duties industriously, and without confusion,--it is difficult\naltogether to deny to them the gift of reason; and all our recent\nobservations tend to confirm the opinion that their mental powers differ\nfrom those of men, not so much in kind as in degree.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[11] _The Horse._\n\n[12] Lubbock, _Fifty Years of Science_.\n\n[13] _The Open Air._\n\n[14] _Ants, Bees, and Wasps._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nON ANIMAL LIFE--_continued_\n\n An organic being is a microcosm--a little universe, formed of a\n host of self-propagating organisms, inconceivably minute and\n numerous as the stars of heaven.\n\n DARWIN.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nON ANIMAL LIFE--_continued._\n\n\nWe constantly speak of animals as free. A fish, says Ruskin, \"is much\nfreer than a Man; and as to a fly, it is a black incarnation of\nfreedom.\" It is pleasant to think of anything as free, but in this case\nthe idea is, I fear, to a great extent erroneous. Young animals may\nfrolic and play, but older ones take life very seriously. About the\nhabits of fish and flies, indeed, as yet we know very little. Any one,\nhowever, who will watch animals will soon satisfy himself how diligently\nthey work. Even when they seem to be idling over flowers, or wandering\naimlessly about, they are in truth diligently seeking for food, or\ncollecting materials for nests. The industry of Bees is proverbial. When\ncollecting honey or pollen they often visit over twenty flowers in a\nminute, keeping constantly to one species, without yielding a moment's\ndalliance to any more sweet or lovely tempter. Ants fully deserve the\ncommendation of Solomon. Wasps have not the same reputation for\nindustry; but I have watched them from before four in the morning till\ndark at night working like animated machines without a moment's rest or\nintermission. Sundays and Bank Holidays are all the same to them. Again,\nBirds have their own gardens and farms from which they do not wander,\nand within which they will tolerate no interference. Their ideas of the\nrights of property are far stricter than those of some statesmen. As to\nfreedom, they have their daily duties as much as a mechanic in a mill or\na clerk in an office. They suffer under alarms, moreover, from which we\nare happily free. Mr. Galton believes that the life of wild animals is\nvery anxious. \"From my own recollection,\" he says, \"I believe that every\nantelope in South Africa has to run for its life every one or two days\nupon an average, and that he starts or gallops under the influence of a\nfalse alarm many times in a day. Those who have crouched at night by the\nside of pools in the desert, in order to have a shot at the beasts that\nfrequent it, see strange scenes of animal life; how the creatures gambol\nat one moment and fight at another; how a herd suddenly halts in\nstrained attention, and then breaks into a maddened rush as one of them\nbecomes conscious of the stealthy movements or rank scent of a beast of\nprey. Now this hourly life-and-death excitement is a keen delight to\nmost wild creatures, but must be peculiarly distracting to the\ncomfort-loving temperament of others. The latter are alone suited to\nendure the crass habits and dull routine of domesticated life. Suppose\nthat an animal which has been captured and half-tamed, received\nill-usage from his captors, either as punishment or through mere\nbrutality, and that he rushed indignantly into the forest with his ribs\naching from blows and stones. If a comfort-loving animal, he will\nprobably be no gainer by the change, more serious alarms and no less\nill-usage awaits him: he hears the roar of the wild beasts, and the\nheadlong gallop of the frightened herds, and he finds the buttings and\nthe kicks of other animals harder to endure than the blows from which he\nfled: he has peculiar disadvantages from being a stranger; the herds of\nhis own species which he seeks for companionship constitute so many\ncliques, into which he can only find admission by more fighting with\ntheir strongest members than he has spirit to undergo. As a set-off\nagainst these miseries, the freedom of savage life has no charms for his\ntemperament; so the end of it is, that with a heavy heart he turns back\nto the habitation he had quitted.\"\n\nBut though animals may not be free, I hope and believe that they are\nhappy. Dr. Hudson, an admirable observer, assures us with confidence\nthat the struggle for existence leaves them much leisure and famous\nspirits. \"In the animal world,\" he exclaims,[15] \"what happiness reigns!\nWhat ease, grace, beauty, leisure, and content! Watch these living\nspecks as they glide through their forests of algae, all 'without hurry\nand care,' as if their 'span-long lives' really could endure for the\nthousand years that the old catch pines for. Here is no greedy jostling\nat the banquet that nature has spread for them; no dread of each other;\nbut a leisurely inspection of the field, that shows neither the pressure\nof hunger nor the dread of an enemy.\n\n\"'To labour and to be content' (that 'sweet life' of the son of\nSirach)--to be equally ready for an enemy or a friend--to trust in\nthemselves alone, to show a brave unconcern for the morrow, all these\nare the admirable points of a character almost universal among animals,\nand one that would lighten many a heart were it more common among men.\nThat character is the direct result of the golden law 'If one will not\nwork, neither let him eat'; a law whose stern kindness, unflinchingly\napplied, has produced whole nations of living creatures, without a\npauper in their ranks, flushed with health, alert, resolute,\nself-reliant, and singularly happy.\"\n\nIt has often been said that Man is the only animal gifted with the\npower of enjoying a joke, but if animals do not laugh, at any rate they\nsometimes play. We are, indeed, apt perhaps to credit them with too much\nof our own attributes and emotions, but we can hardly be mistaken in\nsupposing that they enjoy certain scents and sounds. It is difficult to\nseparate the games of kittens and lambs from those of children. Our\ncountryman Gould long ago described the \"amusements or sportive\nexercises\" which he had observed among Ants. Forel was at first\nincredulous, but finally confirmed these statements; and, speaking of\ncertain tropical Ants, Bates says \"the conclusion that they were engaged\nin play was irresistible.\"\n\n\nSLEEP\n\nWe share with other animals the great blessing of Sleep, nature's soft\nnurse, \"the mantle that covers thought, the food that appeases hunger,\nthe drink that quenches thirst, the fire that warms cold, the cold that\nmoderates heat, the coin that purchases all things, the balance and\nweight that equals the shepherd with the king, and the simple with the\nwise.\" Some animals dream as we do; Dogs, for instance, evidently dream\nof the chase. With the lower animals which cannot shut their eyes it is,\nhowever, more difficult to make sure whether they are awake or asleep. I\nhave often noticed insects at night, even when it was warm and light,\nbehave just as if they were asleep, and take no notice of objects which\nwould certainly have startled them in the day. The same thing has also\nbeen observed in the case of fish.\n\nBut why should we sleep? What a remarkable thing it is that one-third of\nour life should be passed in unconsciousness. \"Half of our days,\" says\nSir T. Browne, \"we pass in the shadow of the earth, and the brother of\ndeath extracteth a third part of our lives.\" The obvious suggestion is\nthat we require rest. But this does not fully meet the case. In sleep\nthe mind is still awake, and lives a life of its own: our thoughts\nwander, uncontrolled, by the will. The mind, therefore, is not\nnecessarily itself at rest; and yet we all know how it is refreshed by\nsleep.\n\nBut though animals sleep, many of them are nocturnal in their habits.\nHumboldt gives a vivid description of night in a Brazilian forest.\n\n\"Everything passed tranquilly till eleven at night, and then a noise so\nterrible arose in the neighbouring forest that it was almost impossible\nto close our eyes. Amid the cries of so many wild beasts howling at once\nthe Indians discriminated such only as were (at intervals) heard\nseparately. These were the little soft cries of the sapajous, the moans\nof the alouate apes, the howlings of the jaguar and couguar, the peccary\nand the sloth, and the cries of (many) birds. When the jaguars\napproached the skirt of the forest our dog, which till then had never\nceased barking, began to howl and seek for shelter beneath our hammocks.\nSometimes, after a long silence, the cry of the tiger came from the tops\nof the trees; and then it was followed by the sharp and long whistling\nof the monkeys, which appeared to flee from the danger which threatened\nthem. We heard the same noises repeated during the course of whole\nmonths whenever the forest approached the bed of the river.\n\n\"When the natives are interrogated on the causes of the tremendous noise\nmade by the beasts of the forest at certain hours of the night, the\nanswer is, they are keeping the feast of the full moon. I believe this\nagitation is most frequently the effect of some conflict that has arisen\nin the depths of the forest. The jaguars, for instance, pursue the\npeccaries and the tapirs, which, having no defence, flee in close\ntroops, and break down the bushes they find in their way. Terrified at\nthis struggle, the timid and distrustful monkeys answer, from the tops\nof the trees, the cries of the large animals. They awaken the birds that\nlive in society, and by degrees the whole assembly is in commotion. It\nis not always in a fine moonlight, but more particularly at the time of\na storm of violent showers, that this tumult takes place among the wild\nbeasts. 'May heaven grant them a quiet night and repose, and us also!'\nsaid the monk who accompanied us to the Rio Negro, when, sinking with\nfatigue, he assisted in arranging our accommodation for the night.\"\n\nLife is indeed among animals a struggle for existence, and in addition\nto the more usual weapons--teeth and claws--we find in some animals\nspecial and peculiar means of offence and defence.\n\nIf we had not been so familiarised with the fact, the possession of\npoison might well seem a wonderful gift. That a fluid, harmless in one\nanimal itself, should yet prove so deadly when transferred to others, is\ncertainly very remarkable; and though the venom of the Cobra or the\nRattlesnake appeal perhaps more effectively to our imagination, we have\nconclusive evidence of concentrated poison even in the bite of a midge,\nwhich may remain for days perceptible. The sting of a Bee or Wasp,\nthough somewhat similar in its effect, is a totally different organ,\nbeing a modified ovipositor. Some species of Ants do not sting in the\nordinary sense, but eject their acrid poison to a distance of several\ninches.\n\nAnother very remarkable weapon is the electric battery of certain Eels,\nof the Electric Cat Fish, and the Torpedoes, one of which is said to be\nable to discharge an amount of electricity sufficient to kill a Man.\n\nSome of the Medusae and other Zoophytes are armed by millions of minute\norgans known as \"thread cells.\" Each consists of a cell, within which a\nfirm, elastic thread is tightly coiled. The moment the Medusa touches\nits prey the cells burst and the threads spring out. Entering the flesh\nas they do by myriads, they prove very effective weapons.\n\nThe ink of the Sepia has passed into a proverb. The animal possesses a\nstore of dark fluid, which, if attacked, it at once ejects, and thus\nescapes under cover of the cloud thus created.\n\nThe so-called Bombardier Beetles, when attacked, discharge at the enemy,\nfrom the hinder part of their body, an acrid fluid which, as soon as it\ncomes in contact with air, explodes with a sound resembling a miniature\ngun. Westwood mentions, on the authority of Burchell, that on one\noccasion, \"whilst resting for the night on the banks of one of the\nlarge South American rivers, he went out with a lantern to make an\nastronomical observation, accompanied by one of his black servant boys;\nand as they were proceeding, their attention was directed to numerous\nbeetles running about upon the shore, which, when captured, proved to be\nspecimens of a large species of Brachinus. On being seized they\nimmediately began to play off their artillery, burning and staining the\nflesh to such a degree that only a few specimens could be captured with\nthe naked hand, and leaving a mark which remained a considerable time.\nUpon observing the whitish vapour with which the explosions were\naccompanied, the negro exclaimed in his broken English, with evident\nsurprise, 'Ah, massa, they make smoke!'\"\n\nMany other remarkable illustrations might be quoted; as for instance the\nweb of the Spider, the pit of the Ant Lion, the mephitic odour of the\nSkunk.\n\n\nSENSES\n\nWe generally attribute to animals five senses more or less resembling\nour own. But even as regards our own senses we really know or\nunderstand very little. Take the question of colour. The rainbow is\ncommonly said to consist of seven colours--red, orange, yellow, green,\nblue, indigo, and violet.\n\nBut it is now known that all our colour sensations are mixtures of three\nsimple colours, red, green, and violet. We are, however, absolutely\nignorant how we perceive these colours. Thomas Young suggested that we\nhave three different systems of nerve fibres, and Helmholtz regards this\nas \"a not improbable supposition\"; but so far as microscopical\nexamination is concerned, there is no evidence whatever for it.\n\nOr take again the sense of Hearing. The vibrations of the air no doubt\nplay upon the drum of the ear, and the waves thus produced are conducted\nthrough a complex chain of small bones to the fenestra ovalis and so to\nthe inner ear or labyrinth. But beyond this all is uncertainty. The\nlabyrinth consists mainly of two parts (1) the cochlea, and (2) the\nsemicircular canals, which are three in number, standing at right angles\nto one another. It has been supposed that they enable us to maintain\nthe equilibrium of the body, but no satisfactory explanation of their\nfunction has yet been given. In the cochlea, Corti discovered a\nremarkable organ consisting of some four thousand complex arches, which\nincrease regularly in length and diminish in height. They are connected\nat one end with the fibres of the auditory nerve, and Helmholtz has\nsuggested that the waves of sound play on them, like the fingers of a\nperformer on the keys of a piano, each separate arch corresponding to a\ndifferent sound. We thus obtain a glimpse, though but a glimpse, of the\nmanner in which perhaps we hear; but when we pass on to the senses of\nsmell and taste, all we know is that the extreme nerve fibres terminate\nin certain cells which differ in form from those of the general surface;\nbut in what manner the innumerable differences of taste or smell are\ncommunicated to the brain, we are absolutely ignorant.\n\nIf then we know so little about ourselves, no wonder that with reference\nto other animals our ignorance is extreme.\n\nWe are too apt to suppose that the senses of animals must closely\nresemble, and be confined to ours.\n\nNo one can doubt that the sensations of other animals differ in many\nways from ours. Their organs are sometimes constructed on different\nprinciples, and situated in very unexpected places. There are animals\nwhich have eyes on their backs, ears in their legs, and sing through\ntheir sides.\n\nWe all know that the senses of animals are in many cases much more acute\nthan ours, as for instance the power of scent in the dog, of sight in\nthe eagle. Moreover, our eye is much more sensitive to some colours than\nto others; least so to crimson, then successively to red, orange,\nyellow, blue, and green; the sensitiveness for green being as much as\n750 times as great as for red. This alone may make objects appear of\nvery different colours to different animals.\n\nNor is the difference one of degree merely. The rainbow, as we see it,\nconsists of seven colours--red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and\nviolet. But though the red and violet are the limits of the visible\nspectrum, they are not the limits of the spectrum itself, there are\nrays, though invisible to us, beyond the red at the one end, and beyond\nthe violet at the other: the existence of the ultra red can be\ndemonstrated by the thermometer; while the ultra violet are capable of\ntaking a photograph. But though the red and violet are respectively the\nlimits of our vision, I have shown[16] by experiments which have been\nrepeated and confirmed by other naturalists, that some of the lower\nanimals are capable of perceiving the ultra-violet rays, which to us are\ninvisible. It is an interesting question whether these rays may not\nproduce on them the impression of a new colour, or colours, differing\nfrom any of those known to us.\n\nSo again with hearing, not only may animals in some cases hear better\nthan we do, but sounds which are beyond the reach of our ears, may be\naudible to theirs. Even among ourselves the power of hearing shrill\nsounds is greater in some persons than in others. Sound, as we know, is\nproduced by vibration of the air striking on the drum of the ear, and\nthe fewer are the vibrations in a second, the deeper is the sound, which\nbecomes shriller and shriller as the waves of sound become more rapid.\nIn human ears the limits of hearing are reached when about 35,000\nvibrations strike the drum of the ear in a second.\n\nWhatever the explanation of the gift of hearing in ourselves may be,\ndifferent plans seem to be adopted in the case of other animals. In many\nCrustacea and Insects there are flattened hairs each connected with a\nnerve fibre, and so constituted as to vibrate in response to particular\nnotes. In others the ear cavity contains certain minute solid bodies,\nknown as otoliths, which in the same way play upon the nerve fibres.\nSometimes these are secreted by the walls of the cavity itself, but\ncertain Crustacea have acquired the remarkable habit of selecting after\neach moult suitable particles of sand, which they pick up with their\npincers and insert into their ears.\n\nMany insects, besides the two large \"compound\" eyes one on each side of\nthe head, have between them three small ones, known as the \"ocelli,\"\narranged in a triangle. The structure of these two sets of eyes is quite\ndifferent. The ocelli appear to see as our eyes do. The lens throws an\ninverted image on the back of the eye, so that with these eyes they must\nsee everything reversed, as we ourselves really do, though long practice\nenables us to correct the impression. On the other hand, the compound\neyes consist of a number of facets, in some species as many as 20,000 in\neach eye, and the prevailing impression among entomologists now is that\neach facet receives the impression of one pencil of rays, that in fact\nthe image formed in a compound eye is a sort of mosaic. In that case,\nvision by means of these eyes must be direct; and it is indeed difficult\nto understand how an insect can obtain a correct impression when it\nlooks at the world with five eyes, three of which see everything\nreversed, while the other two see things the right way up!\n\nOn the other hand, some regard each facet as an independent eye, in\nwhich case many insects realise the epigram of Plato--\n\n Thou lookest on the stars, my love,\n Ah, would that I could be\n Yon starry skies with thousand eyes,\n That I might look on thee!\n\nEven so, therefore, we only substitute one difficulty for another.\n\nBut this is not all. We have not only no proof that animals are confined\nto our five senses, but there are strong reasons for believing that this\nis not the case.\n\nIn the first place, many animals have organs which from their position,\nstructure, and rich supply of nerves, are evidently organs of sense; and\nyet which do not appear to be adapted to any one of our five senses.\n\nAs already mentioned, the limits of hearing are reached when about\n35,000 vibrations of the air strike on the drums of our ears. Light, as\nwas first conclusively demonstrated by our great countryman Young, is\nthe impression produced by vibration of the ether on the retina of the\neye. When 700 millions of millions of vibrations strike the eye in a\nsecond, we see violet; and the colour changes as the number diminishes,\n400 millions of millions giving us the impression of red.\n\nBetween 35 thousand and 400 millions of millions the interval is\nimmense, and it is obvious that there might be any number of sensations.\nWhen we consider how greatly animals differ from us, alike in habits and\nstructure, is it not possible, nay, more, is it not likely that some of\nthese problematical organs are the seats of senses unknown to us, and\ngive rise to sensations of which we have no conception?\n\nIn addition to the capacity for receiving and perceiving, some animals\nhave the faculty of emitting light. In our country the glow-worm is the\nmost familiar case, though some other insects and worms have, at any\nrate under certain conditions, the same power, and it is possible that\nmany others are really luminous, though with light which is invisible to\nus. In warmer climates the Fire-fly, Lanthorn-fly, and many other\ninsects, shine with much greater brilliance, and in these cases the\nglow seems to be a real love-light, like the lamp of Hero.\n\nMany small marine animals, Medusae, Crustacea, Worms, etc., are also\nbrilliantly luminous at night. Deep-sea animals are endowed also in many\ncases with special luminous organs, to which I shall refer again.\n\n\nSENSE OF DIRECTION\n\nIt has been supposed that animals possess also what has been called a\nSense of Direction. Many interesting cases are on record of animals\nfinding their way home after being taken a considerable distance. To\naccount for this fact it has been suggested that animals possess a sense\nwith which we are not endowed, or of which, at any rate, we possess only\na trace. The homing instinct of the pigeon has also been ascribed to the\nsame faculty. My brother Alfred, however, who has paid much attention to\npigeons, informs me that they are never taken any great distance at\nonce; but if they are intended to take a long flight, they are trained\nto do so by stages.\n\nDarwin suggested that it would be interesting to test the case by taking\nanimals in a close box, and then whirling them round rapidly before\nletting them out. This is in fact done with cats in some parts of\nFrance, when the family migrates, and is considered the only way of\npreventing the cat from returning to the old home. Fabre has tried the\nsame thing with some wild Bees (Chalicodoma). He took some, marked them\non the back with a spot of white, and put them into a bag. He then\ncarried them a quarter of a mile, stopping at a point where an old cross\nstands by the wayside, and whirled the bag rapidly round his head. While\nhe was doing so a good woman came by, who seemed not a little surprised\nto find the Professor solemnly whirling a black bag round his head in\nfront of the cross; and, he fears, suspected him of Satanic practices.\nHe then carried his Bees a mile and a half in the opposite direction and\nlet them go. Three out of ten found their way home. He tried the same\nexperiment several times, in one case taking them a little over two\nmiles. On an average about a third of the Bees found their way home. \"La\ndemonstration,\" says Fabre, \"est suffisante. Ni les mouvements\nenchevetres d'une rotation comme je l'ai decrite; ni l'obstacle de\ncollines a franchir et de bois a traverser; ni les embuches d'une voie\nqui s'avance, retrograde, et revient par un ample circuit, ne peuvent\ntroubler les Chalicodomes depayses et les empecher de revenir au nid.\"\n\nI must say, however, that I am not convinced. In the first place, the\ndistances were I think too short; and in the second, though it is true\nthat some of the Bees found their way home, nearly two-thirds failed to\ndo so. It would be interesting to try the experiment again, taking the\nBees say five miles. If they really possess any such sense, that\ndistance would be no bar to their return. I have myself experimented\nwith Ants, taking them about fifty yards from the nest, and I always\nfound that they wandered aimlessly about, having evidently not the\nslightest idea of their way home. They certainly did not appear to\npossess any \"sense of direction.\"\n\n\nNUMBER OF SPECIES\n\nThe total number of species may probably be safely estimated as at least\n2,000,000, of which but a fraction have yet been described or named. Of\nextinct species the number was probably at least as great. In the\ngeological history of the earth there have been at least twelve periods,\nin each of which by far the greatest number were distinct. The Ancient\nPoets described certain gifted mortals as having been privileged to\ndescend into the interior of the earth, and exercised their imagination\nin recounting the wonders thus revealed. As in other cases, however, the\nrealities of Science have proved far more varied and surprising than the\ndreams of fiction. Of these extinct species our knowledge is even more\nincomplete than that of the existing species. But even of our\ncontemporaries it is not too much to say that, as in the case of\nplants, there is not one the structure, habits, and life-history of\nwhich are yet fully known to us. The male of the Cynips, which produces\nthe common King Charles Oak Apple, has only recently been discovered,\nthose of the root-feeding Aphides, which live in hundreds in every nest\nof the yellow Meadow Ant (Lasius flavus) are still unknown; the habits\nand mode of reproduction of the common Eel have only just been\ndiscovered; and we may even say generally that many of the most\ninteresting recent discoveries have relation to the commonest and most\nfamiliar animals.\n\n\nIMPORTANCE OF THE SMALLER ANIMALS\n\nWhatever pre-eminence Man may claim for himself, other animals have done\nfar more to affect the face of nature. The principal agents have not\nbeen the larger or more intelligent, but rather the smaller, and\nindividually less important, species. Beavers may have dammed up many of\nthe rivers of British Columbia, and turned them into a succession of\npools or marshes, but this is a slight matter compared with the action\nof earthworms and insects[17] in the creation of vegetable soil; of the\naccumulation of animalcules in filling up harbours and lakes; or of\nZoophytes in the construction of coral islands.\n\nMicroscopic animals make up in number what they lack in size. Paris is\nbuilt of Infusoria. The Peninsula of Florida, 78,000 square miles in\nextent, is entirely composed of coral debris and fragments of shells.\nChalk consists mainly of Foraminifera and fragments of shells deposited\nin a deep sea. The number of shells required to make up a cubic inch is\nalmost incredible. Ehrenberg has estimated that of the Bilin polishing\nslate which caps the mountain, and has a thickness of forty feet, a\ncubic inch contains many hundred million shells of Infusoria.\n\nIn another respect these microscopic organisms are of vital importance.\nMany diseases are now known, and others suspected, to be entirely due to\nBacteria and other minute forms of life (Microbes), which multiply\nincredibly, and either destroy their victims, or after a while diminish\nagain in numbers. We live indeed in a cloud of Bacteria. At the\nobservatory of Montsouris at Paris it has been calculated that there are\nabout 80 in each cubic meter of air. Elsewhere, however, they are much\nmore numerous. Pasteur's researches on the Silkworm disease led him to\nthe discovery of Bacterium anthracis, the cause of splenic fever.\nMicrobes are present in persons suffering from cholera, typhus,\nwhooping-cough, measles, hydrophobia, etc., but as to their history and\nconnection with disease we have yet much to learn. It is fortunate,\nindeed, that they do not all attack us.\n\nIn surgical cases, again, the danger of compound fractures and\nmortification of wounds has been found to be mainly due to the presence\nof microscopic organisms; and Lister, by his antiseptic treatment which\ndestroys these germs or prevents their access, has greatly diminished\nthe danger of operations, and the sufferings of recovery.\n\n\nSIZE OF ANIMALS\n\nIn the size of animals we find every gradation from these atoms which\neven in the most powerful microscopes appear as mere points, up to the\ngigantic reptiles of past ages and the Whales of our present ocean. The\nhorned Ray or Skate is 25 feet in length, by 30 in width. The\nCuttle-fishes of our seas, though so hideous as to resemble a bad dream,\nare too small to be formidable; but off the Newfoundland coast is a\nspecies with arms sometimes 30 feet long, so as to be 60 feet from tip\nto tip. The body, however, is small in proportion. The Giraffe attains a\nheight of over 20 feet; the Elephant, though not so tall, is more bulky;\nthe Crocodile reaches a length of over 20 feet, the Python of 60 feet,\nthe extinct Titanosaurus of the American Jurassic beds, the largest land\nanimal yet known to us, 100 feet in length and 30 in height; the\nWhalebone Whale over 70 feet, Sibbald's Whale is said to have reached\n80-90, which is perhaps the limit. Captain Scoresby indeed mentions a\nRorqual no less than 120 feet in length, but this is probably too great\nan estimate.\n\n\nCOMPLEXITY OF ANIMAL STRUCTURE\n\nThe complexity of animal structure is even more marvellous than their\nmere magnitude. A Caterpillar contains more than 2000 muscles. In our\nown body are some 2,000,000 perspiration glands, communicating with the\nsurface by ducts having a total length of some 10 miles; while that of\nthe arteries, veins, and capillaries must be very great; the blood\ncontains millions of millions of corpuscles, each no doubt a complex\nstructure in itself; the rods in the retina, which are supposed to be\nthe ultimate recipient of light, are estimated at 30,000,000; and\nMeinert has calculated that the gray matter of the brain is built up of\nat least 600,000,000 cells. No verbal description, however, can do\njustice to the marvellous complexity of animal structure, which the\nmicroscope alone, and even that but faintly, can enable us to realise.\n\n\nLENGTH OF LIFE\n\nHow little we yet know of the life-history of Animals is illustrated by\nthe vagueness of our information as to the age to which they live.\nProfessor Lankester[18] tells us that \"the paucity and uncertainty of\nobservations on this class of facts is extreme.\" The Rabbit is said to\nreach 10 years, the Dog and Sheep 10-12, the Pig 20, the Horse 30, the\nCamel 100, the Elephant 200, the Greenland Whale 400 (?): among Birds,\nthe Parrot to attain 100 years, the Raven even more. The Atur Parrot\nmentioned by Humboldt, talked, but could not be understood, because it\nspoke in the language of an extinct Indian tribe. It is supposed from\ntheir rate of growth that among Fish the Carp is said to reach 150\nyears; and a Pike, 19 feet long, and weighing 350 lbs., is said to have\nbeen taken in Suabia in 1497 carrying a ring, on which was inscribed, \"I\nam the fish which was first of all put into the lake by the hands of the\nGovernor of the Universe, Frederick the Second, the 5th Oct. 1230.\" This\nwould imply an age of over 267 years. Many Reptiles are no doubt very\nlong-lived. A Tortoise is said to have reached 500 years. As regards the\nlower animals, the greatest age on record is that of Sir J. Dalzell's\nSea Anemone, which lived for over 50 years. Insects are generally\nshort-lived; the Queen Bee, however, is said by Aristotle, whose\nstatement has not been confirmed by recent writers, to live 7 years. I\nmyself had a Queen Ant which attained the age of 15 years.\n\nThe May Fly (Ephemera) is celebrated as living only for a day, and has\ngiven its name to all things short-lived. The statement usually made is,\nindeed, very misleading, for in its larval condition the Ephemera lives\nfor weeks. Many writers have expressed surprise that in the perfect\nstate its life should be so short. It is, however, so defenceless, and,\nmoreover, so much appreciated by birds and fish, that unless they laid\ntheir eggs very rapidly none would perhaps survive to continue the\nspecies.\n\nMany of these estimates are, as will be seen, very vague and doubtful,\nso that we must still admit with Bacon that, \"touching the length and\nshortness of life in living creatures, the information which may be had\nis but slender, observation is negligent, and tradition fabulous. In\ntame creatures their degenerate life corrupteth them, in wild creatures\ntheir exposing to all weathers often intercepteth them.\"\n\n\nON INDIVIDUALITY\n\nWhen we descend still lower in the animal scale, the consideration of\nthis question opens out a very curious and interesting subject connected\nwith animal individuality. As regards the animals with which we are\nmost familiar no such question intrudes. Among quadrupeds and birds,\nfishes and reptiles, there is no difficulty in deciding whether a given\norganism is an individual, or a part of an individual. Nor does the\ndifficulty arise in the case of most insects. The Bee or Butterfly lays\nan egg which develops successively into a larva and pupa, finally\nproducing Bee or Butterfly. In these cases, therefore, the egg, larva,\npupa, and perfect Insect, are regarded as stages in the life of a single\nindividual. In certain gnats, however, the larva itself produces young\nlarvae, each of which develops into a gnat, so that the egg produces not\none gnat but many gnats.\n\nThe difficulty of determining what constitutes an individual becomes\nstill greater among the Zoophytes. These beautiful creatures in many\ncases so closely resemble plants, that until our countryman Ellis proved\nthem to be animals, Crabbe was justified in saying--\n\n Involved in seawrack here we find a race,\n Which Science, doubting, knows not where to place;\n On shell or stone is dropped the embryo seed,\n And quickly vegetates a vital breed.\n\nWe cannot wonder that such organisms were long regarded as belonging to\nthe vegetable kingdom. The cups which terminate the branches contain,\nhowever, an animal structure, resembling a small Sea Anemone, and\npossessing arms which capture the food by which the whole colony is\nnourished. Some of these cups, moreover, differ from the rest, and\nproduce eggs. These then we might be disposed to term ovaries. But in\nmany species they detach themselves from the group and lead an\nindependent existence. Thus we find a complete gradation from structures\nwhich, regarded by themselves, we should unquestionably regard as mere\norgans, to others which are certainly separate and independent beings.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 2.--Bougainvillea fruticosa; natural size. (After\nAllman.)]\n\nFig. 2 represents, after Allman, a colony of Bougainvillea fruticosa of\nthe natural size. It is a British species, which is found growing on\nbuoys, floating timber, etc., and, says Allman, \"When in health and\nvigour, offers a spectacle unsurpassed in interest by any other\nspecies--every branchlet crowned by its graceful hydranth, and budding\nwith Medusae in all stages of development (Fig. 3), some still in the\ncondition of minute buds, in which no trace of the definite Medusa-form\ncan yet be detected; others, in which the outlines of the Medusa can be\ndistinctly traced within the transparent ectotheque (external layer);\nothers, again, just casting off this thin outer pellicle, and others\ncompletely freed from it, struggling with convulsive efforts to break\nloose from the colony, and finally launched forth in the full enjoyment\nof their freedom into the surrounding water. I know of no form in which\nso many of the characteristic features of a typical hydroid are more\nfinely expressed than in this beautiful species.\"\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 3.--Bougainvillea fruticosa; magnified to show\ndevelopment.]\n\nFig. 4 represents the Medusa or free form of this beautiful species.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 4.--Bougainvillea fruticosa, Medusa-form.]\n\nIf we pass to another great group of Zoophytes, that of the\nJelly-fishes, we have a very similar case. For our first knowledge of\nthe life-history of these Zoophytes we are indebted to the Norwegian\nnaturalist Sars. Take, for instance, the common Jelly-fish (Medusa\naurita) (Fig. 5) of our shores.\n\nThe egg is a pear-shaped body (_1_), covered with fine hairs, by the aid\nof which it swims about, the broader end in front. After a while it\nattaches itself, not as might have been expected by the posterior but by\nthe anterior extremity (_2_). The cilia then disappear, a mouth is\nformed at the free end, tentacles, first four (_3_), then eight, and at\nlength as many as thirty (_4_), are formed, and the little creature\nresembles in essentials the freshwater polyp (Hydra) of our ponds.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 5.--Medusa aurita, and progressive stages of\ndevelopment.]\n\nAt the same time transverse wrinkles (_4_) are formed round the body,\nfirst near the free extremity and then gradually descending. They become\ndeeper and deeper, and develop lobes or divisions one under the other,\nas at _5_. After a while the top ring (and subsequently the others one\nby one) detaches itself, swims away, and gradually develops into a\nMedusa (_6_). Thus, then, the life-history is very similar to that of\nthe Hydroids, only that while in the Hydroids the fixed condition is the\nmore permanent, and the free swimming more transitory, in the Medusae,\non the contrary, the fixed condition is apparently only a phase in the\nproduction of the free swimming animal. In both the one and the other,\nhowever, the egg gives rise not to one but to many mature animals.\nSteenstrup has given to these curious phenomena, many other cases of\nwhich occur among the lower animals, and to which he first called\nattention, the name of alternations of generations.\n\nIn the life-history of Infusoria (so called because they swarm in most\nanimal or vegetable infusions) similar difficulties encounter us. The\nlittle creatures, many of which are round or oval in form, from time to\ntime become constricted in the middle; the constriction becomes deeper\nand deeper, and at length the two halves twist themselves apart and swim\naway. In this case, therefore, there was one, and there are now two\nexactly similar; but are these two individuals? They are not parent and\noffspring--that is clear, for they are of the same age; nor are they\ntwins, for there is no parent. As already mentioned, we regard the\nCaterpillar, Chrysalis, and Butterfly as stages in the life-history of\na single individual. But among Zoophytes, and even among some insects,\none larva often produces several mature forms. In some species these\nmature forms remain attached to the larval stock, and we might be\ndisposed to regard the whole as one complex organism. But in others they\ndetach themselves and lead an independent existence.\n\nThese considerations then introduce much difficulty into our conception\nof the idea of an Individual.\n\n\nANIMAL IMMORTALITY\n\nBut, further than this, we are confronted by by another problem. If we\nregard a mass of coral as an individual because it arises by continuous\ngrowth from a single egg, then it follows that some corals must be\nthousands of years old.\n\nSome of the lower animals may be cut into pieces, and each piece will\ndevelop into an entire organism. In fact the realisation of the idea of\nan individual gradually becomes more and more difficult, and the\ncontinuity of existence, even among the highest animals, gradually\nforces itself upon us. I believe that as we become more rational, as we\nrealise more fully the conditions of existence, this consideration is\nlikely to have important moral results.\n\nIt is generally considered that death is the common lot of all living\nbeings. But is this necessarily so? Infusoria and other unicellular\nanimals multiply by division. That is to say, if we watch one for a\ncertain time, we shall observe, as already mentioned, that a\nconstriction takes place, which grows gradually deeper and deeper, until\nat last the two halves become quite detached, and each swims away\nindependently. The process is repeated over and over again, and in this\nmanner the species is propagated. Here obviously there is no birth and\nno death. Such creatures may be killed, but they have no natural term of\nlife. They are, in fact, theoretically immortal. Those which lived\nmillions of years ago may have gone on dividing and subdividing, and in\nthis sense multitudes of the lower animals are millions of years old.