Many of my readers have doubtless kept an aquarium at some time in their
life and have stocked it with several goldfish, a small turtle and some
fresh-water snails. They have also, without doubt, stood in front of the
aquarium and watched the strange antics of each of the three kinds of
animals and have wondered at the swiftness with which the little snails
progressed about the glass sides of the artificial pond. It is of these
molluscan denizens of fresh water that I shall write in this article.
In the fresh-water species the shell is not often rounded like that of
the land snails, but is more frequently long and pointed, the spire
resembling a church steeple. The animal, too, differs very greatly, the
tentacles being either flat and triangular or long and very tapering.
The eyes are not placed at the end of the eye-peduncles, as in the land
shells, but are generally situated on little swellings at the base of
the tentacles. They may be found in almost any body of water, adhering
to stones, sticks, and other submerged objects, or crawling over the
sandy or muddy bottom.
Our fresh-water snails may be divided into two classes; first, those
which breathe by means of a lung and which must come to the surface at
regular intervals to take in a supply of air, and, second, those which
breathe by means of plume-like gills which take the oxygen directly from
the water.
One of the most common and best known of the first class is the
Limnaeidae, comprising the pond snails. These animals have generally a
long, graceful shell, horn-colored for the most part, but sometimes
greenish without and reddish within the aperture. The animal has a
broad, flat foot, an auriculate or eared head, and flat, triangular
tentacles. The habits of these animals are very interesting. They will
wander about the sides of an aquarium, eating the growths of green scum
which have collected. At this time the mouth may be seen to open,
exposing the radula and the operation of eating is not unlike the
motions of a cat lapping milk. They are such voracious eaters that the
dirtiest aquarium will be cleansed by them in a very short time. It is
interesting to note that the young animals breathe air through the water
for a long time, and finally acquire the normal characteristic of the
family of breathing the air directly. While submerged, the mantle
chamber containing the “lung” is tightly closed so that no water can
possibly get in. It is thought by some that the species of Limnaea
living at great depths retain the early habit of allowing the water to
fill the mantle cavity and so breathe oxygen through the water and are
not, therefore, compelled to come to the surface for air.
Limnaea lives under many varying conditions, being found in the arctic
regions of Greenland and Iceland as well as in the tropics, in thermal
springs and those containing mineral matter, as sulphur, as well as in
brackish and fresh water. They have been found at a height of over
fourteen thousand feet in Thibet and at a depth of eight hundred feet in
Lake Geneva, Switzerland. During times of drought when the streams are
dried up and the surface of the mud is sun-cracked, the species of this
family bury themselves deeply in the mud and cover the aperture with an
epiphragm, in much the same manner as the land shells. This fact
accounts for the apparent disappearance of all life from a pond when it
dries up, and its sudden and seemingly unaccountable reappearance when
the pond is again filled with water.
A genus of pond snails closely allied to Limnaea, but having discoidal
or spiral shells, is Planorbis, the flat-orb shells. Instead of dragging
their shells after them, as in the last genus, they carry them perfectly
perpendicular, or perhaps tilted a little to one side. The animals are
very rapid in movement, more so than Limnaea, which are rather sluggish.
They delight in gliding rapidly about, their long, filiform tentacles
waving about like a whip in the hands of an impatient driver.
[Illustration: ]
Top row:
Physa gyrina (U. S.)
Melania tetrica (Viti Islands.)
Angitrema verrucosa (U. S.)
Second row:
Planorbis trivolvis (U. S.)
Third row:
Pleurocera elevatum (U. S.)
Ampullaria depressa (U. S.)
Limnaea stagnalis (U. S.)
Bottom row:
Vivipara contectoides (U. S.)
Campeloma subsolidum (U. S.)
Limnaea megasoma (U. S.)
The Limnaeas of which we have been speaking have mostly dextral or
right-handed shells, that is, have the aperture on the right side when
you hold the shell in the position pictured on our plate. In the family
Physidae the shell is left-hand or sinistral. The members of this family
have shining, horn-colored shells, more or less fusiform. The tentacles
are long and filiform and are constantly moving about as in the allied
genus Planorbis. The animal is very active and moves about with a
steady, gliding motion. It is very interesting to watch a number of
Physae in an aquarium; as they are crawling along the bottom, one will
be seen to rise suddenly to the top of the water and move along with the
foot applied to the surface, the shell hanging down. Again, they may be
seen descending, suspended by a thin thread of mucus. When the animal
rises suddenly, the branchial cavity which contains the lung is heard to
open with a faint, clicking sound, which is probably due to the pressure
of air in the lung being suddenly liberated. Several of the species of
Physa inhabit water as cold as the freezing point and they may be
frequently seen in winter gliding over the bottom of a stream or pond
when the surface is frozen. The little glairy, transparent masses of
jelly-like matter which are seen attached to stones and the under side
of sticks, are the eggs of Physa or Limnaea.
