Kashmire, where the houses though slightly built, have flat roofs of
sufficient strength to support a covering of earth; this is planted with
roses and other flowers, and gives the town a very beautiful
appearance. The earth also preserves the houses from being chilled by
the quantity of snow that lies on them in winter; and in summer it gives
them a refreshing coolness. Every creature he met had roses in their
hands; and you may recollect, mamma, that the same thing is said of the
city of Bisnagar in the Arabian Night’s tales. The province of Kashmire,
Foster says, has been always famous for roses, particularly for one
extremely fragrant species, of which the best attar of rose is made; but
it will not grow in a more southerly climate.
He mentions a lake, near the city, in which there were several islands
covered with rose-trees; they were all in brilliant blossom when he was
there, and looked like large baskets of roses. How pretty the floating
Chinampas of Mexico would be if they were planted with the Kashmire
rose; or, what would suit them better, with the little rose of Jericho.
Miss P. says this is one of the most singular plants in the world, and
is found no where but in the deserts of Arabia. It is only six inches
high, root and all; and its tiny branches curve inward, so as to enclose
its numerous flowers in a sort of hollow globe. I think this may be
truly called a Lilliputian tree.
_14th, Sunday._--The thirty-second chapter of Deuteronomy, or the song
of Moses, was the subject of our conversation this morning. My uncle
told us that it consists of six parts.
“It opens in the first five verses with a summons to the whole universe
to listen to the inspired voice of the prophet; and contrasts the power,
truth, and justice of God with the iniquities of the ‘perverse
generation’ whom he was addressing. In the next nine verses he
expatiates on God’s continued indulgence and more than fatherly
affection towards the Israelites; he makes an affecting appeal to their
gratitude; and he dwells on the unceasing protection they had
experienced from their first helpless origin, up to their entrance into
the rich land of promise, in a manner which shows that Moses spoke from
a full recollection of the scenes he had witnessed, and that he deeply
felt the extent of the almighty power and goodness.
“In the expression ‘When the most High divided to the nations their
inheritance,’ we are to understand the tribes of Israel; each of which,
from their extraordinary increase of population, might be considered as
a nation in itself, while the whole composed ‘His people,’ the most
highly favoured of all the nations of the earth.”
I begged of my uncle to explain what was meant in the 13th verse by “He
made them ride on the high places of the earth;” and afterwards by
“sucking honey and oil out of the flinty rock?” He answered, “The former
phrase applies to the victories which the Israelites had already
achieved through the divine assistance, as well as to the final conquest
of the land of Canaan by the same means. The honey and oil are allusions
to the fruitfulness of the country, which abounds with wild bees, who
build their honeycombs in the rocks; and with the finest olive trees,
which it is well known strike their roots into the rocky crevices.
“The third part of the song,” he continued, “begins with the fifteenth
verse, and describes the usual effect of prosperity upon a thoughtless
and ungrateful people. ‘But Jeshurun waxed fat and kicked.’ This figure
of speech is probably taken from a pampered horse, who becomes
unmanageable and vicious; and you will find it repeated in Hosea[4].
‘According to their pasture they were filled, and their heart was
exalted; therefore they have forgotten me.’ Jeshurun is derived from a
word signifying upright, and is put here, as well as in Isaiah, for
Israel. It would not be very difficult to apply the whole of this
passage to more modern nations, who have far less excuse than even the
Israelites for ‘forsaking God, and lightly esteeming the rock of their
salvation;’ but, as individuals, at least, we may take a useful lesson
from it; let us beware of the seductions of prosperity, lest our hearts
become too much engrossed by the happiness that we enjoy, or too much
depressed by the salutary disappointments that we sometimes undergo.
“The fourth part, from the nineteenth verse to the end of the
twenty-fifth, expresses the indignation of the Lord, and his threats of
rejecting apostate Israel, and of adopting in their room the believing
Gentiles. It is quoted by St. Paul, as having that interpretation; and I
will only further remark, that it is written with the most awful
strength that language can supply; and that all its denunciations have
been literally accomplished.