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[15] Address to Microscopical Society, 1890.\n\n[16] _Ants, Bees, and Wasps_, and _The Senses of Animals_.\n\n[17] Prof. Drummond (_Tropical Africa_) dwells with great force on the\nmanner in which the soil of Central Africa is worked up by the White\nAnts.\n\n[18] Lankester, _Comparative Longevity_. See also Weismann, _Duration of\nLife_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nON PLANT LIFE\n\n Flower in the crannied wall,\n I pluck you out of the crannies,\n I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,\n Little flower--but _if_ I could understand\n What you are, root and all, and all in all,\n I should know what God and man is.\n\n TENNYSON.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nON PLANT LIFE\n\n\nWe are told that in old days the Fairies used to give presents of\nFlowers and Leaves to those whom they wished to reward, or whom they\nloved best; and though these gifts were, it appears, often received with\ndisappointment, still it will probably be admitted that flowers have\ncontributed more to the happiness of our lives than either gold or\nsilver or precious stones; and that our happiest days have been spent\nout-of-doors in the woods and fields, when we have\n\n ... found in every woodland way\n The sunlight tint of Fairy Gold.[19]\n\nTo many minds Flowers acquired an additional interest when it was shown\nthat there was a reason for their colour, size, and form--in fact, for\nevery detail of their organisation. If we did but know all that the\nsmallest flower could tell us, we should have solved some of the\ngreatest mysteries of Nature. But we cannot hope to succeed--even if we\nhad the genius of Plato or Aristotle--without careful, patient, and\nreverent study. From such an inquiry we may hope much; already we have\nglimpses, enough to convince us that the whole history will open out to\nus conceptions of the Universe wider and grander than any which the\nImagination alone would ever have suggested.\n\nAttempts to explain the forms, colours, and other characteristics of\nanimals and plants are by no means new. Our Teutonic forefathers had a\npretty story which explained certain points about several common plants.\nBalder, the God of Mirth and Merriment, was, characteristically enough,\nregarded as deficient in the possession of immortality. The other\ndivinities, fearing to lose him, petitioned Thor to make him immortal,\nand the prayer was granted on condition that every animal and plant\nwould swear not to injure him. To secure this object, Nanna, Balder's\nwife, descended upon the earth. Loki, the God of Envy, followed her,\ndisguised as a crow (which at that time were white), and settled on a\nlittle blue flower, hoping to cover it up, so that Nanna might overlook\nit. The flower, however, cried out \"forget-me-not, forget-me-not,\" and\nhas ever since been known under that name. Loki then flew up into an oak\nand sat on a mistletoe. Here he was more successful. Nanna carried off\nthe oath of the oak, but overlooked the mistletoe. She thought, however,\nand the divinities thought, that she had successfully accomplished her\nmission, and that Balder had received the gift of immortality.\n\nOne day, supposing Balder proof, they amused themselves by shooting at\nhim, posting him against a Holly. Loki tipped an arrow with a piece of\nMistletoe, against which Balder was not proof, and gave it to Balder's\nbrother. This, unfortunately, pierced him to the heart, and he fell\ndead. Some drops of his blood spurted on to the Holly, which accounts\nfor the redness of the berries; the Mistletoe was so grieved that she\nhas ever since borne fruit like tears; and the crow, whose form Loki had\ntaken, and which till then had been white, was turned black.\n\nThis pretty myth accounts for several things, but is open to fatal\nobjections.\n\nRecent attempts to explain the facts of Nature are not less fascinating,\nand, I think, more successful.\n\nWhy then this marvellous variety? this inexhaustible treasury of\nbeautiful forms? Does it result from some innate tendency in each\nspecies? Is it intentionally designed to delight the eye of man? Or has\nthe form and size and texture some reference to the structure and\norganisation, the habits and requirements of the whole plant?\n\nI shall never forget hearing Darwin's paper on the structure of the\nCowslip and Primrose, after which even Sir Joseph Hooker compared\nhimself to Peter Bell, to whom\n\n A primrose by a river's brim\n A yellow primrose was to him,\n And it was nothing more.\n\nWe all, I think, shared the same feeling, and found that the explanation\nof the flower then given, and to which I shall refer again, invested it\nwith fresh interest and even with new beauty.\n\nA regular flower, such, for instance, as a Geranium or a Pink, consists\nof four or more whorls of leaves, more or less modified: the lowest\nwhorl is the Calyx, and the separate leaves of which it is composed,\nwhich however are sometimes united into a tube, are called sepals; (2) a\nsecond whorl, the corolla, consisting of coloured leaves called petals,\nwhich, however, like those of the Calyx, are often united into a tube;\n(3) of one or more stamens, consisting of a stalk or filament, and a\nhead or anther, in which the pollen is produced; and (4) a pistil, which\nis situated in the centre of the flower, and at the base of which is the\nOvary, containing one or more seeds.\n\nAlmost all large flowers are brightly coloured, many produce honey, and\nmany are sweet-scented.\n\nWhat, then, is the use and purpose of this complex organisation?\n\nIt is, I think, well established that the main object of the colour,\nscent, and honey of flowers is to attract insects, which are of use to\nthe plant in carrying the pollen from flower to flower.\n\nIn many species the pollen is, and no doubt it originally was in all,\ncarried by the air. In these cases the chance against any given grain of\npollen reaching the pistil of another flower of the same species is of\ncourse very great, and the quantity of pollen required is therefore\nimmense.\n\nIn species where the pollen is wind-borne as in most of our trees--firs,\noaks, beech, ash, elm, etc., and many herbaceous plants, the flowers are\nas a rule small and inconspicuous, greenish, and without either scent or\nhoney. Moreover, they generally flower early, so that the pollen may not\nbe intercepted by the leaves, but may have a better chance of reaching\nanother flower. And they produce an immense quantity of pollen, as\notherwise there would be little chance that any would reach the female\nflower. Every one must have noticed the clouds of pollen produced by\nthe Scotch Fir. When, on the contrary, the pollen is carried by insects,\nthe quantity necessary is greatly reduced. Still it has been calculated\nthat a Peony flower produces between 3,000,000 and 4,000,000 pollen\ngrains; in the Dandelion, which is more specialised, the number is\nreduced to about 250,000; while in such a flower as the Dead-nettle it\nis still smaller.\n\nThe honey attracts the insects; while the scent and colour help them to\nfind the flowers, the scent being especially useful at night, which is\nperhaps the reason why evening flowers are so sweet.\n\nIt is to insects, then, that flowers owe their beauty, scent, and\nsweetness. Just as gardeners, by continual selection, have added so much\nto the beauty of our gardens, so to the unconscious action of insects is\ndue the beauty, scent, and sweetness of the flowers of our woods and\nfields.\n\nLet us now apply these views to a few common flowers. Take, for\ninstance, the White Dead-nettle.\n\nThe corolla of this beautiful and familiar flower (Fig. 6) consists of\na narrow tube, somewhat expanded at the upper end (Fig. 7), where the\nlower lobe forms a platform, on each side of which is a small projecting\ntooth (Fig. 8, _m_). The upper portion of the corolla is an arched hood\n(_co_), under which lie four anthers (_a a_), in pairs, while between\nthem, and projecting somewhat downwards, is the pointed pistil (_st_);\nthe tube at the lower part contains honey, and above the honey is a row\nof hairs running round the tube.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 6--White Dead-nettle.]\n\nNow, why has the flower this peculiar form? What regulates the length of\nthe tube? What is the use of the arch? What lesson do the little teeth\nteach us? What advantage is the honey to the flower? Of what use is the\nfringe of hairs? Why does the stigma project beyond the anthers? Why is\nthe corolla white, while the rest of the plant is green?\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 7.]\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 8.]\n\nThe honey of course serves to attract the Humble Bees by which the\nflower is fertilised, and to which it is especially adapted; the white\ncolour makes the flower more conspicuous; the lower lip forms the stage\non which the Bees may alight; the length of the tube is adapted to that\nof their proboscis; its narrowness and the fringe of fine hairs exclude\nsmall insects which might rob the flower of its honey without performing\nany service in return; the arched upper lip protects the stamens and\npistil, and prevents rain-drops from choking up the tube and washing\naway the honey; the little teeth are, I believe, of no use to the\nflower in its present condition, they are the last relics of lobes once\nmuch larger, and still remaining so in some allied species, but which in\nthe Dead-nettle, being no longer of any use, are gradually disappearing;\nthe height of the arch has reference to the size of the Bee, being just\nso much above the alighting stage that the Bee, while sucking the honey,\nrubs its back against the hood and thus comes in contact first with the\nstigma and then with the anthers, the pollen-grains from which adhere to\nthe hairs on the Bee's back, and are thus carried off to the next flower\nwhich the Bee visits, when some of them are then licked off by the\nviscid tip of the stigma.[20]\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 9.]\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 10.]\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 11.]\n\nIn the Salvias, the common blue Salvia of our gardens, for instance,--a\nplant allied to the Dead-nettle,--the flower (Fig. 9) is constructed on\nthe same plan, but the arch is much larger, so that the back of the Bee\ndoes not nearly reach it. The stamens, however, have undergone a\nremarkable modification. Two of them have become small and functionless.\nIn the other two the anthers or cells producing the pollen, which in\nmost flowers form together a round knob or head at the top of the\nstamen, are separated by a long arm, which plays on the top of the\nstamen as on a hinge. Of these two arms one hangs down into the tube,\nclosing the passage, while the other lies under the arched upper lip.\nWhen the Bee pushes its proboscis down the tube (Fig. 11) it presses the\nlower arm to one side, and the upper arm consequently descends, tapping\nthe Bee on the back, and dusting it with pollen. When the flower is a\nlittle older the pistil (Fig. 9, _p_) has elongated so that the stigma\n(Fig. 10, _st_) touches the back of the Bee and carries off some of the\npollen. This sounds a little complicated, but is clear enough if we take\na twig or stalk of grass and push it down the tube, when one arm of each\nof the two larger stamens will at once make its appearance. It is one of\nthe most beautiful pieces of plant mechanism which I know, and was first\ndescribed by Sprengel, a poor German schoolmaster.\n\n\nSNAPDRAGON\n\nAt first sight it may seem an objection to the view here advocated that\nthe flowers in some species--as, for instance, the common Snapdragon\n(Antirrhinum), which, according to the above given tests, ought to be\nfertilised by insects--are entirely closed. A little consideration,\nhowever, will suggest the reply. The Snapdragon is especially adapted\nfor fertilisation by Humble Bees. The stamens and pistil are so\narranged that smaller species would not effect the object. It is\ntherefore an advantage that they should be excluded, and in fact they\nare not strong enough to move the spring. The Antirrhinum is, so to\nspeak, a closed box, of which the Humble Bees alone possess the key.\n\n\nFURZE, BROOM, AND LABURNUM\n\nOther flowers such as the Furze, Broom, Laburnum, etc., are also opened\nby Bees. The petals lock more or less into one another, and the flower\nremains at first closed. When, however, the insect alighting on it\npresses down the keel, the flower bursts open, and dusts it with pollen.\n\n\nSWEET PEA\n\nIn the above cases the flower once opened does not close again. In\nothers, such as the Sweet Pea and the Bird's-foot Lotus, Nature has\nbeen more careful. When the Bee alights it clasps the \"wings\" of the\nflower with its legs, thus pressing them down; they are, however, locked\ninto the \"keel,\" or lower petal, which accordingly is also forced down,\nthus exposing the pollen which rubs against, and part of which sticks\nto, the breast of the Bee. When she leaves the flower the keel and wings\nrise again, thus protecting the rest of the pollen and keeping it ready\nuntil another visitor comes. It is easy to carry out the same process\nwith the fingers.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 12. Fig. 13.\n\nFlower and Pollen of Primrose]\n\n\nPRIMULA\n\nIn the Primrose and Cowslip, again, we find quite a different plan. It\nhad long been known that if a number of Cowslips or Primroses are\nexamined, about half would be found to have the stigma at the top of the\ntube and the stamens half way down, while in the other half the stamens\nare at the top and the stigma half way down. These two forms are about\nequally numerous, but never occur on the same stock. They have been long\nknown to children and gardeners, who call them thrum-eyed and pin-eyed.\nMr. Darwin was the first to explain the significance of this curious\ndifference. It cost him several years of patient labour, but when once\npointed out it is sufficiently obvious. An insect thrusting its\nproboscis down a primrose of the long-styled form (Fig. 12) would dust\nits proboscis at a part (_a_) which, when it visited a short-styled\nflower (Fig. 13), would come just opposite the head of the pistil\n(_st_), and could not fail to deposit some of the pollen on the stigma.\nConversely, an insect visiting a short-styled plant would dust its\nproboscis at a part farther from the tip; which, when the insect\nsubsequently visited a long-styled flower, would again come just\nopposite to the head of the pistil. Hence we see that by this beautiful\narrangement insects must carry the pollen of the long-styled form to the\nshort-styled, and _vice versa_.\n\nThe economy of pollen is not the only advantage which plants derive from\nthese visits of Insects. A second and scarcely less important is that\nthey tend to secure \"cross fertilisation\"; that is to say, that the seed\nshall be fertilised by pollen from another plant. The fact that \"cross\nfertilisation\" is of advantage to the plant doubtless also explains the\ncurious arrangement that in many plants the stamen and pistil do not\nmature at the same time--the former having shed their pollen before the\npistil is mature; or, which happens less often, the pistil having\nwithered before the pollen is ripe. In most Geraniums, Pinks, etc., for\ninstance, and many allied species, the stamens ripen first, and are\nfollowed after an interval by the pistil.\n\n\nTHE NOTTINGHAM CATCHFLY\n\nThe Nottingham Catchfly (Silene nutans) is a very interesting case. The\nflower is adapted to be fertilised by Moths. Accordingly it opens\ntowards evening, and as is generally the case with such flowers, is pale\nin colour, and sweet-scented. There are two sets of stamens, five in\neach set. The first evening that the flower opens one set of stamens\nripen and expose their pollen. Towards morning these wither away, the\nflower shrivels up, ceases to emit scent, and looks as if it were faded.\nSo it remains all next day. Towards evening it reopens, the second set\nof stamens have their turn, and the flower again becomes fragrant. By\nmorning, however, the second set of stamens have shrivelled, and the\nflower is again asleep. Finally on the third evening it reopens for the\nlast time, the long spiral stigmas expand, and can hardly fail to be\nfertilised with the pollen brought by Moths from other flowers.\n\n\nTHE HEATH\n\nIn the hanging flowers of Heaths the stamens form a ring, and each one\nbears two horns. When the Bee inserts its proboscis into the flower to\nreach the honey, it is sure to press against one of these horns, the\nring is dislocated, and the pollen falls on to the head of the insect.\nIn fact, any number of other interesting cases might be mentioned.\n\n\nBEES AND FLIES\n\nBees are intelligent insects, and would soon cease to visit flowers\nwhich did not supply them with food. Flies, however, are more stupid,\nand are often deceived. Thus in our lovely little Parnassia, five of the\nten stamens have ceased to produce pollen, but are prolonged into\nfingers, each terminating in a shining yellow knob, which looks exactly\nlike a drop of honey, and by which Flies are continually deceived.\nParis quadrifolia also takes them in with a deceptive promise of the\nsame kind. Some foreign plants have livid yellow and reddish flowers,\nwith a most offensive smell, and are constantly visited by Flies, which\napparently take them for pieces of decaying meat.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 14.--Arum.]\n\nThe flower of the common Lords and Ladies (Arum) of our hedges is a very\ninteresting case. The narrow neck bears a number of hairs pointing\ndownwards. The stamens are situated above the stigma, which comes to\nmaturity first. Small Flies enter the flower apparently for shelter, but\nthe hairs prevent them from returning, and they are kept captive until\nthe anthers have shed their pollen. Then, when the Flies have been well\ndusted, the hairs shrivel up, leaving a clear road, and the prisoners\nare permitted to escape. The tubular flowers of Aristolochia offer a\nvery similar case.\n\n\nPAST HISTORY OF FLOWERS\n\nIf the views here advocated are correct, it follows that the original\nflowers were small and green, as wind-fertilised flowers are even now.\nBut such flowers are inconspicuous. Those which are coloured, say yellow\nor white, are of course much more visible and more likely to be visited\nby insects. I have elsewhere given my reasons for thinking that under\nthese circumstances some flowers became yellow, that some of them became\nwhite, others subsequently red, and some finally blue. It will be\nobserved that red and blue flowers are as a rule highly specialised,\nsuch as Aconites and Larkspurs as compared with Buttercups; blue\nGentians as compared with yellow, etc. I have found by experiment that\nBees are especially partial to blue and pink.\n\nTubular flowers almost always, if not always, contain honey, and are\nspecially suited to Butterflies and Moths, Bees and Flies. Those which\nare fertilised by Moths generally come out in the evening, are often\nvery sweetly scented, and are generally white or pale yellow, these\ncolours being most visible in the twilight.\n\nAristotle long ago noticed the curious fact that in each journey Bees\nconfine themselves to some particular flower. This is an economy of\nlabour to the Bee, because she has not to vary her course of proceeding.\nIt is also an advantage to the plants, because the pollen is carried\nfrom each flower to another of the same species, and is therefore less\nlikely to be wasted.\n\n\nFRUITS AND SEEDS\n\nAfter the flower comes the seed, often contained in a fruit, and which\nitself encloses the future plant. Fruits and seeds are adapted for\ndispersion, beautifully and in various ways: some by the wind, being\neither provided with a wing, as in the fruits of many trees--Sycamores,\nAsh, Elms, etc.; or with a hairy crown or covering, as with Thistles,\nDandelions, Willows, Cotton plant, etc.\n\nSome seeds are carried by animals; either as food--such as most edible\nfruits and seeds, acorns, nuts, apples, strawberries, raspberries,\nblackberries, plums, grasses, etc.--or involuntarily, the seeds having\nhooked hairs or processes, such as burrs, cleavers, etc.\n\nSome seeds are scattered by the plants themselves, as, for instance,\nthose of many Geraniums, Violets, Balsams, Shamrocks, etc. Our little\nHerb Robert throws its seeds some 25 feet.\n\nSome seeds force themselves into the ground, as those of certain\ngrasses, Cranes'-bills (Erodiums), etc.\n\nSome are buried by the parent plants, as those of certain clovers,\nvetches, violets, etc.\n\nSome attach themselves to the soil, as those of the Flax; or to trees,\nas in the case of the Mistletoe.\n\n\nLEAVES\n\nAgain, as regards the leaves there can, I think, be no doubt that\nsimilar considerations of utility are applicable. Their forms are\nalmost infinitely varied. To quote Ruskin's vivid words, they \"take all\nkinds of strange shapes, as if to invite us to examine them.\nStar-shaped, heart-shaped, spear-shaped, arrow-shaped, fretted, fringed,\ncleft, furrowed, serrated, sinuated, in whorls, in tufts, in spires, in\nwreaths, endlessly expressive, deceptive, fantastic, never the same from\nfoot-stalk to blossom, they seem perpetually to tempt our watchfulness\nand take delight in outstepping our wonder.\"\n\nBut besides these differences of mere form, there are many others: of\nstructure, texture, and surface; some are scented or have a strong\ntaste, or acrid juice, some are smooth, others hairy; and the hairs\nagain are of various kinds.\n\nI have elsewhere[21] endeavoured to explain some of the causes which\nhave determined these endless varieties. In the Beech, for instance\n(Fig. 15), the leaf has an area of about 3 square inches. The distance\nbetween the buds is about 1-1/4 inch, and the leaves lie in the general\nplane of the branch, which bends slightly at each internode. The basal\nhalf of the leaf fits the swell of the twig, while the upper half\nfollows the edge of the leaf above; and the form of the inner edge being\nthus determined, decides that of the outer one also.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 15.--Beech.]\n\nThe weight, and consequently the size of the leaf, is limited by the\nstrength of the twig; and, again, in a climate such as ours it is\nimportant to plants to have their leaves so arranged as to secure the\nmaximum of light. Hence in leaves which lie parallel to the plane of the\nboughs, as in the Beech, the width depends partly on the distance\nbetween the buds; if the leaves were broader, they would overlap, if\nthey were narrower, space would be wasted. Consequently the width being\ndetermined by the distance between the buds, and the size depending on\nthe weight which the twig can safely support, the length also is\ndetermined. This argument is well illustrated by comparing the leaves of\nthe Beech with those of the Spanish Chestnut. The arrangement is\nsimilar, and the distance between the buds being about the same, so is\nthe width of the leaves. But the terminal branches of the Spanish\nChestnut being much stronger, the leaves can safely be heavier; hence\nthe width being fixed, they grow in length and assume the well-known and\npeculiar sword-blade shape.\n\nIn the Sycamores, Maples (Fig. 16), and Horse-Chestnuts the arrangement\nis altogether different. The shoots are stiff and upright with leaves\nplaced at right angles to the branches instead of being parallel to\nthem. The leaves are in pairs and decussate with one another; while the\nlower ones have long petioles which bring them almost to the level of\nthe upper pairs, the whole thus forming a beautiful dome.\n\nFor leaves arranged as in the Beech the gentle swell at the base is\nadmirably suited; but in a crown of leaves such as those of the\nSycamore, space would be wasted, and it is better that they should\nexpand at once, so soon as their stalks have carried them free from the\nupper and inner leaves.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 16.--Acer platanoides.]\n\nIn the Black Poplar the arrangement of the leaves is again quite\ndifferent. The leaf stalk is flattened, so that the leaves hang\nvertically. In connection with this it will be observed that while in\nmost leaves the upper and under surfaces are quite unlike, in the Black\nPoplar on the contrary they are very similar. The stomata or breathing\nholes, moreover, which in the leaves of most trees are confined to the\nunder surface, are in this species nearly equally numerous on both.\n\nThe \"Compass\" Plant of the American prairies, a plant not unlike a small\nsunflower, is another species with upright leaves, which growing in the\nwide open prairies tend to point north and south, thus exposing both\nsurfaces equally to the light and heat. Such a position also affects the\ninternal structure of the leaf, the two sides becoming similar in\nstructure, while in other cases the upper and under surfaces are very\ndifferent.\n\nIn the Yew the leaves are inserted close to one another, and are linear;\nwhile in the Box they are further apart and broader. In other cases the\nwidth of the leaves is determined by what botanists call the\n\"Phyllotaxy.\" Some plants have the leaves opposite, each pair being at\nright angles with the pairs above and below.\n\nIn others they are alternate, and arranged round the stem in a spiral.\nIn one very common arrangement the sixth leaf stands directly over the\nfirst, the intermediate ones forming a spiral which has passed twice\nround the stem. This, therefore, is known as the 2/5 arrangement. Common\ncases are 1/2, 1/3, 2/5, 3/8, and 5/13. In the first the leaves are\ngenerally broad, in the 3/8 arrangement they are elliptic, in the 5/13\nand more complicated arrangements nearly linear. The Willows afford a\nvery interesting series. Salix herbacea has the 1/3 arrangement and\nrounded leaves, Salix caprea elliptic leaves and 2/5, Salix pentandra\nlancet-shaped leaves and 3/8, and S. incana linear leaves and a 5/13\narrangement. The result is that whether the series consists of 2, 3, 5,\n8, or 13 leaves, in every case, if we look perpendicularly at a twig the\nleaves occupy the whole circle.\n\nIn herbaceous plants upright leaves as a rule are narrow, which is\nobviously an advantage, while prostrate ones are broad.\n\n[Illustration: AQUATIC VEGETATION, BRAZIL. _To face page 145._]\n\n\nAQUATIC PLANTS\n\nMany aquatic plants have two kinds of leaves; some more or less rounded,\nwhich float on the surface; and others cut up into narrow segments,\nwhich remain below. The latter thus present a greater extent of surface.\nIn air such leaves would be unable even to support their own weight,\nmuch less to resist the force of the wind. In still air, however, for\nthe same reason, finely-divided leaves may be an advantage, while in\nexposed positions compact and entire leaves are more suitable. Hence\nherbaceous plants tend to have divided, bushes and trees entire, leaves.\nThere are many cases when even in the same family low and herb-like\nspecies have finely-cut leaves, while in shrubby or ligneous ones they\nmore or less resemble those of the Laurel or Beech.\n\nThese considerations affect trees more than herbs, because trees stand\nmore alone, while herbaceous plants are more affected by surrounding\nplants. Upright leaves tend to be narrow, as in the case of grasses;\nhorizontal leaves, on the contrary, wider. Large leaves are more or less\nbroken up into leaflets, as in the Ash, Mountain-Ash, Horse-Chestnut,\netc.\n\nThe forms of leaves depend also much on the manner in which they are\npacked into the buds.\n\nThe leaves of our English trees, as I have already said, are so arranged\nas to secure the maximum of light; in very hot countries the reverse is\nthe case. Hence, in Australia, for instance, the leaves are arranged not\nhorizontally, but vertically, so as to present, not their surfaces, but\ntheir edges, to the sun. One English plant, a species of lettuce, has\nthe same habit. This consideration has led also to other changes. In\nmany species the leaves are arranged directly under, so as to shelter,\none another. The Australian species of Acacia have lost their true\nleaves, and the parts which in them we generally call leaves are in\nreality vertically-flattened leaf stalks.\n\nIn other cases the stem itself is green, and to some extent replaces the\nleaves. In our common Broom we see an approach to this, and the same\nfeature is more marked in Cactus. Or the leaves become fleshy, thus\noffering, in proportion to their volume, a smaller surface for\nevaporation. Of this the Stonecrops, Mesembryanthemum, etc., are\nfamiliar instances. Other modes of checking transpiration and thus\nadapting plants to dry situations are by the development of hairs, by\nthe formation of chalky excretions, by the sap becoming saline or\nviscid, by the leaf becoming more or less rolled up, or protected by a\ncovering of varnish.\n\nOur English trees are for the most part deciduous. Leaves would be\ncomparatively useless in winter when growth is stopped by the cold;\nmoreover, they would hold the snow, and thus cause the boughs to be\nbroken down. Hence perhaps the glossiness of Evergreen leaves, as, for\ninstance, of the Holly, from which the snow slips off. In warmer\nclimates trees tend to retain their leaves, and some species which are\ndeciduous in the north become evergreen, or nearly so, in the south of\nEurope. Evergreen leaves are as a rule tougher and thicker than those\nwhich drop off in autumn; they require more protection from the weather.\nBut some evergreen leaves are much longer lived than others; those of\nthe Evergreen Oak do not survive a second year, those of the Scotch Pine\nlive for three, of the Spruce Fir, Yew, etc., for eight or ten, of the\nPinsapo even eighteen. As a general rule the Conifers with short leaves\nkeep them on for several years, those with long ones for fewer, the\nlength of the leaf being somewhat in the inverse ratio to the length of\nits life; but this is not an invariable criterion, as other\ncircumstances also have to be taken into consideration.\n\nLeaves with strong scent, aromatic taste, or acrid juice, are\ncharacteristic of dry regions, where they run especial danger of being\neaten, and where they are thus more or less effectively protected.\n\n\nON HAIRS\n\nThe hairs of plants are useful in various ways. In some cases (1) they\nkeep off superfluous moisture; in others (2) they prevent too rapid\nevaporation; in some (3) they serve as a protection against too glaring\nlight; in some (4) they protect the plant from browsing quadrupeds; in\nothers (5) from being eaten by insects; or, (6) serve as a quickset\nhedge to prevent access to the flowers.\n\nIn illustration of the first case I may refer to many alpine plants, the\nwell-known Edelweiss, for instance, where the woolly covering of hairs\nprevents the \"stomata,\" or minute pores leading into the interior of the\nleaf, from being clogged up by rain, dew, or fog, and thus enable them\nto fulfil their functions as soon as the sun comes out.\n\nAs regards the second case many desert and steppe-plants are covered\nwith felty hairs, which serve to prevent too rapid evaporation and\nconsequent loss of moisture.\n\nThe woolly hairy leaves of the Mulleins (Verbascum) doubtless tend to\nprotect them from being eaten, as also do the spines of Thistles, and\nthose of Hollies, which, be it remarked, gradually disappear on the\nupper leaves which browsing quadrupeds cannot reach.\n\nI have already alluded to the various ways in which flowers are adapted\nto fertilisation by insects. But Ants and other small creeping insects\ncannot effectually secure this object. Hence it is important that they\nshould be excluded, and not allowed to carry off the honey, for which\nthey would perform no service in return. In many cases, therefore, the\nopening of the flower is either contracted to a narrow passage, or is\nitself protected by a fringe of hairs. In others the peduncle, or the\nstalk of the plant, is protected by a hedge, or chevaux de frise, of\nhairs.\n\nIn this connection I might allude to the many plants which are more or\nless viscid. This also is in most cases a provision to preclude creeping\ninsects from access to the flowers.\n\nThere are various other kinds of hairs to which I might refer--glandular\nhairs, secretive hairs, absorbing hairs, etc. It is marvellous how\nbeautifully the form and structure of leaves is adapted to the habits\nand requirements of the plants, but I must not enlarge further on this\ninteresting subject.\n\nThe time indeed will no doubt come when we shall be able to explain\nevery difference of form and structure, almost infinite as these\ndifferences are.\n\n\nINFLUENCE OF SOIL\n\nThe character of the vegetation is of course greatly influenced by that\nof the soil. In this respect granitic and calcareous regions offer\nperhaps the best marked contrast.\n\nThere are in Switzerland two kinds of Rhododendrons, very similar in\ntheir flowers, but contrasted in their leaves: Rhododendron hirsutum\nhaving them hairy at the edges as the name indicates; while in R.\nferrugineum they are rolled, but not hairy, at the edges, and become\nferrugineous on the lower side. This species occurs in the granitic\nregions, where R. hirsutum does not grow.\n\nThe Yarrows (Achillea) afford us a similar case. Achillea atrata and A.\nmoschata will live either on calcareous or granitic soil, but in a\ndistrict where both occur, A. atrata grows so much the more vigorously\nof the two if the soil is calcareous that it soon exterminates A.\nmoschata; while in granite districts, on the contrary, A. moschata is\nvictorious and A. atrata disappears.\n\nEvery keen sportsman will admit that a varied \"bag\" has a special charm,\nand the botanist in a summer's walk may see at least a hundred plants in\nflower, all with either the interest of novelty, or the charm of an old\nfriend.\n\n\nON SEEDLINGS\n\nIn many cases the Seedlings afford us an interesting insight into the\nformer condition of the plant. Thus the leaves of the Furze are reduced\nto thorns; but those of the Seedling are herbaceous and trifoliate like\nthose of the Herb Genet and other allied species, subsequent ones\ngradually passing into spines. This is evidence that the ancestors of\nthe Furze bore leaves.\n\nPlants may be said to have their habits as well as animals.\n\n\nSLEEP OF PLANTS\n\nMany flowers close their petals during rain; the advantage of which is\nthat it prevents the honey and pollen from being spoilt or washed away.\nEverybody, however, has observed that even in fine weather certain\nflowers close at particular hours. This habit of going to sleep is\nsurely very curious. Why should flowers do so? In animals we can better\nunderstand it; they are tired and require rest. But why should flowers\nsleep? Why should some flowers do so, and not others? Moreover,\ndifferent flowers keep different hours. The Daisy opens at sunrise and\ncloses at sunset, whence its name \"day's-eye.\" The Dandelion (Leontodon)\nis said to open about seven and to close about five; Arenaria rubra to\nbe open from nine to three; the White Water Lily (Nymphaea), from about\nseven to four; the common Mouse-ear Hawk-weed (Hieracium) from eight to\nthree; the Scarlet Pimpernel (Anagallis) to waken at seven and close\nsoon after two; Tragopogon pratensis to open at four in the morning, and\nclose just before twelve, whence its English name, \"John go to bed at\nnoon.\" Farmers' boys in some parts are said to regulate their dinner\ntime by it. Other flowers, on the contrary, open in the evening.\n\nNow it is obvious that flowers which are fertilised by night-flying\ninsects would derive no advantage from being open by day; and on the\nother hand, that those which are fertilised by bees would gain nothing\nby being open at night. Nay it would be a distinct disadvantage, because\nit would render them liable to be robbed of their honey and pollen, by\ninsects which are not capable of fertilising them. I have ventured to\nsuggest then that the closing of flowers may have reference to the\nhabits of insects, and it may be observed also in support of this, that\nwind-fertilised flowers do not sleep; and that many of those flowers\nwhich attract insects by smell, open and emit their scent at particular\nhours; thus Hesperis matronalis and Lychnis vespertina smell in the\nevening, and Orchis bifolia is particularly sweet at night.\n\nBut it is not the flowers only which \"sleep\" at night; in many species\nthe leaves also change their position, and Darwin has given strong\nreasons for considering that the object is to check transpiration and\nthus tend to a protection against cold.\n\n\nBEHAVIOUR OF LEAVES IN RAIN\n\nThe behaviour of plants with reference to rain affords many points of\nmuch interest. The Germander Speedwell (Veronica) has two strong rows of\nhairs, the Chickweed (Stellaria) one, running down the stem and thus\nconducting the rain to the roots. Plants with a main tap-root, like the\nRadish or the Beet, have leaves sloping inwards so as to conduct the\nrain towards the axis of the plant, and consequently to the roots;\nwhile, on the contrary, where the roots are spreading the leaves slope\noutwards.\n\nIn other cases the leaves hold the rain or dew drops. Every one who has\nbeen in the Alps must have noticed how the leaves of the Lady's Mantle\n(Alchemilla) form little cups containing each a sparkling drop of icy\nwater. Kerner has suggested that owing to these cold drops, the cattle\nand sheep avoid the leaves.\n\n\nMIMICRY\n\nIn many cases plants mimic others which are better protected than\nthemselves. Thus Matricaria Chamomilla mimics the true Chamomile, which\nfrom its bitterness is not eaten by quadrupeds. Ajuga Chamaepitys mimics\nEuphorbia Cyparissias, with which it often grows, and which is protected\nby its acrid juice. The most familiar case, however, is that of the\nStinging and the Dead Nettles. They very generally grow together, and\nthough belonging to quite different families are so similar that they\nare constantly mistaken for one another. Some Orchids have a curious\nresemblance to insects, after which they have accordingly been named the\nBee Orchis, Fly Orchis, Butterfly Orchis, etc., but it has not yet been\nsatisfactorily shown what advantage the resemblance is to the plant.\n\n\nANTS AND PLANTS\n\nThe transference of pollen from plant to plant is by no means the only\nservice which insects render.\n\nAnts, for instance, are in many cases very useful to plants. They\ndestroy immense numbers of caterpillars and other insects. Forel\nobserving a large Ants' nest counted more than 28 insects brought in as\nfood per minute. In some cases Ants attach themselves to particular\ntrees, constituting a sort of bodyguard. A species of Acacia, described\nby Belt, bears hollow thorns, while each leaflet produces honey in a\ncrater-formed gland at the base, as well as a small, sweet, pear-shaped\nbody at the tip. In consequence it is inhabited by myriads of a small\nant, which nests in the hollow thorns, and thus finds meat, drink, and\nlodging all provided for it. These ants are continually roaming over the\nplant, and constitute a most efficient bodyguard, not only driving off\nthe leaf-eating ants, but, in Belt's opinion, rendering the leaves less\nliable to be eaten by herbivorous mammalia. Delpino mentions that on one\noccasion he was gathering a flower of Clerodendrum, when he was himself\nsuddenly attacked by a whole army of small ants.\n\n\nINSECTIVOROUS PLANTS\n\nIn the cases above mentioned the relation between flowers and insects is\none of mutual advantage. But this is by no means an invariable rule.\nMany insects, as we all know, live on plants, but it came upon botanists\nas a surprise when our countryman Ellis first discovered that some\nplants catch and devour insects. This he observed in a North American\nplant, Dionsea, the leaves of which are formed something like a\nrat-trap, with a hinge in the middle, and a formidable row of spines\nround the edge. On the surface are a few very sensitive hairs, and the\nmoment any small insect alights on the leaf and touches one of these\nhairs the two halves of the leaf close up quickly and catch it. The\nsurface then throws out a glutinous secretion, by means of which the\nleaf sucks up the nourishment contained in the insect.