Not all of the fresh-water pulmonates have spiral shells. A whole
family, the Ancylidae, have a conical shell formed like a rounded
shield, and resembling the limpets, hence called the river limpets. They
are generally quite small and live attached to the interior of dead
river shells and to submerged plants and to rocks. They are very
interesting, but hard to find on account of their small size and
inconspicuous habitat.
The second class of mollusks or those that breathe air through the
water, have a respiratory cavity instead of a lung, in which is placed a
series of leaflets, arranged like the teeth of a comb in two series of
lines, forming the so-called gills. The mouth, also, is placed at the
end of a long rostrum, or proboscis, and not in the lower plane of the
head, as in the first class. Among the most common of this class are the
river snails, known as Strepomatids. There are about three hundred
species in this family, and with two or three exceptions they are
confined entirely to the United States in geographical distribution. The
shells are more or less graceful, having long, turreted spires and small
apertures. The color of the shells is generally a uniform greenish or
yellowish, although some species have color bands, and the aperture is
frequently tinged with purple or reddish.
The animal is very interesting in captivity. It is not very bold and
will lie on the bottom of an aquarium with its head and foot half
protruding from its shell, and its rostrum and tentacles slowly moving
about. Frequently it may be seen moving along with its head and rostrum
bent down and moving about like a hound on the scent.
A family closely allied to the last is the Melaniidae, the animals of
which inhabit the entire world, except North America. They may be
distinguished from the last family by the presence of little finger-like
digitations on the edge of the mantle. The shells are generally larger
and more highly colored than those of the last family, many of them
being of a dark chocolate color and some are of a beautiful glossy
black; some shells are smooth, while others are ornamented by knobs and
spines. The genus Melania, a species of which is illustrated on the
plate accompanying this article, is the most characteristic form.
The largest and handsomest of the fresh-water snails belong to the two
families Viviparidae and Ampullariidae, the shells of the latter family
frequently attaining a length of three inches. The animals of the first
family prefer a sandy beach in a large lake or river, while those of the
second generally live in more or less muddy rivers, ponds and creeks. A
single genus of Viviparidae (Campelona) is confined solely to the United
States, east of the Rocky Mountains. Their shells are generally of a
rich grass green and in certain localities they may be collected by the
thousands. Unlike many of the snails of which we have been writing, this
family is viviparous, that is, brings forth its young alive, instead of
laying eggs, as in the family Limnaeidae. This character has given the
family its name, which is certainly well chosen. When born the shell is
about one-sixteenth of an inch in length and is perfectly transparent.
The animal is very active and eats voraciously of any vegetation within
reach. Another handsome shell belonging to this group is the Vivipara
contectoides, which is about an inch in length and is encircled by
several color bands. It is a common shell in many of our ponds.
Somewhat larger and handsomer than the Viviparas are the Ampullarias, or
apple-shells (also called idol-shells and pond snails). These animals
live mostly in tropical and subtropical regions and are noted for the
tenacity with which they retain their hold on life. So tenacious of life
are they that instances are known of their living for several years away
from the water, in this respect resembling some of the land snails. It
is also recorded that hollow pieces of logwood from Honduras have
frequently contained specimens of this family alive after a journey of
thousands of miles. They may be said to be truly amphibious.
The writer has collected in Florida the large Ampullaria depressa in
considerable numbers. It was noted particularly that this species
furnished the principal food of the Everglade Kite, a bird inhabiting
the southern part of Florida. Large quantities of these shells were
found about the nesting places of these birds, from which the animal had
been neatly extracted without damaging the shell in the least. The bird
is, curiously enough, provided with a curved bill which easily fits into
the aperture of the mollusk and extracts the animal with little
difficulty, and the feet and claws are so constructed that the shell may
be firmly held during the operation. This shell is figured on the plate.
