upon, they being as irregular in their visits as some of the
lepidopterous class of insects. It is probable that decayed vegetable
matter is in most cases the source whence this race of plants arises,
while a certain degree of moisture and temperature, acting in concord
with a precise state of decay, appears necessary to influence the
sprouting of the seminal or radical matter. The beautiful floriform
hydnum (hydnum floriforme) is very irregular in its appearance, whence
it is a species seldom found by the botanist. The mitred helvella
(helvella mitra) will abound, and then years may intervene and not a
specimen be discovered. In 1825, a little, gray puff ball (lycoperdon
cinereum), about the size of a large pin’s head, abounded, covering
patches of grass in all our fields, looking like froth, and in decay,
when discharging its seed, like a spongy curd; though it had not been
observed, not having vegetated, or very sparingly, for upwards of ten
years. Others again, particularly the ligneous ones, remain permanently
fixed for a long period. The fingered clavaria (clavaria hypoxylon) may
be found vegetating on the stump of an old hazel in the orchard for
twenty years in succession. That this elegant race has attracted so few
votaries many reasons may be assigned. The agarics in particular are
very versatile in their nature, and we frequently want an obvious,
permanent character, to indicate the species, affording sufficient
conviction of the individual. The rapid powers of vegetation in some
will change the form and hues almost before a delineation can be made,
or an examination take place, requiring nearly a residence with them to
become acquainted with their various mutations; and we have no method of
preserving them to answer the purpose of comparison. These are all
serious impediments to the investigation of this class; yet, perhaps, I
may with some confidence suggest, that any one, who is so circumstanced
as to afford the time, so situated as to find a supply of these
productions, and will bestow on them a patient examination, will find
both pleasure and gratification in contemplating the beauty, the
mechanism, the forms, the attitudes, of the whole order of fungi.
As far as we can observe, it appears to be an established ordinance of
nature, that all created things must have a final period. This mandate
is effected by various means, slow and nearly imperceptible in some
cases, but operative in all. As in the animal world, after disease or
violence has extinguished life, the dispersion is accomplished by the
agency principally of other animals, or animated creatures; so, in the
vegetable world, vegetating substances usually effect the entire
decomposition: for though, in the larger kinds, the high and lofty ones
of the forest, insects are often the primary agents, yet other minute
substances are commonly found to accelerate or complete the dissolution.
Fungi in general, particularly those arranged as sphæria, trichia,
peziza, and boletus, appear as the principal and most numerous agents,
and we find them almost universally on substances in a certain state of
decay, or approximation to it; though there are a few genera of this
class which are attached to, and flourish on, living vegetation. The
primary decline is possibly occasioned by putrescence of the sap, or
defective circulation, and this unhealthy state of the plant affording
the suitable soil for the germination of the parasitic fungus; for there
must be an original though inert seed, till these circumstances vivify
its principle. By what means the parasite finishes the dissolution is
not quite obvious; but of that insidious race the byssi, of which family
is the dry-rot (byssus septica), the radicals penetrate like the finest
hairs into the substance, and thus destroy the cohesion of the fibres.
So do the nidulariæ, many of the agarics, the boleti, and others; and it
is not unlikely that this operation is the general principle of action
of the whole race, though not so obvious in the minuter kinds. These
terminators, many of which present but little character to the naked
eye, under the microscope we find to be of various forms, though not
always so distinguishable from each other as the flowers of our garden.
Some of the genera of plants appear to have distinct agents assigned to
them, and the detection and enumeration of them have been carried to
considerable extent by some of the foreign naturalists; but, to point
out the variety and curious organization of these substances, we will
only instance four, to be found on the common plants of the garden or
the copse: the laurel, the elm, the sycamore, and the beech.