\n\nOur common Sun-dews (Drosera) are also insectivorous, the prey being in\ntheir case captured by glutinous hairs. Again, the Bladderwort\n(Utricularia), a plant with pretty yellow flowers, growing in pools and\nslow streams, is so called because it bears a great number of bladders\nor utricles, each of which is a real miniature eel-trap, having an\norifice guarded by a flap opening inwards which allows small water\nanimals to enter, but prevents them from coming out again. The\nButterwort (Pinguicula) is another of these carnivorous plants.\n\n\nMOVEMENTS OF PLANTS\n\nWhile considering Plant life we must by no means confine our attention\nto the higher orders, but must remember also those lower groups which\nconverge towards the lower forms of animals, so that in the present\nstate of our knowledge the two cannot always be distinguished with\ncertainty. Many of them differ indeed greatly from the ordinary\nconception of a plant. Even the comparatively highly organised Sea-weeds\nmultiply by means of bodies called spores, which an untrained observer\nwould certainly suppose to be animals. They are covered by vibratile\nhairs or \"cilia,\" by means of which they swim about freely in the water,\nand even possess a red spot which, as being especially sensitive to\nlight, may be regarded as an elementary eye, and with the aid of which\nthey select some suitable spot, to which they ultimately attach\nthemselves.\n\nIt was long considered as almost a characteristic of plants that they\npossessed no power of movement. This is now known to be an error. In\nfact, as Darwin has shown, every growing part of a plant is in continual\nand even constant rotation. The stems of climbing plants make great\nsweeps, and in other cases, when the motion is not so apparent, it\nnevertheless really exists. I have already mentioned that many plants\nchange the position of their leaves or flowers, or, as it is called,\nsleep at night.\n\nThe common Dandelion raises its head when the florets open, opens and\nshuts morning and evening, then lies down again while the seeds are\nripening, and raises itself a second time when they are ready to be\ncarried away by the wind.\n\nValisneria spiralis is a very interesting case. It is a native of\nEuropean rivers, and the female flower has a long spiral stalk which\nenables it to float on the surface of the water. The male flowers have\nno stalks, and grow low down on the plant. They soon, however, detach\nthemselves altogether, rise to the surface, and thus are enabled to\nfertilise the female flowers among which they float. The spiral stalk of\nthe female flower then contracts and draws it down to the bottom of the\nwater so that the seeds may ripen in safety. Many plants throw or bury\ntheir seeds.\n\nThe sensitive plants close their leaves when touched, and the leaflets\nof Desmodium gyrans are continually revolving. I have already mentioned\nthat the spores of sea-weeds swim freely in the water by means of cilia.\nSome microscopic plants do so throughout a great part of their lives.\n\nA still lower group, the Myxomycetes, which resemble small, more or less\nbranched, masses of jelly, and live in damp soil, among decaying\nleaves, under bark and in similar moist situations, are still more\nremarkably animal like. They are never fixed, but in almost continual\nmovement, due to differences of moisture, warmth, light, or chemical\naction. If, for instance, a moist body is brought into contact with one\nof their projections, or \"pseudopods,\" the protoplasm seems to roll\nitself in that direction, and so the whole organism gradually changes\nits place. So again, while a solution of salt, carbonate of potash, or\nsaltpetre causes them to withdraw from the danger, an infusion of sugar,\nor tan, produces a flow of protoplasm towards the source of nourishment.\nIn fact, in the same way it rolls over and round its food, absorbing\nwhat is nutritious as it passes along. In cold weather they descend into\nthe soil, and one of them (Oethalium), which lives in tan pits,\ndescends in winter to a depth of several feet. When about to fructify it\nchanges its habits, seeks the light instead of avoiding it, climbs\nupwards, and produces its fruit above ground.\n\n\nIMPERFECTION OF OUR KNOWLEDGE\n\nThe total number of living species of plants may be roughly estimated at\n500,000, and there is not one, of which we can say that the structure,\nuses, and life-history are yet fully known to us. Our museums contain\nlarge numbers which botanists have not yet had time to describe and\nname. Even in our own country not a year passes without some additional\nplant being discovered; as regards the less known regions of the earth\nnot half the species have yet been collected. Among the Lichens and\nFungi especially many problems of their life-history, some, indeed, of\nespecial importance to man, still await solution.\n\nOur knowledge of the fossil forms, moreover, falls far short even of\nthat of existing species, which, on the other hand, they must have\ngreatly exceeded in number. Every difference of form, structure, and\ncolour has doubtless some cause and explanation, so that the field for\nresearch is really inexhaustible.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[19] Thomson.\n\n[20] Lubbock, _Flowers and Insects_.\n\n[21] _Flowers, Fruits, and Leaves._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nWOODS AND FIELDS\n\n \"By day or by night, summer or winter, beneath trees the heart\n feels nearer to that depth of life which the far sky means. The\n rest of spirit, found only in beauty, ideal and pure, comes\n there because the distance seems within touch of thought.\"\n\n JEFFERIES.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nWOODS AND FIELDS\n\n\nRural life, says Cicero, \"is not delightful by reason of cornfields only\nand meadows, and vineyards and groves, but also for its gardens and\norchards, for the feeding of cattle, the swarms of bees, and the variety\nof all kinds of flowers.\" Bacon considered that a garden is \"the\ngreatest refreshment to the spirits of man, without which buildings and\npalaces are but gross handyworks, and a man shall ever see, that when\nages grow to civility and elegancy men come to build stately sooner than\nto garden finely, as if gardening were the greater perfection.\"\n\nNo doubt \"the pleasure which we take in a garden is one of the most\ninnocent delights in human life.\"[22] Elsewhere there may be scattered\nflowers, or sheets of colour due to one or two species, but in gardens\none glory follows another. Here are brought together all the\n\n quaint enamelled eyes,\n That on the green turf sucked the honeyed showers,\n And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.\n Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,\n The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,\n The white pink and the pansy freaked with jet,\n The glowing violet,\n The musk rose, and the well attired woodbine,\n With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,\n And every flower that sad embroidery wears.[23]\n\nWe cannot, happily we need not try to, contrast or compare the beauty of\ngardens with that of woods and fields.\n\nAnd yet to the true lover of Nature wild flowers have a charm which no\ngarden can equal. Cultivated plants are but a living herbarium. They\nsurpass, no doubt, the dried specimens of a museum, but, lovely as they\nare, they can be no more compared with the natural vegetation of our\nwoods and fields than the captives in the Zoological Gardens with the\nsame wild species in their native forests and mountains.\n\nOften indeed, our woods and fields rival gardens even in the richness of\ncolour. We have all seen meadows white with Narcissus, glowing with\nButtercups, Cowslips, early purple Orchis, or Cuckoo Flowers; cornfields\nblazing with Poppies; woods carpeted with Bluebells, Anemones,\nPrimroses, and Forget-me-nots; commons with the yellow Lady's Bedstraw,\nHarebells, and the sweet Thyme; marshy places with the yellow stars of\nthe Bog Asphodel, the Sun-dew sparkling with diamonds, Ragged Robin, the\nbeautifully fringed petals of the Buckbean, the lovely little Bog\nPimpernel, or the feathery tufts of Cotton Grass; hedgerows with\nHawthorn and Traveller's Joy, Wild Rose and Honeysuckle, while\nunderneath are the curious leaves and orange fruit of the Lords and\nLadies, the snowy stars of the Stitchwort, Succory, Yarrow, and several\nkinds of Violets; while all along the banks of streams are the tall red\nspikes of the Loosestrife, the Hemp Agrimony, Water Groundsel, Sedges,\nBulrushes, Flowering Rush, Sweet Flag, etc.\n\nMany other sweet names will also at once occur to us--Snowdrops,\nDaffodils and Hearts-ease, Lady's Mantles and Lady's Tresses, Eyebright,\nMilkwort, Foxgloves, Herb Roberts, Geraniums, and among rarer species,\nat least in England, Columbines and Lilies.\n\nBut Nature does not provide delights for the eye only. The other senses\nare not forgotten. A thousand sounds--many delightful in themselves, and\nall by association--songs of birds, hum of insects, rustle of leaves,\nripple of water, seem to fill the air.\n\nFlowers again are sweet, as well as lovely. The scent of pine woods,\nwhich is said to be very healthy, is certainly delicious, and the effect\nof Woodland scenery is good for the mind as well as for the body.\n\n\"Resting quietly under an ash tree, with the scent of flowers, and the\nodour of green buds and leaves, a ray of sunlight yonder lighting up the\nlichen and the moss on the oak trunk, a gentle air stirring in the\nbranches above, giving glimpses of fleecy clouds sailing in the ether,\nthere comes into the mind a feeling of intense joy in the simple fact of\nliving.\"[24]\n\nThe wonderful phenomenon of phosphorescence is not a special gift to the\nanimal kingdom. Henry O. Forbes describes a forest in Sumatra: \"The stem\nof every tree blinked with a pale greenish-white light which undulated\nalso across the surface of the ground like moonlight coming and going\nbehind the clouds, from a minute thread-like fungus invisible in the\nday-time to the unassisted eye; and here and there thick dumpy mushrooms\ndisplayed a sharp, clear dome of light, whose intensity never varied or\nchanged till the break of day; long phosphorescent caterpillars and\ncentipedes crawled out of every corner, leaving a trail of light behind\nthem, while fire-flies darted about above like a lower firmament.\"[25]\n\nWoods and Forests were to our ancestors the special scenes of\nenchantment.\n\nThe great Ash tree Yggdrasil bound together Heaven, Earth, and Hell. Its\ntop reached to Heaven, its branches covered the Earth, and the roots\npenetrated into Hell. The three Normas or Fates sat under it, spinning\nthe thread of life.\n\nOf all the gods and goddesses of classical mythology or our own\nfolk-lore, none were more fascinating than the Nature Spirits--Elves and\nFairies, Neckans and Kelpies, Pixies and Ouphes, Mermaids, Undines,\nWater Spirits, and all the Elfin world\n\n Which have their haunts in dale and piny mountain,\n Or forests, by slow stream or tingling brook.\n\nThey come out, as we are told, especially on moonlight nights. But while\nevening thus clothes many a scene with poetry, forests are fairy land\nall day long.\n\nAlmost any wood contains many and many a spot well suited for Fairy\nfeasts; where one might most expect to find Titania, resting, as once we\nare told,\n\n She lay upon a bank, the favourite haunt\n Of the Spring wind in its first sunshine hour,\n For the luxuriant strawberry blossoms spread\n Like a snow shower then, and violets\n Bowed down their purple vases of perfume\n About her pillow,--linked in a gay band\n Floated fantastic shapes; these were her guards,\n Her lithe and rainbow elves.\n\nThe fairies have disappeared, and, so far as England is concerned, the\nlarger forest animals have vanished almost as completely. The Elk and\nBear, the Boar and Wolf have gone, the Stag has nearly disappeared, and\nbut a scanty remnant of the original wild Cattle linger on at\nChillingham. Still the woods teem with life; the Fox and Badger, Stoat\nand Weasel, Hare and Rabbit, and Hedgehog,\n\n The tawny squirrel vaulting through the boughs,\n Hawk, buzzard, jay, the mavis and the merle,[26]\n\nthe Owls and Nightjar, the Woodpecker, Nuthatch, Magpie, Doves, and a\nhundred more.\n\nIn early spring the woods are bright with the feathery catkins of the\nWillow, followed by the soft green of the Beech, the white or pink\nflowers of the Thorn, the pyramids of the Horse-chestnut, festoons of\nthe Laburnum and Acacia, and the Oak slowly wakes from its winter sleep,\nwhile the Ash leaves long linger in their black buds.\n\nUnder foot is a carpet of flowers--Anemones, Cowslips, Primroses,\nBluebells, and the golden blossoms of the Broom, which, however, while\nGorse and Heather continue in bloom for months, \"blazes for a week or\ntwo, and is then completely extinguished, like a fire that has burnt\nitself out.\"[27]\n\nIn summer the tints grow darker, the birds are more numerous and full of\nlife; the air teems with insects, with the busy murmur of bees and the\nidle hum of flies, while the cool of morning and evening, and the heat\nof the day, are all alike delicious.\n\nAs the year advances and the flowers wane, we have many beautiful fruits\nand berries, the red hips and haws of the wild roses, scarlet holly\nberries, crimson yew cups, the translucent berries of the Guelder Rose,\nhanging coral beads of the Black Bryony, feathery festoons of the\nTraveller's Joy, and others less conspicuous, but still exquisite in\nthemselves--acorns, beech nuts, ash keys, and many more. It is really\ndifficult to say which are most beautiful, the tender greens of spring\nor the rich tints of autumn, which glow so brightly in the sunshine.\n\nTropical fruits are even more striking. No one who has seen it can ever\nforget a grove of orange trees in full fruit; while the more we examine\nthe more we find to admire; all perfectly and exquisitely finished\n\"usque ad ungues,\" perfect inside and outside, for Nature\n\n Does in the Pomegranate close\n Jewels more rare than Ormus shows.[28]\n\nIn winter the woods are comparatively bare and lifeless, even the\nBrambles and Woodbine, which straggle over the tangle of underwood being\nalmost leafless.\n\nStill even then they have a beauty and interest of their own; the mossy\nboles of the trees; the delicate tracery of the branches which can\nhardly be appreciated when they are covered with leaves; and under foot\nthe beds of fallen leaves; while the evergreens seem brighter than in\nsummer; the ruddy stems and rich green foliage of the Scotch Pines, and\nthe dark spires of the Firs, seeming to acquire fresh beauty.\n\nAgain in winter, though no doubt the living tenants of the woods are\nmuch less numerous, many of our birds being then far away in the dense\nAfrican forests, on the other hand those which remain are much more\neasily visible. We can follow the birds from tree to tree, and the\nSquirrel from bough to bough.\n\nIt requires little imagination to regard trees as conscious beings,\nindeed it is almost an effort not to do so.\n\n\"The various action of trees rooting themselves in inhospitable rocks,\nstooping to look into ravines, hiding from the search of glacier winds,\nreaching forth to the rays of rare sunshine, crowding down together to\ndrink at sweetest streams, climbing hand in hand among the difficult\nslopes, opening in sudden dances among the mossy knolls, gathering into\ncompanies at rest among the fragrant fields, gliding in grave procession\nover the heavenward ridges--nothing of this can be conceived among the\nunvexed and unvaried felicities of the lowland forest; while to all\nthese direct sources of greater beauty are added, first the power of\nredundance, the mere quantity of foliage visible in the folds and on the\npromontories of a single Alp being greater than that of an entire\nlowland landscape (unless a view from some Cathedral tower); and to this\ncharm of redundance, that of clearer visibility--tree after tree being\nconstantly shown in successive height, one behind another, instead of\nthe mere tops and flanks of masses as in the plains; and the forms of\nmultitudes of them continually defined against the clear sky, near and\nabove, or against white clouds entangled among their branches, instead\nof being confused in dimness of distance.\"[29]\n\nThere is much that is interesting in the relations of one species to\nanother. Many plants are parasitic upon others. The foliage of the Beech\nis so thick that scarcely anything will grow under it, except those\nspring plants, such as the Anemone and the Wood Buttercup or Goldilocks,\nwhich flower early before the Beech is in leaf.\n\nThere are other cases in which the reason for the association of\nspecies is less evident. The Larch and the Arolla (Pinus Cembra) are\nclose companions. They grow together in Siberia; they do not occur in\nScandinavia or Russia, but both reappear in certain Swiss valleys,\nespecially in the cantons of Lucerne and Valais and the Engadine.\n\nAnother very remarkable case which has recently been observed is the\nrelation existing between some of our forest trees and certain Fungi,\nthe species of which have not yet been clearly ascertained. The root\ntips of the trees are as it were enclosed in a thin sheet of closely\nwoven mycelium. It was at first supposed that the fungus was attacking\nthe roots of the tree, but it is now considered that the tree and the\nfungus mutually benefit one another. The fungus collects nutriment from\nthe soil, which passes into the tree and up to the leaves, where it is\nelaborated into sap, the greater part being utilized by the tree, but a\nportion reabsorbed by the fungus. There is reason to think that, in some\ncases at any rate, the mycelium is that of the Truffle.\n\n[Illustration: TROPICAL FOREST.\n\n_To face page 179._]\n\nThe great tropical forests have a totally different character from ours.\nI reproduce here the plate from Kingsley's _At Last_. The trees strike\nall travellers by their magnificence, the luxuriance of their\nvegetation, and their great variety. Our forests contain comparatively\nfew species, whereas in the tropics we are assured that it is far from\ncommon to see two of the same species near one another. But while in our\nforests the species are few, each tree has an independence and\nindividuality of its own. In the tropics, on the contrary, they are\ninterlaced and interwoven, so as to form one mass of vegetation; many of\nthe trunks are almost concealed by an undergrowth of verdure, and\nintertwined by spiral stems of parasitic plants; from tree to tree hang\nan inextricable network of lianas, and it is often difficult to tell to\nwhich tree the fruits, flowers, and leaves really belong. The trunks run\nstraight up to a great height without a branch, and then form a thick\nleafy canopy far overhead; a canopy so dense that even the blaze of the\ncloudless blue sky is subdued, one might almost say into a weird gloom,\nthe effect of which is enhanced by the solemn silence. At first such a\nforest gives the impression of being more open than an English wood, but\na few steps are sufficient to correct this error. There is a thick\nundergrowth matted together by wiry creepers, and the intermediate space\nis traversed in all directions by lines and cords.\n\nThe English traveller misses sadly the sweet songs of our birds, which\nare replaced by the hoarse chatter of parrots. Now and then a succession\nof cries even harsher and more discordant tell of a troop of monkeys\npassing across from tree to tree among the higher branches, or lower\nsounds indicate to a practised ear the neighbourhood of an ape, a sloth,\nor some other of the few mammals which inhabit the great forests.\nOccasionally a large blue bee hums past, a brilliant butterfly flashes\nacross the path, or a humming-bird hangs in the air over a flower like,\nas St. Pierre says, an emerald set in coral, but \"how weak it is to say\nthat that exquisite little being, whirring and fluttering in the air,\nhas a head of ruby, a throat of emerald, and wings of sapphire, as if\nany triumph of the jeweller's art could ever vie with that sparkling\nepitome of life and light.\"[30]\n\nSir Wyville Thomson graphically describes a morning in a Brazilian\nforest:--\n\n\"The night was almost absolutely silent, only now and then a peculiarly\nshrill cry of some night bird reached us from the woods. As we got into\nthe skirt of the forest the morning broke, but the _reveil_ in a\nBrazilian forest is wonderfully different from the slow creeping on of\nthe dawn of a summer morning at home, to the music of the thrushes\nanswering one another's full rich notes from neighbouring thorn-trees.\nSuddenly a yellow light spreads upwards in the east, the stars quickly\nfade, and the dark fringes of the forest and the tall palms show out\nblack against the yellow sky, and almost before one has time to observe\nthe change the sun has risen straight and fierce, and the whole\nlandscape is bathed in the full light of day. But the morning is yet for\nanother hour cool and fresh, and the scene is indescribably beautiful.\nThe woods, so absolutely silent and still before, break at once into\nnoise and movement. Flocks of toucans flutter and scream on the tops of\nthe highest forest trees hopelessly out of shot, the ear is pierced by\nthe strange wild screeches of a little band of macaws which fly past you\nlike the wrapped-up ghosts of the birds on some gaudy old brocade.\"[31]\n\nMr. Darwin tells us that nothing can be better than the description of\ntropical forests given by Bates.\n\n\"The leafy crowns of the trees, scarcely two of which could be seen\ntogether of the same kind, were now far away above us, in another world\nas it were. We could only see at times, where there was a break above,\nthe tracery of the foliage against the clear blue sky. Sometimes the\nleaves were palmate, or of the shape of large outstretched hands; at\nothers finely cut or feathery like the leaves of Mimosae. Below, the tree\ntrunks were everywhere linked together by sipos; the woody flexible\nstems of climbing and creeping trees, whose foliage is far away above,\nmingled with that of the taller independent trees. Some were twisted in\nstrands like cables, others had thick stems contorted in every variety\nof shape, entwining snake-like round the tree trunks or forming gigantic\nloops and coils among the larger branches; others, again, were of zigzag\nshape, or indented like the steps of a staircase, sweeping from the\nground to a giddy height.\"\n\nThe reckless and wanton destruction of forests has ruined some of the\nrichest countries on earth. Syria and Asia Minor, Palestine and the\nnorth of Africa were once far more populous than they are at present.\nThey were once lands \"flowing with milk and honey,\" according to the\npicturesque language of the Bible, but are now in many places reduced to\ndust and ashes. Why is there this melancholy change? Why have deserts\nreplaced cities? It is mainly owing to the ruthless destruction of the\ntrees, which has involved that of nations. Even nearer home a similar\nprocess may be witnessed. Two French departments--the Hautes- and\nBasses-Alpes--are being gradually reduced to ruin by the destruction of\nthe forests. Cultivation is diminishing, vineyards are being washed\naway, the towns are threatened, the population is dwindling, and unless\nsomething is done the country will be reduced to a desert; until, when\nit has been released from the destructive presence of man, Nature\nreproduces a covering of vegetable soil, restores the vegetation,\ncreates the forests anew, and once again fits these regions for the\nhabitation of man.\n\nIn another part of France we have an illustration of the opposite\nprocess.\n\nThe region of the Landes, which fifty years ago was one of the poorest\nand most miserable in France, has now been made one of the most\nprosperous owing to the planting of Pines. The increased value is\nestimated at no less than 1,000,000,000 francs. Where there were fifty\nyears ago only a few thousand poor and unhealthy shepherds whose flocks\npastured on the scanty herbage, there are now sawmills, charcoal kilns,\nand turpentine works, interspersed with thriving villages and fertile\nagricultural lands.\n\nIn our own country, though woodlands are perhaps on the increase, true\nforest scenery is gradually disappearing. This is, I suppose,\nunavoidable, but it is a matter of regret. Forests have so many charms\nof their own. They give a delightful impression of space and of\nabundance.\n\nThe extravagance is sublime. Trees, as Jefferies says, \"throw away\nhandfuls of flower; and in the meadows the careless, spendthrift ways of\ngrass and flower and all things are not to be expressed. Seeds by the\nhundred million float with absolute indifference on the air. The oak has\na hundred thousand more leaves than necessary, and never hides a single\nacorn. Nothing utilitarian--everything on a scale of splendid waste.\nSuch noble, broadcast, open-armed waste is delicious to behold. Never\nwas there such a lying proverb as 'Enough is as good as a feast.' Give\nme the feast; give me squandered millions of seeds, luxurious carpets of\npetals, green mountains of oak-leaves. The greater the waste the greater\nthe enjoyment--the nearer the approach to real life.\"\n\nIt is of course impossible here to give any idea of the complexity of\nstructure of our forest trees. A slice across the stem of a tree shows\nmany different tissues with more or less technical names, bark and\ncambium, medullary rays, pith, and more or less specialised tissue;\nair-vessels, punctate vessels, woody fibres, liber fibres, scalariform\nvessels, and other more or less specialised tissues.\n\nLet us take a single leaf. The name is synonymous with anything very\nthin, so that we might well fancy that a leaf would consist of only one\nor two layers of cells. Far from it, the leaf is a highly complex\nstructure. On the upper surface are a certain number of scattered hairs,\nwhile in the bud these are often numerous, long, silky, and serve to\nprotect the young leaf, but the greater number fall off soon after the\nleaf expands. The hairs are seated on a layer of flattened cells--the\nskin or epidermis. Below this are one or more layers of \"palisade\ncells,\" the function of which seems to be to regulate the quantity of\nlight entering the leaf. Under these again is the \"parenchyme,\" several\nlayers of more or less rounded cells, leaving air spaces and passages\nbetween them. From place to place in the parenchyme run \"fibro-vascular\nbundles,\" forming a sort of skeleton to the leaf, and comprising\nair-vessels on the upper side, rayed or dotted vessels with woody fibre\nbelow, and vessels of various kinds. The under surface of the leaf is\nformed by another layer of flattened cells, supporting generally more or\nless hairs, and some of them specially modified so as to leave minute\nopenings or \"stomata\" leading into the air passages. These stomata are\nso small that there are millions on a single leaf, and on plants growing\nin dry countries, such as the Evergreen Oak, Oleander, etc., they are\nsunk in pits, and further protected by tufts of hair.\n\nThe cells of the leaf again are themselves complex. They consist of a\ncell wall perforated by extremely minute orifices, of protoplasm, cell\nfluid, and numerous granules of \"Chlorophyll,\" which give the leaf its\ngreen colour.\n\nWhile these are, stated very briefly, the essential parts of a leaf, the\ndetails differ in every species, while in the same species and even in\nthe same plant, the leaves present minor differences according to the\nsituation in which they grow.\n\nSince, then, there is so much complex structure in a single leaf, what\nmust it be in a whole plant? There is a giant sea-weed (Macrocystis),\nwhich has been known to reach a length of 1000 feet, as also do some of\nthe lianas of tropical forests. These, however, attain no great bulk,\nand the most gigantic specimens of the vegetable kingdom yet known are\nthe Wellingtonia (Sequoia) gigantea, which grows to a height of 450\nfeet, and the Blue Gum (Eucalyptus) even to 480.\n\nOne is apt to look on animal structure as more delicate, and of a higher\norder, than that of plants. And so no doubt it is. Yet an animal, even\nman himself, will recover from a wound or an operation more rapidly and\nmore perfectly than a tree.[32]\n\nTrees again derive a special interest from the venerable age they\nattain. In some cases, no doubt, the age is more or less mythical, as,\nfor instance, the Olive of Minerva at Athens, the Oaks mentioned by\nPliny, \"which were thought coeval with the world itself,\" the Fig tree,\n\"under which the wolf suckled the founder of Rome and his brother,\nlasting (as Tacitus calculated) 840 years, putting out new shoots, and\npresaging the translation of that empire from the Caesarian line,\nhappening in Nero's reign.\"[33] But in other cases the estimates rest on\na surer foundation, and it cannot be doubted that there are trees still\nliving which were already of considerable size at the time of the\nConquest. The Soma Cypress of Lombardy, which is 120 feet high and 23 in\ncircumference, is calculated to go back to forty years before the birth\nof Christ. Francis the First is said to have driven his sword into it in\ndespair after the battle of Padua, and Napoleon altered his road over\nthe Simplon so as to spare it.\n\nFerdinand and Isabella in 1476 swore to maintain the privileges of the\nBiscayans under the old Oak of Guernica. In the Ardennes an Oak cut down\nin 1824 contained a funeral urn and some Samnite coins. A writer at the\ntime drew the conclusion that it must have been already a large tree\nwhen Rome was founded, and though the facts do not warrant this\nconclusion, the tree did, no doubt, go back to Pagan times. The great\nYew of Fountains Abbey is said to have sheltered the monks when the\nabbey was rebuilt in 1133, and is estimated at an age of 1300 years;\nthat at Brabourne in Kent at 3000. De Candolle gives the following as\nthe ages attainable:--\n\n The Ivy 450 years\n Larch 570 \"\n Plane 750 \"\n Cedar of Lebanon 800 \"\n Lime 1100 \"\n Oak 1500 \"\n Taxodium distichum 4000 to 6000\n Baobab 6000 years\n\nNowhere is woodland scenery more beautiful than where it passes\ngradually into the open country. The separate trees, having more room\nboth for their roots and branches, are finer, and can be better seen,\nwhile, when they are close together, \"one cannot see the wood for the\ntrees.\" The vistas which open out are full of mystery and of promise,\nand tempt us gradually out into the green fields.\n\nWhat pleasant memories these very words recall, games in the hay as\nchildren, and sunny summer days throughout life.\n\n\"Consider,\" says Ruskin,[34] \"what we owe to the meadow grass, to the\ncovering of the dark ground by that glorious enamel, by the companies of\nthose soft countless and peaceful spears. The fields! Follow but forth\nfor a little time the thought of all that we ought to recognise in those\nwords. All spring and summer is in them--the walks by silent scented\npaths, the rests in noonday heat, the joy of herds and flocks, the power\nof all shepherd life and meditation, the life of sunlight upon the\nworld, falling in emerald streaks, and soft blue shadows, where else it\nwould have struck on the dark mould or scorching dust, pastures beside\nthe pacing brooks, soft banks and knolls of lowly hills, thymy slopes of\ndown overlooked by the blue line of lifted sea, crisp lawns all dim with\nearly dew, or smooth in evening warmth of barred sunshine, dinted by\nhappy feet, and softening in their fall the sound of loving voices.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\"Go out, in the spring time, among the meadows that slope from the\nshores of the Swiss lakes to the roots of their lower mountains. There,\nmingled with the taller gentians and the white narcissus, the grass\ngrows deep and free, and as you follow the winding mountain paths,\nbeneath arching boughs all veiled and dim with blossom,--paths, that for\never droop and rise over the green banks and mounds sweeping down in\nscented undulation, steep to the blue water, studded here and there with\nnew mown heaps, filling all the air with fainter sweetness,--look up\ntowards the higher hills, where the waves of everlasting green roll\nsilently into their long inlets among the shadows of the pines; and we\nmay, perhaps, at last know the meaning of those quiet words of the 147th\nPsalm, 'He maketh the grass to grow upon the mountains.'\"\n\n\"On fine days,\" he tells us again in his _Autobiography_, \"when the\ngrass was dry, I used to lie down on it, and draw the blades as they\ngrew, with the ground herbage of buttercup or hawkweed mixed among them,\nuntil every square foot of meadow, or mossy bank, became an infinite\npicture and possession to me, and the grace and adjustment to each other\nof growing leaves, a subject of more curious interest to me than the\ncomposition of any painter's masterpieces.\"\n\nIn the passage above quoted, Ruskin alludes especially to Swiss meadows.\nThey are especially remarkable in the beauty and variety of flowers. In\nour fields the herbage is mainly grass, and if it often happens that\nthey glow with Buttercups or are white with Ox-eye-daisies, these are\nbut unwelcome intruders and add nothing to the value of the hay. Swiss\nmeadows, on the contrary, are sweet and lovely with wild Geraniums,\nHarebells, Bluebells, Pink Restharrow, Yellow Lady's Bedstraw, Chervil,\nEyebright, Red and White Silenes, Geraniums, Gentians, and many other\nflowers which have no familiar English names; all adding not only to the\nbeauty and sweetness of the meadows, but forming a valuable part of the\ncrop itself.[35] On the other hand \"turf\" is peculiarly English, and no\nturf is more delightful than that of our Downs--delightful to ride on,\nto sit on, or to walk on. The turf indeed feels so springy under our\nfeet that walking on it seems scarcely an exertion: one could almost\nfancy that the Downs themselves were still rising, even higher, into the\nair.\n\nThe herbage of the Downs is close rather than short, hillocks of sweet\nthyme, tufts of golden Potentilla, of Milkwort--blue, pink, and\nwhite--of sweet grass and Harebells: here and there pink with Heather,\nor golden with Furze or Broom, while over all are the fresh air and\nsunshine, sweet scents, and the hum of bees. And if the Downs seem full\nof life and sunshine, their broad shoulders are types of kindly\nstrength, they give also an impression of power and antiquity, while\nevery now and then we come across a tumulus, or a group of great grey\nstones, the burial place of some ancient hero, or a sacred temple of our\npagan forefathers.\n\nOn the Downs indeed things change slowly, and in parts of Sussex the\nstrong slow oxen still draw the waggons laden with warm hay or golden\nwheat sheaves, or drag the wooden plough along the slopes of the Downs,\njust as they did a thousand years ago.\n\nI love the open Down most, but without hedges England would not be\nEngland. Hedges are everywhere full of beauty and interest, and nowhere\nmore so than at the foot of the Downs, when they are in great part\ncomposed of wild Guelder Roses and rich dark Yews, decked with festoons\nof Traveller's Joy, the wild Bryonies, and garlands of Wild Roses\ncovered with thousands of white or delicate pink flowers, each with a\ncentre of gold.\n\nAt the foot of the Downs spring clear sparkling streams; rain from\nheaven purified still further by being filtered through a thousand feet\nof chalk; fringed with purple Loosestrife and Willowherb, starred with\nwhite Water Ranunculuses, or rich Watercress, while every now and then a\nbrown water rat rustles in the grasses at the edge, and splashes into\nthe water, or a pink speckled trout glides out of sight.\n\nIn many of our midland and northern counties most of the meadows lie in\nparallel undulations or \"rigs.\" These are generally about a furlong (220\nyards) in length, and either one or two poles (5-1/2 or 11 yards) in\nbreadth. They seldom run straight, but tend to curve towards the left.\nAt each end of the field a high bank, locally called a balk, often 3 or\n4 feet high, runs at right angles to the rigs. In small fields there are\ngenerally eight, but sometimes ten, of these rigs, which make in the one\ncase 4, in the other 5 acres. These curious characters carry us back to\nthe old tenures, and archaic cultivation of land, and to a period when\nthe fields were not in pasture, but were arable.\n\nThey also explain our curious system of land measurement. The \"acre\" is\nthe amount which a team of oxen were supposed to plough in a day. It\ncorresponds to the German \"morgen\" and the French \"journee.\" The furlong\nor long \"furrow\" is the distance which a team of oxen can plough\nconveniently without stopping to rest. Oxen, as we know, were driven\nnot with a whip, but with a goad or pole, the most convenient length for\nwhich was 16-1/2 feet, and the ancient ploughman used his \"pole\" or\n\"perch\" by placing it at right angles to his first furrow, thus\nmeasuring the amount he had to plough. Hence our \"pole\" or \"perch\" of\n16-1/2 feet, which at first sight seems a very singular unit to have\nselected. This width is also convenient both for turning the plough, and\nalso for sowing. Hence the most convenient unit of land for arable\npurposes was a furlong in length and a perch or pole in width.\n\nThe team generally consisted of eight oxen. Few peasants, however,\npossessed a whole team, several generally joining together, and dividing\nthe produce. Hence the number of \"rigs,\" one for each ox. We often,\nhowever, find ten instead of eight; one being for the parson's tithe,\nthe other tenth going to the ploughman.\n\nWhen eight oxen were employed the goad would not of course reach the\nleaders, which were guided by a man who walked on the near side. On\narriving at the end of each furrow he turned them round, and as it was\neasier to pull than to push them, this gradually gave the furrow a turn\ntowards the left, thus accounting for the slight curvature. Lastly,\nwhile the oxen rested on arriving at the end of the furrow, the\nploughmen scraped off the earth which had accumulated on the coulter and\nploughshare, and the accumulation of these scrapings gradually formed\nthe balk.\n\nIt is fascinating thus to trace indications of old customs and modes of\nlife, but it would carry us away from the present subject.\n\nEven though the Swiss meadows may offer a greater variety, our English\nfields are yet rich in flowers: yellow with Cowslips and Primroses, pink\nwith Cuckoo flowers and purple with Orchis, while, however, unwelcome to\nthe eye of the farmer,\n\n the rich Buttercup\n Its tiny polished urn holds up,\n Filled with ripe summer to the edge,[36]\n\nturning many a meadow into a veritable field of the cloth of gold, and\nthere are few prettier sights in nature than an English hay field on a\nsummer evening, with a copse perhaps at one side and a brook on the\nother; men with forks tossing the hay in the air to dry; women with\nwooden rakes arranging it in swathes ready for the great four-horse\nwaggon, or collecting it in cocks for the night; while some way off the\nmowers are still at work, and we hear from time to time the pleasant\nsound of the whetting of the scythe. All are working with a will lest\nrain should come and their labour be thrown away. This too often\nhappens. But though we often complain of our English climate, it is yet,\ntake it all in all, one of the best in the world, being comparatively\nfree from extremes either of heat or cold, drought or deluge. To the\nhappy mixture of sunshine and of rain we owe the greenness of our\nfields,\n\n sparkling with dewdrops\n Indwelt with little angels of the Sun,[37]\n\nlit and\n\n warmed by golden sunshine\n And fed by silver rain,\n\nwhich now and again sprinkles the whole earth with diamonds.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[22] _The Spectator._\n\n[23] Milton.\n\n[24] Jefferies.\n\n[25] Forbes, _A Naturalist's Wanderings in the Eastern Archipelago_.\n\n[26] Tennyson.\n\n[27] Hamerton.\n\n[28] Marvell.\n\n[29] Ruskin.\n\n[30] Thomson, _Voyage of the Challenger_.\n\n[31] Thomson, _Voyage of the Challenger_.\n\n[32] Sir J. Paget, _On the Pathology of Plants_.\n\n[33] Evelyn's _Sylva_.\n\n[34] _Modern Painters._\n\n[35] M. Correvon informs me that the Gruyere cheese is supposed to owe\nits peculiar flavour to the alpine Alchemilla, which is now on that\naccount often purposely sown elsewhere.