In Central Africa there is a lake, Tanganyika, having a length of four
hundred miles and a width of from ten to fifty miles, and at an
elevation of twenty-seven hundred feet above sea level, which has one of
the most interesting and peculiar fresh-water molluscan faunas known. It
is thought that at some remote period in geological history this lake
formed a part of the ocean and that in the course of time it was cut off
from the sea, gradually became fresh and was finally raised to its
present elevation. The reason for such a theory is the presence in the
lake of certain molluscan organisms whose shells closely resemble those
of the salt water family, Littorinidae (Periwinkles). The fact that
certain species of the family inhabit brackish water and are even
subject to the influence of fresh water, adds additional weight to this
theory. The shell of this species (Limnotrochus thomasi) also resembles
certain of the top-shells (Trochus), which are marine in habitat. Most
of the other species inhabiting this lake are like the fresh water
Viviparas in form.
The animal of Ampullaria depressa is very curious and interesting when
studied alive. The foot is very wide, almost square in some positions;
the head is narrow, separated from the body by a neck and the region of
the mouth is produced into two long, cylindrical, tapering, tentacular
processes, which are probably tactile organs like the elongated lips of
Glandina, described in the last article. On the top of the head are
placed the two whip-like tentacles, which are longer than the length of
the whole animal and are always waving about when the animal is in
motion. Just back of the tentacles the eyes are placed at the end of two
short, rounded prominences or peduncles. From the left edge of the
aperture extends the long, hollow, cylindrical siphon formed by two
extensions of the mantle. On the upper side of the posterior end of the
foot is placed the horny, concentric operculum or door. When the animal
withdraws into its shell the head first disappears with its appendages
and the siphon, and the foot is doubled up in the middle, the operculum
shutting in last and closing the interior against all enemies.
All of the different groups of the mollusca have their giants and their
pigmies and the fresh-water mollusks are no exception to the rule. We
have thus far studied the animals of normal size and the giants. Let us
now turn our attention to some of the pigmies among the fresh-water
snails. One of the commonest of these small mollusks is the Bythinia
tentaculata, the shell of which does not exceed half an inch in length,
and is formed in a graceful, tapering turret. This species, like many
other European animals, has been introduced into this country and bids
fair to eclipse many of the native species in the number of individuals.
It probably first came over with some merchandise, which was shipped
west by the way of the Erie canal. The snail, once established in the
canal, has had every opportunity to spread over the entire United
States. The canal is emptied every year and cleaned and the water, with
its organisms, is allowed to flow into the little streams and the larger
rivers and thence into Lake Ontario. From this lake this species has
spread so that it is also found in Lakes Erie and Michigan, and will
eventually spread over the entire northern portion of the United States.
This is but one of the many examples of different species being carried
by human agencies from one part of the world to another.
But there are many species of these smaller fresh-water snails that are
pigmies, indeed, whose tiny shells do not exceed an eight of an inch in
length and which require the aid of a microscope to adequately study
their delicate organisms. These minute animals live on water plants and
on any submerged object. They vary from long, pointed, steeple-like
shells to those which are perfectly rounded like a miniature apple. In
our own country these little creatures may be found in any of our ponds
or streams, and the lively little animals are well worth a closer
acquaintance. They are known scientifically under the difficult names of
Paludinella, Amnicola, Somatogyrus, Fluminicola, with many others, and
do not bear any specific English titles.
Much more might be written concerning the habits and variations of the
freshwater snails. The best way to become acquainted with these
interesting animals is to collect them alive and study their various
modes of life in an aquarium. This receptacle need not be an elaborate
or expensive affair. A fish globe six or eight inches in diameter makes
an admirable aquarium and even a quart Mason fruit jar has been
successfully used by the writer. The bottom should be covered to a depth
of an inch or more with clean, fine sand and several stones should be
introduced for the snails to “roost” upon. If the aquarium is large
enough a few water plants like water cress might be introduced to assist
in purifying the water.
The best Mollusks for this purpose are the Limnaea, the Planorbis, the
Physa, the Vivipara and some of the “pigmies” just mentioned. Much can
be learned concerning the habits of our common snails if a record is
kept of everything the animal does, such as its mode of eating, what it
will eat and the increase in size from day to day of the little snails
after they are hatched from the egg. If these creatures could be
considered by the majority of people as living, breathing animals,
performing many of the functions carried on by our own bodies they would
be regarded with more favor and hence aquaria would become more numerous
and they would also be studied more intelligently. The writer has been
frequently amused (and sometimes pained) by the careless question of
some otherwise intelligent person, when he has been exhibiting the shell
of some interesting mollusk, “Well, really, now, was that thing ever
alive?” It is to be earnestly hoped that this series of articles will
reach many of this class of people and lead them to a better
understanding of these lowly creatures.