“The fifth division, to the end of verse 35, states the wise and
gracious reasons of the dispersion of the Jews into all lands, both for
their ultimate preservation, and to prevent their enemies from vainly
ascribing to themselves their destruction. It was not indeed from any
merit of their own that those enemies were allowed to triumph, they were
only employed as the instruments of punishment; and God declares in the
sequel that they will have to answer for their own corruptions and
idolatries in the day of vengeance.
“‘For their rock is not as our Rock; even our enemies themselves being
judges.’ This remarkable passage was evidently introduced by Moses in a
parenthesis. He prophetically knew that their conquerors would often
have to confess the superiority of the God of Israel over their own
deities; and accordingly many examples of it may be collected in
Scripture. I need scarcely remind you of Nebuchadnezzar’s decree, when
he perceived the three faithful Jews escaping unhurt from his fiery
furnace[5]; nor of his touching acknowledgment of the one true God when
he regained his reason[6]; and in profane history you no doubt recollect
the declaration of the Roman emperor Titus, after the conquest of
Jerusalem,--That he was only an instrument in the hand of God, whose
wrath had been so signally manifested against the Jews.
“The last part of this celebrated song is called the consolation of
Israel: it holds out a gracious promise of future reconciliation when
they should have repented of their obstinacy, and abjured the vain idols
in whom they had trusted for protection; it gives an awful warning to
their oppressors, that the day of account and of vengeance for them also
will come; and the words in the concluding verse, ‘Rejoice, O ye nations
with his people,’ seem to have been cited by St. Paul,[7] to prove the
future conversion of both Jews and Gentiles to Christ, and their mutual
exultation in his then undivided kingdom.”
_15th._--I seized an opportunity of asking my uncle some questions about
the beds of coal in the forest of Dean, and I learned that the coal
formation there, is an irregular elliptical basin, occupying nearly the
whole of the forest tract. It is ten miles long, and six broad; and all
the strata dip uniformly to the centre of the basin. He shewed me the
extent of it on a geological map, which he has made of this county; and
which marks in the prettiest manner all the principal strata. Each kind
of rock has a particular colour, so that its extent is seen at a glance;
and by a section at the bottom of the map, the dip or inclination of the
strata, and the manner in which they lie on each other, are very
distinctly shewn. He made Caroline and me observe that we could trace on
it the mountain-lime and old red-sandstone (which enclose the
coal-field) across the river Wye into South-Wales: there, he says, they
contain another coal district, of much greater extent; and he showed it
to us in Mr. Greenough’s beautiful geological map of all England. I
should never have been tired of looking at these maps, if Caroline, who
knew how little time my uncle could spare, had not asked him something
about the origin of coal.
“Before I answer that question,” said he, “we must have a little
discussion on the nature of _peat_; a substance which seems to be very
closely allied to coal, and which, there is no doubt, has been produced
by the decay and decomposition of vegetable matter. There are different
kinds of peat, therefore, according to the different kinds of plants of
which it is composed, and the different situations in which the process
has been carried on; such as marsh, forest, and marine peat. Some
extensive bogs have been caused within the memory of man, by the decay
and natural fall of forests, over which the _sphagnum palustre_ and
other mosses rapidly spread; agricultural implements and various
domestic utensils have been found under them; and we may therefore
assume, that as peat appears to be in the act of progressive increase,
it belongs to an order of causes still in action. When examined, peat
appears to be an entire mass of vegetable _fibres_: towards the surface
they are nearly in an unchanged state, but in the middle the peat
becomes more compact; and at the bottom of a very deep and ancient bog,
they are almost obliterated, the substance being dense and black, and
having all the chemical characters of jet. In some instances beds of
peat alternate with beds of mud or sand, which must have been deposited
in the bottom of lakes, and in these cases they appear something like an
incomplete coal formation.
“In a short time,” continued my uncle, “we shall have a better
opportunity of studying this curious substance, if your interest in it
continues, when we are in Ireland, as that island contains a greater
proportion of bog than any country with which we are acquainted.”
“My interest in it, my dear uncle, I replied, is not very likely to fail
while I have your kind assistance; but as we are as yet in a coal
country, perhaps you will tell us something of the formation or origin
of that mineral.”