\n\n[36] J. R. Lowell.\n\n[37] Hamerton.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nMOUNTAINS\n\n Mountains \"seem to have been built for the human race, as at\n once their schools and cathedrals; full of treasures of\n illuminated manuscript for the scholar, kindly in simple\n lessons for the worker, quiet in pale cloisters for the\n thinker, glorious in holiness for the worshipper. They are\n great cathedrals of the earth, with their gates of rock,\n pavements of cloud, choirs of stream and stone, altars of snow,\n and vaults of purple traversed by the continual\n stars.\"--RUSKIN.\n\n[Illustration: SUMMIT OF MONT BLANC. _To face page 203._]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nMOUNTAINS\n\n\nThe Alps are to many of us an inexhaustible source of joy and peace, of\nhealth, and even of life. We have gone to them jaded and worn, feeling,\nperhaps without any external cause, anxious and out of spirits, and have\nreturned full of health, strength, and energy. Among the mountains\nNature herself seems freer and happier, brighter and purer, than\nelsewhere. The rush of the rivers, and the repose of the lakes, the pure\nsnowfields and majestic glaciers, the fresh air, the mysterious summits\nof the mountains, the blue haze of the distance, the morning tints and\nthe evening glow, the beauty of the sky and the grandeur of the storm,\nhave all refreshed and delighted us time after time, and their memories\ncan never fade away.\n\nEven now as I write comes back to me the bright vision of an Alpine\nvalley--blue sky above, glittering snow, bare grey or rich red rock,\ndark pines here and there, mixed with bright green larches, then patches\nof smooth alp, with clumps of birch and beech, and dotted with brown\nchalets; then below them rock again, and wood, but this time with more\ndeciduous trees; and then the valley itself, with emerald meadows,\ninterspersed with alder copses, threaded together by a silver stream;\nand I almost fancy I can hear the tinkling of distant cowbells coming\ndown from the alp, and the delicious murmur of the rushing water. The\nendless variety, the sense of repose and yet of power, the dignity of\nage, the energy of youth, the play of colour, the beauty of form, the\nmystery of their origin, all combine to invest mountains with a solemn\nbeauty.\n\nI feel with Ruskin that \"mountains are the beginning and the end of all\nnatural scenery; in them, and in the forms of inferior landscape that\nlead to them, my affections are wholly bound up; and though I can look\nwith happy admiration at the lowland flowers, and woods, and open\nskies, the happiness is tranquil and cold, like that of examining\ndetached flowers in a conservatory, or reading a pleasant book.\" And of\nall mountain views which he has seen, the finest he considers is that\nfrom the Montanvert: \"I have climbed much and wandered much in the heart\nof the high Alps, but I have never yet seen anything which equalled the\nview from the cabin of the Montanvert.\"\n\nIt is no mere fancy that among mountains the flowers are peculiarly\nlarge and brilliant in colour. Not only are there many beautiful species\nwhich are peculiar to mountains,--alpine Gentians, yellow, blue, and\npurple; alpine Rhododendrons, alpine Primroses and Cowslips, alpine\nLychnis, Columbine, Monkshood, Anemones, Narcissus, Campanulas,\nSoldanellas, and a thousand others less familiar to us,--but it is well\nestablished that even within the limits of the same species those living\nup in the mountains have larger and brighter flowers than their sisters\nelsewhere.\n\nVarious alpine species belonging to quite distinct families form close\nmoss-like cushions, gemmed with star-like flowers, or covered\ncompletely with a carpet of blossom. On the lower mountain slopes and in\nalpine valleys trees seem to flourish with peculiar luxuriance. Pines\nand Firs and Larches above; then, as we descend, Beeches and magnificent\nChestnuts, which seem to rejoice in the sweet, fresh air and the pure\nmountain streams.\n\nTo any one accustomed to the rich bird life of English woods and\nhedgerows, it must be admitted that Swiss woods and Alps seem rather\nlonely and deserted. Still the Hawk, or even Eagle, soaring high up in\nthe air, the weird cry of the Marmot, and the knowledge that, even if\none cannot see Chamois, they may all the time be looking down on us,\ngive the Alps, from this point of view also, a special interest of their\nown.\n\nAnother great charm of mountain districts is the richness of colour.\n\"Consider,[38] first, the difference produced in the whole tone of\nlandscape colour by the introductions of purple, violet, and deep\nultra-marine blue which we owe to mountains. In an ordinary lowland\nlandscape we have the blue of the sky; the green of the grass, which I\nwill suppose (and this is an unnecessary concession to the lowlands)\nentirely fresh and bright; the green of trees; and certain elements of\npurple, far more rich and beautiful than we generally should think, in\ntheir bark and shadows (bare hedges and thickets, or tops of trees, in\nsubdued afternoon sunshine, are nearly perfect purple and of an\nexquisite tone), as well as in ploughed fields, and dark ground in\ngeneral. But among mountains, in addition to all this, large unbroken\nspaces of pure violet and purple are introduced in their distances; and\neven near, by films of cloud passing over the darkness of ravines or\nforests, blues are produced of the most subtle tenderness; these azures\nand purples passing into rose colour of otherwise wholly unattainable\ndelicacy among the upper summits, the blue of the sky being at the same\ntime purer and deeper than in the plains. Nay, in some sense, a person\nwho has never seen the rose colour of the rays of dawn crossing a blue\nmountain twelve or fifteen miles away can hardly be said to know what\ntenderness in colour means at all; bright tenderness he may, indeed,\nsee in the sky or in a flower, but this grave tenderness of the far-away\nhill-purples he cannot conceive.\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" he says elsewhere, \"any district possessing a more pure\nor uninterrupted fulness of mountain character (and that of the highest\norder), or which appears to have been less disturbed by foreign\nagencies, than that which borders the course of the Trient between\nValorsine and Martigny. The paths which lead to it, out of the valley of\nthe Rhone, rising at first in steep circles among the walnut trees, like\nwinding stairs among the pillars of a Gothic tower, retire over the\nshoulders of the hills into a valley almost unknown, but thickly\ninhabited by an industrious and patient population. Along the ridges of\nthe rocks, smoothed by old glaciers, into long, dark, billowy swellings,\nlike the backs of plunging dolphins, the peasant watches the slow\ncolouring of the tufts of moss and roots of herb, which, little by\nlittle, gather a feeble soil over the iron substance; then, supporting\nthe narrow strip of clinging ground with a few stones, he subdues it to\nthe spade, and in a year or two a little crest of corn is seen waving\nupon the rocky casque.\"\n\nTyndall, speaking of the scene from the summit of the Little\nScheideck,[39] says: \"The upper air exhibited a commotion which we did\nnot experience; clouds were wildly driven against the flanks of the\nEiger, the Jungfrau thundered behind, while in front of us a magnificent\nrainbow, fixing one of its arms in the valley of Grindelwald, and,\nthrowing the other right over the crown of the Wetterhorn, clasped the\nmountain in its embrace. Through jagged apertures in the clouds floods\nof golden light were poured down the sides of the mountain. On the\nslopes were innumerable chalets, glistening in the sunbeams, herds\nbrowsing peacefully and shaking their mellow bells; while the blackness\nof the pine trees, crowded into woods, or scattered in pleasant clusters\nover alp and valley, contrasted forcibly with the lively green of the\nfields.\"\n\nFew men had more experience of mountains than Mr. Whymper, and from him,\nI will quote one remarkable passage describing the view from the summit\nof the Matterhorn just before the terrible catastrophe which overshadows\nthe memory of his first ascent.\n\n\"The day was one of those superlatively calm and clear ones which\nusually precede bad weather. The atmosphere was perfectly still and free\nfrom all clouds or vapours. Mountains fifty, nay, a hundred miles off\nlooked sharp and near. All their details--ridge and crag, snow and\nglacier--stood out with faultless definition. Pleasant thoughts of happy\ndays in bygone years came up unbidden as we recognised the old familiar\nforms. All were revealed, not one of the principal peaks of the Alps was\nhidden. I see them clearly now, the great inner circle of giants, backed\nby the ranges, chains, and _massifs_.... Ten thousand feet beneath us\nwere the green fields of Zermatt, dotted with chalets, from which blue\nsmoke rose lazily. Eight thousand feet below, on the other side, were\nthe pastures of Breuil. There were black and gloomy forests; bright and\ncheerful meadows, bounding waterfalls and tranquil lakes, fertile lands\nand savage wastes, sunny plains and frigid plateaux. There were the most\nrugged forms and the most graceful outlines, bold perpendicular cliffs\nand gentle undulating slopes; rocky mountains and snowy mountains,\nsombre and solemn, or glittering and white, with walls, turrets,\npinnacles, pyramids, domes, cones, and spires! There was every\ncombination that the world can give, and every contrast that the heart\ncould desire.\"\n\nThese were summer scenes, but the Autumn and Winter again have a\ngrandeur and beauty of their own.\n\n\"Autumn is dark on the mountains; grey mist rests on the hills. The\nwhirlwind is heard on the heath. Dark rolls the river through the narrow\nplain. The leaves twirl round with the wind, and strew the grave of the\ndead.\"[40]\n\nEven bad weather often but enhances the beauty and grandeur of\nmountains. When the lower parts are hidden, and the peaks stand out\nabove the clouds, they look much loftier than if the whole mountain\nside is visible. The gloom lends a weirdness and mystery to the scene,\nwhile the flying clouds give it additional variety.\n\nRain, moreover, adds vividness to the colouring. The leaves and grass\nbecome a brighter green, \"every sunburnt rock glows into an agate,\" and\nwhen fine weather returns the new snow gives intense brilliance, and\ninvests the woods especially with the beauty of Fairyland. How often in\nalpine districts does one long \"for the wings of a dove,\" more\nthoroughly to enjoy and more completely to explore, the mysteries and\nrecesses of the mountains. The mind, however, can go, even if the body\nmust remain behind.\n\nEach hour of the day has a beauty of its own. The mornings and evenings\nagain glow with different and even richer tints.\n\nIn mountain districts the cloud effects are brighter and more varied\nthan in flatter regions. The morning and evening tints are seen to the\ngreatest advantage, and clouds floating high in the heavens sometimes\nglitter with the most exquisite iridescent hues\n\n that blush and glow\n Like angels' wings.[41]\n\nOn low ground one may be in the clouds, but not above them. But as we\nlook down from mountains and see the clouds floating far below us, we\nalmost seem as if we were looking down on earth from one of the heavenly\nbodies.\n\nNot even in the Alps is there anything more beautiful than the \"after\nglow\" which lights up the snow and ice with a rosy tint for some time\nafter the sun has set. Long after the lower slopes are already in the\nshade, the summit of Mont Blanc for instance is transfigured by the\nlight of the setting sun glowing on the snow. It seems almost like a\nlight from another world, and vanishes as suddenly and mysteriously as\nit came.\n\nAs we look up from the valleys the mountain peaks seem like separate\npinnacles projecting far above the general level. This, however, is a\nvery erroneous impression, and when we examine the view from the top of\nany of the higher mountains, or even from one of very moderate\nelevation, if well placed, such say as the well-known Piz Languard, we\nsee that in many cases they must have once formed a dome, or even a\ntable land, out of which the valleys have been carved. Many mountain\nchains were originally at least twice as high as they are now, and the\nhighest peaks are those which have suffered least from the wear and tear\nof time.\n\nWe used to speak of the everlasting hills, and are only beginning to\nrealise the vast and many changes which our earth has undergone.\n\n There rolls the deep where grew the tree.\n O earth, what changes hast thou seen!\n There where the long street roars, hath been\n The stillness of the central sea.\n\n The hills are shadows, and they flow\n From form to form, and nothing stands;\n They melt like mist, the solid lands,\n Like clouds they shape themselves and go.[42]\n\n\nTHE ORIGIN OF MOUNTAINS\n\nGeography moreover acquires a new interest when we once realise that\nmountains are no mere accidents, but that for every mountain chain, for\nevery peak and valley, there is a cause and an explanation.\n\nThe origin of Mountains is a question of much interest. The building up\nof Volcanoes is even now going on before our eyes. Some others, the\nDolomites for instance, have been regarded by Richthofen and other\ngeologists as ancient coral islands. The long lines of escarpment which\noften stretch for miles across country, are now ascertained, mainly\nthrough the researches of Whitaker, to be due to the differential action\nof aerial causes. The general origin of mountain chains, however, was at\nfirst naturally enough attributed to direct upward pressure from below.\nTo attribute them in any way to subsidence seems almost a paradox, and\nyet it appears to be now well established that the general cause is\nlateral compression, due to contraction of the underlying mass. The\nearth, we know, has been gradually cooling, and as it contracted in\ndoing so, the strata of the crust would necessarily be thrown into\nfolds. When an apple dries and shrivels in winter, the surface becomes\ncovered with ridges. Or again, if we place some sheets of paper between\ntwo weights on a table, and then bring the weights nearer together, the\npaper will be crumpled up.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 17.--Adapted from Ball's paper \"On the Formation of\nAlpine Valleys and Lakes,\" _Lond. and Ed. Phil. Mag._ 1863, p. 96.]\n\nIn the same way let us take a section of the earth's surface AB (Fig.\n17), and suppose that, by the gradual cooling and consequent contraction\nof the mass, AB sinks to A'B', then to A''B'', and finally to A'''B'''.\nOf course if the cooling of the surface and of the deeper portion were\nthe same, then the strata between A and B would themselves contract, and\nmight consequently still form a regular curve between A''' and B'''. As\na matter of fact, however, the strata at the surface of our globe have\nlong since approached a constant temperature. Under these circumstances\nthere would be no contraction of the strata between A and B\ncorresponding to that of those in the interior, and consequently they\ncould not lie flat between A''' and B''', but must be thrown into folds,\ncommencing along any line of least resistance. Sometimes indeed the\nstrata are completely inverted, as in Fig. 19, and in other cases they\nhave been squeezed for miles out of their original position. This\nexplanation was first, I believe, suggested by Steno. It has been\nrecently developed by Ball and Suess, and especially by Heim. In this\nmanner it is probable that most mountain chains originated.[43]\n\nThe structure of mountain districts confirms this theoretical\nexplanation. It is obvious of course that when strata are thrown into\nfolds, they will, if strained too much, give way at the summit of the\nfold. Before doing so, however, they are stretched and consequently\nloosened, while on the other hand the strata at the bottom of the fold\nare compressed: the former, therefore, are rendered more susceptible of\ndisintegration, the latter on the contrary acquire greater powers of\nresistance. Hence denudation will act with more effect on the upper\nthan on the lower portion of the folds, and if continued long enough, so\nthat, as shown in the above diagram, the dotted portion is removed, we\nfind the original hill tops replaced by valleys, and the original\nvalleys forming the hill tops. Every visitor to Switzerland must have\nnoticed hills where the strata lie as shown in parts of Fig. 18, and\nwhere it is obvious that strata corresponding to those in dots must have\nbeen originally present.\n\nIn the Jura, for instance, a glance at any good map of the district will\nshow a succession of ridges running parallel to one another in a\nslightly curved line from S.W. to N.E. That these ridges are due to\nfolds of the earth's surface is clear from the following figure in\nJaccard's work on the Geology of the Jura, showing a section from\nBrenets due south to Neuchatel by Le Locle. These folds are\ncomparatively slight and the hills of no great height. Further south,\nhowever, the strata are much more violently dislocated and compressed\ntogether. The Mont Saleve is the remnant of one of these ridges.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 18.--Section across the Jura from Brenets to\nNeuchatel.]\n\nIn the Alps the contortions are much greater than in the Jura. Fig. 19\nshows a section after Heim, from the Spitzen across the Brunnialp, and\nthe Maderanerthal. It is obvious that the valleys are due mainly to\nerosion, that the Maderaner valley has been cut out of the crystalline\nrocks _s_, and was once covered by the Jurassic strata _j_, which must\nhave formerly passed in a great arch over what is now the valley.\n\nHowever improbable it may seem that so great an amount of rock should\nhave disappeared, evidence is conclusive. Ramsay has shown that in some\nparts of Wales not less than 29,000 feet have been removed, while there\nis strong reason for the belief that in Switzerland an amount has been\ncarried away equal to the present height of the mountains; though of\ncourse it does not follow that the Alps were once twice as high as they\nare at present, because elevation and erosion must have gone on\ncontemporaneously.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 19.--_e_, Eocene strata; _j_, Jurassic; _s_,\nCrystalline rocks.]\n\nIt has been calculated that the strata between Bale and the St. Gotthard\nhave been compressed from 202 miles to 130 miles, the Ardennes from 50\nto 25 miles, and the Appalachians from 153 miles to 65! Prof. Gumbel has\nrecently expressed the opinion that the main force to which the\nelevation of the Alps was due acted along the main axis of elevation.\nExactly the opposite inference would seem really to follow from the\nfacts. If the centre of force were along the axis of elevation, the\nresult would, as Suess and Heim have pointed out, be to extend, not to\ncompress, the strata; and the folds would remain quite unaccounted for.\nThe suggestion of compression is on the contrary consistent with the\nmain features of Swiss geography. The principal axis follows a curved\nline from the Maritime Alps towards the north-east by Mont Blanc and\nMonte Rosa and St. Gotthard to the mountains overlooking the Engadine.\nThe geological strata follow the same direction. North of a line running\nthrough Chambery, Yverdun, Neuchatel, Solothurn, and Olten to Waldshut\non the Rhine are Jurassic strata; between that line and a second nearly\nparallel and running through Annecy, Vevey, Lucerne, Wesen, Appenzell,\nand Bregenz on the Lake of Constance, is the lowland occupied by later\nTertiary strata; between this second line and another passing through\nAlbertville, St. Maurice, Lenk, Meiringen, and Altdorf lies a more or\nless broken band of older Tertiary strata; south of which are a\nCretaceous zone, one of Jurassic age, then a band of crystalline rocks,\nwhile the central core, so to say, of the Alps, as for instance at St.\nGotthard, consists mainly of gneiss or granite. The sedimentary deposits\nreappear south of the Alps, and in the opinion of some high authorities,\nas, for instance, of Bonney and Heim, passed continuously over the\nintervening regions. The last great upheaval commenced after the Miocene\nperiod, and continued through the Pliocene. Miocene strata attain in the\nRighi a height of 6000 feet.\n\nFor neither the hills nor the mountains are everlasting, or of the same\nage.\n\nThe Welsh mountains are older than the Vosges, the Vosges than the\nPyrenees, the Pyrenees than the Alps, and the Alps than the Andes, which\nindeed are still rising; so that if our English mountains are less\nimposing so far as mere height is concerned, they are most venerable\nfrom their great antiquity.\n\nBut though the existing Alps are in one sense, and speaking\ngeologically, very recent, there is strong reason for believing that\nthere was a chain of lofty mountains there long previously. \"The first\nindication,\" says Judd, \"of the existence of a line of weakness in this\nportion of the earth's crust is found towards the close of the Permian\nperiod, when a series of volcanic outbursts on the very grandest scale\ntook place\" along a line nearly following that of the present Alps, and\nled to the formation of a range of mountains, which, in his opinion,\nmust have been at least 8000 to 9000 feet high. Ramsay and Bonney have\nalso given strong reasons for believing that the present line of the\nAlps was, at a still earlier period, occupied by a range of mountains no\nless lofty than those of to-day. Thus then, though the present Alps are\ncomparatively speaking so recent, there are good grounds for the belief\nthat they were preceded by one or more earlier ranges, once as lofty as\nthey are now, but which were more or less completely levelled by the\naction of air and water, just as is happening now to the present\nmountain ranges.\n\nMovements of elevation and subsidence are still going on in various\nparts of the world. Scandinavia is rising in the north, and sinking at\nthe south. South America is rising on the west and sinking in the east,\nrotating in fact on its axis, like some stupendous pendulum.\n\nThe crushing and folding of the strata to which mountain chains are due,\nand of which the Alps afford such marvellous illustrations, necessarily\ngive rise to Earthquakes, and the slight shocks so frequent in parts of\nSwitzerland[44] appear to indicate that the forces which have raised the\nAlps are not yet entirely spent, and that slow subterranean movements\nare still in progress along the flanks of the mountains.\n\nBut if the mountain chains are due to compression, the present valleys\nare mainly the result of denudation. As soon as a mountain range is once\nraised, all nature seems to conspire against it. Sun and Frost, Heat\nand Cold, Air and Water, Ice and Snow, every plant, from the Lichen to\nthe Oak, and every animal, from the Worm to Man himself, combine to\nattack it. Water, however, is the most powerful agent of all. The autumn\nrains saturate every pore and cranny; the water as it freezes cracks and\nsplits the hardest rocks; while the spring sun melts the snow and swells\nthe rivers, which in their turn carry off the debris to the plains.\n\nPerhaps, however, it would after all be more correct to say that Nature,\nlike some great artist, carves the shapeless block into form, and endows\nthe rude mass with life and beauty.\n\n\"What more,\" said Hutton long ago, \"is required to explain the\nconfiguration of our mountains and valleys? Nothing but time. It is not\nany part of the process that will be disputed; but, after allowing all\nthe parts, the whole will be denied; and for what? Only because we are\nnot disposed to allow that quantity of time which the absolution of so\nmuch wasted mountain might require.\"\n\nThe tops of the Swiss mountains stand, and since their elevation have\nprobably always stood, above the range of ice, and hence their bold\npeaks. In Scotland, on the contrary, and still more in Norway, the sheet\nof ice which once, as is the case with Greenland now, spread over the\nwhole country, has shorn off the summits and reduced them almost to\ngigantic bosses; while in Wales the same causes, together with the\nresistless action of time--for, as already mentioned, the Welsh hills\nare far older than the mountains of Switzerland--has ground down the\nonce lofty summits and reduced them to mere stumps, such as, if the\npresent forces are left to work out their results, the Swiss mountains\nwill be thousands, or rather tens of thousands, of years hence.\n\nThe \"snow line\" in Switzerland is generally given as being between 8500\nand 9000 feet. Above this level the snow or _neve_ gradually accumulates\nuntil it forms \"glaciers,\" solid rivers of ice which descend more or\nless far down the valleys. No one who has not seen a glacier can\npossibly realise what they are like. Fig. 20 represents the glacier of\nthe Bluemlis Alp, and the Plate the Mer de Glace.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 20.--Glacier of the Bluemlis Alp.]\n\n[Illustration: THE MER DE GLACE.\n\n_To face page 229._]\n\nThey are often very beautiful. \"Mount Beerenberg,\" says Lord Dufferin,\n\"in size, colour, and effect far surpassed anything I had anticipated.\nThe glaciers were quite an unexpected element of beauty. Imagine a\nmighty river, of as great a volume as the Thames, started down the side\nof a mountain, bursting over every impediment, whirled into a thousand\neddies, tumbling and raging on from ledge to ledge in quivering\ncataracts of foam, then suddenly struck rigid by a power so\ninstantaneous in its action that even the froth and fleeting wreaths of\nspray have stiffened to the immutability of sculpture. Unless you had\nseen it, it would be almost impossible to conceive the strangeness of\nthe contrast between the actual tranquillity of these silent crystal\nrivers and the violent descending energy impressed upon their exterior.\nYou must remember too all this is upon a scale of such prodigious\nmagnitude, that when we succeeded subsequently in approaching the\nspot--where with a leap like that of Niagara one of these glaciers\nplunges down into the sea--the eye, no longer able to take in its\nfluvial character, was content to rest in simple astonishment at what\nthen appeared a lucent precipice of grey-green ice, rising to the height\nof several hundred feet above the masts of the vessel.\"[45]\n\nThe cliffs above glaciers shower down fragments of rock which gradually\naccumulate at the sides and at the end of the glaciers, forming mounds\nknown as \"moraines.\" Many ancient moraines occur far beyond the present\nregion of glaciers.\n\nIn considering the condition of alpine valleys we must remember that the\nglaciers formerly descended much further than they do at present. The\nglaciers of the Rhone for instance occupied the whole of the Valais,\nfilled the Lake of Geneva--or rather the site now occupied by that\nlake--and rose 2000 feet up the slopes of the Jura; the Upper Ticino,\nand contributory valleys, were occupied by another which filled the\nbasin of the Lago Maggiore; a third occupied the valley of the Dora\nBaltea, and has left a moraine at Ivrea some twenty miles long, and\nwhich rises no less than 1500 feet above the present level of the river.\nThe Scotch and Scandinavian valleys were similarly filled by rivers of\nice, which indeed at one time covered the whole country with an immense\nsheet, as Greenland is at present. Enormous blocks of stone, the Pierre\na Niton at Geneva and the Pierre a Bot above Neuchatel, for instance,\nwere carried by these glaciers for miles and miles; and many of the\nstones in the Norfolk cliffs were brought by ice from Norway (perhaps,\nhowever, by Icebergs), across what is now the German Ocean. Again\nwherever the rocks are hard enough to have withstood the weather, we\nfind them polished and ground, just as, and even more so than, those at\nthe ends and sides of existing glaciers.\n\nThe most magnificent glacier tracks in the Alps are, in Ruskin's\nopinion, those on the rocks of the great angle opposite Martigny; the\nmost interesting those above the channel of the Trient between Valorsine\nand the valley of the Rhone.\n\nIn Great Britain I know no better illustration of ice action than is to\nbe seen on the road leading down from Glen Quoich to Loch Hourn, one of\nthe most striking examples of desolate and savage scenery in Scotland.\nIts name in Celtic is said to mean the Lake of Hell. All along the\nroadside are smoothed and polished hummocks of rock, most of them deeply\nfurrowed with approximately parallel striae, presenting a gentle slope on\nthe upper end, and a steep side below, clearly showing the direction of\nthe great ice flow.\n\nMany of the upper Swiss valleys contain lakes, as, for instance, that of\nthe Upper Rhone, the Lake of Geneva, of the Reuss, the Lake of Lucerne,\nof the Rhine, that of Constance. These lakes are generally very deep.\n\nThe colour of the upper rivers, which are white with the diluvium from\nthe glaciers, is itself evidence of the erosive powers which they\nexercise. This finely-divided matter is, however, precipitated in the\nlakes, which, as well as the rivers issuing from them, are a beautiful\nrich blue.\n\n\"Is it not probable that this action of finely-divided matter may have\nsome influence on the colour of some of the Swiss lakes--as that of\nGeneva for example? This lake is simply an expansion of the river Rhone,\nwhich rushes from the end of the Rhone glacier, as the Arveiron does\nfrom the end of the Mer de Glace. Numerous other streams join the Rhone\nright and left during its downward course; and these feeders, being\nalmost wholly derived from glaciers, join the Rhone charged with the\nfiner matter which these in their motion have ground from the rocks over\nwhich they have passed. But the glaciers must grind the mass beneath\nthem to particles of all sizes, and I cannot help thinking that the\nfinest of them must remain suspended in the lake throughout its entire\nlength. Faraday has shown that a precipitate of gold may require months\nto sink to the bottom of a bottle not more than five inches high, and in\nall probability it would require ages of calm subsidence to bring all\nthe particles which the Lake of Geneva contains to its bottom. It seems\ncertainly worthy of examination whether such particles suspended in the\nwater contribute to the production of that magnificent blue which has\nexcited the admiration of all who have seen it under favourable\ncircumstances.\"[46]\n\nAmong the Swiss mountains themselves each has its special character.\nTyndall thus describes a view in the Alps, certainly one of the most\nbeautiful--that, namely, from the summit of the AEgischhorn.\n\n\"Skies and summits are to-day without a cloud, and no mist or turbidity\ninterferes with the sharpness of the outlines. Jungfrau, Monk, Eiger,\nTrugberg, cliffy Strahlgrat, stately lady-like Aletschhorn, all grandly\npierce the empyrean. Like a Saul of Mountains, the Finsteraarhorn\novertops all his neighbours; then we have the Oberaarhorn, with the\nriven glacier of Viesch rolling from his shoulders. Below is the\nMarjelin See, with its crystal precipices and its floating icebergs,\nsnowy white, sailing on a blue green sea. Beyond is the range which\ndivides the Valais from Italy. Sweeping round, the vision meets an\naggregate of peaks which look as fledglings to their mother towards the\nmighty Dom. Then come the repellent crags of Mont Cervin; the ideal of\nmoral savagery, of wild untameable ferocity, mingling involuntarily with\nour contemplation of the gloomy pile. Next comes an object, scarcely\nless grand, conveying, it may be, even a deeper impression of majesty\nand might than the Matterhorn itself--the Weisshorn, perhaps the most\nsplendid object in the Alps. But beauty is associated with its force,\nand we think of it, not as cruel, but as grand and strong. Further to\nthe right the great Combin lifts up his bare head; other peaks crowd\naround him; while at the extremity of the curve round which our gaze has\nswept rises the sovran crown of Mont Blanc. And now, as day sinks,\nscrolls of pearly clouds draw themselves around the mountain crests,\nbeing wafted from them into the distant air. They are without colour of\nany kind; still, by grace of form, and as the embodiment of lustrous\nlight and most tender shade, their beauty is not to be described.\"[47]\n\n\nVOLCANOES\n\nVolcanoes belong to a totally different series of mountains.\n\nIt is practically impossible to number the Volcanoes on our earth.\nHumboldt enumerated 223, which Keith Johnston raised to nearly 300.\nSome, no doubt, are always active, but in the majority the eruptions are\noccasional, and though some are undoubtedly now extinct, it is\nimpossible in all cases to distinguish those which are only in repose\nfrom those whose day of activity is over. Then, again, the question\nwould arise, which should be regarded as mere subsidiary cones and which\nare separate volcanoes. The slopes of Etna present more than 700 small\ncones, and on Hawaii there are several thousands. In fact, most of the\nvery lofty volcanoes present more or less lateral cones.\n\nThe molten matter, welling up through some fissure, gradually builds\nitself up into a cone, often of the most beautiful regularity, such as\nthe gigantic peaks of Chimporazo, Cotopaxi (Fig. 21), and Fusiyama, and\nhence it is that the crater is so often at, or very near, the summit.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 21.--Cotopaxi.]\n\nPerhaps no spectacle in Nature is more magnificent than a Volcano in\nactivity. It has been my good fortune to have stood more than once at\nthe edge of the crater of Vesuvius during an eruption, to have watched\nthe lava seething below, while enormous stones were shot up high into\nthe air. Such a spectacle can never be forgotten.\n\nThe most imposing crater in the world is probably that of Kilauea, at a\nheight of about 4000 feet on the side of Mouna Loa, in the Island of\nHawaii. It has a diameter of 2 miles, and is elliptic in outline, with a\nlonger axis of about 3, and a circumference of about 7 miles. The\ninterior is a great lake of lava, the level of which is constantly\nchanging. Generally, it stands about 800 feet below the edge, and the\ndepth is about 1400 feet. The heat is intense, and, especially at night,\nwhen the clouds are coloured scarlet by the reflection from the molten\nlava, the effect is said to be magnificent. Gradually the lava mounts in\nthe crater until it either bursts through the side or runs over the\nedge, after which the crater remains empty, sometimes for years.\n\nA lava stream flows down the slope of the mountain like a burning river,\nat first rapidly, but as it cools, scoriae gradually form, and at length\nthe molten matter covers itself completely (Fig. 22), both above and at\nthe sides, with a solid crust, within which, as in a tunnel, it\ncontinues to flow slowly as long as it is supplied from the source, here\nand there breaking through the crust which, as continually, re-forms in\nfront. Thus the terrible, inexorable river of fire slowly descends,\ndestroying everything in its course.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 22.--Lava Stream.]\n\nThe stream of lava which burst from Mouna Loa in 1885 had a length of 70\nmiles; that of Skaptar-Jokul in Iceland in 1783 had a length of 50\nmiles, and a maximum depth of nearly 500 feet. It has been calculated\nthat the mass of lava equalled that of Mont Blanc.\n\nThe stones, ashes, and mud ejected during eruptions are even more\ndestructive than the rivers of lava. In 1851 Tomboro, a volcano on the\nIsland of Sumbava, cost more lives than fell in the battle of Waterloo.\nThe earthquake of Lisbon in 1755 destroyed 60,000 persons. During the\nearthquake of Riobamba and the mud eruption of Tunguragua, and again in\nthat of Krakatoa, it is estimated that the number who perished was\nbetween 30,000 and 40,000. At the earthquake of Antioch in 526 no less\nthan 200,000 persons are said to have lost their lives.\n\nPerhaps the most destructive eruption of modern times has been that on\nCosequina. For 25 miles it covered the ground with muddy water 16 feet\nin depth. The dust and ashes formed a dense cloud, extending over many\nmiles, some of it being carried 20 degrees to the west. The total mass\nejected has been estimated at 60 milliards of square yards.\n\nStromboli, in the Mediterranean (Fig. 23), though only 2500 feet in\nheight, is very imposing from its superb regularity, and its roots\nplunge below the surface to a depth of 4000 feet.\n\nIt is, moreover, very interesting from the regularity of its action,\nwhich has a period of 5 minutes or a little less. On looking down into\nthe crater one sees at a depth of say 300 feet a seething mass of\nred-hot lava; this gradually rises, and then explodes, throwing up a\ncloud of vapour and stones, after which it sinks again. So regular is it\nthat the Volcano has been compared to a \"flashing\" lighthouse, and this\nwonderful process has been going on for ages.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 23.--Stromboli, viewed from the north-west, April\n1874.]\n\nThough long extinct, volcanoes once existed in the British Isles;\nArthur's Seat, near Edinburgh, for instance, appears to be the funnel of\na small volcano, belonging to the Carboniferous period.\n\nThe summit of a volcanic mountain is sometimes entirely blown away.\nBetween my first two visits to Vesuvius 200 feet of the mountain had\nthus disappeared. Vesuvius itself stands in a more ancient crater, part\nof which still remains, and is now known as Somma, the greater portion\nhaving disappeared in the great eruption of 79, when the mountain,\nwaking from its long sleep, destroyed Herculaneum and Pompeii.\n\nAs regards the origin of volcanoes there have been two main theories.\nImpressed by the magnitude and grandeur of the phenomena, enhanced as\nthey are by their destructive character, many have been disposed to\nregard the craters of volcanoes as gigantic chimneys, passing right\nthrough the solid crust of the globe, and communicating with a central\nfire. Recent researches, however, have indicated that, grand and\nimposing as they are, volcanoes must yet be regarded as due mainly to\nlocal and superficial causes.\n\nA glance at the map shows that volcanoes are almost always situated on,\nor near, the sea coast. From the interior of continents they are\nentirely wanting. The number of active volcanoes in the Andes,\ncontrasted with their absence in the Alps and Ourals, the Himalayas, and\nCentral Asian chains, is very striking. Indeed, the Pacific Ocean is\nencircled, as Ritter has pointed out, by a ring of fire. Beginning with\nNew Zealand, we have the Volcanoes of Tongariro, Whakaii, etc.; thence\nthe circle passes through the Fiji Islands, Solomon Islands, New Guinea,\nTimor, Flores, Sumbava, Lombock, Java, Sumatra, the Philippines, Japan,\nthe Aleutian Islands, along the Rocky Mountains, Mexico, Peru, and\nChili, to Tierra del Fuego, and, in the far south, to the two great\nVolcanoes of Erebus and Terror on Victoria Land.\n\nWe know that the contraction of the Earth's surface with the strains and\nfractures, the compression and folds, which must inevitably result, is\nstill in operation, and must give rise to areas of high temperature,\nand consequently to volcanoes. We must also remember that the real\nmountain chains of our earth are the continents, compared to which even\nthe Alps and Andes are mere wrinkles. It is along the lines of the great\nmountain chains, that is to say, along the main coast lines, rather than\nin the centres of the continents, which may be regarded as comparatively\nquiescent, that we should naturally expect to find the districts of\ngreatest heat, and this is perhaps why volcanoes are generally\ndistributed along the coast lines.\n\nAnother reason for regarding Volcanoes as local phenomena is that many\neven of those comparatively near one another act quite independently.\nThis is so with Kilauea and Mouna Loa, both on the small island of\nHawaii.\n\nAgain, if volcanoes were in connection with a great central sea of fire,\nthe eruptions must follow the same laws as regulate the tides. This,\nhowever, is not the case. There are indeed indications of the existence\nof slight tides in the molten lake which underlies Vesuvius, and during\nthe eruption of 1865 there was increased activity twice a day, as we\nshould expect to find in any great fluid reservoir, but very different\nindeed from what must have been the case if the mountain was in\nconnection with a central ocean of molten matter.