Frank Collins Baker.
THE ORANGE.
(_Citrus aurantium._)
The tree which produces the well-known Orange of commerce is closely
related to the lemon, the citron and the lime, and with them belongs to
the genus Citrus.
By some it is supposed that Linnaeus selected this name, deriving it
from a corruption of the Greek word meaning cedar-tree, because, like
the cedar, it is an evergreen. By others it is held that the name was
chosen in honor of the city of Citron in Judea. In ordinary language the
name citron is applied to another species of the genus, the fruit of
which is oblong, about six inches in length and with a thick rind.
Many consider that the name Orange is a direct corruption of the Latin
word aureum, meaning golden; but our best authorities on the derivation
of words believe that the name, though a corruption, reached its present
form in the following manner: “The Sanskrit designation nagrungo,
becoming narungle in Hindustani, and corrupted by the Arabs into naranj
(Spanish naranja), passed by easy transitions into the Italian arancia
(Latinized aurantium), the Roman arangi, and the later Provincial
Orange.”
In regard to the original home of the Orange there is a great diversity
of opinion, yet there is little doubt that it was in some portion of
southern Asia. Both the Orange and the lemon were unknown to the Romans,
hence they must have been indigenous in a country not visited by this
people. The region traversed by them was great and they even penetrated
India. They were a people who were inclined to please the palate and
would surely have used the Orange and taken it home with them if
discovered and would doubtless have recorded the finding of so important
a fruit. These facts tend to prove that the Orange was not then
cultivated in India unless in the remoter parts. Other portions of Asia
were unknown to the Romans but, with the exception of the southeastern
portion, climatic conditions would not have permitted the growth of the
Orange.
De Candolle, an eminent botanist and one the truthfulness of whose
investigations cannot be questioned, held that the original home of the
Orange was the Burmese peninsula and southern China. Throughout both
China and Japan this fruit has been cultivated from very ancient times.
Though not found by the Romans in India it was later cultivated there
and without doubt it was carried from there by the Arabs to southwestern
Asia previous to the ninth century and from there into Africa and to
some of the European islands. The Arabian physicians were familiar with
the medicinal virtues of the Orange and have spoken of it in their
writings. It was probably afterwards introduced into Spain and possibly
to other portions of southern Europe by the same agency as it seemed to
follow the spread of Mohammedan conquest and civilization. Thus in the
twelfth century we find that the bitter Orange was a commonly cultivated
tree in all the Levant countries. There is no reference to the sweet
Orange in the literature of this time and it must have been introduced
at a later period. It was certainly cultivated in Italy as early as the
sixteenth century.
In more recent years the cultivation of the various varieties has spread
throughout the world wherever the climate and the conditions of the soil
will permit the ripening of the fruit.
Risso, in his valuable history of the Orange family, enumerates one
hundred and sixty-nine varieties with distinct characteristics. Of these
he classes forty-three under the Citrus aurantium.
Besides the sweet and bitter varieties the more common ones are the
Mandarin Orange of China, a flat and spheroidal fruit the rind of which
easily separates from the pulp; the Tangerine, which is very fragrant
and originally derived from the Mandarin, and the Maltese or Blood
Orange, commonly grown in southern Italy and notable for its deep red
pulp. There are many other varieties that bear geographical or local
names.
[Illustration: ]
Few forms of plant life present to the beholder more beautiful
characteristics than an Orange tree in full bearing. Such a tree, in
addition to the unripe and ripe yellow fruit has also numerous white
flowers, which give off their wonderful perfume, and its symmetrically
arranged branches are covered with rich dark green leaves. It is a tree
that appeals not alone to the sense of taste but to the esthetic nature
as well.
THE MUSICAL SWAN.
(_Cygnus musicus._)
“What moonlit glades, what seas,
Foam-edged, have I not known!
Through ages hath not flown
Mine ancient song with gathered music sweet—
By fanes o’erthrown,
By cities known of old, and classic woods,
And, strangely sad, in deep-leaved northern solitudes?”
If those living Avian gems aglow amid the trees that form Earth’s
emerald diadem, are the jewels of Nature’s crown, then is the great
white swan afloat upon the ripples of her glistening lakes and seas, a
shimmering pearl amid the chasing of her silver breastplate.
