I have said that water forms the chief nourishment of plants; it is the

basis not only of the sap, but of all the vegetable juices. Water is the

vehicle which carries into the plant the various salts and other

ingredients required for the formation and support of the vegetable

system. Nor is this all; part of the water itself is decomposed by the

organs of the plant; the hydrogen becomes a constituent part of oil, of

extract, of colouring matter, &c. whilst a portion of the oxygen enters

into the formation of mucilage, of fecula, of sugar, and of vegetable

acids. But the greater part of the oxygen, proceeding from the

decomposition of the water, is converted into a gaseous state by the

caloric disengaged from the hydrogen during its condensation in the

formation of the vegetable materials. In this state the oxygen is

transpired by the leaves of plants when exposed to the sun’s rays. Thus

you find that the decomposition of water, by the organs of the plant, is

not only a means of supplying it with its chief ingredient, hydrogen,

but at the same time of replenishing the atmosphere with oxygen,

a principle which requires continual renovation, to make up for the

great consumption of it occasioned by the numerous oxygenations,

combustions, and respirations, that are constantly taking place on the

surface of the globe.

EMILY.

What a striking instance of the harmony of nature.

MRS. B.

And how admirable the design of Providence, who makes every different

part of the creation thus contribute to the support and renovation of

each other!

But the intercourse of the vegetable and animal kingdoms through the

medium of the atmosphere extends still further. Animals, in breathing,

not only consume the oxygen of the air, but load it with carbonic acid,

which, if accumulated in the atmosphere, would, in a short time, render

it totally unfit for respiration. Here the vegetable kingdom again

interferes; it attracts and decomposes the carbonic acid, retains the

carbon for its own purposes, and returns the oxygen for ours.

CAROLINE.

How interesting this is! I do not know a more beautiful illustration of

the wisdom which is displayed in the laws of nature.

MRS. B.

Faint and imperfect as are the ideas which our limited perceptions

enable us to form of divine wisdom, still they cannot fail to inspire us

with awe and admiration. What, then, would be our feelings, were the

complete system of nature at once displayed before us! So magnificent a

scene would probably be too great for our limited and imperfect

comprehension, and it is no doubt among the wise dispensations of

Providence, to veil the splendour of a glory with which we should be

overpowered. But it is well suited to the nature of a rational being to

explore, step by step, the works of the creation, to endeavour to

connect them into harmonious systems; and, in a word, to trace in the

chain of beings, the kindred ties and benevolent design which unites its

various links, and secure its preservation.

CAROLINE.

But of what nature are the organs of plants which are endued with such

wonderful powers?

MRS. B.

They are so minute that their structure, as well as the mode in which

they perform their functions, generally elude our examination; but we

may consider them as so many vessels or apparatus appropriated to

perform, with the assistance of the principle of life, certain chemical

processes, by means of which these vegetable compounds are generated. We

may, however, trace the tannin, resins, gum, mucilage, and some other

vegetable materials, in the organised arrangement of plants, in which

they form the bark, the wood, the leaves, flowers, and seeds.

The _bark_ is composed of the _epidermis_, the _parenchyma_, and the

_cortical layers_.

The epidermis is the external covering of the plant. It is a thin

transparent membrane, consisting of a number of slender fibres, crossing

each other, and forming a kind of net-work. When of a white glossy

nature, as in several species of trees, in the stems of corn and of

seeds, it is composed of a thin coating of siliceous earth, which

accounts for the strength and hardness of those long and slender stems.

Sir H. Davy was led to the discovery of the siliceous nature of the

epidermis of such plants, by observing the singular phenomenon of sparks

of fire emitted by the collision of ratan canes with which two boys were

fighting in a dark room. On analysing the epidermis of the cane, he

found it to be almost entirely siliceous.

CAROLINE.

With iron then, a cane, I suppose, will strike fire very easily?

MRS. B.

I understand that it will. --In ever-greens the epidermis is mostly

resinous, and in some few plants is formed of wax. The resin, from its

want of affinity for water, tends to preserve the plant from the

destructive effects of violent rains, severe climates, or inclement

seasons, to which this species of vegetables is peculiarly exposed.