\n\nIndeed, unless the \"crust\" of our earth was of great thickness we should\nbe subject to perpetual earthquakes. No doubt these are far more\nfrequent than is generally supposed; indeed, with our improved\ninstruments it can be shown that instead of occasional vibrations, with\nlong intermediate periods of rest, we have in reality short intervals of\nrest with long periods of vibration, or rather perhaps that the crust of\nthe earth is in constant tremor, with more violent oscillation from time\nto time.\n\nIt appears, moreover, that earthquakes are not generally deep-seated.\nThe point at which the shock is vertical can be ascertained, and it is\nalso possible in some cases to determine the angle at which it emerges\nelsewhere. When this has been done it has always been found that the\nseat of disturbance must have been within 30 geographical miles of the\nsurface.\n\nYet, though we cannot connect volcanic action with the central heat of\nthe earth, but must regard it as a minor and local manifestation of\nforce, volcanoes still remain among the grandest, most awful, and at the\nsame time most magnificent spectacles which the earth can afford.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[38] Ruskin.\n\n[39] _The Glaciers of the Alps._\n\n[40] Ossian.\n\n[41] Bullar, _Azores_.\n\n[42] Tennyson.\n\n[43] See especially Heim's great work, _Unt. ue. d. Mechanismus der\nGebirgsbildung_.\n\n[44] In the last 150 years more than 1000 are recorded.\n\n[45] _Letters from High Latitudes._\n\n[46] _Glaciers of the Alps._\n\n[47] _Mountaineering in 1861._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nWATER\n\n Of all inorganic substances, acting in their own proper nature,\n and without assistance or combination, water is the most\n wonderful. If we think of it as the source of all the\n changefulness and beauty which we have seen in the clouds; then\n as the instrument by which the earth we have contemplated was\n modelled into symmetry, and its crags chiselled into grace;\n then as, in the form of snow, it robes the mountains it has\n made, with that transcendent light which we could not have\n conceived if we had not seen; then as it exists in the foam of\n the torrent, in the iris which spans it, in the morning mist\n which rises from it, in the deep crystalline pools which mirror\n its hanging shore, in the broad lake and glancing river,\n finally, in that which is to all human minds the best emblem of\n unwearied, unconquerable power, the wild, various, fantastic,\n tameless unity of the sea; what shall we compare to this\n mighty, this universal element, for glory and for beauty? or\n how shall we follow its eternal cheerfulness of feeling? It is\n like trying to paint a soul.--RUSKIN.\n\n[Illustration: RYDAL WATER. _To face page 251._]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nWATER\n\n\nIn the legends of ancient times running water was proof against all\nsorcery and witchcraft:\n\n No spell could stay the living tide\n Or charm the rushing stream.[48]\n\nThere was much truth as well as beauty in this idea.\n\nFlowing waters, moreover, have not only power to wash out material\nstains, but they also clear away the cobwebs of the brain--the results\nof over incessant work--and restore us to health and strength.\n\nSnowfields and glaciers, mountain torrents, sparkling brooks, and\nstately rivers, meres and lakes, and last, not least, the great ocean\nitself, all alike possess this magic power.\n\n\"When I would beget content,\" says Izaak Walton, \"and increase\nconfidence in the power and wisdom and providence of Almighty God, I\nwill walk the meadows by some gliding stream, and there contemplate the\nlilies that take no care, and those very many other little living\ncreatures that are not only created, but fed (man knows not how) by the\ngoodness of the God of Nature, and therefore trust in Him;\" and in his\nquaint old language he craves a special blessing on all those \"that are\ntrue lovers of virtue, and dare trust in His Providence, and be quiet,\nand go a angling.\"\n\nAt the water's edge flowers are especially varied and luxuriant, so that\nthe banks of a river are a long natural garden of tall and graceful\ngrasses and sedges, the Meadow Sweet, the Flowering Rush, the sweet\nFlag, the Bull Rush, Purple Loosestrife, Hemp Agrimony, Dewberry,\nForget-me-not, and a hundred more, backed by Willows, Alders, Poplars,\nand other trees.\n\nThe Animal world, if less conspicuous to the eye, is quite as\nfascinating to the imagination. Here and there a speckled Trout may be\ndetected (rather by the shadow than the substance) suspended in the\nclear water, or darting across a shallow; if we are quiet we may see\nWater Hens or Wild Ducks swimming among the lilies, a Kingfisher sitting\non a branch or flashing away like a gleam of light; a solemn Heron\nstands maybe at the water's edge, or slowly rises flapping his great\nwings; Water Rats, neat and clean little creatures, very different from\ntheir coarse brown namesakes of the land, are abundant everywhere; nor\nneed we even yet quite despair of seeing the Otter himself.\n\nInsects of course are gay, lively, and innumerable; but after all the\nrichest fauna is that visible only with a microscope.\n\n\"To gaze,\" says Dr. Hudson, \"into that wonderful world which lies in a\ndrop of water, crossed by some stems of green weed, to see transparent\nliving mechanism at work, and to gain some idea of its modes of action,\nto watch a tiny speck that can sail through the prick of a needle's\npoint; to see its crystal armour flashing with ever varying tint, its\nhead glorious with the halo of its quivering cilia; to see it gliding\nthrough the emerald stems, hunting for its food, snatching at its prey,\nfleeing from its enemy, chasing its mate (the fiercest of our passions\nblazing in an invisible speck); to see it whirling in a mad dance, to\nthe sound of its own music, the music of its happiness, the exquisite\nhappiness of living--can any one, who has once enjoyed this sight, ever\nturn from it to mere books and drawings, without the sense that he has\nleft all Fairyland behind him?\"[49]\n\nThe study of Natural History has indeed the special advantage of\ncarrying us into the country and the open air.\n\nLakes are even more restful than rivers or the sea. Rivers are always\nflowing, though it may be but slowly; the sea may rest awhile, now and\nthen, but is generally full of action and energy; while lakes seem to\nsleep and dream. Lakes in a beautiful country are like silver ornaments\non a lovely dress, like liquid gems in a beautiful setting, or bright\neyes in a lovely face. Indeed as we gaze down on a lake from some hill\nor cliff it almost looks solid, like some great blue crystal.\n\n[Illustration: WINDERMERE. _To face page 254._]\n\nIt is not merely for purposes of commerce or convenience that men love\nto live near rivers.\n\n Let me live harmlessly, and near the brink\n Of Trent or Avon have my dwelling-place;\n Where I may see my quill, or cork, down sink,\n With eager bite of pike, or bleak, or dace;\n And on the world and my Creator think:\n While some men strive ill-gotten goods t' embrace:\n And others spend their time in base excess\n Of wine; or worse, in war, or wantonness.\n\n Let them that will, these pastimes still pursue,\n And on such pleasing fancies feed their fill:\n So I the fields and meadows green may view\n And daily by fresh rivers walk at will,\n Among the daisies and the violets blue,\n Red hyacinth and yellow daffodil.[50]\n\nIt is interesting and delightful to trace a river from its source to the\nsea.\n\n\"Beginning at the hill-tops,\" says Geikie, \"we first meet with the\nspring or 'well-eye,' from which the river takes its rise. A patch of\nbright green, mottling the brown heathy slope, shows where the water\ncomes to the surface, a treacherous covering of verdure often concealing\na deep pool beneath. From this source the rivulet trickles along the\ngrass and heath, which it soon cuts through, reaching the black, peaty\nlayer below, and running in it for a short way as in a gutter.\nExcavating its channel in the peat, it comes down to the soil, often a\nstony earth bleached white by the peat. Deepening and widening the\nchannel as it gathers force with the increasing slope, the water digs\ninto the coating of drift or loose decomposed rock that covers the\nhillside. In favourable localities a narrow precipitous gully, twenty or\nthirty feet deep, may thus be scooped out in the course of a few years.\"\n\nIf, however, we trace one of the Swiss rivers to its source we shall\ngenerally find that it begins in a snow field or _neve_ nestled in a\nshoulder of some great mountain.\n\nBelow the _neve_ lies a glacier, on, in, and under which the water runs\nin a thousand little streams, eventually emerging at the end, in some\ncases forming a beautiful blue cavern, though in others the end of the\nglacier is encumbered and concealed by earth and stones.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 24.--Upper Valley of St. Gotthard.]\n\nThe uppermost Alpine valleys are perhaps generally, though by no means\nalways, a little desolate and severe, as, for instance, that of St.\nGotthard (Fig. 24). The sides are clothed with rough pasture, which is\nflowery indeed, though of course the flowers are not visible at a\ndistance, interspersed with live rock and fallen masses, while along the\nbottom rushes a white torrent. The snowy peaks are generally more or\nless hidden by the shoulders of the hills.\n\nThe valleys further down widen and become more varied and picturesque.\nThe snowy peaks and slopes are more often visible, the \"alps\" or\npastures to which the cows are taken in summer, are greener and dotted\nwith the huts or chalets of the cow-herds, while the tinkling of the\ncowbells comes to one from time to time, softened by distance, and\nsuggestive of mountain rambles. Below the alps there is generally a\nsteeper part clothed with Firs or with Larches and Pines, some of which\nseem as if they were scaling the mountains in regiments, preceded by a\ncertain number of skirmishers. Below the fir woods again are Beeches,\nChestnuts, and other deciduous trees, while the central cultivated\nportion of the valley is partly arable, partly pasture, the latter\ndiffering from our meadows in containing a greater variety of\nflowers--Campanulas, Wild Geraniums, Chervil, Ragged Robin, Narcissus,\netc. Here and there is a brown village, while more or less in the centre\nhurries along, with a delightful rushing sound, the mountain torrent, to\nwhich the depth, if not the very existence of the valley, is mainly due.\nThe meadows are often carefully irrigated, and the water power is also\nused for mills, the streams seeming to rush on, as Ruskin says, \"eager\nfor their work at the mill, or their ministry to the meadows.\"\n\nApart from the action of running water, snow and frost are continually\ndisintegrating the rocks, and at the base of almost any steep cliff may\nbe seen a slope of debris (as in Figs. 25, 26). This stands at a regular\nangle--the angle of repose--and unless it is continually removed by a\nstream at the base, gradually creeps up higher and higher, until at last\nthe cliff entirely disappears.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 25.--Section of a river valley. The dotted line\nshows a slope or talus of debris.]\n\nSometimes the two sides of the valley approach so near that there is not\neven room for the river and the road: in that case Nature claims the\nsupremacy, and the road has to be carried in a cutting, or perhaps in a\ntunnel through the rock. In other cases Nature is not at one with\nherself. In many places the debris from the rocks above would reach\nright across the valley and dam up the stream. Then arises a struggle\nbetween rock and river, but the river is always victorious in the end;\neven if dammed back for a while, it concentrates its forces, rises up\nthe rampart of rock, rushes over triumphantly, resumes its original\ncourse, and gradually carries the enemy away.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 26.--Valley of the Rhone, with the waterfall of\nSallenches, showing talus of debris.]\n\nAnother prominent feature in many valleys is afforded by the old river,\nor lake, terraces, which were formed at a time when the river ran at a\nlevel far above its present bed.\n\nThus many a mountain valley gives some such section as the following.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 27.--_A_, present river valley; _B_, old river\nterrace.]\n\nFirst, a face of rock, very steep, and in some places almost\nperpendicular; secondly, a regular talus of fallen rocks, stones, etc.,\nas shown in the view of the Rhone Valley (Fig. 26), which takes what is\nknown as the slope of repose, at an angle which depends on the character\nof the material. As a rule for loose rock fragments it may be taken\nroughly to be an angle of about 45 deg.. Then an irregular slope followed in\nmany places by one or more terraces, and lastly the present bed of the\nriver.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 28.--Diagram of an Alpine valley showing a river\ncone. Front view.]\n\nThe width or narrowness of the valley in relation to its depth depends\ngreatly on the condition of the rocks, the harder and tougher they are\nthe narrower as a rule being the valley.\n\nFrom time to time a side stream enters the main valley. This is itself\ncomposed of many smaller rivulets. If the lateral valleys are steep, the\nstreams bring with them, especially after rains, large quantities of\nearth and stones. When, however, they reach the main valley, the\nrapidity of the current being less, their power of transport also\ndiminishes, and they spread out the material which they carry down in a\ndepressed cone (Figs. 28, 29, 31, 32).\n\nA side stream with its terminal cone, when seen from the opposite side\nof the valley, presents the appearance shown in Figs. 28, 31, or, if we\nare looking down the valley, as in Figs. 29, 32, the river being often\ndriven to one side of the main valley, as, for instance, is the case in\nthe Valais, near Sion, where the Rhone (Fig. 30) is driven out of its\ncourse by, and forms a curve round, the cone brought down by the torrent\nof the Borgne.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 29.--Diagram of an Alpine valley, showing a river\ncone. Lateral view.]\n\nSometimes two lateral valleys (see Plate) come down nearly opposite one\nanother, so that the cones meet, as, for instance, some little way below\nVernayaz, and, indeed, in several other places in the Valais (Fig. 31).\nOr more permanent lakes may be due to a ridge of rock running across the\nvalley, as, for instance, just below St. Maurice in the Valais.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 30.]\n\n[Illustration: VIEW IN THE VALAIS BELOW ST. MAURICE. _To face page\n266._]\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 31.--View in the Rhone Valley, showing a lateral\ncone.]\n\nAlmost all river valleys contain, or have contained, in their course one\nor more lakes, and where a river falls into a lake a cone like those\njust described is formed, and projects into the lake. Thus on the Lake\nof Geneva, between Vevey and Villeneuve (see Fig. 33), there are several\nsuch promontories, each marking the place where a stream falls into the\nlake.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 32.--View in the Rhone Valley, showing the slope of\na river cone.]\n\nThe Rhone itself has not only filled up what was once the upper end of\nthe lake, but has built out a strip of land into the water.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 33.--Shore of the Lake of Geneva, near Vevey.]\n\nThat the lake formerly extended some distance up the Valais no one can\ndoubt who looks at the flat ground about Villeneuve. The Plate\nopposite, from a photograph taken above Vevey, shows this clearly. It is\nquite evident that the lake must formerly have extended further up the\nvalley, and that it has been filled up by material brought down by the\nRhone, a process which is still continuing.\n\nAt the other end of the lake the river rushes out 15 feet deep of \"not\nflowing, but flying water; not water neither--melted glacier matter, one\nshould call it; the force of the ice is in it, and the wreathing of the\nclouds, the gladness of the sky, and the countenance of time.\"[51]\n\n[Illustration: VIEW UP THE VALAIS FROM THE LAKE OF GENEVA. _To face page\n270._]\n\nIn flat countries the habits of rivers are very different. For instance,\nin parts of Norfolk there are many small lakes or \"broads\" in a network\nof rivers--the Bure, the Yare, the Ant, the Waveney, etc.--which do not\nrush on with the haste of some rivers, or the stately flow of others\nwhich are steadily set to reach the sea, but rather seem like rivers\nwandering in the meadows on a holiday. They have often no natural banks,\nbut are bounded by dense growths of tall grasses, Bulrushes, Reeds, and\nSedges, interspersed with the spires of the purple Loosestrife, Willow\nHerb, Hemp Agrimony, and other flowers, while the fields are very low\nand protected by dykes, so that the red cattle appear to be browsing\nbelow the level of the water; and as the rivers take most unexpected\nturns, the sailing boats often seem (Fig. 34) as if they were in the\nmiddle of the fields.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 34.--View in the district of the Broads, Norfolk.]\n\nAt present these rivers are restrained in their courses by banks; when\nleft free they are continually changing their beds. Their courses at\nfirst sight seem to follow no rule, but, as it is termed, from a\ncelebrated river of Asia Minor, to \"meander\" along without aim or\nobject, though in fact they follow very definite laws.\n\nFinally, when the river at length reaches the sea, it in many cases\nspreads out in the form of a fan, forming a very flat cone or \"delta,\"\nas it is called, from the Greek capital [Greek: Delta], a name first\napplied to that of the Nile, and afterwards extended to other rivers.\nThis is due to the same cause, and resembles, except in size, the\ncomparatively minute cones of mountain streams.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 35.]\n\nFig. 35 represents the delta of the Po, and it will be observed that\nAdria, once a great port, and from which the Adriatic was named, is now\nmore than 20 miles from the sea. Perhaps the most remarkable case is\nthat of the Mississippi (Fig. 36), the mouths of which project into the\nsea like a hand, or like the petals of a flower. For miles the mud is\ntoo soft to support trees, but is covered by sedges (Miegea); the banks\nof mud gradually become too soft and mobile even for them. The pilots\nwho navigate ships up the river live in frail houses resting on planks,\nand kept in place by anchors. Still further, and the banks of the\nMississippi, if banks they can be called, are mere strips of reddish\nmud, intersected from time to time by transverse streams of water, which\ngradually separate them into patches. These become more and more\nliquid, until the land, river, and sea merge imperceptibly into one\nanother. The river is so muddy that it might almost be called land, and\nthe mud so saturated by water that it might well be called sea, so that\none can hardly say whether a given spot is on the continent, in the\nriver, or on the open ocean.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 36.]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[48] Leyden.\n\n[49] Dr. Hudson, Address to the Microscopical Society, 1889.\n\n[50] F. Davors.\n\n[51] Ruskin.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nRIVERS AND LAKES\n\n\nON THE DIRECTIONS OF RIVERS\n\nIn the last chapter I have alluded to the wanderings of rivers within\nthe limits of their own valleys; we have now to consider the causes\nwhich have determined the directions of the valleys themselves.\n\nIf a tract of country were raised up in the form of a boss or dome, the\nrain which fell on it would partly sink in, partly run away to the lower\nground. The least inequality in the surface would determine the first\ndirections of the streams, which would carry down any loose material,\nand thus form little channels, which would be gradually deepened and\nenlarged. It is as difficult for a river as for a man to get out of a\ngroove.\n\nIn such a case the rivers would tend to radiate with more or less\nregularity from the centre or axis of the dome, as, for instance, in our\nEnglish lake district (Fig. 37). Derwent Water, Thirlmere, Coniston\nWater, and Windermere, run approximately N. and S.; Crummock Water,\nLoweswater, and Buttermere N.W. by S.E.; Waste Water, Ullswater, and\nHawes Water N.E. by S.W.; while Ennerdale Water lies nearly E. by W. Can\nwe account in any way, and if so how, for these varied directions?\n\nThe mountains of Cumberland and Westmoreland form a more or less oval\nboss, the axis of which, though not straight, runs practically from\nE.N.E. to W.S.W., say from Scaw Fell to Shap Fell; and a sketch map\nshows us almost at a glance that Derwent Water, Thirlmere, Ullswater,\nConiston Water, and Windermere run at right angles to this axis;\nEnnerdale Water is just where the boss ends and the mountains disappear;\nwhile Crummock Water and Waste Water lie at the intermediate angles.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 37.--Map of the Lake District.]\n\nSo much then for the direction. We have still to consider the situation\nand origin, and it appears that Ullswater, Coniston Water, the River\nDudden, Waste Water, and Crummock Water lie along the lines of old\nfaults, which no doubt in the first instance determined the flow of the\nwater.\n\nTake another case. In the Jura the valleys are obviously (see Fig. 18)\nin many cases due to the folding of the strata. It seldom happens,\nhowever, that the case is so simple. If the elevation is considerable\nthe strata are often fractured, and fissures are produced. Again if the\npart elevated contains layers of more than one character, this at once\nestablishes differences. Take, for instance, the Weald of Kent (Figs.\n38, 39). Here we have (omitting minor layers) four principal strata\nconcerned, namely, the Chalk, Greensand, Weald Clay, and Hastings\nSands.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 38.--_a_, _a_, Upper Cretaceous strata, chiefly\nChalk, forming the North and South Downs; _b_, _b_, Escarpment of Lower\nGreensand, with a valley between it and the Chalk; _c_, _c_, Weald Clay,\nforming plains; _d_, Hills formed of Hastings Sand and Clay. The Chalk,\netc., once spread across the country, as shown in the dotted lines.]\n\nThe axis of elevation runs (Fig. 39) from Winchester by Petersfield,\nHorsham, and Winchelsea to Boulogne, and as shown in the following\nsection, taken from Professor Ramsay, we have on each side of the axis\ntwo ridges or \"escarpments,\" one that of the Chalk, the other that of\nthe Greensand, while between the Chalk and the Greensand is a valley,\nand between the Greensand and the ridge of Hastings Sand an undulating\nplain, in each case with a gentle slope from about where the London and\nBrighton railway crosses the Weald towards the east. Under these\ncircumstances we might have expected that the streams draining the Weald\nwould have run in the direction of the axis of elevation, and at the\nbases of the escarpments, as in fact the Rother does for part of its\ncourse, into the sea between the North and South Downs, instead of which\nas a rule they run north and south, cutting in some cases directly\nthrough the escarpments; on the north, for instance, the Wye, the Mole,\nthe Darenth, the Medway, and the Stour; and on the south the Arun, the\nAddur, the Ouse, and the Cuckmere.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 39.--Map of the Weald of Kent.]\n\nThey do not run in faults or cracks, and it is clear that they could not\nhave excavated their present valleys under circumstances such as now\nexist. They carry us back indeed to a time when the Greensand and Chalk\nwere continued across the Weald in a great dome, as shown by the dotted\nlines in Fig. 38. They then ran down the slope of the dome, and as the\nChalk and Greensand gradually weathered back, a process still in\noperation, the rivers deepened and deepened their valleys, and thus were\nenabled to keep their original course.\n\nOther evidence in support of this view is afforded by the presence of\ngravel beds in some places at the very top of the Chalk escarpment--beds\nwhich were doubtless deposited when, what is now the summit of a hill,\nwas part of a continuous slope.\n\nThe course of the Thames offers us a somewhat similar instance. It rises\non the Oolites near Cirencester, and cuts through the escarpment of the\nChalk between Wallingford and Reading. The cutting through the Chalk has\nevidently been effected by the river itself. But this could not have\nhappened under existing conditions. We must remember, however, that the\nChalk escarpment is gradually moving eastwards. The Chalk escarpments\nindeed are everywhere, though of course only slowly, crumbling away.\nBetween Farnham and Guildford the Chalk is reduced to a narrow ridge\nknown as the Hog's Back. In the same way no doubt the area of the Chalk\nformerly extended much further west than it does at present, and,\nindeed, there can be little doubt, somewhat further west than the source\nof the Thames, almost to the valley of the Severn. At that time the\nThames took its origin in a Chalk spring. Gradually, however, the Chalk\nwas worn away by the action of weather, and especially of rain. The\nriver maintained its course while gradually excavating, and sinking\ndeeper and deeper into, the Chalk. At present the river meets the Chalk\nescarpment near Wallingford, but the escarpment itself is still\ngradually retreating eastward.\n\nSo, again, the Elbe cuts right across the Erz-Gebirge, the Rhine through\nthe mountains between Bingen and Coblenz, the Potomac, the Susquehannah,\nand the Delaware through the Alleghanies. The case of the Dranse will be\nalluded to further on (p. 292). In these cases the rivers preceded the\nmountains. Indeed as soon as the land rose above the waters, rivers\nwould begin their work, and having done so, unless the rate of elevation\nof the mountain exceeded the power of erosion of the river, the two\nwould proceed simultaneously, so that the river would not alter its\ncourse, but would cut deeper and deeper as the mountain range gradually\nrose.\n\nRivers then are in many cases older than mountains. Moreover, the\nmountains are passive, the rivers active. Since it seems to be well\nestablished that in Switzerland a mass, more than equal to what remains,\nhas been removed; and that many of the present mountains are not sites\nwhich were originally raised highest, but those which have suffered\nleast, it follows that if in some cases the course of the river is due\nto the direction of the mountain ridges, on the other hand the direction\nof some of the present ridges is due to that of the rivers. At any rate\nit is certain that of the original surface not a trace or a fragment\nremains _in situ_. Many of our own English mountains were once valleys,\nand many of our present valleys occupy the sites of former mountain\nridges.\n\nHeim and Ruetimeyer point out that of the two factors which have produced\nthe relief of mountain regions, the one, elevation, is temporary and\ntransitory; the other, denudation, is constant, and gains therefore\nfinally the upper hand.\n\nWe must not, however, expect too great regularity. The degree of\nhardness, the texture, and the composition of the rocks cause great\ndifferences.\n\nOn the other hand, if the alteration of level was too rapid, the result\nmight be greatly to alter the river courses. Mr. Darwin mentions such a\ncase, which, moreover, is perhaps the more interesting as being\nevidently very recent.\n\n\"Mr. Gill,\" he says, \"mentioned to me a most interesting, and as far as\nI am aware, quite unparalleled case, of a subterranean disturbance\nhaving changed the drainage of a country. Travelling from Casma to\nHuaraz (not very far distant from Lima) he found a plain covered with\nruins and marks of ancient cultivation, but now quite barren. Near it\nwas the dry course of a considerable river, whence the water for\nirrigation had formerly been conducted. There was nothing in the\nappearance of the water-course to indicate that the river had not flowed\nthere a few years previously; in some parts beds of sand and gravel were\nspread out; in others, the solid rock had been worn into a broad\nchannel, which in one spot was about 40 yards in breadth and 8 feet\ndeep. It is self-evident that a person following up the course of a\nstream will always ascend at a greater or less inclination. Mr. Gill\ntherefore, was much astonished when walking up the bed of this ancient\nriver, to find himself suddenly going downhill. He imagined that the\ndownward slope had a fall of about 40 or 50 feet perpendicular. We here\nhave unequivocal evidence that a ridge had been uplifted right across\nthe old bed of a stream. From the moment the river course was thus\narched, the water must necessarily have been thrown back, and a new\nchannel formed. From that moment also the neighbouring plain must have\nlost its fertilising stream, and become a desert.\"[52]\n\nThe strata, moreover, often--indeed generally, as we have seen, for\ninstance, in the case of Switzerland--bear evidence of most violent\ncontortions, and even where the convulsions were less extreme, the\nvalleys thus resulting are sometimes complicated by the existence of\nolder valleys formed under previous conditions.\n\nIn the Alps then the present configuration of the surface is mainly the\nresult of denudation. If we look at a map of Switzerland we can trace\nbut little relation between the river courses and the mountain chains.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 40.--Sketch Map of the Swiss Rivers.]\n\nThe rivers, as a rule (Fig. 40), run either S.E. by N.W., or, at right\nangles to this, N.E. and S.W. The Alps themselves follow a somewhat\ncurved line from the Maritime Alps, commencing with the islands of\nHyeres, by Briancon, Martigny, the Valais, Urseren Thal, Vorder Rhein,\nInnsbruck, Radstadt, and Rottenmann to the Danube, a little below\nVienna,--at first nearly north and south, but gradually curving round\nuntil it becomes S.W. by N.E.\n\nThe central mountains are mainly composed of Gneiss, Granite, and\ncrystalline Schists: the line of junction between these rocks and the\nsecondary and tertiary strata on the north, runs, speaking roughly, from\nHyeres to Grenoble, and then by Albertville, Sion, Chur, Inns, bruck,\nRadstadt, and Hieflau, towards Vienna. It is followed (in some part of\ntheir course) by the Isere, the Rhone, the Rhine, the Inn, and the Enns.\nOne of the great folds shortly described in the preceding chapter runs\nup the Isere, along the Chamouni Valley, up the Rhone, through the\nUrseren Thal, down the Rhine Valley to Chur, along the Inn nearly to\nKufstein, and for some distance along the Enns. Thus, then, five great\nrivers have taken advantage of this main fold, each of them eventually\nbreaking through into a transverse valley.\n\nThe Pusterthal in the Tyrol offers us an interesting case of what is\nobviously a single valley, which has, however, been slightly raised in\nthe centre, near Toblach, so that from this point the water flows in\nopposite directions--the Drau eastward, and the Rienz westward. In this\ncase the elevation is single and slight: in the main valley there are\nseveral, and they are much loftier, still we may, I think, regard that\nof the Isere from Chambery to Albertville, of the Rhone from Martigny to\nits source, of the Urseren Thal, of the Vorder Rhine from its source to\nChur, of the Inn from Landeck to below Innsbruck, even perhaps of the\nEnns from Radstadt to Hieflau as in one sense a single valley, due to\none of these longitudinal folds, but interrupted by bosses of gneiss and\ngranite,--one culminating in Mont Blanc, and another in the St.\nGotthard,--which have separated the waters of the Isere, the Rhone, the\nVorder Rhine, the Inn, and the Enns. That the valley of Chamouni, the\nValais, the Urseren Thal, and that of the Vorder Rhine really form part\nof one great fold is further shown by the presence of a belt of Jurassic\nstrata nipped in, as it were, between the crystalline rocks.\n\nThis seems to throw light on the remarkable turns taken by the Rhone at\nMartigny and the Vorder Rhine at Chur, where they respectively quit the\ngreat longitudinal fold, and fall into secondary transverse valleys. The\nRhone for the upper part of its course, as far as Martigny, runs in the\ngreat longitudinal fold of the Valais; at Martigny it falls into and\nadopts the transverse valley, which properly belongs to the Dranse; for\nthe Dranse is probably an older river and ran in the present course even\nbefore the great fold of the Valais. This would seem to indicate that\nthe Oberland range is not so old as the Pennine, and that its elevation\nwas so gradual that the Dranse was able to wear away a passage as the\nridge gradually rose. After leaving the Lake of Geneva the Rhone follows\na course curving gradually to the south, until it reaches St. Genix,\nwhere it falls into and adopts a transverse valley which properly\nbelongs to the little river Guiers; it subsequently joins the Ain and\nfinally falls into the Saone. If these valleys were attributed to their\nolder occupiers we should therefore confine the name of the Rhone to the\nportion of its course from the Rhone glacier to Martigny. From Martigny\nit occupies successively the valleys of the Dranse, Guiers, Ain, and\nSaone. In fact, the Saone receives the Ain, the Ain the Guiers, the\nGuiers the Dranse, and the Dranse the Rhone. This is not a mere question\nof names, but also one of antiquity. The Saone, for instance, flowed\npast Lyons to the Mediterranean for ages before it was joined by the\nRhone. In our nomenclature, however, the Rhone has swallowed up the\nothers. This is the more curious because of the three great rivers which\nunite to form the lower Rhone, namely, the Saone, the Doubs, and the\nRhone itself, the Saone brings for a large part of the year the greatest\nvolume of water, and the Doubs has the longest course. Other similar\ncases might be mentioned. The Aar, for instance, is a somewhat larger\nriver than the Rhine.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 41.--Diagram in illustration of Mountain structure.]\n\nBut why should the rivers, after running for a certain distance in the\ndirection of the main axis, so often break away into lateral valleys? If\nthe elevation of a chain of mountains be due to the causes suggested in\np. 214, it is evident, though, so far as I am aware, stress has not\nhitherto been laid upon this, that the compression and consequent\nfolding of the strata (Fig. 41) would not be in the direction _A B_\nonly, but also at right angles to it, in the direction _A C_, though the\namount of folding might be much greater in one direction than in the\nother. Thus in the case of Switzerland, while the main folds run\nsouth-west by north-east, there would be others at right angles to the\nmain axis. The complex structure of the Swiss mountains may be partly\ndue to the coexistence of these two directions of pressure at right\nangles to one another. The presence of a fold so originating would often\ndivert the river to a course more or less nearly at right angles to its\noriginal direction.\n\nSwitzerland, moreover, slopes northwards from the Alps, so that the\nlowest part of the great Swiss plain is that along the foot of the\nJura. Hence the main drainage runs along the line from Yverdun to\nNeuchatel, down the Zihl to Soleure, and then along the Aar to Waldshut:\nthe Upper Aar, the Emmen, the Wiggern, the Suhr, the Wynen, the lower\nReuss, the Sihl, and the Limmat, besides several smaller streams,\nrunning approximately parallel to one another north-north-east, and at\nangles to the main axis of elevation, and all joining the Aar from the\nsouth, while on the north it does not receive a single contributary of\nany importance.\n\nOn the south side of the Alps again we have the Dora Baltea, the Sesia,\nthe Ticino, the Olonna, the Adda, the Adige, etc., all running\nsouth-south-east from the axis of elevation to the Po.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 42.]\n\nIndeed, the general slope of Switzerland, being from the ridge of the\nAlps towards the north, it will be observed (Fig. 42) that almost all\nthe large affluents of these rivers running in longitudinal valleys fall\nin on the south, as, for instance, those of the Isere from Albertville\nto Grenoble, of the Rhone from its source to Martigny, of the Vorder\nRhine from its source to Chur, of the Inn from Landeck to Kufstein, of\nthe Enns from its source to near Admont, of the Danube from its source\nto Vienna, and as just mentioned, of the Aar from Bern to Waldshut.\nHence also, whenever the Swiss rivers running east and west break into a\ntransverse valley, as the larger ones all do, and some more than once,\nthey invariably, whether originally running east or westwards, turn\ntowards the north.\n\nBut although we thus get a clue to the general structure of Switzerland,\nthe whole question is extremely complex, and the strata have been\ncrumpled and folded in the most complicated manner, sometimes completely\nreversed, so that older rocks have been folded back on younger strata,\nand even in some cases these folds again refolded. Moreover, the\ndenudation by aerial action, by glaciers, frosts, and rivers has removed\nhundreds, or rather thousands, of feet of strata. In fact, the mountain\ntops are not by any means the spots which have been most elevated, but\nthose which have been least denuded; and hence it is that so many of the\npeaks stand at about the same altitude.\n\n\nTHE CONFLICTS AND ADVENTURES OF RIVERS\n\nOur ancestors looked upon rivers as being in some sense alive, and in\nfact in their \"struggle for existence\" they not only labour to adapt\ntheir channel to their own requirements, but in many cases enter into\nconflict with one another.\n\nIn the plain of Bengal, for instance, there are three great rivers, the\nBrahmapootra coming from the north, the Ganges from the west, and the\nMegna from the east, each of them with a number of tributary streams.\nMr. Fergusson[53] has given us a most interesting and entertaining\naccount of the struggles between these great rivers to occupy the\nfertile plain of Bengal.\n\nThe Megna, though much inferior in size to the Brahmapootra, has one\ngreat advantage. It depends mainly on the monsoon rains for its supply,\nwhile the Brahmapootra not only has a longer course to run, but relies\nfor its floods, to a great extent, on the melting of the snow, so that,\narriving later at the scene of the struggle, it finds the country\nalready occupied by the Megna to such an extent that it has been driven\nnearly 70 miles northwards, and forced to find a new channel.\n\nUnder these circumstances it has attacked the territory of the Ganges,\nand being in flood earlier than that river, though later than the Megna,\nit has in its turn a great advantage.\n\nWhatever the ultimate result may be the struggle continues vigorously.\nAt Sooksaghur, says Fergusson, \"there was a noble country house, built\nby Warren Hastings, about a mile from the banks of the Hoogly. When I\nfirst knew it in 1830 half the avenue of noble trees, which led from the\nriver to the house, was gone; when I last saw it, some eight years\nafterwards, the river was close at hand. Since then house, stables,\ngarden, and village are all gone, and the river was on the point of\nbreaking through the narrow neck of high land that remained, and pouring\nitself into some weak-banded nullahs in the lowlands beyond: and if it\nhad succeeded, the Hoogly would have deserted Calcutta. At this\njuncture the Eastern Bengal Railway Company intervened. They were\ncarrying their works along the ridge, and they have, for the moment at\nleast, stopped the oscillation in this direction.\"\n\nThis has affected many of the other tributaries of the Ganges, so that\nthe survey made by Rennell in 1780-90 is no longer any evidence as to\nthe present course of the rivers. They may now be anywhere else; in some\ncases all we can say is that they are certainly not now where they were\nthen.