little branches and twigs of several trees brought in, that we might see
the state of the buds; and I put a few into a jug of water in my room,
that I might examine them at leisure. Very soon afterwards, I perceived
that the buds were beginning to swell; their scales gradually separated,
and now there are some horse-chestnut leaves quite opened out, and
displaying the beautiful manner in which they, and the embryo flower,
were folded up and preserved within those scaly cases in the winter. I
thought it very extraordinary that they should have been supported
merely by water; but my uncle says that the principal nourishment of all
plants is derived from water. The famous botanist Du Hamel reared an oak
tree for eight years in water only; and a willow planted by Van Helmont
in a pot, increased fifty pounds in weight in five years, though the
earth, which had been accurately weighed, was only diminished by two
ounces.
In my collection of branches there were some of lilac and of pear; and
on each of these, the buds, which were hard, little greenish knobs when
first put in the water, have now burst open and disclosed their cluster
of miniature flower-buds.
We have all been most philosophically employed in dissecting and
examining leaf-buds of various trees: for my own part, I think that I
can distinctly see in most of them, that they proceed from the wood; and
in some I could plainly trace the little communication that connects the
wood and the bud. But my uncle says we must continue to study this
subject for years before we can venture to form a decided opinion.
I intend to keep my branches in water as long as possible, that I may
see what happens at last. On the living trees out of doors no leaf-bud
has yet attempted to unfold its scales.
_9th._--As we walked in the sheltered kitchen-garden this stormy day,
Miss Perceval remarked what an alteration soil, climate, and culture can
produce in the external characters of plants; and for remarkable
instances of this, she says, we need not go farther than the
kitchen-garden.
“There,” she said, “we find cabbage, cauliflower, kale, brocoli, and
turnip-rooted cabbage; but who could ever imagine that all these were
from the same original species? Nothing, however, is more certain than
that they are all varieties produced by the cultivation of a plant which
grows wild on the sea-shores of Europe, and which, in its external
appearance, is as different from any of those, as they are from each
other. These alterations become so strongly fixed by habit, that they
continue in the plants that spring from the seeds of each variety; they
are liable, however, again to degenerate into each other; and it is only
by the art of gardening that they are preserved distinct, or that fresh
varieties are produced.”
Miss Perceval made me examine the several young crops of cabbage of
different kinds which had been sown at short intervals, during February
and the beginning of March, that they might be ready for use in
succession; and I find that, although she is such a great botanist, she
does not at all despise the knowledge of garden vegetables and of their
cultivation. Indeed, she says, that it is being but half a botanist, not
to have a general knowledge of all the useful vegetables, with the
principles of their cultivation, and their times and seasons.
Among the few plots of cabbage now in leaf, we found some rows of the
large-ribbed species, in which there appeared to be several varieties;
and in trying to make out the differences, I perceived an odd tail or
appendage to some of the leaves. When I made Miss P. take notice of it,
she was surprised, and said she had never before observed a similar
circumstance in the growth of any cabbages. This curious appendage,
which grows from the back of the principal rib, in its substance is like
the foot-stalk of the leaves; and at the end it dilates into a sort of
hollow cup like a funnel, with something of the appearance of the
_nepenthes_, or pitcher plant.
_11th._--I asked my uncle, after dinner what were those older causes,
which he told us had produced such infinitely greater changes in the
structure of the earth’s surface than any that are now going on.
“The more you learn,” he replied, “of the structure of the earth, and of
the prodigious thickness of the strata, which once must have lain
horizontally, and which have been since torn up and thrown into every
angle of inclination, the more readily you will form an idea of the
stupendous power with which that cause must have operated. The changes
which are now in constant progress are very limited in their effects,
and are entirely confined to the surface. The action of frost in
crumbling the rocky tops of the mountains; and of rivers in carrying the
fragments to the sea, and thus altering the outline of the coasts, I
have already mentioned. Considerable changes are also produced by
avalanches, by inundations, and by the unceasing action of the waves of
the sea. But these changes are slow, and can never be very extensive.