EMILY.

Resin must preserve wood just like a varnish, as it is the essential

ingredient of varnishes?

MRS. B.

Yes; and by this means it prevents likewise all unnecessary expenditure

of moisture.

The parenchyma is immediately beneath the epidermis; it is that green

rind which appears when you strip a branch of any tree or shrub of its

external coat of bark. The parenchyma is not confined to the stem or

branches, but extends over every part of the plant. It forms the green

matter of the leaves, and is composed of tubes filled with a peculiar

juice.

The cortical layers are immediately in contact with the wood; they

abound with tannin and gallic acid, and consist of small vessels through

which the sap descends after being elaborated in the leaves. The

cortical layers are annually renewed, the old bark being converted into

wood.

EMILY.

But through what vessels does the sap ascend?

MRS. B.

That function is performed by the tubes of the alburnum, or wood, which

is immediately beneath the cortical layers. The wood is composed of

woody fibre, mucilage, and resin. The fibres are disposed in two ways;

some of them longitudinally, and these form what is called the silver

grain of the wood. The others, which are concentric, are called the

spurious grain. These last are disposed in layers, from the number of

which the age of the tree may be computed, a new one being produced

annually by the conversion of the bark into wood. The oldest, and

consequently most internal part of the alburnum, is called heart-wood;

it appears to be dead, at least no vital functions are discernible in

it. It is through the tubes of the living alburnum that the sap rises.

These, therefore, spread into the leaves, and there communicate with the

extremities of the vessels of the cortical layers, into which they pour

their contents.

CAROLINE.

Of what use, then, are the tubes of the parenchyma, since neither the

ascending nor descending sap passes through them?

MRS. B.

They are supposed to perform the important function of secreting from

the sap the peculiar juices from which the plant more immediately

derives its nourishment. These juices are very conspicuous, as the

vessels which contain them are much larger than those through which the

sap circulates. The peculiar juices of plants differ much in their

nature, not only in different species of vegetables, but frequently in

different parts of the same individual plant: they are sometimes

saccharine, as in the sugar-cane, sometimes resinous, as in firs and

evergreens, sometimes of a milky appearance, as in the laurel.

EMILY.

I have often observed, that in breaking a young shoot, or in bruising a

leaf of laurel, a milky juice will ooze out in great abundance.

MRS. B.

And it is by making incisions in the bark that pitch, tar, and

turpentine are obtained from fir-trees. The durability of this species

of wood is chiefly owing to the resinous nature of its peculiar juices.

The volatile oils have, in a great measure, the same preservative

effects, as they defend the parts, with which they are connected, from

the attack of insects. This tribe seems to have as great an aversion to

perfumes, as the human species have delight in them. They scarcely ever

attack any odoriferous parts of plants, and it is not uncommon to see

every leaf of a tree destroyed by a blight, whilst the blossoms remain

untouched. Cedar, sandal, and all aromatic woods, are on this account of

great durability.

EMILY.

But the wood of the oak, which is so much esteemed for its durability,

has, I believe, no smell. Does it derive this quality from its hardness

alone?

MRS. B.

Not entirely; for the chesnut, though considerably harder and firmer

than the oak, is not so lasting. The durability of the oak is,

I believe, in a great measure owing to its having very little

heart-wood, the alburnum preserving its vital functions longer than in

other trees.

CAROLINE.

If incisions are made into the alburnum and cortical layers, may not the

ascending and descending sap be procured in the same manner as the

peculiar juice is from the vessels of the parenchyma?

MRS. B.

Yes; but in order to obtain specimens of these fluids, in any quantity,

the experiment must be made in the spring, when the sap circulates with

the greatest energy. For this purpose a small bent glass tube should be

introduced into the incision, through which the sap may flow without

mixing with any of the other juices of the tree. From the bark the sap

will flow much more plentifully than from the wood, as the ascending sap

is much more liquid, more abundant, and more rapid in its motion than

that which descends; for the latter having been deprived by the

operation of the leaves of a considerable part of its moisture, contains

a much greater proportion of solid matter, which retards its motion. It

does not appear that there is any excess of descending sap, as none ever

exudes from the roots of plants; this process, therefore, seems to be

carried on only in proportion to the wants of the plant, and the sap

descends no further, and in no greater quantity, than is required to

nourish the several organs. Therefore, though the sap rises and descends

in the plant, it does not appear to undergo a real circulation.