“There is no possible doubt,” he said, “that the general origin of coal
must be referred to the vegetable kingdom; and I began with peat, to
show you how masses of vegetable matter may be collected in thick and
very extensive beds, ready for whatever process nature may afterwards
employ in converting them into coal. Some species of coal are merely
fossil wood (or lignite) impregnated with bitumen: the branches, trunks,
and roots, though closely pressed together, are scarcely altered in
texture, in some places; while in others they gradually lose every
vegetable feature, and the substance in colour, lustre, and fracture,
resembles pitch. Of this nature is the Bovey coal of Devonshire, and the
Surturbrand of Iceland; and I have some specimens of the former, in
which the fibres were flexible when I took them out of the pit, though
now hard and brittle. From the disposition of those Bovey lignites,
which lie in alternate strata with clay and gravel, it has been
reasonably inferred that the trees and vegetables of the adjacent
mountains were washed down at different periods into a lake; the clay
and gravel, of course, sank first to the bottom, and formed the floor;
but in time the trees saturated with moisture, and pressed down by an
accumulation of other trees, sank also; and were again, perhaps in
succeeding ages, covered by successive depositions.
“The common, or cubical coal, as it is called from the shape into which
it breaks, does not bear the same obvious marks of vegetable origin in
its structure; but where one species of coal can be so clearly
demonstrated to be only altered vegetable matter, it would be bad
philosophy to ascribe the other species to other causes. In the
prodigious beds of coal, however, in Staffordshire, there is no want of
vegetable traces; and even in the Newcastle coal the impressions of
leaves and branches are frequently found, as well as in the freestone
and slate-clay which intervene between its numerous strata. At Kilsyth,
in Scotland, a very singular specimen was discovered; a tree standing
upright, with its roots resting on a bed of coal, from which they could
scarcely be distinguished, and its stem passing into a stratum of
sandstone rock. The lower end was completely bituminated, and it burned
with a clear flame; yet the upper part, though scarcely altered in the
grain or apparent texture of the wood, was converted into sandstone
similar to that by which it was enclosed. Round the stem there was a
space of about an inch in thickness filled with coal, which renders it
probable that the same process that converted the roots into coal acted
upwards on the bark. The rock contains innumerable remains of plants;
some of which are so perfect that their species have been made out, and
no pencil could trace their delicate ramifications with greater nicety.
“In short,” continued my uncle, “it appears more than probable that
every species of coal has proceeded from vegetable matter of different
kinds, but under different circumstances; and that its chemical change
was effected under the pressure of deep water. In one stage of that
process it must have been in a soft pulpy state, like the lowest part of
a deep peat-bog; for this is the only way that I can account for the
impression of leaves, canes, seed-vessels, and shells, which are so
commonly found on the external surface of coal.”
My uncle shewed us a beautiful specimen of a fern leaf, where the
impression was as perfect as if it had been made with wax.
He then continued, “Sir James Hall thinks that peat may have been
converted into coal by heat acting under great compression; and he has
actually succeeded in making a substance very like it. When I have more
leisure I will describe the ingenious process which he adopted, as well
as some other experiments of the same nature, by which this
distinguished philosopher discovered the means of fusing limestone, of
imitating volcanic lava, and of forming solid sandstone from loose sand.
“But to return to our coals: the chief difference between the various
kinds of coal which are applied to economical purposes, arises from the
proportion of bitumen they contain. What is called _caking coal_ yields
about 40 per cent.; when burning it swells, agglutinates, and emits much
smoke and gas, which inflame at a certain temperature. _Cannel_ coal has
only 20 per cent. of bitumen, and does not agglutinate or cake. It burns
with a bright flame like a candle, from which circumstance it takes its
name, cannel being the common pronunciation of candle in the North of
England. The third sort I shall mention is called _anthracite_ by
mineralogists; but its common name is _blind_ coal, or Kilkenny coal,
from a district in Ireland, where there are vast beds of it. It contains
little or no bitumen; it neither cakes nor flames, and gives out very
little smoke. But as there are several varieties of coal between those
principal species, much confusion has taken place in their names.”