The laurel (prunus laurocerasus) is not, properly speaking, a deciduous
plant, though it casts its leaves in considerable numbers during the
spring and summer seasons. These long resist the common agents of
dissolution, like those of the holly, by means of the impenetrable
varnish that is spread over them. This, however, wears off, and they
decay; but their destruction is at times accelerated by a small
excrescent substance, which fixes on the leaf, breaks the surface, and
admits humidity. It appears in the form of a small black speck, and,
when ripe, discharges a yellow powder from the centre; but as soon as
one speck, which is the vessel containing the capsules, has fixed itself
on one side of the leaf, a similar one will be found immediately
opposite on the other; and hence it is well named by Lamarck the two-
fronted uredo (uredo bifrons).[34] This I believe to be peculiar to the
laurel and the holly.
The leaf of the elm in autumn may commonly be observed marked with dark-
colored blotches, which are the “plague spot” of its destruction. These
leaves remain in large proportions uninjured through the winter months;
but when spring arrives, the spots become matured, the surface cracks,
and the capsules discharge their seeds. Lamarck names it sphæria
xylomoides, but mentions another as a more early observer. At these
spots the decay of the leaf generally commences.
Most persons must have observed that the upper surface of the leaves of
the sycamore (acer pseudo-platanus) is blotched with dark-colored spots
(xyloma acerinum) in autumn. This leaf is detached by the earliest
frosts, and falling to the ground the spots commence their operations by
corroding away the portions of the leaf that surrounds them, but
continue attached themselves, appearing as raised, shining, vermicular
lines. This has been mentioned by Lamarck and others, and is only now
noticed to point out the variously constituted agents that accomplish
the destruction of the foliage of plants.
The bark, the wood, have other deputed powers of destruction, many of
which are very beautifully fabricated. To dwell on them would extend too
much these remarks, designed rather as observations than details; yet I
am tempted to introduce two. The sphæria coryli of Lamarck (peziza
coryli) is occasionally to be found in the month of January, and through
the winter until April, upon old hazel sticks, and engages our attention
by the regularity of its tubercles. The seed, or first principle of
production, whatever this may be, by means unknown to us, has been fixed
upon the inner bark of the wood. Gently increasing, it bursts its way
through the outer bark, which now hangs as a fringe about it; the seed
vessels expand, and a dusty substance, being most probably the matter
that continues the species, is dispersed around. A singular plant
(sphæria faginea?) is found upon the decayed wood of the beech-tree,[35]
in the earlier part of the spring. It appears on the surface of it in
little nodules, which, gradually uniting and increasing, form a regular
black crust. Upon examination we find, that little round bodies have
forced a passage through the outer bark, and enlarged into small round
tubes, which ultimately become the conductors of the seminal dust,
discharged from round, beaked seed vessels, embedded beneath upon the
inner bark. This plant presents us with a very remarkable instance of
the attention of nature to the preservation of minute and little
observed things; the protection of the seed vessel, and the
dissemination, being most particularly and carefully provided for.
These specimens are only individuals among hundreds, which present us
with a world of beauty, variety, and wonder. I would not wish it to be
understood that it is maintained, by any thing here intimated, that the
dissolution of vegetable matter is effected solely by the agency of
insects or parasitic plants, Nature having various ways of accomplishing
her purposes; but only mean to contend that, in numerous cases, these
weak instruments are made use of to accelerate the decay and dispersion
of it.
We are not favorably circumstanced for any great abundance of the race
of fungi: the old fir grove—which produces such varieties, and the oak
and birch copses, which have shed their leaves for ages, and given rise
to many, are not found with us; yet we have a small scattering too, some
of which are perhaps not undeserving of notice; and, though rather
partial to a class which has afforded me many hours of gratification and
delight, yet, sensible of the little interest they generally create, I
must limit my mention to a very few.
The odorous agaric (agaricus odorus) may perhaps be locally found in
plenty, but to me it has always been a plant of rare occurrence. Its
colors are delicate and modest, rather than splendid, and a near
acquaintance only makes us sensible of the justness of its name. We have
another scented agaric (agaricus fragrans), much more commonly to be met
with, which diffuses its fragrance to some distance: but the former
species does not spread its fragrance until brought into a temperate
apartment, when it fills the room with an odor like that proceeding from
the heliotrope, or from fresh bitter almonds, and communicates it to our
gloves, or whatever it touches. I have found it sparingly here among dry
beech leaves in Wolf-ridge copse.