The last of the organs of plants is the _flower_, or _blossom_, which

produces the _fruits_ and _seed_. These may be considered as the

ultimate purpose of nature in the vegetable creation. From fruits and

seeds animals derive both a plentiful source of immediate nourishment,

and an ample provision for the reproduction of the same means of

subsistence.

The seed which forms the final product of mature plants, we have already

examined as constituting the first rudiments of future vegetation.

These are the principal organs of vegetation, by means of which the

several chemical processes which are carried on during the life of the

plant are performed.

EMILY.

But how are the several principles which enter into the composition of

vegetables so combined by the organs of the plant as to be converted

into vegetable matter?

MRS. B.

By chemical processes, no doubt; but the apparatus in which they are

performed is so extremely minute as completely to elude our examination.

We can form an opinion, therefore, only by the result of these

operations. The sap is evidently composed of water, absorbed by the

roots, and holding in solution the various principles which it derives

from the soil. From the roots the sap ascends through the tubes of the

alburnum into the stem, and thence branches out to every extremity of

the plant. Together with the sap circulates a certain quantity of

carbonic acid, which is gradually disengaged from the former by the

internal heat of the plant.

CAROLINE.

What! have vegetables a peculiar heat, analogous to animal heat?

MRS. B.

It is a circumstance that has long been suspected; but late experiments

have decided beyond a doubt that vegetable heat is considerably above

that of unorganised matter in winter, and below it in summer. The wood

of a tree is about sixty degrees, when the thermometer is seventy or

eighty degrees. And the bark, though so much exposed, is seldom below

forty in winter.

It is from the sap, after it has been elaborated by the leaves, that

vegetables derive their nourishment; in its progress through the plant

from the leaves to the roots, it deposits in the several sets of vessels

with which it communicates, the materials on which the growth and

nourishment of each plant depends. It is thus that the various peculiar

juices, saccharine, oily, mucous, acid, and colouring, are formed; as

also the more solid parts, fecula, woody fibre, tannin, resins, concrete

salts; in a word, all the immediate materials of vegetables, as well as

the organised parts of plants, which latter, besides the power of

secreting these from the sap for the general purpose of the plant, have

also that of applying them to their own particular nourishment.

EMILY.

But why should the process of vegetation take place only at one season

of the year, whilst a total inaction prevails during the other?

MRS. B.

Heat is such an important chemical agent, that its effect, as such,

might perhaps alone account for the impulse which the spring gives to

vegetation. But, in order to explain the mechanism of that operation, it

has been supposed that the warmth of the spring dilates the vessels of

plants, and produces a kind of vacuum, into which the sap (which had

remained in a state of inaction in the trunk during the winter) rises:

this is followed by the ascent of the sap contained in the roots, and

room is thus made for fresh sap, which the roots, in their turn, pump up

from the soil. This process goes on till the plant blossoms and bears

fruit, which terminates its summer career: but when the cold weather

sets in, the fibres and vessels contract, the leaves wither, and are no

longer able to perform their office of transpiration; and, as this

secretion stops, the roots cease to absorb sap from the soil. If the

plant be an annual, its life then terminates; if not, it remains in a

state of torpid inaction during the winter; or the only internal motion

that takes place is that of a small quantity of resinous juice, which

slowly rises from the stem into the branches, and enlarges their buds

during the winter.

CAROLINE.

Yet, in evergreens, vegetation must continue throughout the year.

MRS. B.

Yes; but in winter it goes on in a very imperfect manner, compared to

the vegetation of spring and summer.

We have dwelt much longer on the history of vegetable chemistry than I

had intended; but we have at length, I think, brought the subject to a

conclusion.