Yet it was not the beautiful Mute Swan, most beautiful, most stately,
and most silent of all created beings, that typified to the men of old
the reincarnation of the poet’s soul; neither the Trumpeter, with its
loud clarion, but the more slender Singing Swan of song and story, that
“thro’ its deathless music sent a dying moan.” It was to this swan alone
that the ancients could attribute the power of melody—the singular
faculty of tuning its dying dirge from among the reedy marshes of its
final retreat, where “in a low, plaintive and stridulous voice, in the
moment of death, it murmured forth its last prophetic sigh;” and it was
this swan, too, that inspired the philosopher Pythagoras to teach that
the souls of poets passed at death into swans and retained the powers of
harmony they had possessed in their human forms.
M. Antoine thinks that it is not improbable that the popular and
poetical notion of the singing of the swan was derived from the doctrine
of the transmigration of souls; yet the traveler Pausanius, who spake as
one having authority, affirmed the swan to be “the glory of music,” at
the same time preserving the following testimony to the repute of the
swan as a bird of prophecy: “In the night before Plato was to become the
pupil of Sokrates, the latter in a dream saw a swan take refuge in his
bosom. Now the swan has a reputation for music, because a man who loved
music very much, Kuknos, the king of the Ligyes beyond the Eridanus, is
said to have ruled the land of the Kelts. People relate concerning him
that, through the will of Apollo, he was changed after his death into a
swan.” From this evidence Pausanius thus subtracts the weight of his
private opinion: “I am willing to believe that a man who loved music may
have ruled over the Ligyes, but that a human being was turned into a
bird is a thing impossible for me to believe.”
Mr. Rennie cites, also: “In his Phaedro, Plato makes Socrates thus
express himself: ‘When swans perceive approaching death, they sing more
merrily than before because of the joy they have in going to the God
they serve; but men, through fear of death, reproach the swans, saying
that they lament their death and sing their grief in sorrowful tones.’
After digressing to assert that no bird sings when either hungry or
sorrowful, he resumes, ‘Far less do the swans sing out of grief, which,
by reason of their belonging to Apollo, are diviners, and sing more
joyfully on the day of their death than ever before, as foreseeing the
good that awaits them in the other world.’”
Charles de Kay wrote: “Not the magnificence merely, but the element of
superstitious reverence accounts for the frequency of the swan as a
crest and charge of coats of arms,” stating that in heraldry the swan
runs back through heraldic devices to totemism, and that among the
“oath-birds” which wizards of Lapland called upon in their incantations,
the swan often figured.
It is also asserted that German local legends retain the idea of the
swan as an uncanny bird, prophetic of death or the under world, and that
the Klagesee, or Lake of Complaining, near Liban, was so named from the
numbers of musical swans that congregated there.
Pliny says, “Some affirm that swans sing lamentably a little before
death, but untruly, I suppose, for experience of many has shown the
contrary.” But Aristotle says, “Swans are wont to sing, particularly
when about to die, and mariners in African seas have observed many of
them singing with a mournful voice, and expiring with the notes of their
dying hymn.”
Cicero affirmed that Lucius Crassus spoke with the divine voice of a
swan about to die; while Homer makes no allusion to their singing, but
mentions their “flying round the springs of Cayster, clanging on
sounding pinions.” Oppian asserts, “They sing at dawn before the rising
of the day as if to be heard more clearly through the still air. They
also sing on the sea-beach, unless prevented by the sounds of storms and
boisterous weather, which would not permit them to enjoy the music of
their own songs. Even in old age, when about to die, they do not forget
their songs, though they are more feeble than in youth, because they
cannot so well erect their necks and expand their wings. * * *
“They are invited to sing by Favonius, and as their limbs become
sluggish and their members deficient in strength when death approaches,
they withdraw to some place where no bird can hear them sing, and no
other swans, impelled by the same cause, may interrupt their requiem.”
While on the one hand Julius Scaliger vituperates Cardan for “lauding
the nonsense of the poets, and the mendacity of the Greeks about the
singing of the swan,” Aldrovand cites on their behalf the testimony of
one Frederico Pendasio, a celebrated professor of philosophy and a
person worthy of credit, who told him that he had frequently heard swans
singing melodiously while he was sailing on the Mantuan Lake; also that
one George Braun had heard the swans near London “sing festal songs.”