\n\nThe association of the three great European rivers, the Rhine, the\nRhone, and the Danube, with the past history of our race, invests them\nwith a singular fascination, and their past history is one of much\ninterest. They all three rise in the group of mountains between the\nGalenstock and the Bernardino, within a space of a few miles; on the\neast the waters run into the Black Sea, on the north into the German\nOcean, and on the west into the Mediterranean. But it has not always\nbeen so. Their head-waters have been at one time interwoven together.\n\nAt present the waters of the Valais escape from the Lake of Geneva at\nthe western end, and through the remarkable defile of Fort de l'Ecluse\nand Malpertius, which has a depth of 600 feet, and is at one place not\nmore than 14 feet across. Moreover, at various points round the Lake of\nGeneva, remains of lake terraces show that the water once stood at a\nlevel much higher than the present. One of these is rather more than 250\nfeet[54] above the lake.\n\nA glance at the map will show that between Lausanne and Yverdun there is\na low tract of land, and the Venoge, which falls into the Lake of Geneva\nbetween Lausanne and Morges, runs within about half a mile of the Nozon,\nwhich falls into the Lake of Neuchatel at Yverdun, the two being\nconnected by the Canal d'Entreroches, and the height of the watershed\nbeing only 76 metres (250 feet), corresponding with the above mentioned\nlake terrace. It is evident, therefore, that when the Lake of Geneva\nstood at the level of the 250 feet terrace the waters ran out, not as\nnow at Geneva and by Lyons to the Mediterranean, but near Lausanne by\nCissonay and Entreroches to Yverdun, and through the Lake of Neuchatel\ninto the Aar and the Rhine.\n\nBut this is not the whole of the curious history. At present the Aar\nmakes a sharp turn to the west at Waldshut, where it falls into the\nRhine, but there is reason to believe that at a former period, before\nthe Rhine had excavated its present bed, the Aar continued its course\neastward to the Lake of Constance, by the valley of the Klettgau, as is\nindicated by the presence of gravel beds containing pebbles which have\nbeen brought, not by the Rhine from the Grisons, but by the Aar from the\nBernese Oberland, showing that the river which occupied the valley was\nnot the Rhine but the Aar. It would seem also that at an early period\nthe Lake of Constance stood at a considerably higher level, and that the\noutlet was, perhaps, from Frederichshaven to Ulm, along what are now the\nvalleys of the Schussen and the Ried, into the Danube.\n\nThus the head-waters of the Rhone appear to have originally run by\nLausanne and the Lake of Constance into the Danube, and so to the Black\nSea. Then, after the present valley was opened between Waldshut and\nBasle, they flowed by Basle and the present Rhine, and after joining the\nThames, over the plain which now forms the German Sea into the Arctic\nOcean between Scotland and Norway. Finally, after the opening of the\npassage at Fort de l'Ecluse, by Geneva, Lyons, and the Valley of the\nSaone, to the Mediterranean.\n\nIt must not, however, be supposed that these changes in river courses\nare confined to the lower districts. Mountain streams have also their\nadventures and vicissitudes, their wars and invasions. Take for instance\nthe Upper Rhine, of which we have a very interesting account by Heim. It\nis formed of three main branches, the Vorder Rhine, Hinter Rhine, and\nthe Albula. The two latter, after meeting near Thusis, unite with the\nVorder Rhine at Reichenau, and run by Chur, Mayenfeld, and Sargans into\nthe Lake of Constance at Rheineck. At some former period, however, the\ndrainage of this district was very different, as is shown in Fig. 43.\n\nThe Vorder and Hinter Rhine united then (Fig. 43) as they do now at\nReichenau, but at a much higher level, and ran to Mayenfeld, not by\nChur, but by the Kunckel Pass to Sargans, and so on, not to the Lake of\nConstance, but to that of Zurich. The Landwasser at that time rose in\nthe Schlappina Joch, and after receiving as tributaries the Vereina and\nthe Sardasca, joined the Albula, as it does now at Tiefenkasten; but\ninstead of going round to meet the Hinter Rhine near Thusis, the two\ntogether travelled parallel with, but at some distance from, the Hinter\nRhine, by Heide to Chur, and so to Mayenfeld.\n\nIn the meanwhile, however, the Landquart was stealthily creeping up the\nvalley, attacked the ridge which then united the Casanna and the\nMadrishorn, and gradually forcing the passage, invaded (Fig. 44) the\nvalleys of the Schlappina, Vereina, and Sardasca, absorbed them as\ntributaries, and, detaching them from their allegiance to the\nLandwasser, annexed the whole of the upper province which had formerly\nbelonged to that river.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 43.--River system round Chur, as it used to be.]\n\nThe Schyn also gradually worked its way upwards from Thusis till it\nsucceeded in sapping the Albula, and carried it down the valley to join\nthe Vorder Rhine near Thusis. In what is now the main valley of the\nRhine above Chur another stream ate its way back, and eventually tapped\nthe main river at Reichenau, thus diverting it from the Kunckel, and\ncarrying it round by Chur.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 44.--River system round Chur, as it is.]\n\nAt Sargans a somewhat similar process was repeated, with the addition\nthat the material brought down by the Weisstannen, or perhaps a\nrockfall, deflected the Rhine, just as we see in Fig. 30 that the Rhone\nwas pushed on one side by the Borgne. The Rhone, however, had no choice,\nit was obliged to force, and has forced its way over the cone deposited\nby the Borgne. The Rhine, on the contrary, had the option of running\ndown by Vaduz to Rheinach, and has adopted this course. The watershed\nbetween it and the Weisstannen is, however, only about 20 feet in\nheight, and the people of Zurich watch it carefully, lest any slight\nchange should enable the river to return to its old bed. The result of\nall these changes is that the rivers have changed their courses from\nthose shown in Fig. 43 to their present beds as shown in Fig. 44.\n\nAnother interesting case is that of the Upper Engadine (Fig. 45), to\nwhich attention has been called by Bonney and Heim. The fall of the Val\nBregaglia is much steeper than that of the Inn, and the Maira has\ncarried off the head-waters of that river away into Italy. The Col was\nformerly perhaps as far south as Stampa: the Albegna, the Upper Maira,\nand the stream from the Forgno Glacier, originally belonged to the Inn,\nbut have been captured by the Lower Maira. Their direction still\nindicates this; they seem as if they regretted the unwelcome change, and\nyearned to rejoin their old companions.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 45.--River system of the Maloya.]\n\nMoreover, as rivers are continually cutting back their valleys they must\nof course sometimes meet. In these cases when the valleys are at\ndifferent levels the lower rivers have drained the upper ones, and left\ndry, deserted valleys. In other cases, especially in flatter districts,\nwe have bifurcations, as, for instance, at Sargans, and several of the\nItalian lakes. Every one must have been struck by the peculiar\nbifurcation of the Lakes of Como and Lugano, while a very slight\ndepression would connect the Lake Varese with the Maggiore, and give it\nalso a double southern end.\n\n\nON LAKES\n\nThe problem of the origin of Lakes is by no means identical with that of\nValleys. The latter are due, primarily as a rule to geological causes,\nbut so far as their present condition is concerned, mainly to the action\nof rain and rivers. Flowing water, however, cannot give rise to lakes.\n\nIt is of course possible to have valleys without lakes, and in fact the\nlatter are, now at least, exceptional. There can be no lakes if the\nslope of the valley is uniform. To what then are lakes due?\n\nProfessor Ramsay divides Lakes into three classes:--\n\n1. Those due to irregular accumulations of drift, and which are\ngenerally quite shallow.\n\n2. Those formed by moraines.\n\n3. Those which occupy true basins scooped by glacier ice out of the\nsolid rock.\n\nTo these must, however, I think be added at least one other great class\nand several minor ones, namely,--\n\n4. Those due to inequalities of elevation or depression.\n\n5. Lakes in craters of extinct volcanoes, for instance, Lake Avernus.\n\n6. Those caused by subsidence due to the removal of underlying soluble\nrocks, such as some of the Cheshire Meres.\n\n7. Loop lakes in deserted river courses, of which there are many along\nthe course of the Rhine.\n\n8. Those due to rockfalls, landslips, or lava currents, damming up the\ncourse of a river.\n\n9. Those caused by the advance of a glacier across a lateral valley,\nsuch as the Mergelen See, or the ancient lake whose margins form the\ncelebrated \"Parallel Roads of Glen Roy.\"\n\nAs regards the first class we find here and there on the earth's surface\ndistricts sprinkled with innumerable shallow lakes of all sizes, down to\nmere pools. Such, for instance, occur in the district of Le Doubs\nbetween the Rhone and the Saone, that of La Sologne near Orleans, in\nparts of North America, and in Finland. Such lakes are, as a rule,\nquite shallow. Some geologists, Geikie, for instance, ascribe them to\nthe fact of these regions having been covered by sheets of ice which\nstrewed the land with irregular masses of clay, gravel, and sand, lying\non a stratum impervious to water, either of hard rock such as granite or\ngneiss, or of clay, so that the rain cannot percolate through it, and\nwithout sufficient inclination to throw it off.\n\n2. To Ramsay's second class of Lakes belong those formed by moraines.\nThe materials forming moraines being, however, comparatively loose, are\neasily cut through by streams. There are in Switzerland many cases of\nvalleys crossed by old moraines, but they have generally been long ago\nworn through by the rivers.\n\n3. Ramsay and Tyndall attribute most of the great Swiss and Italian\nlakes to the action of glaciers, and regard them as rock basins. It is\nof course obvious that rivers cannot make basin-shaped hollows\nsurrounded by rock on all sides. The Lake of Geneva, 1230 feet above the\nsea, is over 1000 feet deep; the Lake of Brienz is 1850 feet above the\nsea, and 2000 feet deep, so that its bottom is really below the sea\nlevel. The Italian Lakes are even more remarkable. The Lake of Como, 700\nfeet above the sea, is 1929 feet deep. Lago Maggiore, 685 feet above the\nsea, is no less than 2625 feet deep.\n\nIf the mind is at first staggered at the magnitude of the scale, we must\nremember that the ice which is supposed to have scooped out the valley\nin which the Lake of Geneva now reposes, was once at least 4000 feet\nthick; while the moraines were also of gigantic magnitude, that of\nIvrea, for instance, being no less than 1500 feet above the river, and\nseveral miles long.\n\nIndeed it is obvious that a glacier many hundred, or in some cases\nseveral thousand, feet in thickness, must exercise great pressure on the\nbed over which it travels. We see this from the striae and grooves on the\nsolid rocks, and the fine mud which is carried down by glacial streams.\nThe deposit of glacial rivers, the \"loess\" of the Rhine itself, is\nmainly the result of this ice-waste, and that is why it is so fine, so\nimpalpable. That glaciers do deepen their beds seems therefore\nunquestionable.\n\nMoreover, though the depth of some of these lakes is great, the true\nslope is very slight.\n\nTyndall and Ramsay do not deny that the original direction of valleys,\nand consequently of lakes, is due to cosmical causes and geological\nstructure, while even those who have most strenuously opposed the theory\nwhich attributes lakes to glacial erosion do not altogether deny the\naction of glaciers. Favre himself admits that \"it is impossible to deny\nthat valleys, after their formation, have been swept out and perhaps\nenlarged by rivers and glaciers.\"\n\nEven Ruskin admits \"that a glacier may be considered as a vast\ninstrument of friction, a white sand-paper applied slowly but\nirresistibly to all the roughness of the hill which it covers.\"\n\nIt is obvious that sand-paper applied \"irresistibly\" and long enough,\nmust gradually wear away and lower the surface. I cannot therefore\nresist the conclusion that glaciers have taken an important part in the\nformation of lakes.\n\nThe question has sometimes been discussed as if the point at issue were\nwhether rivers or glaciers were the most effective as excavators. But\nthis is not so. Those who believe that lakes are in many cases due to\nglaciers might yet admit that rivers have greater power of erosion.\nThere is, however, an essential difference in the mode of action. Rivers\ntend to regularise their beds; they drain, rather than form lakes. Their\ntendency is to cut through any projections so that finally their course\nassumes some such curve as that below, from the source (_a_) to its\nentrance into the sea (_b_).\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 46.--Final Slope of a River.]\n\nGlaciers, however, have in addition a scooping power, so that if\nsimilarly _a d b_ in Fig. 47 represent the course of a glacier, starting\nat _a_ and gradually thinning out to _e_, it may scoop out the rock to\na certain extent at _d_; in that case if it subsequently retires say to\n_c_, there would be a lake lying in the basin thus formed between _c_\nand _e_.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 47.]\n\nOn the other hand I am not disposed to attribute the Swiss lakes\naltogether to the action of glaciers. In the first place it does not\nseem clear that they occupy true rock basins. On this point more\nevidence is required. That some lakes are due to unequal changes of\nlevel will hardly be denied. No one, for instance, as Bonney justly\nobserves,[55] would attribute the Dead Sea to glacial erosion.\n\nThe Alps, as we have seen, are a succession of great folds, and there is\nreason to regard the central one as the oldest. If then the same process\ncontinued, and the outer fold was still further raised, or a new one\nformed, more quickly than the rivers could cut it back, they would be\ndammed up, and lakes would result.\n\nMoreover, if the formation of a mountain region be due to subsidence,\nand consequent crumpling, as indicated on p. 217, so that the strata\nwhich originally occupied the area A B C D are compressed into A' B' C'\nD', it is evident, as already mentioned, that while the line of least\nresistance, and, consequently, the principal folds might be in the\ndirection A' B', there must also be a tendency to the formation of\nsimilar folds at right angles, or in the direction A' C'. Thus, in the\ncase of Switzerland, while the main folds run south-west by north-east\nthere would also be others at right angles, though the amount of folding\nmight be much greater in the one direction than in the other. To this\ncause the bosses, for instance--at Martigny, the Furca, and the Ober\nAlp,--which intersect the great longitudinal valley of Switzerland, are\nperhaps due.\n\nThe great American lakes also are probably due to differences of\nelevation. Round Lake Ontario, for instance, there is a raised beach\nwhich at the western end of the lake is 363 feet above the sea level,\nbut rises towards the East and North until near Fine it reaches an\nelevation of 972 feet. As this terrace must have been originally\nhorizontal we have here a lake barrier, due to a difference of\nelevation, amounting to over 600 feet.\n\nIn the same way we get a clue to the curious cruciform shape of the Lake\nof Lucerne as contrasted with the simple outline of such lakes as those\nof Neuchatel or Zurich. That of Lucerne is a complex lake. Soundings\nhave shown that the bottom of the Urner See is quite flat. It is in fact\nthe old bed of the Reuss, which originally ran, not as now by Lucerne,\nbut by Schwytz and through the Lake of Zug. In the same way the Alpnach\nSee is the old bed of the Aa, which likewise ran through the Lake of\nZug. The old river terraces of the Reuss can be traced in places between\nBrunnen and Goldau. Now these terraces must have originally sloped from\nthe upper part downwards, from Brunnen towards Goldau. But at present\nthe slope is the other way, _i.e._ from Goldau towards Brunnen. From\nthis and other evidence we conclude that in the direction from Lucerne\ntowards Rapperschwyl there has been an elevation of the land, which has\ndammed up the valleys and thus turned parts of the Aa and the Reuss into\nlakes--the two branches of the Lake of Lucerne known as the Alpnach See\nand Urner See.\n\nDuring the earthquakes of 1819 while part of the Runn of Cutch, 2000\nsquare miles in area, sunk several feet, a ridge of land, called by the\nnatives the Ulla-Bund or \"the wall of God,\" thirty miles long, and in\nparts sixteen miles wide, was raised across an ancient arm of the Indus,\nand turned it temporarily into a lake.\n\nIn considering the great Italian lakes, which descend far below the sea\nlevel, we must remember that the Valley of the Po is a continuation of\nthe Adriatic, now filled up and converted into land, by the materials\nbrought down from the Alps. Hence we are tempted to ask whether the\nlakes may not be remains of the ancient sea which once occupied the\nwhole plain. Moreover just as the Seals of Lake Baikal in Siberia carry\nus back to the time when that great sheet of fresh water was in\nconnection with the Arctic Ocean, so there is in the character of the\nFauna of the Italian lakes, and especially the presence of a Crab in the\nLake of Garda, some confirmation of such an idea. Further evidence,\nhowever, is necessary before these interesting questions can be\ndefinitely answered.\n\nLastly, some lakes and inland seas seem to be due to even greater\ncosmical causes. Thus a line inclined ten degrees to the pole beginning\nat Gibraltar would pass through a great chain of inland waters--the\nMediterranean, Black Sea, Caspian, Aral, Baikal, and back again through\nthe great American lakes.\n\nBut though many causes have contributed to the original formation and\ndirection of Valleys, their present condition is mainly due to the\naction of water. When we contemplate such a valley, for example, as that\nwhich is called _par excellence_ the \"Valais,\" we can at first hardly\nbring ourselves to realise this; but we can trace up valleys, from the\nlittle water-course made by last night's rains up to the greatest\nvalleys of all.\n\nThese considerations, however, do not of course apply to such\ndepressions as those of the great oceans. These were probably formed\nwhen the surface of the globe began to solidify, and, though with many\nmodifications, have maintained their main features ever since.\n\n\nON THE CONFIGURATION OF VALLEYS\n\nThe conditions thus briefly described repeat themselves in river after\nriver, valley after valley, and it adds, I think, very much to the\ninterest with which we regard them if, by studying the general causes to\nwhich they are due, we can explain their origin, and thus to some extent\nunderstand the story they have to tell us, and the history they record.\n\nWhat, then, has that history been? The same valley may be of a very\ndifferent character, and due to very different causes, in different\nparts of its course. Some valleys are due to folds (see Fig. 41) caused\nby subterranean changes, but by far the greater number are, in their\npresent features, mainly the result of erosion. As soon as any tract of\nland rose out of the sea, the rain which fell on the surface would\ntrickle downwards in a thousand rills, forming pools here and there (see\nFig. 37), and gradually collecting into larger and larger streams.\nWherever the slope was sufficient the water would begin cutting into the\nsoil and carrying it off to the sea. This action would be the same in\nany case, but, of course, would differ in rapidity according to the\nhardness of the ground. On the other hand, the character of the valley\nwould depend greatly on the character of the strata, being narrow where\nthey were hard and tough; broader, on the contrary, where they were\nsoft, so that they crumbled readily into the stream, or where they were\neasily split by the weather. Gradually the stream would eat into its bed\nuntil it reached a certain slope, the steepness of which would depend on\nthe volume of water. The erosive action would then cease, but the\nweathering of the sides and consequent widening would continue, and the\nriver would wander from one part of its valley to another, spreading the\nmaterials and forming a river plain. At length, as the rapidity still\nfurther diminished, it would no longer have sufficient power even to\ncarry off the materials brought down. It would form, therefore, a cone\nor delta, and instead of meandering, would tend to divide into different\nbranches. These three stages, we may call those of--\n\n 1. Deepening and widening;\n\n 2. Widening and levelling;\n\n 3. Filling up;\n\nand every place in the second stage has passed through the first; every\none in the third has passed through the second.\n\nA velocity of 6 inches per second will lift fine sand, 8 inches will\nmove sand as coarse as linseed, 12 inches will sweep along fine gravel,\n24 inches will roll along rounded pebbles an inch diameter, and it\nrequires 3 feet per second at the bottom to sweep along angular stones\nof the size of an egg.\n\nWhen a river has so adjusted its slope that it neither deepens its bed\nin the upper portion of its course, nor deposits materials, it is said\nto have acquired its \"regimen,\" and in such a case if the character of\nthe soil remains the same, the velocity must also be uniform. The\nenlargement of the bed of a river is not, however, in proportion to the\nincrease of its waters as it approaches the sea. If, therefore, the\nslope did not diminish, the regimen would be destroyed, and the river\nwould again commence to eat out its bed. Hence as rivers enlarge, the\nslope diminishes, and consequently every river tends to assume some such\n\"regimen\" as that shown in Fig. 46.\n\nNow, suppose that the fall of the river is again increased, either by a\nfresh elevation, or locally by the removal of a barrier. Then once more\nthe river regains its energy. Again it cuts into its old bed, deepening\nthe valley, and leaving the old plain as a terrace high above its new\ncourse. In many valleys several such terraces may be seen, one above the\nother. In the case of a river running in a transverse valley, that is to\nsay of a valley lying at right angles to the \"strike\" or direction of\nthe strata (such, for instance, as the Reuss), the water acts more\neffectively than in longitudinal valleys running along the strike. Hence\nthe lateral valleys have been less deeply excavated than that of the\nReuss itself, and the streams from them enter the main valley by rapids\nor cascades. Again, rivers running in transverse valleys cross rocks\nwhich in many cases differ in hardness, and of course they cut down the\nsofter strata more rapidly than the harder ones; each ridge of harder\nrock will therefore form a dam and give rise to a rapid, or cataract. We\noften as we ascend a river, after a comparatively flat plain, find\nourselves in a narrow defile, down which the water rushes in an\nimpetuous torrent, but at the summit of which, to our surprise, we find\nanother broad flat valley.\n\nAnother lesson which we learn from the study of river valleys, is that,\njust as geological structure was shown by Sir C. Lyell to be no evidence\nof cataclysms, but the result of slow action; so also the excavation of\nvalleys is due mainly to the regular flow of rivers; and floods, though\ntheir effects are more sudden and striking, have had, after all,\ncomparatively little part in the result.\n\nThe mouths of rivers fall into two principal classes. If we look at any\nmap we cannot but be struck by the fact that some rivers terminate in a\ndelta, some in an estuary. The Thames, for instance, ends in a noble\nestuary, to which London owes much of its wealth and power. It is\nobvious that the Thames could not have excavated this estuary while the\ncoast was at its present level. But we know that formerly the land stood\nhigher, that the German Ocean was once dry land, and the Thames, after\njoining the Rhine, ran northwards, and fell eventually into the Arctic\nOcean. The estuary of the Thames, then, dates back to a period when the\nsouth-east of England stood at a higher level than the present, and even\nnow the ancient course of the river can be traced by soundings under\nwhat is now sea. The sites of present deltas, say of the Nile, were also\nonce under water, and have been gradually reclaimed by the deposits of\nthe river.\n\nIt would indeed be a great mistake to suppose that rivers always tend\nto deepen their valleys. This is only the case when the slope exceeds a\ncertain angle. When the fall is but slight they tend on the contrary to\nraise their beds by depositing sand and mud brought down from higher\nlevels. Hence in the lower part of their course many of the most\ncelebrated rivers--the Nile, the Po, the Mississippi, the Thames,\netc.--run upon embankments, partly of their own creation.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 48.--Diagrammatic section of a valley (exaggerated)\n\n_R R_, rocky basis of valley; _A A_, sedimentary strata; _B_, ordinary\nlevel of river; _C_, flood level.]\n\nThe Reno, the most dangerous of all the Apennine rivers, is in some\nplaces as much as 30 feet above the adjoining country. Rivers under such\nconditions, when not interfered with by Man, sooner or later break\nthrough their banks, and leaving their former bed, take a new course\nalong the lowest part of their valley, which again they gradually raise\nabove the rest. Hence, unless they are kept in their own channels by\nhuman agency, such rivers are continually changing their course.\n\nIf we imagine a river running down a regularly inclined plane in a more\nor less straight line; any inequality or obstruction would produce an\noscillation, which when once started would go on increasing until the\nforce of gravity drawing the water in a straight line downwards equals\nthat of the force tending to divert its course. Hence the radius of the\ncurves will follow a regular law depending on the volume of water and\nthe angle of inclination of the bed. If the fall is 10 feet per mile and\nthe soil homogeneous, the curves would be so much extended that the\ncourse would appear almost straight. With a fall of 1 foot per mile the\nlength of the curve is, according to Fergusson, about six times the\nwidth of the river, so that a river 1000 feet wide would oscillate once\nin 6000 feet. This is an important consideration, and much labour has\nbeen lost in trying to prevent rivers from following their natural law\nof oscillation. But rivers are very true to their own laws, and a change\nat any part is continued both upwards and downwards, so that a new\noscillation in any place cuts its way through the whole plain of the\nriver both above and below.\n\nThe curves of the Mississippi are, for instance, for a considerable part\nof its course so regular that they are said to have been used by the\nIndians as a measure of distance.\n\nIf the country is flat a river gradually raises the level on each side,\nthe water which overflows during floods being retarded by reeds, bushes,\ntrees, and a thousand other obstacles, gradually deposits the solid\nmatter which it contains, and thus raising the surface, becomes at\nlength suspended, as it were, above the general level. When this\nelevation has reached a certain point, the river during some flood\nbursts its banks, and deserting its old bed takes a new course along the\nlowest accessible level. This then it gradually fills up, and so on;\ncoming back from time to time if permitted, after a long cycle of\nyears, to its first course.\n\nIn evidence of the vast quantity of sediment which rivers deposit, I may\nmention that the river-deposits at Calcutta are more than 400 feet in\nthickness.\n\nIn addition to temporary \"spates,\" due to heavy rain, most rivers are\nfuller at one time of year than another, our rivers, for instance, in\nwinter, those of Switzerland, from the melting of the snow, in summer.\nThe Nile commences to rise towards the beginning of July; from August to\nOctober it floods all the low lands, and early in November it sinks\nagain. At its greatest height the volume of water sometimes reaches\ntwenty times that when it is lowest, and yet perhaps not a drop of rain\nmay have fallen. Though we now know that this annual variation is due to\nthe melting of the snow and the fall of rain on the high lands of\nCentral Africa, still when we consider that the phenomenon has been\nrepeated annually for thousands of years it is impossible not to regard\nit with wonder. In fact Egypt itself may be said to be the bed of the\nNile in flood time.\n\nSome rivers, on the other hand, offer no such periodical differences.\nThe lower Rhone, for instance, below the junction with the Saone, is\nnearly equal all through the year, and yet we know that the upper\nportion is greatly derived from the melting of the Swiss snows. In this\ncase, however, while the Rhone itself is on this account highest in\nsummer and lowest in winter, the Saone, on the contrary, is swollen by\nthe winter's rain, and falls during the fine weather of summer. Hence\nthe two tend to counterbalance one another.\n\nPeriodical differences are of course comparatively easy to deal with. It\nis very different with floods due to irregular rainfall. Here also,\nhowever, the mere quantity of rain is by no means the only matter to be\nconsidered. For instance a heavy rain in the watershed of the Seine,\nunless very prolonged, causes less difference in the flow of the river,\nsay at Paris, than might at first have been expected, because the height\nof the flood in the nearer affluents has passed down the river before\nthat from the more distant streams has arrived. The highest level is\nreached when the rain in the districts drained by the various affluents\nhappens to be so timed that the different floods coincide in their\narrival at Paris.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[52] Darwin's _Voyage of a Naturalist_.\n\n[53] _Geol. Jour._, 1863.\n\n[54] Favre, _Rech. Geol. de la Savoie._\n\n[55] _Growth and Structure of the Alps._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE SEA\n\n There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,\n There is a rapture on the lonely shore,\n There is society, where none intrudes,\n By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:\n I love not Man the less, but Nature more,\n From these our interviews, in which I steal\n From all I may be, or have been before,\n To mingle with the Universe, and feel\n What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.\n\n Roll on, thou deep and dark-blue Ocean--roll!\n\n BYRON.\n\n[Illustration: THE LAND'S END. _To face page 337._]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE SEA\n\n\nWhen the glorious summer weather comes, when we feel that by a year's\nhonest work we have fairly won the prize of a good holiday, how we turn\ninstinctively to the Sea. We pine for the delicious smell of the sea\nair, the murmur of the waves, the rushing sound of the pebbles on the\nsloping shore, the cries of the sea-birds; and long to\n\n Linger, where the pebble-paven shore,\n Under the quick, faint kisses of the Sea,\n Trembles and sparkles as with ecstasy.[56]\n\nHow beautiful the sea-coast is! At the foot of a cliff, perhaps of pure\nwhite chalk, or rich red sandstone, or stern grey granite, lies the\nshore of gravel or sand, with a few scattered plants of blue Sea Holly,\nor yellow-flowered Horned Poppies, Sea-kale, Sea Convolvulus, Saltwort,\nArtemisia, and Sea-grasses; the waves roll leisurely in one by one, and\nas they reach the beach, each in turn rises up in an arch of clear,\ncool, transparent, green water, tipped with white or faintly pinkish\nfoam, and breaks lovingly on the sands; while beyond lies the open Sea\nsparkling in the sunshine.\n\n ... O pleasant Sea\n Earth hath not a plain\n So boundless or so beautiful as thine.[57]\n\nThe Sea is indeed at times overpoweringly beautiful. At morning and\nevening a sheet of living silver or gold, at mid-day deep blue; even\n\n Too deeply blue; too beautiful; too bright;\n Oh, that the shadow of a cloud might rest\n Somewhere upon the splendour of thy breast\n In momentary gloom.[58]\n\nThere are few prettier sights than the beach at a seaside town on a fine\nsummer's day; the waves sparkling in the sunshine, the water and sky\neach bluer than the other, while the sea seems as if it had nothing to\ndo but to laugh and play with the children on the sands; the children\nperseveringly making castles with spades and pails, which the waves then\nrun up to and wash away, over and over and over again, until evening\ncomes and the children go home, when the Sea makes everything smooth and\nready for the next day's play.\n\nMany are satisfied to admire the Sea from shore, others more ambitious\nor more free prefer a cruise. They feel with Tennyson's voyager:\n\n We left behind the painted buoy\n That tosses at the harbour-mouth;\n And madly danced our hearts with joy,\n As fast we fleeted to the South:\n How fresh was every sight and sound\n On open main or winding shore!\n We knew the merry world was round,\n And we might sail for evermore.\n\nMany appreciate both. The long roll of the Mediterranean on a fine day\n(and I suppose even more of the Atlantic, which I have never enjoyed),\nfar from land in a good ship, and with kind friends, is a joy never to\nbe forgotten.\n\nTo the Gulf Stream and the Atlantic Ocean Northern Europe owes its mild\nclimate. The same latitudes on the other side of the Atlantic are much\ncolder. To find the same average temperature in the United States we\nmust go far to the south. Immediately opposite us lies Labrador, with an\naverage temperature the same as that of Greenland; a coast almost\ndestitute of vegetation, a country of snow and ice, whose principal\nwealth consists in its furs, and a scattered population, mainly composed\nof Indians and Esquimaux. But the Atlantic would not alone produce so\ngreat an effect. We owe our mild and genial climate mainly to the Gulf\nStream--a river in the ocean, twenty million times as great as the\nRhone--the greatest, and for us the most important, river in the world,\nwhich brings to our shores the sunshine of the West Indies.\n\nThe Sea is outside time. A thousand, ten thousand, or a million years\nago it must have looked just as it does now, and as it will ages hence.\nWith the land this is not so. The mountains and hills, rivers and\nvalleys, animals and plants are continually changing: but the Sea is\nalways the same,\n\n Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same\n Year after year.\n\nDirectly we see the coast, or even a ship, the case is altered. Boats\nmay remain the same for centuries, but ships are continually being\nchanged. The wooden walls of old England are things of the past, and the\nironclads of to-day will soon be themselves improved off the face of the\nocean.\n\nThe great characteristic of Lakes is peace, that of the Sea is energy,\nsomewhat restless, perhaps, but still movement without fatigue.\n\n The Earth lies quiet like a child asleep,\n The deep heart of the Heaven is calm and still,\n Must thou alone a restless vigil keep,\n And with thy sobbing all the silence fill.[59]\n\nA Lake in a storm rather gives us the impression of a beautiful Water\nSpirit tormented by some Evil Demon; but a storm at Sea is one of the\ngrandest manifestations of Nature.\n\n Yet more; the billows and the depths have more;\n High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast;\n They hear not now the booming waters roar,\n The battle thunders will not break their rest.\n Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave;\n Give back the true and brave.[60]\n\nThe most vivid description of a storm at sea is, I think, the following\npassage from Ruskin's _Modern Painters_:\n\n \"Few people, comparatively, have ever seen the effect on the\n sea of a powerful gale continued without intermission for three\n or four days and nights; and to those who have not, I believe\n it must be unimaginable, not from the mere force or size of the\n surge, but from the complete annihilation of the limit between\n sea and air. The water from its prolonged agitation is beaten,\n not into mere creaming foam, but into masses of accumulated\n yeast, which hangs in ropes and wreaths from wave to wave, and,\n where one curls over to break, form a festoon like a drapery\n from its edge; these are taken up by the wind, not in\n dissipating dust, but bodily, in writhing, hanging, coiling\n masses, which make the air white and thick as with snow, only\n the flakes are a foot or two long each: the surges themselves\n are full of foam in their very bodies underneath, making them\n white all through, as the water is under a great cataract; and\n their masses, being thus half water and half air, are torn to\n pieces by the wind whenever they rise, and carried away in\n roaring smoke, which chokes and strangles like actual water.\n Add to this, that when the air has been exhausted of its\n moisture by long rain, the spray of the sea is caught by it as\n described above, and covers its surface not merely with the\n smoke of finely divided water, but with boiling mist; imagine\n also the low rain-clouds brought down to the very level of the\n sea, as I have often seen them, whirling and flying in rags and\n fragments from wave to wave; and finally, conceive the surges\n themselves in their utmost pitch of power, velocity, vastness,\n and madness, lifting themselves in precipices and peaks,\n furrowed with their whirl of ascent, through all this chaos,\n and you will understand that there is indeed no distinction\n left between the sea and air; that no object, nor horizon, nor\n any landmark or natural evidence of position is left; and the\n heaven is all spray, and the ocean all cloud, and that you can\n see no further in any direction than you see through a\n cataract.\"\n\n\nSEA LIFE\n\nThe Sea teems with life. The Great Sea Serpent is, indeed, as much a\nmyth as the Kraken of Pontoppidan, but other monsters, scarcely less\nmarvellous, are actual realities. The Giant Cuttle Fish of Newfoundland,\nthough the body is comparatively small, may measure 60 feet from the tip\nof one arm to that of another. The Whalebone Whale reaches a length of\nover 70 feet, but is timid and inoffensive. The Cachalot or Sperm Whale,\nwhich almost alone among animals roams over the whole ocean, is as\nlarge, and much more formidable. It is armed with powerful teeth, and is\nsaid to feed mainly on Cuttle Fish, but sometimes on true fishes, or\neven Seals. When wounded it often attacks boats, and its companions do\nnot hesitate to come to the rescue. In one case, indeed, an American\nship was actually attacked, stove in, and sunk by a gigantic male\nCachalot.\n\nThe Great Roqual is still more formidable, and has been said to attain a\nlength of 120 feet, but this is probably an exaggeration. So far as we\nknow, the largest species of all is Simmond's Whale, which reaches a\nmaximum of 85 to 90 feet.\n\nIn former times Whales were frequent on our coasts, so that, as Bishop\nPontoppidan said, the sea sometimes appeared as if covered with smoking\nchimneys, but they have been gradually driven further and further north,\nand are still becoming rarer. As they retreated man followed, and to\nthem we owe much of our progress in geography. Is it not, however, worth\nconsidering whether they might not also be allowed a \"truce of God,\"\nwhether some part of the ocean might not be allotted to them where they\nmight be allowed to breed in peace? As a mere mercantile arrangement the\nmaritime nations would probably find this very remunerative. The\nreckless slaughter of Whales, Sea Elephants, Seals, and other marine\nanimals is a sad blot, not only on the character, but on the common\nsense, of man.\n\nThe monsters of the ocean require large quantities of food, but they are\nsupplied abundantly. Scoresby mentions cases in which the sea was for\nmiles tinged of an olive green by a species of Medusa. He calculates\nthat in a cubic mile there must have been 23,888,000,000,000,000, and\nthough no doubt the living mass did not reach to any great depth, still,\nas he sailed through water thus discoloured for many miles, the number\nmust have been almost incalculable.