CAROLINE.

I rather wonder that you did not reserve the account of the

fermentations for the conclusion; for the decomposition of vegetables

naturally follows their death, and can hardly, it seems, be introduced

with so much propriety at any other period.

MRS. B.

It is difficult to determine at what point precisely it may be most

eligible to enter on the history of vegetation; every part of the

subject is so closely connected, and forms such an uninterrupted chain,

that it is by no means easy to divide it. Had I begun with the

germination of the seed, which, at first view, seems to be the most

proper arrangement, I could not have explained the nature and

fermentation of the seed, or have described the changes which manure

must undergo, in order to yield the vegetable elements. To understand

the nature of germination, it is necessary, I think, previously to

decompose the parent plant, in order to become acquainted with the

materials required for that purpose. I hope, therefore, that, upon

second consideration, you will find that the order which I have adopted,

though apparently less correct, is in fact the best calculated for the

elucidation of the subject.

CONVERSATION XXIII.

ON THE COMPOSITION OF ANIMALS.

MRS. B.

We are now come to the last branch of chemistry, which comprehends the

most complicated order of compound beings. This is the animal creation,

the history of which cannot but excite the highest degree of curiosity

and interest, though we often fail in attempting to explain the laws by

which it is governed.

EMILY.

But since all animals ultimately derive their nourishment from

vegetables, the chemistry of this order of beings must consist merely in

the conversion of vegetable into animal matter.

MRS. B.

Very true; but the manner in which this is effected is, in a great

measure, concealed from our observation. This process is called

_animalisation_, and is performed by peculiar organs. The difference of

the animal and vegetable kingdoms does not however depend merely on a

different arrangement of combinations. A new principle abounds in the

animal kingdom, which is but rarely and in very small quantities found

in vegetables; this is nitrogen. There is likewise in animal substances

a greater and more constant proportion of phosphoric acid, and other

saline matters. But these are not essential to the formation of animal

matter.

CAROLINE.

Animal compounds contain, then, four fundamental principles; oxygen,

hydrogen, carbon, and nitrogen?

MRS. B.

Yes; and these form the immediate materials of animals, which are

_gelatine_, _albumen_, and _fibrine_.

EMILY.

Are those all? I am surprised that animals should be composed of fewer

kinds of materials than vegetables; for they appear much more

complicated in their organisation.

MRS. B.

Their organisation is certainly more perfect and intricate, and the

ingredients that occasionally enter into their composition are more

numerous. But notwithstanding the wonderful variety observable in the

texture of the animal organs, we find that the original compounds, from

which all the varieties of animal matter are derived, may be reduced to

the three heads just mentioned. Animal substances being the most

complicated of all natural compounds, are most easily susceptible of

decomposition, as the scale of attractions increases in proportion to

the number of constituent principles. Their analysis is, however, both

difficult and imperfect; for as they cannot be examined in their living

state, and are liable to alteration immediately after death, it is

probable that, when submitted to the investigation of a chemist, they

are always more or less altered in their combinations and properties,

from what they were, whilst they made part of the living animal.

EMILY.

The mere diminution of temperature, which they experience by the

privation of animal heat, must, I should suppose, be sufficient to

derange the order of attractions that existed during life.

MRS. B.

That is one of the causes, no doubt: but there are many other

circumstances which prevent us from studying the nature of living animal

substances. We must therefore, in a considerable degree, confine our

researches to the phenomena of these compounds in their inanimate state.

These three kinds of animal matter, gelatine, albumen, and fibrine, form

the basis of all the various parts of the animal system; either solid,

as the _skin_, _flesh_, _nerves_, _membranes_, _cartilages_, and

_bones_; or fluid, as _blood_, _chyle_, _milk_, _mucus_, the _gastric_

and _pancreatic juices_, _bile_, _perspiration_, _saliva_, _tears_, &c.

CAROLINE.

Is it not surprising that so great a variety of substances, and so

different in their nature, should yet all arise from so few materials,

and from the same original elements?

MRS. B.