Besides this, Mr. Rennie says, Olius Wormius professed that many of his
friends and scholars had heard them singing, and proceeded to give the
experience of one John Rostorph, a student in divinity, and a Norwegian
by nation. “This man did, upon his credit, and with the interposition of
an oath, solemnly affirm, that once in the territory of Dronten, as he
was standing on the seashore early in the morning, he heard an unusual
and sweet murmur, composed of the most pleasant whistlings and sounds;
he knew not at first whence they came, or how they were made, for he saw
no man near to produce them; but looking round about him, and climbing
to the top of a certain promontory, he there espied an infinite number
of swans gathered together in a bay, and making the most delightful
harmony—a sweeter in all his life-time he had never heard.”
To this testimony Goldsmith appends his personal opinion in the
following words: “Thus it appears that our modern authorities in favour
of the singing of swans are rather suspicious, since they are reduced to
this Mr. George Braun and John Rostorph, the native of a country
remarkable for ignorance and credulity.” Goldsmith’s own belief was that
the ancients had some mythological meaning in ascribing melody to the
swan, “and as for the moderns, they scarcely deserve our regard. The
swan must, therefore, be content with that share of fame that it
possesses on the score of its beauty, since the melody of its voice,
without better testimony, will scarcely be admitted by even the
credulous.”
This better testimony is furnished by Charles de Kay, who says that
modern bird-lovers have heard the swans of Russia singing their own
dirge in the North, when, having lingered too long before migration,
reduced in strength by lack of food, and frozen fast to the ice where
they have rested over night, they clang their lives out, even as the
ancients said.
Inasmuch as we have record of the Singing, or Whistling Swan from Egypt
to Alaska and the Aleutian Isles, with testimony of modern scientists as
well as ancient poets in proof of the vocality of this, the largest of
singing birds, the question becomes one of quality of song rather than
of the actuality of the song itself. M. Montbeillard’s opinion of the
whistler’s vocal exertions is thus expressed: “The bursts of its voice
form a sort of modulated song, yet the shrill and scarcely diversified
notes of its loud clarion sounds differ widely from the tender melody,
the sweet, brilliant variety of our birds of song.” And M. Morin even
composed a memoir, entitled “Why swans that sang so well in ancient
times now sing so badly.” It is probable that the ancients, with due
consideration for the difference in size between the swan and all other
songsters, may have also given consideration in the same ratio to the
theory of the enchantment that distance lends; and it is more than
probable that all of this confusion of testimony resulted from confusion
of species; for, as Charles de Kay explains, observations of the Mute
Swan caused people to assign the song of the dying swan to the most
fabulous of fables; while Hearne, who observed the Trumpeter, makes the
following vigorous statement: “I have heard them in serene evenings,
after sunset, make a noise not very unlike that of a French horn, but
entirely divested of every note that constituted melody, and have often
been sorry that it did not forebode their death.”
Aldrovand, referring to the structure of the organs of voice as
countenancing the poetical creed of the singing swan, says, “For when we
observe the great variety of modulations which can be produced from a
military trumpet, and, going upon the axiom that Nature does nothing in
vain, compare the form of such a trumpet with the more ingenious
mechanism of a swan’s windpipe, we cannot but conclude that this
instrument is at least capable of producing the sounds which have been
described by the ancient authors.”
In distinguishing between the Whistling and Tame or Mute Swans, Bingley
describes this strange form of windpipe, “Which falls into the chest,
then turns back like a trumpet, and afterwards makes a second bend to
join the lungs. The curve being inside the neck of the Whistler or
Hooper, instead of being an external adornment, as in the case of the
graceful Mute, in whom
‘Behold! The mantling spirit of reserve
Fashions his neck into a goodly curve,
An arch thrown back between luxuriant wings
Of whitest garniture, like fir-tree boughs,
To which, on some unruffled morning, clings
A dusky weight of winter’s purest snows——’
while with the Musical Swan the gift of voice is balanced by a
corresponding detraction from personal appearance; for the straight neck
and smaller stature impart, we are told (alas!), a certain goose-like
suggestion.”
This aesthetic obstacle is, however, successfully surmounted by the fact
that their songs are uttered mostly at night, when flying far overhead
in the darkness; but there is no help for the statement of Albertus
Magnus, which must needs be taken for better or for worse, that “When
swans fight, they hiss and emit a sort of bombilation, not unlike the
braying of an ass, but not so much prolonged.”