There is a rare, local, and I believe unnoticed agaric, trailing its
long roots in October among the small decayed fragments of some old
hedge, elegant in itself, but more remarkable from the colored fluid it
contains, which upon being wounded it emits, not as a milky fluid, but
like an orange-colored, tasteless, spirituous extract, long retaining
its color upon paper, and tingeing the hand like the celandine, or
blood-wort, (sanguinalis canadensis); and hence I have called it a
“stainer.” Every part discharges this ichor, but it flows rather more
copiously from the roots: in general appearance like A. varius. It may
possibly be passed over as that species; but this is a race which being
local, precarious, mutable, or fugacious, is seen by the wandering
naturalist alone, and we must leave these mysterious but beautiful
productions of nature to their solitudes and woods.[36]
As weeds will grow with flowers, the unsightly with the beautiful, so do
we meet with here much more abundantly that extraordinary and offensive
production the stinking phallus (phallus impudicus). They do not dwell
near each other, however; this being found in the month of June on many
of our hedge-banks. The smell it discharges has been thought to be like
that arising from some decayed animal substance; but it is of a much
more subtle kind, as if the animal fetor had been volatilized by
carbonate of ammonia. Many persons in their country walks, at this
period of the year, must have been occasionally surprised by a sudden
disagreeable smell of this nature, and probably concluded that it
proceeded from some dead animal, when most likely it was produced by
this fungus: yet to find it is not always an easy matter; for the odor
is so diffused on all sides, that it rather leads us astray from the
object than aids our search, the plant being hidden frequently in the
depth of the hedge. I have at times found it by watching the flight of
the flies, which are attracted by its fetor. This strong smell is
supposed to reside in the green gelatinous substance which is attached
to the cell of the pileus; but the odor is at times discharged by this
phallus, before the stem has arisen from the egglike wrapper by which it
is inclosed. This is a very unpleasant plant to delineate, as its odor,
when in a room, is so very offensive, that few persons would willingly
tolerate its presence; and its growth is so rapid in an increased
temperature, that the form and appearance soon become changed. The seed
is supposed to reside in the cells of the pileus, and the gelatinous
matter which we find on its summit; and on this, and every part of the
plant, slugs of various kinds are commonly found feeding, which,
retiring to their holes in the earth, from the contents of their
stomachs probably propagate this phallus. That many of our agarics, and
those boleti which have central stems, are so diffused around by the
agency of these creatures, it is reasonable to conclude for it is a very
usual thing to find the gills of these plants, in which the seed
resides, so entirely eaten away by slugs as to have no remains
perceptible, except a little of the flesh and the outer skin; and they
prefer those plants which are somewhat advanced in age, and in which we
suppose the seminal matter to be more perfected.
The various provisions which have been devised for the dispersion of the
seeds of plants, and introducing them into proper situations for
germination, are not the least admirable portion of the wonderful scheme
of creation. Every class of beings appears appointed by collateral means
to promote these designs; man, beasts, birds, and reptiles; and, for
aught we know, the very fishes, by consuming, propagate the algæ in the
depths of the ocean. Even insects, by the fecundation of plants, perform
an office equivalent to dissemination; and the multiplied contrivances
of hooks, awns, wings, &c., and the elastic and hygrometic powers with
which seeds are furnished, manifest what infinite provision has been
made for the dispersion of seeds, and successive production of the whole
race of vegetation.
The turreted puff (lycoperdon fornicatum) is one of our rare
cryptogamous plants. I have had one specimen, in which the volvæ or
wrappers of seven or eight individuals grew together, each throwing out
a head or capitulum, forming a cluster the size of a doubled fist. It
appears, from a close examination of this plant, that the upper part
bearing the head was originally the inner skin or lining of the wrapper,
which inclosed and shut it in. Upon the bursting of the wrapper, this
inner skin peeled up, or loosened itself from the bottom, and rising,
became finally detached from the wrapper in every part excepting at the
points of the clefts, where it remained fixed; in the same manner as a
man might be supposed able to pull up the skin from the hollow of the
hand, and let it remain attached at the tips of the fingers. This puff
dries remarkably well, and even shows the general form more distinctly
than when recent.