\n\nThis is, moreover, no rare or exceptional case. Navigators often sail\nfor leagues through shoals of creatures, which alter the whole colour of\nthe sea, and actually change it, as Reclus says, into \"une masse\nanimee.\"\n\nStill, though the whole ocean teems with life, both animals and plants\nare most abundant near the coast. Air-breathing animals, whether mammals\nor insects, are naturally not well adapted to live far from dry land.\nEven Seals, though some of them make remarkable migrations, remain\nhabitually near the shore. Whales alone are specially modified so as to\nmake the wide ocean their home. Of birds the greatest wanderer is the\nAlbatross, which has such powers of flight that it is said even to sleep\non the wing.\n\nMany Pelagic animals--Jelly-fishes, Molluscs, Cuttle-fishes, Worms,\nCrustacea, and some true fishes--are remarkable for having become\nperfectly transparent; their shells, muscles, and even their blood have\nlost all colour, or even undergone the further modification of having\nbecome blue, often with beautiful opalescent reflections. This obviously\nrenders them less visible, and less liable to danger.\n\nThe sea-shore, wherever a firm hold can be obtained, is covered with\nSea-weeds, which fall roughly into two main divisions, olive-green and\nred, the latter colour having a special relation to light. These\nSea-weeds afford food and shelter to innumerable animals.\n\nThe clear rocky pools left by the retiring tide are richly clothed with\ngreen sea-weeds, while against the sides are tufts of beautiful filmy\nred algae, interspersed with Sea-anemones,--white, creamy, pink, yellow,\npurple, with a coronet of blue beads, and of many mixed colours;\nSponges, Corallines, Starfish, Limpets, Barnacles, and other shell-fish;\nfeathery Zoophytes and Annelides expand their pink or white disks, while\nhere and there a Crab scuttles across; little Fish or Shrimps timidly\ncome out from crevices in the rocks, or from among the fronds of the\nsea-weeds, or hastily dart from shelter to shelter; each little pool is,\nin fact, a miniature ocean in itself, and the longer one looks the more\nand more one will see.\n\nThe dark green and brown sea-weeds do not live beyond a few--say about\n15--fathoms in depth. Below them occur delicate scarlet species, with\nCorallines and a different set of shells, Sea-urchins, etc. Down to\nabout 100 fathoms the animals and plants are still numerous and varied.\nBut they gradually diminish in numbers, and are replaced by new forms.\n\nTo appreciate fully the extreme loveliness of marine animals they must\nbe seen alive. \"A tuft of Sertularia, laden with white, or brilliantly\ntinted Polypites,\" says Hincks, \"like blossoms on some tropical tree, is\na perfect marvel of beauty. The unfolding of a mass of Plumularia, taken\nfrom amongst the miscellaneous contents of the dredge, and thrown into a\nbottle of clear sea-water, is a sight which, once seen, no dredger will\nforget. A tree of Campanularia, when each one of its thousand\ntransparent calycles--itself a study of form--is crowned by a circlet of\nbeaded arms, drooping over its margin like the petals of a flower,\noffers a rare combination of the elements of beauty.\n\n\"The rocky wall of some deep tidal pool, thickly studded with the long\nand slender stems of Tubularia, surmounted by the bright rose-coloured\nheads, is like the gay parterre of a garden. Equally beautiful is the\ndense growth of Campanularia, covering (as I have seen it in Plymouth\nSound) large tracts of the rock, its delicate shoots swaying to and fro\nwith each movement of the water, like trees in a storm, or the colony of\nObelia on the waving frond of the tangle looking almost ethereal in its\ngrace, transparency, and delicacy, as seen against the coarse dark\nsurface that supports it.\"\n\nFew things are more beautiful than to look down from a boat into\ntransparent water. At the bottom wave graceful sea-weeds, brown, green,\nor rose-coloured, and of most varied forms; on them and on the sands or\nrocks rest starfishes, mollusca, crustaceans, Sea-anemones, and\ninnumerable other animals of strange forms and varied colours; in the\nclear water float or dart about endless creatures; true fishes, many of\nthem brilliantly coloured; Cuttle-fishes like bad dreams; Lobsters and\nCrabs with graceful, transparent Shrimps; Worms swimming about like\nliving ribbons, some with thousands of coloured eyes, and Medusae like\nliving glass of the richest and softest hues, or glittering in the\nsunshine with all the colours of the rainbow.\n\nAnd on calm, cool nights how often have I stood on the deck of a ship\nwatching with wonder and awe the stars overhead, and the sea-fire below,\nespecially in the foaming, silvery wake of the vessel, where often\nsuddenly appear globes of soft and lambent light, given out perhaps\nfrom the surface of some large Medusa.\n\n\"A beautiful white cloud of foam,\" says Coleridge, \"at momently\nintervals coursed by the side of the vessel with a roar, and little\nstars of flame danced and sparkled and went out in it; and every now and\nthen light detachments of this white cloud-like foam darted off from the\nvessel's side, each with its own small constellation, over the sea, and\nscoured out of sight like a Tartar troop over a wilderness.\"\n\nFish also are sometimes luminous. The Sun-fish has been seen to glow\nlike a white-hot cannon-ball, and in one species of Shark (Squalus\nfulgens) the whole surface sometimes gives out a greenish lurid light\nwhich makes it a most ghastly object, like some great ravenous spectre.\n\n\nTHE OCEAN DEPTHS\n\nThe Land bears a rich harvest of life, but only at the surface. The\nOcean, on the contrary, though more richly peopled in its upper layers,\nwhich swarm with such innumerable multitudes of living creatures that\nthey are, so to say, almost themselves alive--teems throughout with\nliving beings.\n\nThe deepest abysses have a fauna of their own, which makes up for the\ncomparative scantiness of its numbers, by the peculiarity and interest\nof their forms and organisation. The middle waters are the home of\nvarious Fishes, Medusae, and animalcules, while the upper layers swarm\nwith an inexhaustible variety of living creatures.\n\nIt used to be supposed that the depths of the Ocean were destitute of\nanimal life, but recent researches, and especially those made during our\ngreat national expedition in the \"Challenger,\" have shown that this is\nnot the case, but that the Ocean depths have a wonderful and peculiar\nlife of their own. Fish have been dredged up even from a depth of 2750\nfathoms.\n\nThe conditions of life in the Ocean depths are very peculiar. The light\nof the sun cannot penetrate beyond about two hundred fathoms; deeper\nthan this complete darkness prevails. Hence in many species the eyes\nhave more or less completely disappeared.\n\nSir Wyville Thomson mentions a kind of Crab (Ethusa granulata), which\nwhen living near the surface has well developed eyes; in deeper water,\n100 to 400 fathoms, eyestalks are present, but the animal is apparently\nblind, the eyes themselves being absent; while in specimens from a depth\nof 500-700 fathoms the eyestalks themselves have lost their special\ncharacter, and have become fixed, their terminations being combined into\na strong, pointed beak.\n\nIn other deep sea creatures, on the contrary, the eyes gradually become\nmore and more developed, so that while in some species the eyes\ngradually dwindle, in others they become unusually large.\n\nMany of the latter species may be said to be a light to themselves,\nbeing provided with a larger or smaller number of curious luminous\norgans. The deep sea fish are either silvery, pink, or in many cases\nblack, sometimes relieved with scarlet, and when the luminous organs\nflash out must present a very remarkable appearance.\n\nWe have still much to learn as to the structure and functions of these\norgans, but there are cases in which their use can be surmised with some\nprobability. The light is evidently under the will of the fish.[61] It\nis easy to imagine a Photichthys (Light Fish) swimming in the black\ndepths of the Ocean, suddenly flashing out light from its luminous\norgans, and thus bringing into view any prey which may be near; while,\nif danger is disclosed, the light is again at once extinguished. It may\nbe observed that the largest of these organs is in this species situated\njust under the eye, so that the fish is actually provided with a bull's\neye lantern. In other cases the light may rather serve as a defence,\nsome having, as, for instance, in the genus Scopelus, a pair of large\nones in the tail, so that \"a strong ray of light shot forth from the\nstern-chaser may dazzle and frighten an enemy.\"\n\nIn other cases they appear to serve as lures. The \"Sea-devil\" or\n\"Angler\" of our coasts has on its head three long, very flexible,\nreddish filaments, while all round its head are fringed appendages,\nclosely resembling fronds of sea-weed. The fish conceals itself at the\nbottom, in the sand or among sea-weed, and dangles the long filaments in\nfront of its mouth. Little fishes, taking these filaments for worms,\nunsuspectingly approach, and thus fall victims.\n\nSeveral species of the same family live at great depths, and have very\nsimilar habits. A mere red filament would be invisible in the dark and\ntherefore useless. They have, however, developed a luminous organ, a\nliving \"glow-lamp,\" at the end of the filament, which doubtless proves a\nvery effective lure.\n\nIn the great depths, however, fish are comparatively rare. Nor are\nMolluscs much more abundant. Sea-urchins, Sea Slugs, and Starfish are\nmore numerous, and on one occasion 20,000 specimens of an Echinus were\nbrought up at a single haul. True corals are rare, nor are Hydrozoa\nfrequent, though a giant species, allied to the little Hydra of our\nponds but upwards of 6 feet in height, has more than once been met\nwith. Sponges are numerous, and often very beautiful. The now well known\nEuplectella, \"Venus's Flower-basket,\" resembles an exquisitely delicate\nfabric woven in spun silk; it is in the form of a gracefully curved\ntube, expanding slightly upwards and ending in an elegant frill. The\nwall is formed of parallel bands of glassy siliceous fibres, crossed by\nothers at right angles, so as to form a square meshed net. These sponges\nare anchored on the fine ooze by wisps of glassy filaments, which often\nattain a considerable length. Many of these beautiful organisms,\nmoreover, glow when alive with a soft diffused light, flickering and\nsparkling at every touch. What would one not give to be able to wander a\nwhile in these wonderful regions!\n\nIt is curious that no plants, so far as we know, grow in the depths of\nthe Ocean, or, indeed, as far as our present information goes, at a\ngreater depth than about 100 fathoms.\n\nAs regards the nature of the bottom itself, it is in the neighbourhood\nof land mainly composed of materials, brought down by rivers or washed\nfrom the shore, coarser near the coast, and tending to become finer and\nfiner as the distance increases and the water deepens. The bed of the\nAtlantic from 400 to 2000 fathoms is covered with an ooze, or very fine\nchalky deposit, consisting to a great extent of minute and more or less\nbroken shells, especially those of Globigerina. At still greater depths\nthe carbonate of lime gradually disappears, and the bottom consists of\nfine red clay, with numerous minute particles, some of volcanic, some of\nmeteoric, origin, fragments of shooting stars, over 100,000,000 of which\nare said to strike the surface of our earth every year. How slow the\nprocess of deposition must be, may be inferred from the fact that the\ntrawl sometimes brings up many teeth of Sharks and ear-bones of Whales\n(in one case no less than 600 teeth and 100 ear-bones), often\nsemi-fossil, and which from their great density had remained intact for\nages, long after all the softer parts had perished and disappeared.\n\nThe greatest depth of the Ocean appears to coincide roughly with the\ngreatest height of the mountains. There are indeed cases recorded in\nwhich it is said that \"no bottom\" was found even at 39,000 feet. It is,\nhowever, by no means easy to sound at such great depths, and it is now\ngenerally considered that these earlier observations are untrustworthy.\nThe greatest depth known in the Atlantic is 3875 fathoms--a little to\nthe north of the Virgin Islands, but the soundings as yet made in the\ndeeper parts of the Ocean are few in number, and it is not to be\nsupposed that the greatest depth has yet been ascertained.\n\n\nCORAL ISLANDS\n\nIn many parts of the world the geography itself has been modified by the\nenormous development of animal life. Most islands fall into one of three\nprincipal categories:\n\nFirstly, Those which are in reality a part of the continent near which\nthey lie, being connected by comparatively shallow water, and standing\nto the continent somewhat in the relation of planets to the sun; as,\nfor instance, the Cape de Verde Islands to Africa, Ceylon to India, or\nTasmania to Australia.\n\nSecondly, Volcanic islands; and\n\nThirdly, Those which owe their origin to the growth of Coral reefs.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 49.--Whitsunday Island.]\n\nCoral islands are especially numerous in the Indian and Pacific Oceans,\nwhere there are innumerable islets, in the form of rings, or which\ntogether form rings, the rings themselves being sometimes made up of\nringlets. These \"atolls\" contain a circular basin of yellowish green,\nclear, shallow water, while outside is the dark blue deep water of the\nOcean. The islands themselves are quite low, with a beach of white sand\nrising but a few feet above the level of the water, and bear generally\ngroups of tufted Cocoa Palms.\n\nIt used to be supposed that these were the summits of submarine\nvolcanoes on which the coral had grown. But as the reef-making coral\ndoes not live at greater depths than about twenty-five fathoms, the\nimmense number of these reefs formed an almost insuperable objection to\nthis theory. The Laccadives and Maldives for instance--meaning literally\nthe \"lac of or 100,000 islands,\" and the \"thousand islands\"--are a\nseries of such atolls, and it was impossible to imagine so great a\nnumber of craters, all so nearly of the same altitude.\n\nIn shallow tracts of sea, coral reefs no doubt tend to assume the\nwell-known circular form, but the difficulty was to account for the\nnumerous atolls which rise to the surface from the abysses of the ocean,\nwhile the coral-forming zoophytes can only live near the surface.\n\nDarwin showed that so far from the ring of corals resting on a\ncorresponding ridge of rocks, the lagoons, on the contrary, now occupy\nthe place which was once the highest land. He pointed out that some\nlagoons, as for instance that of Vanikoro, contain an island in the\nmiddle; while other islands, such as Tahiti, are surrounded by a margin\nof smooth water separated from the ocean by a coral reef. Now if we\nsuppose that Tahiti were to sink slowly it would gradually approximate\nto the condition of Vanikoro; and if Vanikoro gradually sank, the\ncentral island would disappear, while on the contrary the growth of the\ncoral might neutralise the subsidence of the reef, so that we should\nhave simply an atoll with its lagoon. The same considerations explain\nthe origin of the \"barrier reefs,\" such as that which runs for nearly a\nthousand miles, along the north-east coast of Australia. Thus Darwin's\ntheory explains the form and the approximate identity of altitude of\nthese coral islands. But it does more than this, because it shows that\nthere are great areas in process of subsidence, which though slow, is of\ngreat importance in physical geography.\n\nThe lagoon islands have received much attention; which \"is not\nsurprising, for every one must be struck with astonishment, when he\nfirst beholds one of these vast rings of coral-rock, often many leagues\nin diameter, here and there surmounted by a low verdant island with\ndazzling white shores, bathed on the outside by the foaming breakers of\nthe ocean, and on the inside surrounding a calm expanse of water, which,\nfrom reflection is generally of a bright but pale green colour. The\nnaturalist will feel this astonishment more deeply after having examined\nthe soft and almost gelatinous bodies of these apparently insignificant\ncoral-polypifers, and when he knows that the solid reef increases only\non the outer edge, which day and night is lashed by the breakers of an\nocean never at rest. Well did Francois Pyrard de Laval, in the year 1605\nexclaim, 'C'est une merveille de voir chacun de ces atollons, environne\nd'un grand banc de pierre tout autour, n'y ayant point d'artifice\nhumain.'\"[62]\n\nOf the enchanting beauty of the coral beds themselves we are assured\nthat language conveys no adequate idea. \"There were corals,\" says Prof.\nBall, \"which, in their living state, are of many shades of fawn, buff,\npink, and blue, while some were tipped with a magenta-like bloom.\nSponges which looked as hard as stone spread over wide areas, while\nsprays of coralline added their graceful forms to the picture. Through\nthe vistas so formed, golden-banded and metallic-blue fish meandered,\nwhile on the patches of sand here and there Holothurias and various\nmollusca and crustaceans might be seen slowly crawling.\"\n\nAbercromby also gives a very graphic description of a Coral reef. \"As we\napproached,\" he says, \"the roaring surf on the outside, fingery lumps of\nbeautiful live coral began to appear of the palest lavender-blue colour;\nand when at last we were almost within the spray, the whole floor was\none mass of living branches of coral.\n\n\"But it is only when venturing as far as is prudent into the water, over\nthe outward edge of the great sea wall, that the true character of the\nreef and all the beauties of the ocean can be really seen. After\nwalking over a flat uninteresting tract of nearly bare rock, you look\ndown and see a steep irregular wall, expanding deeper into the ocean\nthan the eye can follow, and broken into lovely grottoes and holes and\ncanals, through which small resplendent fish of the brightest blue or\ngold flit fitfully between the lumps of coral. The sides of these\nnatural grottoes are entirely covered with endless forms of\ntender-coloured coral, but all beautiful, and all more or less of the\nfingery or branching species, known as madrepores. It is really\nimpossible to draw or describe the sight, which must be taken with all\nits surroundings as adjuncts.\"[63]\n\nThe vegetation of these fairy lands is also very lovely; the Coral tree\n(Erythrina) with light green leaves and bunches of scarlet blossoms, the\nCocoa-nut always beautiful, the breadfruit, the graceful tree ferns, the\nBarringtonia, with large pink and white flowers, several species of\nConvolvulus, and many others unknown to us even by name.\n\n\nTHE SOUTHERN SKIES\n\nIn considering these exquisite scenes, the beauty of the Southern skies\nmust not be omitted. \"From the time we entered the torrid zone,\" says\nHumboldt, \"we were never wearied with admiring, every night, the beauty\nof the southern sky, which, as we advanced towards the south, opened new\nconstellations to our view. We feel an indescribable sensation, when, on\napproaching the equator, and particularly on passing from one hemisphere\nto the other, we see those stars which we have contemplated from our\ninfancy, progressively sink, and finally disappear. Nothing awakens in\nthe traveller a livelier remembrance of the immense distance by which he\nis separated from his country, than the aspect of an unknown firmament.\nThe grouping of the stars of the first magnitude, some scattered nebulae\nrivalling in splendour the milky way, and tracts of space remarkable for\ntheir extreme blackness, give a particular physiognomy to the southern\nsky. This sight fills with admiration even those, who, uninstructed in\nthe branches of accurate science, feel the same emotions of delight in\nthe contemplation of the heavenly vault, as in the view of a beautiful\nlandscape, or a majestic river. A traveller has no need of being a\nbotanist to recognise the torrid zone on the mere aspect of its\nvegetation; and, without having acquired any notion of astronomy, he\nfeels he is not in Europe, when he sees the immense constellation of the\nShip, or the phosphorescent clouds of Magellan, arise on the horizon.\nThe heaven and the earth, in the equinoctial regions, assume an exotic\ncharacter.\"\n\n\"The sunsets in the Eastern Archipelago,\" says H. O. Forbes,[64] \"were\nscenes to be remembered for a lifetime. The tall cones of Sibissie and\nKrakatoa rose dark purple out of an unruffled golden sea, which\nstretched away to the south-west, where the sun went down; over the\nhorizon gray fleecy clouds lay in banks and streaks, above them pale\nblue lanes of sky, alternating with orange bands, which higher up gave\nplace to an expanse of red stretching round the whole heavens.\nGradually as the sun retreated deeper and deeper, the sky became a\nmarvellous golden curtain, in front of which the gray clouds coiled\nthemselves into weird forms before dissolving into space....\"\n\n\nTHE POLES\n\nThe Arctic and Antarctic regions have always exercised a peculiar\nfascination over the human mind. Until now every attempt to reach the\nNorth Pole has failed, and the South has proved even more inaccessible.\nIn the north, Parry all but reached lat. 83; in the south no one has\npenetrated beyond lat. 71.11. And yet, while no one can say what there\nmay be round the North Pole, and some still imagine that open water\nmight be found there, we can picture to ourselves the extreme South with\nsomewhat more confidence.\n\nWhenever ships have sailed southwards, except at a few places where land\nhas been met with, they have come at last to a wall of ice, from fifty\nto four hundred feet high. In those regions it snows, if not\nincessantly, at least very frequently, and the snow melts but little. As\nfar as the eye can reach nothing is to be seen but snow. Now this snow\nmust gradually accumulate, and solidify into ice, until it attains such\na slope that it will move forward as a glacier. The enormous Icebergs of\nthe Southern Ocean, moreover, show that it does so, and that the snow of\nthe extreme south, after condensing into ice, moves slowly outward and\nat length forms a wall of ice, from which Icebergs, from time to time,\nbreak away. We do not exactly know what, under such circumstances, the\nslope would be; but Mr. Croll points out that if we take it at only half\na degree, and this seems quite a minimum, the Ice cap at the South Pole\nmust be no less than twelve miles in thickness. It is indeed probably\neven more, for some of the Southern tabular icebergs attain a height of\neight hundred, or even a thousand feet above water, indicating a total\nthickness of the ice sheet even at the edge, of over a mile.\n\nSir James Ross mentions that--\"Whilst measuring some angles for the\nsurvey near Mount Lubbock an island suddenly appeared, which he was\nquite sure was not to be seen two or three hours previously. He was much\nastonished, but it eventually turned out to be a large iceberg, which\nhad turned over, and so exposed a new surface covered with earth and\nstones.\"\n\nThe condition of the Arctic regions is quite different. There is much\nmore land, and no such enormous solid cap of ice. Spitzbergen, the land\nof \"pointed mountains,\" is said to be very beautiful. Lord Dufferin\ndescribes his first view of it as \"a forest of thin lilac peaks, so\nfaint, so pale, that had it not been for the gem-like distinctness of\ntheir outline one could have deemed them as unsubstantial as the spires\nof Fairyland.\"\n\nIt is, however, very desolate; scarcely any vegetation excepting a dark\nmoss, and even this goes but a little way up the mountain side. Scoresby\nascended one of the hills near Horn Sound, and describes the view as\n\"most extensive and grand. A fine sheltered bay was seen to the east of\nus, an arm of the same on the north-east, and the sea, whose glassy\nsurface was unruffled by a breeze, formed an immense expanse on the\nwest; the glaciers, rearing their proud crests almost to the tops of\nmountains between which they were lodged, and defying the power of the\nsolar beams, were scattered in various directions about the sea-coast\nand in the adjoining bays. Beds of snow and ice filling extensive\nhollows, and giving an enamelled coat to adjoining valleys, one of\nwhich, commencing at the foot of the mountain where we stood, extended\nin a continual line towards the north, as far as the eye could\nreach--mountain rising above mountain, until by distance they dwindled\ninto insignificance, the whole contrasted by a cloudless canopy of\ndeepest azure, and enlightened by the rays of a blazing sun, and the\neffect, aided by a feeling of danger, seated as we were on the pinnacle\nof a rock almost surrounded by tremendous precipices--all united to\nconstitute a picture singularly sublime.\"\n\nOne of the glaciers of Spitzbergen is 11 miles in breadth when it\nreaches the sea-coast, the highest part of the precipitous front\nadjoining the sea being over 400 feet, and it extends far upwards\ntowards the summit of the mountain. The surface forms an inclined plane\nof smooth unsullied snow, the beauty and brightness of which render it a\nconspicuous landmark on that inhospitable shore. From the perpendicular\nface great masses of ice from time to time break away,\n\n Whose blocks of sapphire seem to mortal eye\n Hewn from caerulean quarries of the sky.[65]\n\nField ice is comparatively flat, though it may be piled up perhaps as\nmuch as 50 feet. It is from glaciers that true icebergs, the beauty and\nbrilliance of which Arctic travellers are never tired of describing,\ntake their origin.\n\nThe attempts to reach the North Pole have cost many valuable lives;\nWilloughby and Hudson, Behring and Franklin, and many other brave\nmariners; but yet there are few expeditions more popular than those to\n\"the Arctic,\" and we cannot but hope that it is still reserved for the\nBritish Navy after so many gallant attempts at length to reach the North\nPole.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[56] Shelley.\n\n[57] Campbell.\n\n[58] Holmes.\n\n[59] Bell.\n\n[60] Hemans.\n\n[61] Gunther, _History of Fishes_.\n\n[62] Darwin, _Coral Reefs_.\n\n[63] Abercromby, _Seas and Skies in many Latitudes_.\n\n[64] _A Naturalist's Wanderings in the Eastern Archipelago._\n\n[65] Montgomery.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE STARRY HEAVENS\n\n A man can hardly lift up his eyes towards the heavens without\n wonder and veneration, to see so many millions of radiant\n lights, and to observe their courses and revolutions, even\n without any respect to the common good of the\n Universe.--SENECA.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE STARRY HEAVENS\n\n\nMany years ago I paid a visit to Naples, and ascended Vesuvius to see\nthe sun rise from the top of the mountain. We went up to the Observatory\nin the evening and spent the night outside. The sky was clear; at our\nfeet was the sea, and round the bay the lights of Naples formed a lovely\nsemicircle. Far more beautiful, however, were the moon and the stars\noverhead; the moon throwing a silver path over the water, and the stars\nshining in that clear atmosphere with a brilliance which I shall never\nforget.\n\nFor ages and ages past men have admired the same glorious spectacle, and\nyet neither the imagination of Man nor the genius of Poetry had risen to\nthe truer and grander conceptions of the Heavens for which we are\nindebted to astronomical Science. The mechanical contrivances by which\nit was attempted to explain the movements of the heavenly bodies were\nclumsy and prosaic when compared with the great discovery of Newton.\nRuskin is unjust I think when he says \"Science teaches us that the\nclouds are a sleety mist; Art, that they are a golden throne.\" I should\nbe the last to disparage the debt we owe to Art, but for our knowledge,\nand even more, for our appreciation, feeble as even yet it is, of the\noverwhelming grandeur of the Heavens, we are mainly indebted to Science.\n\nThere is scarcely a form which the fancy of Man has not sometimes\ndetected in the clouds,--chains of mountains, splendid cities, storms at\nsea, flights of birds, groups of animals, monsters of all kinds,--and\nour superstitious ancestors often terrified themselves by fantastic\nvisions of arms and warriors and battles which they regarded as portents\nof coming calamities. There is hardly a day on which Clouds do not\ndelight and surprise us by their forms and colours. They belong,\nhowever, to our Earth, and I must now pass on to the heavenly bodies.\n\n[Illustration: THE MOON.\n\n_To face page 377._]\n\n\nTHE MOON\n\nThe Moon is the nearest, and being the nearest, appears to us, with the\nsingle exception of the Sun, the largest, although it is in reality one\nof the smallest, of the heavenly bodies. Just as the Earth goes round\nthe Sun, and the period of revolution constitutes a year, so the Moon\ngoes round the Earth approximately in a period of one month. But while\nwe turn on our axis every twenty-four hours, thus causing the\nalternation of light and darkness--day and night--the Moon takes a month\nto revolve on hers, so that she always presents the same, or very nearly\nthe same, surface to us.\n\nSeeing her as we do, not like the Sun and Stars, by light of her own,\nbut by the reflected light of the Sun, her form appears to change,\nbecause the side upon which the Sun shines is not always that which we\nsee. Hence the \"phases\" of the Moon, which add so much to her beauty\nand interest.\n\nWho is there who has not watched them with admiration? \"We first see her\nas an exquisite crescent of pale light in the western sky after sunset.\nNight after night she moves further and further to the east, until she\nbecomes full, and rises about the same time that the Sun sets. From the\ntime of full moon the disc of light begins to diminish, until the last\nquarter is reached. Then it is that the Moon is seen high in the heavens\nin the morning. As the days pass by, the crescent shape is again\nassumed. The crescent wanes thinner and thinner as the Moon draws closer\nto the Sun. Finally, she becomes lost in the overpowering light of the\nSun, again to emerge as the new moon, and again to go through the same\ncycle of changes.\"[66]\n\nBut although she is so small the Moon is not only, next to the Sun, by\nfar the most beautiful, but also for us the most important, of the\nheavenly bodies. Her attraction, aided by that of the Sun, causes the\ntides, which are of such essential service to navigation. They carry\nour vessels in and out of port, and, indeed, but for them many of our\nports would themselves cease to exist, being silted up by the rivers\nrunning into them. The Moon is also of invaluable service to sailors by\nenabling them to determine where they are, and guiding them over the\npathless waters.\n\nThe geography of the Moon, so far as concerns the side turned towards\nus, has been carefully mapped and studied, and may almost be said to be\nas well known as that of our own earth. The scenery is in a high degree\nweird and rugged; it is a great wilderness of extinct volcanoes, and,\nseen with even a very moderate telescope, is a most beautiful object.\nThe mountains are of great size. Our loftiest mountain, Mount Everest,\nis generally stated as about 29,000 feet in height. The mountains of the\nMoon reach an altitude of over 42,000, but this reckons to the lowest\ndepression, and it must be remembered that we reckon the height of\nmountains to the sea level only. Several of the craters on the Moon have\na diameter of 40 or 50--one of them even as much as 78--miles. Many\nalso have central cones, closely resembling those in our own volcanic\nregions. In some cases the craters are filled nearly to the brim with\nlava. The volcanoes seem, however, to be all extinct; and there is not a\nsingle case in which we have conclusive evidence of any change in a\nlunar mountain.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 50.--A group of Lunar Volcanoes.]\n\nThe Moon, being so much smaller than the earth, cooled, of course, much\nmore rapidly, and it is probable that these mountains are millions of\nyears old--much older than many of our mountain chains. Yet no one can\nlook at a map of the Moon without being struck with the very rugged\ncharacter of its mountain scenery. This is mainly due to the absence of\nair and water. To these two mighty agencies, not merely \"the\ncloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples,\" but the\nvery mountains themselves, are inevitable victims. Not merely storms and\nhurricanes, but every gentle shower, every fall of snow, tends to soften\nour scenery and lower the mountain peaks. These agencies are absent from\nthe Moon, and the mountains stand to-day just as they were formed\nmillions of years ago.\n\nBut though we find on our own globe (see, for instance, Fig. 21)\nvolcanic regions closely resembling those of the Moon, there are other\nphenomena on the Moon's surface for which our earth presents as yet no\nexplanation. From Tycho, for instance, a crater 17,000 feet high and 50\nmiles across, a number of rays or streaks diverge, which for hundreds,\nor in some cases two or three thousand, miles pass straight across\nplains, craters, and mountains. The true nature of these streaks is not\nyet understood.\n\n\nTHE SUN\n\nThe Sun is more than 400 times as distant as the Moon; a mighty glowing\nglobe, infinitely hotter than any earthly fiery furnace, 300,000 times\nas heavy, and 1,000,000 times as large as the earth. Its diameter is\n865,000 miles, and it revolves on its axis in between 25 and 26 days.\nIts distance is 92,500,000 miles. And yet it is only a star, and by no\nmeans one of the first magnitude.\n\nThe surface of the Sun is the seat of violent storms and tempests. From\nit gigantic flames, consisting mainly of hydrogen, flicker and leap.\nProfessor Young describes one as being, when first observed, 40,000\nmiles high. Suddenly it became very brilliant, and in half an hour\nsprang up 40,000 more. For another hour it soared higher and higher,\nreaching finally an elevation of no less than 350,000 miles, after which\nit slowly faded away, and in a couple of hours had entirely disappeared.\nThis was no doubt an exceptional case, but a height of 100,000 miles is\nnot unusual, and the velocity frequently reaches 100 miles in a second.\n\nThe proverbial spots on the Sun in many respects resemble the\nappearances which would be presented if a comparatively dark central\nmass was here and there exposed by apertures through the more brilliant\nouter gases, but their true nature is still a matter of discussion.\n\nDuring total eclipses it is seen that the Sun is surrounded by a\n\"corona,\" or aureola of light, consisting of radiant filaments, beams,\nand sheets of light, which radiate in all directions, and the true\nnature of which is still doubtful.\n\nAnother stupendous problem connected with the Sun is the fact that, as\ngeology teaches us, it has given off nearly the same quantity of light\nand heat for millions of years. How has this come to pass? Certainly not\nby any process of burning such as we are familiar with. Indeed, if the\nheat of the Sun were due to combustion it would be burnt up in 6000\nyears. It has been suggested that the meteors, which fall in showers on\nto the Sun, replace the heat which is emitted. To some slight extent\nperhaps they do so, but the main cause seems to be the slow condensation\nof the Sun itself. Mathematicians tell us that a contraction of about\n220 feet a year would account for the whole heat emitted, and as the\npresent diameter of the Sun is about 860,000 miles, the potential store\nof heat is still enormous.\n\nTo the Sun we owe our light and heat; it is not only the centre of our\nplanetary system, it is the source and ruler of our lives. It draws up\nwater from the ocean, and pours it down in rain to fill the rivers and\nrefresh the plants; it raises the winds, which purify the air and waft\nour ships over the seas; it draws our carriages and drives our\nsteam-engines, for coal is but the heat of former ages stored up for our\nuse; animals live and move by the Sun's warmth; it inspires the song of\nbirds, paints the flowers, and ripens the fruit. Through it the trees\ngrow. For the beauties of nature, for our food and drink, for our\nclothing, for our light and life, for the very possibility of our\nexistence, we are indebted to the Sun.\n\nWhat is the Sun made of? Comte mentioned as a problem, which it was\nimpossible that man could ever solve, any attempt to determine the\nchemical composition of the heavenly bodies. \"Nous concevons,\" he said,\n\"la possibilite de determiner leurs formes, leurs distances, leurs\ngrandeurs, et leurs mouvements, tandis que nous ne saurions jamais\netudier par aucun moyen leur composition chimique ou leur structure\nmineralogique.\" To do so might well have seemed hopeless, and yet the\npossibility has been proved, and a beginning has been made. In the early\npart of this century Wollaston observed that the bright band of colours\nthrown by a prism, and known as the spectrum, was traversed by dark\nlines, which were also discovered, and described more in detail, by\nFraunhofer, after whom they are generally called \"Fraunhofer's lines.\"\nThe next step was made by Wheatstone, who showed that the spectrum\nformed by incandescent vapours was formed of bright lines, which\ndiffered for each substance, and might, therefore, be used as a\nconvenient mode of analysis. In fact, by this process several new\nsubstances have actually been discovered. These bright lines were found\non comparison to coincide with the dark lines in the spectrum, and to\nKirchhoff and Bunsen is due the credit of applying this method of\nresearch to astronomical science. They arranged their apparatus so that\none-half was lighted by the Sun, the other by the incandescent gas they\nwere examining. When the vapour of sodium was treated in this way they\nfound that the bright line in the flame of soda exactly coincided with a\nline in the Sun's spectrum. The conclusion was obvious; there is sodium\nin the Sun. It must, indeed, have been a glorious moment when the\nthought flashed upon them; and the discovery, with its results, is one\nof the greatest triumphs of human genius.\n\nThe Sun has thus been proved to contain hydrogen, sodium, barium,\nmagnesium, calcium, aluminium, chromium, iron, nickle, manganese,\ntitanium, cobalt, lead, zinc, copper, cadmium, strontium, cerium,\nuranium, potassium, etc., in all 36 of our terrestrial elements, while\nas regards some others the evidence is not conclusive. We cannot as yet\nsay that any of our elements are absent, nor though there are various\nlines which cannot as yet be certainly referred to any known substance,\nhave we clear proof that the Sun contains any element which does not\nexist on our earth. On the whole, then, the chemical composition of the\nSun appears closely to resemble that of our earth.\n\n\nTHE PLANETS\n\nThe Syrian shepherds watching their flocks by night long ago\nnoticed--and they were probably not the first--that there were five\nstars which did not follow the regular course of the rest, but,\napparently at least, moved about irregularly. These they appropriately\nnamed Planets, or wanderers.\n\nFurther observations have shown that this irregularity of their path is\nonly apparent, and that, like our own Earth, they really revolve round\nthe Sun. To the five first observed--Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and\nSaturn--two large ones, Uranus and Neptune, and a group of minor bodies,\nhave since been added.\n\nThe following two diagrams give the relative orbits of the Planets.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 51.--Orbits of the inner Planets.]\n\n\nMERCURY\n\nIt is possible, perhaps probable, that there may be an inner Planet,\nbut, so far as we know for certain, Mercury is the one nearest to the\nSun, its average distance being 36,000,000 miles. It is much smaller\nthan the Earth, its weight being only about 1/24th of ours. Mercury is a\nshy though beautiful object, for being so near the Sun it is not easily\nvisible; it may, however, generally be seen at some time or other during\nthe year as a morning or evening star.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 52.