The Abbe Arnaud, whose observations were said to be very minute,
completes the list of odious comparisons as follows: “One can hardly say
that the swans of Chantilly sing; they cry, but their cries are truly
and constantly modulated; their voice is not sweet; on the contrary, it
is shrill, piercing, and rather disagreeable. I could compare it to
nothing better than the sound of a clarionet winded by a person
unacquainted with the instrument.”
Proceeding then to depict the manner of their dual concerts, he
continues: “The swan, with his wings expanded, his neck stretched and
his head erect, comes to place himself opposite to his mate, and utters
a cry to which she replies by another which is lower by half a tone. The
voice of the male passes from A to B flat; that of the female from G
sharp to A. The first note is short and transient, and has the effect
which our musicians call sensible, so that it is not detached from the
second, but seems to slip into it. This dialogue is subjected to a
constant and regular rhythm, with the measure of two times. Observe
that, fortunately for the ear, they do not both sing at once!”
Nuttall is likewise arrayed with the witnesses for quantity rather than
quality of sound. Of the dying song, he says, “These doleful strains
were heard at the dawn of day or when the winds and waves were still,
and, like the syrinx of Pan, were in all probability nothing more than
the murmurs and sighs of the wind through the marshes and forests graced
and frequented by these elegant aquatic birds.” Speaking of the natives
of Iceland comparing their notes, “very flatteringly,” to those of a
violin, he suggests that “allowance be made for this predilection, when
it is remembered that they hear this cheerful clarion at the close of a
long and gloomy winter, and when, at the return of the swan, they listen
to the harbinger of approaching summer; every note must be, therefore,
melodious, which presages the speedy thaw and return of life and verdure
to that gelid coast.” He adds that “it emits its notes only when flying
or calling on its companions—the sound being very loud and shrill, but
by no means disagreeable when heard high in the air and modulated by the
winds.”
Of the “Peaceful Monarch of the Lake,” Thomas Bewick wrote: “Much has
been said, in ancient times, of the singing of the Swan, and many
beautiful and poetical descriptions have been given of its dying song.
‘No fiction of natural history, no fable of antiquity, was ever more
celebrated, oftener repeated, or better received; it occupied the soft
and lively imagination of the Greeks; poets, orators, and even
philosophers, adopted it as a truth too pleasing to be doubted.’ ‘The
dull, insipid truth,’ however, is very different from such amiable and
affecting fables, for the voice of the swan, singly, is shrill, piercing
and harsh, not unlike the sound of a clarionet when blown by a novice in
music. It is, however, asserted by those who have heard the united and
varied voices of a numerous assemblage of them, that they produce a more
harmonious effect, particularly when softened by the murmur of the
waters.”
To Cassell the voice of the swan “is low, soft and musical, and when
heard from multitudes congregated together has a very pleasing effect.”
Shakespeare repeatedly alludes to the music of the swan with manifest
confidence in its melody; Pallas, the ornithologist, likens their notes
to silver bells; and Olaffson says that in the long Polar night it is
delightful to hear a flock passing overhead, the mixture of sounds
resembling trumpets and violins.
So now, though we no longer know that the soul of the poet returns to
float, the embodiment of rhythmic grace, before our mortal eyes as in
the years so long gone by, there yet remains to us the splendid imagery
of that stately form in spotless plumage against the setting of the
darkening sea, the wonder of that solemn requiem, and the prophecy and
the mystery of the shadowy orchestra passing onward in the depths of the
midnight sky.
Juliette A. Owen.
[Illustration: ]
Description of Plate—A, flowering twig; 1, portion of spike; 2, ovary
with stamens; 3, stamens; 4, young fruit; 5, 6, portions of spike
(colors are wrong, 5 should be red and 6 should be green); 7, 8,
fruit.
PEPPER.
(_Piper nigrum_ L.)
The pepperer formed an important member of the community in England
during the Middle Ages, when a large proportion of food consumed was
salted meat, and pepper was in high request as a seasoner.—S. Dowell,
Taxes in England, IV. 35.