The starry puff (lycoperdon stellatum) is rather difficult to find, but
is a much more common plant, delighting to grow amidst the herbage of
some dry bank, and so is hidden from common observation; but the winds
of autumn detach it from the banks, and it remains driving about the
pastures, little altered until spring, when it decays.
We have the morell (morchella esculenta),[37] but to this I must subjoin
“rarissimè.” Bolton and Micheli represent the pileus as cellular, like a
honeycomb. All that I have seen are mesenterically puckered. In what
part of this morell the seeds reside is obscure: not in the hollows of
the pileus, I think. That part of our morell, which in an agaric would
be flesh, is found by the microscope to consist of fine woolly fibres
united in a mass: and probably the seed is contained in this part; for
when the plant is mature, and begins to dry, the outer coating cracks,
and tears these filaments asunder, and gives the seminal matter, if
contained in this part, a free passage for escape.
The bell-shaped nidularia (nidularia campanulata) is common with us, the
smooth (nidularia lævis) is much less so. I do not mention them on
account of their rarity, but to notice the singular size of the seeds of
this genus. The principle, by which nearly the whole of the fungi are
continued, is in most instances obscure. A dust, considered as seminal,
is observable in some of the genera; in others, even this is
imperceptible; but in the nidularia the actual seeds, for they are not
capsules, are visible at the bottom of the bell-shaped receptacle, of
the size of a turnip seed, or of a large, flattened pin’s head; loose,
but attached by a filament, which in the striated species (nidularia
striata), in moist weather, I have drawn out to nearly three inches in
length. This thread appears designed to secure the vegetation of the
seed, by affording it the power of deriving nutriment from the parent
plant, during the period it is exerting its strength to vegetate in the
earth. Heavy rains, I apprehend, fill the bells, and float out the seeds
in the spring months, the filaments then stretching to their full
extent. In severe weather we often find these bells emptied of their
contents; and from observing the excrement of mice about the places of
their growth, I conclude they are eaten by these creatures. The long
mandibles of the little shrew are well fitted for this operation. I have
never found the plant in such quantities as to yield them any
considerable supply; yet it is remarkable, that the seeds of one genus
only, out of such a numerous class, should be so visible, and of such a
size, as to become an article of food to an animal like a mouse.
But we must dismiss the vegetable tribes, and enter upon the world of
sensitive nature. The quadrupeds naturally present themselves first to
our notice, but with us they are few in number; our population scares
them, our gamekeepers kill them, and inclosures extirpate their haunts.
Yet the marten[38] (mustela martes) lingers with us still, and every
winter’s snow becomes instrumental to its capture, betraying its
footsteps to those who are acquainted with the peculiar trace which it
leaves. Its excursions generally terminate at some hollow tree, whence
it is driven into a bag; and we are surprised, that a predaceous animal,
not protected by laws or arbitrary privileges, and of some value too,
should still exist. Of all our animals called vermin, we have none more
admirably fitted for a predatory life than the marten: it is endowed
with strength of body; is remarkably quick and active in all its
motions; has an eye so large, clear, perceptive, and movable in its
orbit, that nothing can stir without its observation; and it is supplied
apparently with a sense of smelling as perfect as its other faculties.
Its feet are well adapted to its habits, not treading upright on the
balls alone, but with the joint bending, the fleshy parts being embedded
in a very soft and delicate hair, so that the tread of the animal, even
upon decayed leaves, is scarcely audible; by which means it can steal
upon its prey without any noise betraying its approach. The fur is fine,
and the skin so thin and flexible, as to impede none of its agile
movements. Thus every thing combines to render the marten a very
destructive creature. It seems to have a great dislike to cold, residing
in winter in the hollow of some tree, deeply embedded in dry foliage,
and when in confinement, covering and hiding itself with all the warm
materials it can find. In genial seasons it will sleep by day in the
abandoned nest of the crow or buzzard, and its dormitory is often
discovered by the chattering and mobbing of different birds on the tree.