_16th._--When Mary and I were in the garden to-day, I observed a very
odd appearance on the under surface of some of the leaves of a
pear-tree; they appeared thickly set with strange little downy
russet-coloured things like spines growing out of the leaf,
perpendicular to it, and about a quarter of an inch in length, and very
little thicker than a pin, with a protuberance or excrescence at the
base.
Mary was amused at my surprise, and told me that they were the
habitations of insects. She then took one of these tubes off the leaf,
and on giving it a gentle squeeze, a minute caterpillar, with a
yellowish body and black head, came out of the lower end; for the head
is always downwards. We examined the place from which she had removed
it, and I saw that there was a small hollow in the outer skin and pulpy
part of the leaf, which had been eaten away by the caterpillar. It moves
this little tube or tent from one part of the leaf to the other, and
eats no other part than what the tent covers; and when these insects are
abundant, Mary says that every leaf is covered with little withered
specks, where they have feasted themselves.
The tube in which the caterpillar lives, is composed of silk, spun from
its mouth almost as soon as it comes out of the egg, and as it increases
in size it enlarges the tube, by slitting it in two, and introducing a
strip of new materials. To preserve the perpendicular posture of its
tent, this ingenious insect attaches several silken threads from the
protuberance at the base to the surface of the leaf; but it has a still
more singular device to protect the tent against any violence: it forms
a vacuum in the protuberance at the base, which fastens it to the leaf
as effectually as if an air-pump had been employed. This vacuum is
caused by the insect’s retreating on the least alarm up the tube, which
its body so completely fills that the space below is free of air, and
the tube is pressed down like the exhausted receiver of an air-pump.
Mary easily convinced me of this when she seized it suddenly while the
insect was at the bottom, the silken cords readily gave way, and the
tube was detached by a very slight force; but when she touched it
gently, giving the insect time to retreat, we found that a much stronger
effort was required to loosen it. As if aware of the effect of the
admission of air from below, this little philosopher carefully avoids
gnawing quite through the leaf; and when he has eaten as deeply as he
can venture, he cuts the cords of his tent and pitches it on a fresh
part of the surface. When it has attained its perfect state, it becomes
a small brown moth.
_17th._-Mary has been trying a grand experiment, which has succeeded so
well that mamma must have an account of it.
My uncle determined to remove a valuable jargonelle pear-tree from one
wall to another. I forget his reason, but no matter; it was, however,
much too late in the season, and the tree sickened, and seemed to be
dying. The gardener declared it could not live; but Mary, who had read
that trees in such a predicament might be saved by a gentle but
continual drip of water being guided to the roots, requested my uncle to
let her try the effect of this plan. He is always anxious to encourage
useful experiment, and willingly consigned the tree to her
prescriptions.
She took two large flower-pots, and, having carefully corked the holes,
she suspended one to each end of a stick, which was fastened across the
stem of the tree. A piece of cloth-listing or selvage, long enough to
reach the ground, was put into each pot, with a stone tied to it to
prevent its slipping out; and the other end of the listing was slit into
three parts, which were slightly pegged into the ground. She then had
the pots filled with water, and the whole of the listing being wetted,
each of them acted like a syphon, drawing the water up over the edge of
the pot, as my uncle says by capillary action, and conducting it slowly
and regularly into the ground. The moisture spread to the roots, and in
three days the young leaves began to revive. The pots were filled every
morning, and she changed the listing once a week, as the filaments of
the cloth became clogged, and the water was not so freely transmitted.
The daily improvement of the tree was very gratifying to my uncle, who
enjoyed Mary’s ingenuity and success; and even the gardener has this
morning pronounced it to be out of danger.
_18th._--I am afraid that my dear mamma will call me a little credulous
simpleton when she reads this account of the singular sagacity of a cat;
but my aunt took great pains to ascertain that it was quite correct.