The plants yielding the black and white pepper of the market are
climbing or trailing shrubs. The stem attains a length of from 15 to 25
feet. The climbing portions cling to the support (usually large trees)
by means of aerial roots similar to the ivy. The leaves are entire,
simple, alternate, without stipules. The flowers are very insignificant
in appearance, sessile upon a long, slender, pendulous spadix. They are
mostly unisexual, either monoecious or dioecious, that is the staminate
(male) flowers and pistillate (female) flowers are separate, either upon
different branches of the same plant (monoecious) or upon different
plants (dioecious). The fruit is berry-like, with a thin, fleshy
pericarp enclosing a single seed. The young fruit is grass-green, then
changes to red and finally to yellowish when ripe. In southern India the
flowers mature in May and June and the seeds ripen five or six months
later.
Piper nigrum is a native of southern India, growing abundantly along the
Malabar coast. It thrives best in rich soil in the shade of trees to
which it clings. It also grows in Ceylon, Singapore, Penang, Borneo,
Luzon, Java, Sumatra and the Philippines. It is cultivated in all of the
countries named, especially in southwestern India. Attempts at its
cultivation have been made in the West Indies.
In India the natives simplify the cultivation of pepper by tying the
wild-growing vines to a height of six feet to neighboring trees and
clearing away the under-wood, leaving just enough trees to provide
shade. The roots are covered with heaps of leaves and the shoots are
trimmed or clipped twice a year. In localities where the pepper does not
grow wild, well drained but not very dry soil not liable to inundations
is selected. During the rainy season or during the dry season in
February cuttings are planted about a foot from the trees which are to
serve as support. The plants are manured and frequently watered during
the dry season. They begin to yield about the fourth or fifth year and
continue to yield for eight or nine years. The methods of cultivation
differ somewhat in different countries. The harvest begins as soon as
one or two berries of the base of the spike begin to turn red, which is
before the fruit is mature. Two crops are collected each year, the
principal one in December and January, the second in July and August.
The spikes are collected in bags or baskets and dried in the sun on mats
or on the ground. Ripe berries lose in pungency and also fall off and
are lost.
Pepper is of extreme antiquity. It received mention in the epic poems of
the ancient Hindoos. Theophrastus differentiated between round and long
pepper, the latter undoubtedly P. longum. Dioscorides and Plinius
mention long, white and black pepper and dwell upon the medicinal
virtues of spices. Tribute has been levied in pepper. In 408, Alaric the
daring ruler of the barbaric Visigoths, compelled the conquered and
greatly humiliated Romans to pay as part of the ransom 3,000 pounds of
pepper. During the Dark and Middle Ages pepper was a very costly
article, as is evidenced by the fact that it was frequently found among
royal presents. The pepper-corn rents, which prevailed during the Middle
Ages, consisted in supplying a certain quantity of pepper at stated
times, usually one pound each month. The high price of pepper was the
prime motive to induce the Portuguese to seek a sea-route to India, the
land of pepper. The route via the Cape of Good Hope led to a
considerable reduction in price. About this time, also, began the
extensive cultivation of pepper in the Malay peninsula.
The black pepper is the unripe, dried fruit of the pepper plant. The
white pepper consists of the ripened fruits from which the pulpy
pericarp has been removed. It is not nearly as pungent as the black
pepper, but it has a more delicate aroma. Occasionally the dried black
pepper is “decorticated” by blowing, thus giving the “corns” a smooth
appearance resembling the white pepper. This is a very absurd
proceeding, as by this process the most spicy portions are removed. The
quality of the pepper is almost proportionate to the weight of the
corns; the lighter the poorer the quality. After the fruits are dried
they should be carefully winnowed to remove light grains and all refuse.
Very frequently these winnowings are ground and placed on the market.
Adulteration of pepper is quite common, especially when ground. A wise
plan is never to purchase ground spices. Buy them whole and grind them
at home or have them ground before your eyes. Good whole peppers should
sink in water and should not crumble between the fingers.
There are several commercial varieties of pepper, as Malabar, Penang,
Batavia, etc., differing considerable in quality.
The pungent taste of pepper is due to a resin and the odor is due to an
ethereal oil. Besides these there is present an alkaloid known as
piperin.
The chief use of pepper is that of a spice, added principally to meats,
but also to other food substances. Its use is, however, less now than it
was during the latter part of the Middle Ages. So extensive was the
dealing in pepper that the English grocers of the time were known as
pepperers. It was very liberally used with all meats, especially chopped
or sausage meats. It was used as snuff or added to snuff tobacco to
increase its effectiveness. It is still highly prized as an aid to
digestion. Applied externally it is used as a counterirritant in skin
diseases. Italian physicians recommend it highly in malarial diseases.
Albert Schneider.