The difference in the nature of various bodies depends, as I have often

observed to you, rather on their state of combination, than on the

materials of which they are composed. Thus, in considering the chemical

nature of the creation in a general point of view, we observe that it is

throughout composed of a very small number of elements. But when we

divide it into the three kingdoms, we find that, in the mineral, the

combinations seem to result from the union of elements casually brought

together; whilst in the vegetable and animal kingdoms, the attractions

are peculiarly and regularly produced by appropriate organs, whose

action depends on the vital principle. And we may further observe, that

by means of certain spontaneous changes and decompositions, the elements

of one kind of matter become subservient to the reproduction of another;

so that the three kingdoms are intimately connected, and constantly

contributing to the preservation of each other.

EMILY.

There is, however, one very considerable class of elements, which seems

to be confined to the mineral kingdom: I mean metals.

MRS. B.

Not entirely; they are found, though in very minute quantities, both in

the vegetable and animal kingdoms. A small portion of earths and sulphur

enters also into the composition of organised bodies. Phosphorus,

however, is almost entirely confined to the animal kingdom; and

nitrogen, but with few exceptions, is extremely scarce in vegetables.

Let us now proceed to examine the nature of the three principal

materials of the animal system.

_Gelatine_, or _jelly_, is the chief ingredient of skin, and of all the

membranous parts of animals. It may be obtained from these substances,

by means of boiling water, under the forms of glue, size, isinglass, and

transparent jelly.

CAROLINE.

But these are of a very different nature; they cannot therefore be all

pure gelatine.

MRS. B.

Not entirely, but very nearly so. Glue is extracted from the skin of

animals. Size is obtained either from skin in its natural state, or from

leather. Isinglass is gelatine procured from a particular species of

fish; it is, you know, of this substance that the finest jelly is made,

and this is done by merely dissolving the isinglass in boiling water,

and allowing the solution to congeal.

EMILY.

The wine, lemon, and spices, are, I suppose, added only to flavour the

jelly?

MRS. B.

Exactly so.

CAROLINE.

But jelly is often made of hartshorn shavings, and of calves’ feet; do

these substances contain gelatine?

MRS. B.

Yes. Gelatine may be obtained from almost any animal substance, as it

enters more or less into the composition of all of them. The process for

obtaining it is extremely simple, as it consists merely in boiling the

substance that contains it with water. The gelatine dissolves in water,

and may be attained of any degree of consistence or strength, by

evaporating this solution. Bones in particular produce it very

plentifully, as they consist of phosphat of lime combined or cemented by

gelatine. Horns, which are a species of bone, will yield abundance of

gelatine. The horns of the hart are reckoned to produce gelatine of the

finest quality; they are reduced to the state of shavings in order that

the jelly may be more easily extracted by the water. It is of hartshorn

shavings that the jellies for invalids are usually made, as they are of

very easy digestion.

CAROLINE.

It appears singular that hartshorn, which yields such a powerful

ingredient as ammonia, should at the same time produce so mild and

insipid a substance as jelly?

MRS. B.

And (what is more surprising) it is from the gelatine of bones that

ammonia is produced. You must observe, however, that the processes by

which these two substances are obtained from bones are very different.

By the simple action of water and heat, the gelatine is separated; but

in order to procure the ammonia, or what is commonly called hartshorn,

the bones must be distilled, by which means the gelatine is decomposed,

and hydrogen and nitrogen combined in the form of ammonia. So that the

first operation is a mere separation of ingredients, whilst the second

requires a chemical decomposition.

CAROLINE.

But when jelly is made from hartshorn shavings, what becomes of the

phosphat of lime which constitutes the other part of bones?

MRS. B.

It is easily separated by straining. But the jelly is afterwards more

perfectly purified, and rendered transparent, by adding white of egg,

which being coagulated by heat, rises to the surface along with any

impurities.

EMILY.

I wonder that bones are not used by the common people to make jelly;

a great deal of wholesome nourishment, might, I should suppose, be

procured from them, though the jelly would perhaps not be quite so good

as if made from hartshorn shavings?

MRS. B.

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