It is certainly not numerous in England, our woods being too small, and
too easily penetrated, to afford it adequate quiet and shelter. Its skin
is still in some little request, being worth about two shillings and
sixpence in the market; but it is used only for inferior purposes, as
the furs of colder regions than ours are better, and more easily
obtained.
[Illustration:
_plate 1._
_Fig. 1. p. 89._
_Fig. 2. p. 88–89._
_Fig. 3. p. 90._
_Fig. 4. p. 90._
]
Notwithstanding all the persecutions from prejudice and wantonness to
which the hedgehog[39] (erinaceus europæus) is exposed, it is yet common
with us; sleeping by day in a bed of leaves and moss, under the cover of
a very thick bramble or furze-bush, and at times in some hollow stump of
a tree. It creeps out in the summer evenings; and, running about with
more agility than its dull appearance promises, feeds on dew-worms and
beetles, which it finds among the herbage, but retires with trepidation
at the approach of man. In the autumn, crabs, haws, and the common
fruits of the hedge, constitute its diet. In the winter, covering itself
deeply in moss and leaves, it sleeps during the severe weather; and,
when drawn out from its bed, scarcely any thing of the creature is to be
observed, it exhibiting only a ball of leaves, which it seems to attach
to its spines by repeatedly rolling itself round in its nest. Thus
comfortably invested, it suffers little from the season. Some strong
smell must proceed from this animal, as we find it frequently, with our
sporting dogs, even in this state; and every village boy with his cur
detects the haunts of the poor hedgehog, and as assuredly worries and
kills him. Killing every thing, and cruelty, are the common vices of the
ignorant; and unresisting innocence becomes a ready victim to prejudice
or power. The snake, the blind-worm, and the toad, are all
indiscriminately destroyed as venomous animals whenever found; and it is
well for the last-mentioned poor animal, which, Boyle says, “lives on
poison, and is all venom,” if prolonged sufferings do not finish its
being: but even we, who should know better, yet give rewards for the
wretched urchin’s head! that very ancient prejudice of its drawing milk
from the udders of resting cows being still entertained, without any
consideration of its impracticability from the smallness of the
hedgehog’s mouth; and so deeply is this character associated with its
name, that we believe no argument would persuade to the contrary, or
remonstrance avail with our idle boys, to spare the life of this most
harmless and least obtrusive creature in existence.
If we were to detail the worst propensities of man, disgusting as they
might be, yet the one most eminently offensive would be, cruelty—a
compound of tyranny, ingratitude, and pride; tyranny, because there is
the power—ingratitude, for the most harmless and serviceable are usually
the object—pride, to manifest a contempt of the weakness of humanity.
There is no one creature, whose services Providence has assigned to man,
that contributes more to his wants, is more conducive to his comforts,
than the horse; nor is there one which is subjected to more afflictions
than this his faithful servant. The ass, probably, and happily, is not a
very sensitive animal, but the poor horse no sooner becomes the property
of man in the lower walks of life, than he commonly has his ears shorn
off; his knees are broken, his wind is broken, his body is starved, and
his eyes——!! I fear, in these grades of society, mercy is only known by
the name of cowardice, and compassion designated simplicity and
effeminacy; and so we become cruel, and consider it as valiance and
manliness. Cruelty is a vice repeatedly marked in Scripture as repugnant
to the primest attributes of our Maker, “because he delighteth in
mercy.” One of the three requisites necessary for man to obtain the
favor of Heaven, and which was of more avail than sacrifice and
oblation, was that of “showing mercy;” and He, who has left us so many
examples in a life of compassion and pity, hath most strongly enforced
this virtue, by assuring us, that the “merciful are blessed, for they
will obtain mercy.”
Hedgehogs were formerly an article of food; but this diet was pronounced
to be dry, and not nutritive, “because he putteth forth so many
prickles.” All plants producing thorns, or tending to any roughness,
were considered to be of a drying nature; and, upon this foundation, the
ashes of the hedgehog were administered as a “great desiccative of
fistulas.”