Dame Moreland has some remarkably fine cats, and she is in the constant
habit of drowning all their progeny, except one kitten of her favourite,
Mrs. Snowtip’s, which she selects with due attention to its beauty. This
time, however, pussy thought proper to choose that one for herself, and
carrying it from the garden into the house, she left the rest to perish.
Accustomed to their being regularly taken away, she seemed to agree to
that arrangement, and devoted herself to the one she had saved.
A few weeks afterwards another of the cats kittened, and its whole brood
being destroyed, the poor thing became very uneasy, and suffered much
from the want of her little ones to relieve her of the nourishment
provided for them. On which, the fat Mrs. Snowtip being very
ill-supplied herself, actually employed the poor bereaved cat as a
nurse. This office she performs with proper fidelity, and the two ladies
agree perfectly; for while the nurse feeds little Snowtip, the mother
smooths and dresses it herself, and on any alarm flies to its
protection, while the nurse seems contented with doing her own duty, and
never interferes on such occasions.
_19th._--I have had a good deal of work at my strawberry bank, for Mr.
Biggs warned me that the beds ought never to be dug, but constantly
hand-weeded; and he recommended also that the runners should be nipped
off as soon as they appeared. I undertook to do all this myself; and
both weeds and runners seem determined that I shall not be idle.
This strawberry bank is such a very dry soil, that I found the plants
wanted water continually; and I asked my uncle to let a little channel
be made, for the purpose of bringing to the top of the bank a small rill
that runs across the back of the shrubbery. Something I had heard about
_irrigating_ meadows suggested this idea, and my uncle approved. The
channel has been cut, and it brings the water on a level along the upper
edge of my bank, from whence it trickles down the slope along each row
of strawberry plants. When they have had enough, I put a slate edgeways
across the channel, which acts as a little sluice, and turns the water
aside into the pond. This method of watering has so far answered very
well, for I think my strawberries look more healthy than any of the
others; they are now in full flower, and I am in high hopes of having
the first and best fruit to present to my uncle for his kindness.
_20th._--I had a long walk yesterday evening with Miss Perceval and Mary
through some of farmer Moreland’s fields, which are shut up for meadow.
The grasses are opening their blossoms, and Miss Perceval taught me the
names of several that I had not known. She then asked me if I could
describe the leading characters of the grass family.
I considered, and hesitated, and tried; but my attempts were very
awkward, and I acknowledged that trials of that sort were sometimes
exceedingly useful in making us acquainted with our own ignorance. She
smiled, and put the same question to Mary.
Mary said, “I will do my best, but on condition that you will tell me
where I am wrong. The stem is generally smooth, and its hollow
cylindrical form enables it to stand upright even when four or five feet
high; it is usually jointed, which gives it additional strength; and it
is terminated by the flowers, which are either tufted, or in spikes, or
panicled:--the leaves are alternate, and always undivided--one of them
springing from each knot, and enveloping the stem with a sheath, which
is split down to the knot. All grasses have a chaffy flower inclosed in
a glume or husk; and each flower has a single seed. These are all the
general characters that I can recollect, which mark the tribe
distinctly.”
“Very clear, indeed,” said Miss Perceval, “and quite full enough. The
grasses are easily distinguishable from all other plants, except the
Cyperacea; and even they shew a well-marked line of separation, as their
stems are sometimes triangular, and very seldom jointed; and the sheath
is always entire, not split like that of the grasses.
“The grasses are of the greatest importance,” she continued, “in the
economy of nature; they form in most countries the chief covering of
the earth; they are the principal support of terrestrial animals; and
you know that the basis of all agriculture is the cultivation of plants
which belong to their order.”
Miss P. easily allows herself to be drawn out, and before we reached
home, we obtained the following particulars of that numerous family.
“There are about eighteen hundred species already known; and the
industry of botanists is every day adding to the list: there are both
land and fresh-water grasses, but no marine grass. They occur in every
soil; generally in society with other grasses, but sometimes a single
species will be found occupying a considerable district. Sand appears
the least favourable to their growth; but even sand has species peculiar
to itself. They are spread over the whole vegetable kingdom, from the
equator to the polar regions; and from the sea-shores to the tops of the
highest mountains, at least to the line of perpetual congelation.