--Relative distances of the Planets from the\nSun.]\n\n\nVENUS\n\nThe true morning or evening star, however, is Venus--the peerless and\ncapricious Venus.\n\nVenus, perhaps, \"has not been noticed, not been thought of, for many\nmonths. It is a beautifully clear evening; the sun has just set. The\nlover of nature turns to admire the sunset, as every lover of nature\nwill. In the golden glory of the west a beauteous gem is seen to\nglisten; it is the evening star, the planet Venus. A week or two later\nanother beautiful sunset is seen, and now the planet is no longer a\nglistening point low down; it has risen high above the horizon, and\ncontinues a brilliant object long after the shades of night have\ndescended. Again a little longer and Venus has gained its full\nbrilliancy and splendour. All the heavenly host--even Sirius and\nJupiter--must pale before the splendid lustre of Venus, the unrivalled\nqueen of the firmament.\"[67]\n\nVenus is about as large as our Earth, and when at her brightest\noutshines about fifty times the most brilliant star. Yet, like all the\nother planets, she glows only with the reflected light of the Sun, and\nconsequently passes through phases like those of the Moon, though we\ncannot see them with the naked eye. To Venus also owe we mainly the\npower of determining the distance, and consequently the magnitude, of\nthe Sun.\n\n\nTHE EARTH\n\nOur own Earth has formed the subject of previous chapters. I will now,\ntherefore, only call attention to her movements, in which, of course,\nthough unconsciously, we participate. In the first place, the Earth\nrevolves on her axis in 24 hours. Her circumference at the tropics is\n24,000 miles. Hence a person at the tropics is moving in this respect at\nthe rate of 1000 miles an hour, or over 16 miles a minute.\n\nBut more than this, astronomers have ascertained that the whole solar\nsystem is engaged in a great voyage through space, moving towards a\npoint on the constellation of Hercules at the rate of at least 20,000\nmiles an hour, or over 300 miles a minute.[68]\n\nBut even more again, we revolve annually round the Sun in a mighty orbit\n580,000,000 miles in circumference. In this respect we are moving at the\nrate of no less than 60,000 miles an hour, or 1000 miles a minute--a\nrate far exceeding of course, in fact by some 100 times, that of a\ncannon ball.\n\nHow few of us know, how little we any of us realise, that we are rushing\nthrough space with such enormous velocity.\n\n\nMARS\n\nTo the naked eye Mars appears like a ruddy star of the first magnitude.\nIt has two satellites, which have been happily named Phobos and\nDeimos--Fear and Dismay. It is little more than half as large as the\nEarth, and, though generally far more distant, it sometimes approaches\nus within 35,000,000 miles. This has enabled us to study its physical\nstructure. It seems very probable that there is water in Mars, and the\ntwo poles are tipped with white, as if capped by ice and snow. It\npresents also a series of remarkable parallel lines, the true nature of\nwhich is not yet understood.\n\n\nTHE MINOR PLANETS\n\nA glance at Figs. 51 and 52 will show that the distances of the Planets\nfrom the Sun follow a certain rule.\n\nIf we take the numbers 0, 3, 6, 12, 24, 48, 96, each one (after the\nsecond) the double of that preceding, and add four, we have the series.\n\n 4 7 10 16 28 52 100\n\nNow the distances of the Planets from the Sun are as follow:--\n\n Mercury. Venus. Earth. Mars. Jupiter. Saturn.\n 3.9 7.2 10 15.2 52.9 95.4\n\nFor this sequence, which was first noticed by Bode, and is known as\nBode's law, no explanation can yet be given. It was of course at once\nobserved that between Mars and Jupiter one place is vacant, and it has\nnow been ascertained that this is occupied by a zone of Minor Planets,\nthe first of which was discovered by Piazzi on January 1, 1801, a worthy\nprelude to the succession of scientific discoveries which form the glory\nof our century. At present over 300 are known, but certainly these are\nmerely the larger among an immense number, some of them doubtless mere\ndust.\n\n\nJUPITER\n\nBeyond the Minor Planets we come to the stupendous Jupiter, containing\n300 times the mass, and being 1200 times the size of our Earth--larger\nindeed than all the other planets put together. It is probably not\nsolid, and from its great size still retains a large portion of the\noriginal heat, if we may use such an expression. Jupiter usually shows a\nnumber of belts, supposed to be due to clouds floating over the surface,\nwhich have a tendency to arrange themselves in belts or bands, owing to\nthe rotation of the planet. Jupiter has four moons or satellites.\n\n\nSATURN\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 53.--Saturn.]\n\nNext to Jupiter in size, as in position, comes Saturn, which, though far\ninferior in dimensions, is much superior in beauty. To the naked eye\nSaturn appears as a brilliant star, but when Galileo first saw it\nthrough a telescope it appeared to him to be composed of three bodies in\na line, a central globe with a small one on each side. Huyghens in 1655\nfirst showed that in reality Saturn was surrounded by a series of rings\n(see Fig. 53). Of these there are three, the inner one very faint, and\nthe outer one divided into two by a dark line. These rings are really\nenormous shoals of minute bodies revolving round the planet, and\nrendering it perhaps the most marvellous and beautiful of all the\nheavenly bodies.\n\nWhile we have one Moon, Mars two, and Jupiter four, Saturn has no less\nthan eight satellites.\n\n\nURANUS\n\nSaturn was long supposed to be the outermost body belonging to the solar\nsystem. In 1781, however, on the 13th March, William Herschel was\nexamining the stars in the constellation of the Twins. One struck him\nbecause it presented a distinct disc, while the true fixed stars,\nhowever brilliant, are, even with the most powerful telescope, mere\npoints of light. At first he thought it might be a comet, but careful\nobservations showed that it was really a new planet. Though thus\ndiscovered by Herschel it had often been seen before, but its true\nnature was unsuspected. It has a diameter of about 31,700 miles.\n\nFour satellites of Uranus have been discovered, and they present the\nremarkable peculiarity that while all the other planets and their\nsatellites revolve nearly in one plane, the satellites of Uranus are\nnearly at right angles, indicating the presence of some local and\nexceptional influence.\n\n\nNEPTUNE\n\nThe study of Uranus soon showed that it followed a path which could not\nbe accounted for by the influence of the Sun and the other then known\nplanets. It was suspected, therefore, that this was due to some other\nbody not yet discovered. To calculate where such a body must be so as to\naccount for these irregularities was a most complex and difficult, and\nmight have seemed almost a hopeless, task. It was, however, solved\nalmost simultaneously and independently by Adams in this country, and Le\nVerrier in France.\n\nNeptune, so far as we yet know the out-most of our companions, is 35,000\nmiles in diameter, and its mean distance from the Sun is 2,780,000,000\nmiles.\n\n\nORIGIN OF THE PLANETARY SYSTEM\n\nThe theory of the origin of the Planetary System known as the \"Nebular\nHypothesis,\" which was first suggested by Kant, and developed by\nHerschel and Laplace, may be fairly said to have attained a high degree\nof probability. The space now occupied by the solar system is supposed\nto have been filled by a rotating spheroid of extreme tenuity and\nenormous heat, due perhaps to the collision of two originally separate\nbodies. The heat, however, having by degrees radiated into space, the\ngas cooled and contracted towards a centre, destined to become the Sun.\nThrough the action of centrifugal force the gaseous matter also\nflattened itself at the two poles, taking somewhat the form of a disc.\nFor a certain time the tendency to contract, and the centrifugal force,\ncounterbalanced one another, but at length a time came when the latter\nprevailed and the outer zone detached itself from the rest of the\nsphere. One after another similar rings were thrown off, and then\nbreaking up, formed the planets and their satellites.\n\nThat each planet and satellite did form originally a ring we still have\nevidence in the wonderful and beautiful rings of Saturn, which, however,\nin all probability will eventually form spherical satellites like the\nrest. Thus then our Earth was originally a part of the Sun, to which\nagain it is destined one day to return. M. Plateau has shown\nexperimentally that by rotating a globe of oil in a mixture of water and\nspirit having the same density this process may be actually repeated in\nminiature.\n\nThis brilliant, and yet simple, hypothesis is consistent with, and\nexplains many other circumstances connected with the position,\nmagnitude, and movements of the Planets and their satellites.\n\nThe Planets, for instance, lie more or less in the same plane, they\nrevolve round the Sun and rotate on their own axis in the same\ndirection--a series of coincidences which cannot be accidental, and for\nwhich the theory would account. Again the rate of cooling would of\ncourse follow the size; a small body cools more rapidly than a large\none. The Moon is cold and rigid; the Earth is solid at the surface, but\nintensely hot within; Jupiter and Saturn, which are immensely larger,\nstill retain much of their original heat, and have a much lower density\nthan the Earth; and astronomers tell us on other grounds that the Sun\nitself is still contracting, and that to this the maintenance of its\ntemperature is due.\n\nAlthough, therefore, the Nebular Theory cannot be said to have been\nabsolutely proved, it has certainly been brought to a high state of\nprobability, and is, in its main features, generally accepted by\nastronomers.\n\nThe question has often been asked whether any of the heavenly bodies are\ninhabited, and as yet it is impossible to give any certain answer. It\nseems _a priori_ probable that the millions of suns which we see as\nstars must have satellites, and that some at least of them may be\ninhabited. So far as our own system is concerned the Sun is of course\ntoo hot to serve as a dwelling-place for any beings with bodies such as\nours. The same may be said of Mercury, which is at times probably ten\ntimes as hot as our tropics. The outer planets appear to be still in a\nstate of vapour. The Moon has no air or water.\n\nMars is in a condition which most nearly resembles ours. All, however,\nthat can be said is that, so far as we can see, the existence of living\nbeings on Mars is not impossible.\n\n\nCOMETS\n\nThe Sun, Moon, and Stars, glorious and wonderful as they are, though\nregarded with great interest, and in some cases worshipped as deities,\nexcited the imagination of our ancestors less than might have been\nexpected, and even now attract comparatively little attention, from the\nfact that they are always with us. Comets, on the other hand, both as\nrare and occasional visitors, from their large size and rapid changes,\nwere regarded in ancient times with dread and with amazement.\n\nSome Comets revolve round the Sun in ellipses, but many, if not the\nmajority, are visitors indeed, for having once passed round the Sun\nthey pass away again into space, never to return.\n\nThe appearance which is generally regarded as characteristic of a Comet\nis that of a head with a central nucleus and a long tail. Many, however,\nof the smaller ones possess no tail, and in fact Comets present almost\ninnumerable differences. Moreover the same Comet changes rapidly, so\nthat when they return, they are identified not in any way by their\nappearance, but by the path they pursue.\n\nComets may almost be regarded as the ghosts of heavenly bodies. The\nheads, in some cases, may consist of separate solid fragments, though on\nthis astronomers are by no means agreed, but the tails at any rate are\nin fact of almost inconceivable tenuity. We know that a cloud a few\nhundred feet thick is sufficient to hide, not only the stars, but even\nthe Sun himself. A Comet is thousands of miles in thickness, and yet\neven extremely minute stars can be seen through it with no appreciable\ndiminution of brightness. This extreme tenuity of comets is moreover\nshown by their small weight. Enormous as they are I remember Sir G. Airy\nsaying that there was probably more matter in a cricket ball than there\nis in a comet. No one, however, now doubts that the weight must be\nmeasured in tons; but it is so small, in relation to the size, as to be\npractically inappreciable. If indeed they were comparable in mass even\nto the planets, we should long ago have perished. The security of our\nsystem is due to the fact that the planets revolve round the Sun in one\ndirection, almost in circles, and very nearly in the same plane. Comets,\nhowever, enter our system in all directions, and at all angles; they are\nso numerous that, as Kepler said, there are probably more Comets in the\nsky than there are fishes in the sea, and but for their extreme tenuity\nthey would long ago have driven us into the Sun.\n\nWhen they first come in sight Comets have generally no tail; it grows as\nthey approach the Sun, from which it always points away. It is no mere\noptical illusion; but while the Comet as a whole is attracted by the\nSun, the tail, how or why we know not, is repelled. When once driven\noff, moreover, the attraction of the Comet is not sufficient to recall\nit, and hence perhaps so many Comets have now no tails.\n\nDonati's Comet, the great Comet of 1858, was first noticed on the 2d\nJune as a faint nebulous spot. For three months it remained quite\ninconspicuous, and even at the end of August was scarcely visible to the\nnaked eye. In September it grew rapidly, and by the middle of October\nthe tail extended no less than 40 degrees, after which it gradually\ndisappeared.\n\nFaint as is the light emitted by Comets, it is yet their own, and\nspectrum analysis has detected the presence in them of carbon, hydrogen,\nnitrogen, sodium, and probably of iron.\n\nComets then remain as wonderful, and almost as mysterious, as ever, but\nwe need no longer regard \"a comet as a sign of impending calamity; we\nmay rather look upon it as an interesting and a beautiful visitor, which\ncomes to please us and to instruct us, but never to threaten or to\ndestroy.\"[69] We are free, therefore, to admire them in peace, and\nbeautiful, indeed, they are.\n\n\"The most wonderful sight I remember,\" says Hamerton, \"as an effect of\ncalm, was the inversion of Donati's Comet, in the year 1858, during the\nnights when it was sufficiently near the horizon to approach the rugged\noutline of Graiganunie, and be reflected beneath it in Loch Awe. In the\nsky was an enormous aigrette of diamond fire, in the water a second\naigrette, scarcely less splendid, with its brilliant point directed\nupwards, and its broad, shadowy extremity ending indefinitely in the\ndeep. To be out on the lake alone, in a tiny boat, and let it rest\nmotionless on the glassy water, with that incomparable spectacle before\none, was an experience to be remembered through a lifetime. I have seen\nmany a glorious sight since that now distant year, but nothing to equal\nit in the association of solemnity with splendour.\"[70]\n\n\nSHOOTING STARS\n\nOn almost any bright night, if we watch a short time some star will\nsuddenly seem to drop from its place, and, after a short plunge, to\ndisappear. This appearance is, however, partly illusory. While true\nstars are immense bodies at an enormous distance, Shooting Stars are\nvery small, perhaps not larger than a paving stone, and are not visible\nuntil they come within the limits of our atmosphere, by the friction\nwith which they are set on fire and dissipated. They are much more\nnumerous on some nights than others. From the 9th to the 11th August we\npass through one cluster which is known as the Perseids; and on the 13th\nand 14th November a still greater group called by astronomers the\nLeonids. The Leonids revolve round the Sun in a period of 33 years, and\nin an elliptic orbit, one focus of which is about at the same distance\nfrom the Sun as we are, the other at about that of Uranus. The shoal of\nstars is enormous; its diameter cannot be less than 100,000 miles, and\nits length many hundreds of thousands. There are, indeed, stragglers\nscattered over the whole orbit, with some of which we come in contact\nevery year, but we pass through the main body three times in a\ncentury--last in 1866--capturing millions on each occasion. One of these\nhas been graphically described by Humboldt:\n\n\"From half after two in the morning the most extraordinary luminary\nmeteors were seen in the direction of the east. M. Bonpland, who had\nrisen to enjoy the freshness of the air, perceived them first. Thousands\nof bodies and falling stars succeeded each other during the space of\nfour hours. Their direction was very regular from north to south. They\nfilled a space in the sky extending from due east 30 deg. to north and\nsouth. In an amplitude of 60 deg. the meteors were seen to rise above the\nhorizon at east-north-east, and at east, to describe arcs more or less\nextended, and to fall towards the south, after having followed the\ndirection of the meridian. Some of them attained a height of 40 deg., and\nall exceeded 25 deg. or 30 deg.. No trace of clouds was to be seen. M. Bonpland\nstates that, from the first appearance of the phenomenon, there was not\nin the firmament a space equal in extent to three diameters of the moon\nwhich was not filled every instant with bolides and falling stars. The\nfirst were fewer in number, but as they were of different sizes it was\nimpossible to fix the limit between these two classes of phenomena. All\nthese meteors left luminous traces from five to ten degrees in length,\nas often happens in the equinoctial regions. The phosphorescence of\nthese traces, or luminous bands, lasted seven or eight seconds. Many of\nthe falling stars had a very distinct nucleus, as large as the disc of\nJupiter, from which darted sparks of vivid light. The bodies seemed to\nburst as by explosion; but the largest, those from 1 deg. to 1 deg. 15' in\ndiameter, disappeared without scintillation, leaving behind them\nphosphorescent bands (trabes), exceeding in breadth fifteen or twenty\nminutes. The light of these meteors was white, and not reddish, which\nmust doubtless be attributed to the absence of vapour and the extreme\ntransparency of the air.\"[71]\n\nThe past history of the Leonids, which Le Verrier has traced out with\ngreat probability, if not proved, is very interesting. They did not, he\nconsiders, approach the Sun until 126 A.D., when, in their career\nthrough the heavens, they chanced to come near to Uranus. But for the\ninfluence of that planet they would have passed round the Sun, and then\ndeparted again for ever. By his attraction, however, their course was\naltered, and they will now continue to revolve round the Sun.\n\nThere is a remarkable connection between star showers and comets, which,\nhowever, is not yet thoroughly understood. Several star showers follow\npaths which are also those of comets, and the conclusion appears almost\nirresistible that these comets are made up of Shooting Stars.\n\nWe are told, indeed, that 150,000,000 of meteors, including only those\nvisible with a moderate telescope, fall on the earth annually. At any\nrate, there can be no doubt that every year millions of them are\ncaptured by the earth, thus constituting an appreciable, and in the\ncourse of ages a constantly increasing, part of the solid substance of\nthe globe.\n\n\nTHE STARS\n\nWe have been dealing in the earlier part of this chapter with figures\nand distances so enormous that it is quite impossible for us to realise\nthem; and yet we have still others to consider compared with which even\nthe solar system is insignificant.\n\nIn the first place, the number of the Stars is enormous. When we look at\nthe sky at night they seem, indeed, almost innumerable; so that, like\nthe sands of the sea, the Stars of heaven have ever been used as\neffective symbols of number. The total number visible to the naked eye\nis, however, in reality only about 3000, while that shown by the\ntelescope is about 100,000,000. Photography, however, has revealed to us\nthe existence of others which no telescope can show. We cannot by\nlooking long at the heavens see more than at first; in fact, the first\nglance is the keenest. In photography, on the contrary, no light which\nfalls on the plate, however faint, is lost; it is taken in and stored\nup. In an hour the effect is 3600 times as great as in a second. By\nexposing the photographic plate, therefore, for some hours, and even on\nsuccessive nights, the effect of the light is as it were accumulated,\nand stars are rendered visible, the light of which is too feeble to be\nshown by any telescope.\n\nThe distances and magnitudes of the Stars are as astonishing as their\nnumbers, Sirius, for instance, being about twenty times as heavy as the\nSun itself, 50 times as bright, and no less than 1,000,000 times as far\naway; while, though like other stars it seems to us stationary, it is in\nreality sweeping through the heavens at the rate of 1000 miles a minute;\nMaia, Electra, and Alcyone, three of the Pleiades, are considered to be\nrespectively 400, 480, and 1000 times as brilliant as the Sun, Canopus\n2500 times, and Arcturus, incredible as it may seem, even 8000 times, so\nthat, in fact, the Sun is by no means one of the largest Stars. Even the\nminute Stars not separately visible to the naked eye, and the millions\nwhich make up the Milky Way, are considered to be on an average fully\nequal to the Sun in lustre.\n\nArcturus is, so far as we know at present, the swiftest, brightest, and\nlargest of all. Its speed is over 300 miles a second, it is said to be\n8000 times as bright as the Sun, and 80 times as large, while its\ndistance is so great that its light takes 200 years in reaching us.\n\nThe distances of the heavenly bodies are ascertained by what is known as\n\"parallax.\" Suppose the ellipse (Fig. 54), marked Jan., Apr., July,\nOct., represents the course of the Earth round the Sun, and that A B are\ntwo stars. If in January we look at the star A, we see it projected\nagainst the front of the sky marked 1. Three months later it would\nappear to be at 2, and thus as we move round our orbit the star itself\nappears to move in the ellipse 1, 2, 3, 4. The more distant star B also\nappears to move in a similar, but smaller, ellipse; the difference\narising from the greater distance. The size of the ellipse is inversely\nproportional to the distance, and hence as we know the magnitude of the\nearth's orbit we can calculate the distance of the star. The difficulty\nis that the apparent ellipses are so minute that it is in very few cases\npossible to measure them.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 54.--The Parallactic Ellipse.]\n\nThe distances of the Fixed Stars thus tested are found to be enormous,\nand indeed generally incalculable; so great that in most cases, whether\nwe look at them from one end of our orbit or the other--though the\ndifference of our position, corresponding to the points marked January\nand July in Fig. 54, is 185,000,000 miles--no apparent change of\nposition can be observed. In some, however, the parallax, though very\nminute, is yet approximately measurable. The first star to which this\ntest was applied with success was that known as 61 Cygni, which is thus\nshown to be no less than 40 billions of miles away from us--many\nthousand times as far as we are from the Sun. The nearest of the Stars,\nso far as we yet know, is [Greek: alpha] Centauri, the distance of which\nis about 25 billions of miles.\n\nThe Pleiades are considered to be at a distance of nearly 1500 billions\nof miles.\n\nAs regards the chemical composition of the Stars, it is, moreover,\nobvious that the powerful engine of investigation afforded us by the\nspectroscope is by no means confined to the substances which form part\nof our system. The incandescent body can thus be examined, no matter how\ngreat its distance, so long only as the light is strong enough. That\nthis method was theoretically applicable to the light of the Stars is\nindeed obvious, but the practical difficulties are very great. Sirius,\nthe brightest of all, is, in round numbers, a hundred millions of\nmillions of miles from us; and, though as bright as fifty of our suns,\nhis light when it reaches us, after a journey of sixteen years, is at\nmost one two-thousand-millionth part as bright. Nevertheless, as long\nago as 1815 Fraunhofer recognised the fixed lines in the light of four\nof the Stars; in 1863 Miller and Huggins in our own country, and\nRutherford in America, succeeded in determining the dark lines in the\nspectrum of some of the brighter Stars, thus showing that these\nbeautiful and mysterious lights contain many of the material substances\nwith which we are familiar. In Aldebaran, for instance, we may infer the\npresence of hydrogen, sodium, magnesium, iron, calcium, tellurium,\nantimony, bismuth, and mercury. As might have been expected, the\ncomposition of the Stars is not uniform, and it would appear that they\nmay be arranged in a few well-marked classes, indicating differences of\ntemperature, or perhaps of age.\n\nThus we can make the Stars teach us their own composition with light,\nwhich started from its source years ago, in many cases long before we\nwere born.\n\nSpectrum analysis has also thrown an unexpected light on the movements\nof the Stars. Ordinary observation, of course, is powerless to inform\nus whether they are moving towards or away from us. Spectrum analysis,\nhowever, enables us to solve the problem, and we know that some are\napproaching, some receding.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 55.--Displacement of the hydrogen line in the\nspectrum of Rigel.]\n\nIf a star, say for instance Sirius, were motionless, or rather if it\nretained a constant distance from the earth, Fraunhofer's lines would\noccupy exactly the same position in the spectrum as they do in that of\nthe Sun. On the contrary, if Sirius were approaching, the lines would be\nslightly shifted towards the blue, or if it were receding towards the\nred. Fig. 55 shows the displacement of the hydrogen line in the spectrum\nof Rigel, due to the fact that it is receding from us at the rate of 39\nmiles a second. The Sun affords us an excellent test of this theory. As\nit revolves on its axis one edge is always approaching and the other\nreceding from us at a known rate, and observation shows that the lines\ngiven by the light of the two edges differ accordingly. So again as\nregards the Stars, we obtain a similar test derived from the Earth's\nmovement. As we revolve in our orbit we approach or recede any given\nstar, and our rate of motion being known we thus obtain a second test.\nThe results thus examined have stood their ground satisfactorily, and in\nHuggins' opinion may be relied on within about an English mile a second.\nThe effect of this movement is, moreover, independent of the distance. A\nlateral motion, say of 20 miles a second, which in a nearer object would\nappear to be a stupendous velocity, becomes in the Stars quite\nimperceptible. A motion of the same rapidity, on the other hand, towards\nor away from us, displaces the dark lines equally, whatever the distance\nof the object may be. We may then affirm that Sirius, for instance, is\nreceding from us at the rate of about 20 miles a second. Betelgeux,\nRigel, Castor, Regulus, and others are also moving away; while\nsome--Vega, Arcturus, and Pollux, for example--are approaching us. By\nthe same process it is shown that some groups of stars are only\napparently in relation to one another. Thus in Charles' Wain some of the\nstars are approaching, others receding.\n\nI have already mentioned that Sirius, though it seems, like other stars,\nso stationary that we speak of them as \"fixed,\" is really sweeping along\nat the rate of 1000 miles a minute. Even this enormous velocity is\nexceeded in other cases. One, which is numbered as 1830 in Groombridge's\n_Catalogue of the Stars_, and is therefore known as \"Groombridge's\n1830,\" moves no less than 12,000 miles a minute, and Arcturus 22,000\nmiles a minute, or 32,000,000 of miles a day; and yet the distances of\nthe Stars are so great that 1000 years would make hardly any difference\nin the appearance of the heavens.\n\nChanges, however, there certainly would be. Even in the short time\nduring which we have any observations, some are already on record. One\nof the most interesting is the fading of the 7th Pleiad, due, according\nto Ovid, to grief at the taking of Troy. Again, the \"fiery Dogstar,\" as\nit used to be, is now, and has been for centuries, a clear white.\n\nThe star known as Nova Cygni--the \"new star in the Constellation of the\nSwan\"--was first observed on the 24th November 1876 by Dr. Schmidt of\nAthens, who had examined that part of the heavens only four days before,\nand is sure that no such star was visible then. At its brightest it was\na brilliant star of the third magnitude, but this only lasted for a few\ndays; in a week it had ceased to be a conspicuous object, and in a\nfortnight became invisible without a telescope. Its sudden splendour was\nprobably due to a collision between two bodies, and was probably little,\nif at all, less than that of the Sun itself. It is still a mystery how\nso great a conflagration can have diminished so rapidly.\n\nBut though we speak of some stars as specially variable, they are no\ndoubt all undergoing slow change. There was a time when they were not,\nand one will come when they will cease to shine. Each, indeed, has a\nlife-history of its own. Some, doubtless, represent now what others\nonce were, and what many will some day become.\n\nFor, in addition to the luminous heavenly bodies, we cannot doubt that\nthere are countless others invisible to us, some from their greater\ndistance or smaller size, but others, doubtless, from their feebler\nlight; indeed, we know that there are many dark bodies which now emit no\nlight, or comparatively little. Thus in the case of Procyon the\nexistence of an invisible body is proved by the movement of the visible\nstar. Again, I may refer to the curious phenomena presented by Algol, a\nbright star in the head of Medusa. The star shines without change for\ntwo days and thirteen hours; then in three hours and a half dwindles\nfrom a star of the second to one of the fourth magnitude; and then, in\nanother three and a half hours, reassumes its original brilliancy. These\nchanges led astronomers to infer the presence of an opaque body, which\nintercepts at regular intervals a part of the light emitted by Algol;\nand Vogel has now shown by the aid of the spectroscope that Algol does\nin fact revolve round a dark, and therefore invisible, companion. The\nspectroscope, in fact, makes known to us the presence of many stars\nwhich no telescope could reveal.\n\nThus the floor of heaven is not only \"thick inlaid with patines of\nbright gold,\" but studded also with extinct stars, once probably as\nbrilliant as our own Sun, but now dead and cold, as Helmholtz tells us\nthat our Sun itself will be some seventeen millions of years hence.\n\nSuch dark bodies cannot of course be seen, and their existence, though\nwe cannot doubt it, is a matter of calculation. In one case, however,\nthe conclusion has received a most interesting confirmation. The\nmovements of Sirius led mathematicians to conclude that it had also a\nmighty and massive neighbour, the relative position of which they\ncalculated, though no such body had ever been seen. In February 1862,\nhowever, the Messrs. Alvan Clark of Cambridgeport were completing their\n18-inch glass for the Chicago Observatory. \"'Why, father,'\" exclaimed\nthe younger Clark, \"'the star has a companion.' The father looked, and\nthere was a faint star due east from the bright one, and distant about\nten seconds. This was exactly the predicted direction for that time,\nthough the discoverers knew nothing of it. As the news went round the\nworld many observers turned their attention to Sirius; and it was then\nfound that, though it had never before been noticed, the companion was\nreally shown under favourable circumstances by any powerful telescope.\nIt is, in fact, one-half of the size of Sirius, though only 1/10000th of\nthe brightness.\"[72]\n\nStars are, we know, of different magnitudes and different degrees of\nglory. They are also of different colours. Most, indeed, are white, but\nsome reddish, some ruddy, some intensely red; others, but fewer, green,\nblue, or violet. It is possible that the comparative rarity of these\ncolours is due to the fact that our atmosphere especially absorbs green\nand blue, and it is remarkable that almost all of the green, blue, or\nviolet stars are one of the pairs of a Double Star, and in every case\nthe smaller one of the two, the larger being red, orange, or yellow. One\nof the most exquisite of these is [Greek: beta] Cygni, a Double Star, the\nlarger one being golden yellow, the smaller light blue. With a telescope\nthe effect is very beautiful, but it must be magnificent if one could\nonly see it from a lesser distance.\n\nDouble Stars occur in considerable numbers. In some cases indeed the\nrelation may only be apparent, one being really far in front of the\nother. In very many cases, however, the association is real, and they\nrevolve round one another. In some cases the period may extend to\nthousands of years; for the distance which separates them is enormous,\nand, even when with a powerful telescope it is indicated only by a\nnarrow dark line, amounts to hundreds of millions of miles. The Pole\nStar itself is double. Andromeda is triple, with perhaps a fourth dark\nand therefore invisible companion. These dark bodies have a special\ninterest, since it is impossible not to ask ourselves whether some at\nany rate of them may not be inhabited. In [Greek: epsilon] Lyrae there\nare two, each again being itself double. [Greek: xi] Cancri, and\nprobably also [Greek: theta] Orionis, consist of six stars, and from\nsuch a group we pass on to Star Clusters in which the number is very\nconsiderable. The cluster in Hercules consists of from 1000 to 4000. A\nstellar swarm in the Southern Cross contains several hundred stars of\nvarious colours, red, green, greenish blue, and blue closely thronged\ntogether, so that they have been compared to a \"superb piece of fancy\njewellery.\"[73]\n\nThe cluster in the Sword Handle of Perseus contains innumerable stars,\nmany doubtless as brilliant as our Sun. We ourselves probably form a\npart of such a cluster. The Milky Way itself, as we know, entirely\nsurrounds us; it is evident, therefore, that the Sun, and of course we\nourselves, actually lie in it. It is, therefore, a Star Cluster, one of\ncountless numbers, and containing our Sun as a single unit.\n\nIt has as yet been found impossible to determine even approximately the\ndistance of these Star Clusters.\n\n\nNEBULAE\n\nFrom Stars we pass insensibly to Nebulae, which are so far away that\ntheir distance is at present quite immeasurable. All that we can do is\nto fix a minimum, and this is so great that it is useless to express it\nin miles. Astronomers, therefore, take the velocity of light as a unit.\nIt travels at the rate of 180,000 miles a second, and even at this\nenormous velocity it must have taken hundreds of years to reach us, so\nthat we see them not as they now are but as they were hundreds of years\nago.\n\nIt is no wonder, therefore, that in many of these clusters it is\nimpossible to distinguish the separate stars of which they are composed.\nAs, however, our telescopes are improved, more and more clusters are\nbeing resolved. Photography also comes to our aid, and, as already\nmentioned, by long exposure stars can be made visible which are quite\nimperceptible to the eye, even with aid of the most powerful telescope.\n\nSpectrum analysis also seems to show that such a nebula as that in\nAndromeda, which with our most powerful instruments appears only as a\nmere cloud, is really a vast cluster of stellar points.\n\nThis, however, by no means applies to all the nebulae. The spectrum of a\nstar is a bright band of colour crossed by dark lines; that of a gaseous\nnebula consists of bright lines. This test has been made use of, and\nindicates that some of the nebulae are really immense masses of\nincandescent and very attenuated gas; very possibly, however, in a\ncondition of which we have no experience, and arranged in discs, bands,\nrings, chains, wisps, knots, rays, curves, ovals, spirals, loops,\nwreaths, fans, brushes, sprays, lace, waves, and clouds. Huggins has\nshown that many of them are really stupendous masses of glowing gas,\nespecially of hydrogen, and perhaps of nitrogen, while the spectrum also\nshows other lines which perhaps may indicate some of the elements which,\nso far as our Earth is concerned, appear to be missing between hydrogen\nand lithium. Many of the nebulae are exquisitely beautiful, and their\ncolour very varied.\n\nIn some cases, moreover, nebulae seem to be gradually condensing into\ngroups of stars, and in many cases it is difficult to say whether we\nshould consider a given group as a cluster of stars surrounded by\nnebulous matter or a gaseous nebula condensed here and there into stars.\n\n\"Besides the single Sun,\" says Proctor, \"the universe contains groups\nand systems and streams of primary suns; there are galaxies of minor\norbs; there are clustering stellar aggregations showing every variety of\nrichness, of figure, and of distribution; there are all the various\nforms of star cloudlets, resolvable and irresolvable, circular,\nelliptical, and spiral; and lastly, there are irregular masses of\nluminous gas clinging in fantastic convolutions around stars and star\nsystems. Nor is it unsafe to assert that other forms and varieties of\nstructure will yet be discovered, or that hundreds more exist which we\nmay never hope to recognise.\"\n\nNor is it only as regards the magnitude and distances of the heavenly\nbodies that we are lost in amazement and admiration. The lapse of time\nis a grander element in Astronomy even than in Geology, and dates back\nlong before Geology begins. We must figure to ourselves a time when the\nsolid matter which now composes our Earth was part of a continuous and\nintensely heated gaseous body, which extended from the centre of the Sun\nto beyond the orbit of Neptune, and had, therefore, a diameter of more\nthan 6,000,000,000 miles.\n\nAs this slowly contracted, Neptune was detached, first perhaps as a\nring, and then as a spherical body. Ages after this Uranus broke away.\n\nThen after another incalculable period Saturn followed suit, and here\nthe tendencies to coherence and disruption were so evenly balanced that\nto this day a portion circulates as rings round the main body instead of\nbeing broken up into satellites. Again after successive intervals\nJupiter, Mars, the Asteroids, the Earth, Venus, and Mercury all passed\nthrough the same marvellous phases. The time which these changes would\nhave required must have been incalculable, and they all of course\npreceded, and preceded again by another incalculable period, the very\ncommencement of that geological history which itself indicates a lapse\nof time greater than human imagination can realise.\n\nThus, then, however far we penetrate in time or in space, we find\nourselves surrounded by mystery. Just as in time we can form no idea of\na commencement, no anticipation of an end, so space also extends around\nus, boundless in all directions. Our little Earth revolves round the\nmighty Sun; the Sun itself and the whole solar system are moving with\ninconceivable velocity towards a point in the constellation of Hercules;\ntogether with all the nearer stars it forms a cluster in the heavens,\nwhich appears to our eyes as the Milky Way; while outside our star\ncluster again are innumerable others, which far transcend, alike in\nmagnitude, in grandeur, and in distance, the feeble powers of our finite\nimagination.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[66] Ball, _Story of the Heavens_.\n\n[67] Ball, _Story of the Heavens_.\n\n[68] Some authorities estimate it even higher.\n\n[69] Ball.\n\n[70] Hamerton, _Landscape_.\n\n[71] Humboldt, _Travels_.\n\n[72] Clarke, _System of the Stars_.\n\n[73] Kosmos.","title":"The Beauties of Nature, and the Wonders of the World We Live In","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":68063}