“The effect of volcanoes is greater; and, though many countries bear the
traces of having been overflowed by vast torrents of lava, they are now
confined to a comparatively small portion of the globe. But if they were
far more numerous or extensive, volcanoes could not have raised up or
overthrown the strata through which their apertures pass, still less
could they have acted upon those immense regions which are not
volcanic. The mind, indeed, is lost in astonishment at the means
employed by nature in feeding these enormous fires from such prodigious
depths; but still we must perceive how inadequate they are to account
for the revolutions which appear to have shaken the earth to its
foundations. The same reasoning applies to earthquakes; their
consequences are awfully great in the adjacent country, but very far
from being equal to explain the subversions which appear to have
occurred in every corner of the world that has been visited.
“In short, all the greatest possible efforts of those causes that can be
supposed to have taken place since the creation, cannot have inverted
the strata, nor inclosed great quadrupeds in solid stone, nor imbedded
bones, shells, and vegetables, in the middle of compact rocks, nor have
deposited complete strata of shell-fish at the tops of the highest
mountains; nor could they have swept away whole species of animals which
once inhabited the earth; causes, which evidently extend through a
limited space, and whose effects are only partial, could never have
operated throughout the globe, to produce the general and amazing
changes that we observe in all parts of it. To produce such a universal
effect, the cause must have been not only powerful, but general.
“Sacred history alone furnishes us with the knowledge of this general
and powerful cause--the Deluge. What physical means Providence employed
to produce this great convulsion, have not been revealed to us, but that
the whole globe must have been involved in its fury is everywhere
apparent. The former bed of the ocean must have been lifted up; former
continents must have been sunk; and the entire crust of the earth must
have been rent, shattered, and tossed into every variety of position.”
_12th, Sunday._--‘And Balaam rose up, and went and returned to his
place.’
“The place alluded to here,” said my uncle, “was his own country,
Mesopotamia. His prophecies having been delivered, the design of heaven
was answered, and the instrument was thrown aside. The wicked Balaam was
now left to pursue the schemes of his ambition; and they were intended
to be as destructive to the Israelites as if he had even succeeded in
cursing them. Josephus tells us, that Balaam informed the king that he
could never subdue the Israelites, unless they should be disobedient to
their God; and he instructed him how to make them so. This seems to be
confirmed in Sacred History by Moses, who says that Balaam ‘caused the
Israelites to commit trespass against the Lord,’ and also by St. John,
in the second chapter of Revelations. The consequence was a severe
plague which was inflicted on them as a punishment, and which swept off
many thousand people.
“The history of this obdurate Prophet furnishes a deplorable instance of
the weakness of the human heart, and of the obstinacy with which it
clings to sinful passions, in spite of the most solemn warnings. Balaam
could not forego the tempting offer of Balak, nor the allurements of his
own ambition: after having been refused permission to go to that king,
and after having been obliged to bless the people instead of cursing
them, he endeavoured, by his mischievous counsel, to seduce the
Israelites into idolatry. He expressed indeed a hope of dying the death
of the righteous, but for that purpose he should have lived the life of
the righteous. He was cut off by the avenging sword; and his end
furnishes an awful example of the gradual progress of sin, and proves
that extraordinary ‘gifts of the Spirit’ are not always accompanied by
the genuine ‘fruits of the Spirit.’ When we possess extraordinary
talents, or any peculiar gifts from Providence, we should consider them
as so many temptations or trials, and pray the more humbly and
strenuously for assistance to use them virtuously.”
My uncle then explained that to tempt, is an old English word, which
signifies to try; it is frequently so used in all our old works, as
well as in the Bible. The forty years’ temptation in the wilderness
evidently means trial. Forty years long did I tempt and prove thee--that
is, did I try thee. Again, in the text, “to take him a nation from
amidst another nation, by temptations, by signs, and by wonders,” Deut.
iv. 34. The word “temptations” is undoubtedly put for trials; for the
miracles wrought in Egypt were real trials both to the Egyptians and to
the Israelites, who were thereby given the alternative of obedience, or
of obstinate resistance. And St. Paul repeatedly tells us, that even
good men are allowed to fall into _trying_ circumstances, for the
exercise and improvement of their virtue.
_13th._--My aunt has been shewing me various species of the aphis
to-day.
There are two distinct sorts which belong to the plum tree, one of a
yellowish green, with a round short body; the other oblong, of a bluish
green, enamelled with white. The same kinds are found on the gooseberry
and currant; and the rose tree supports three distinct species.
There are some amusing circumstances told of the singular friendship
that appears to subsist between these little animals and ants, with whom
they share the honey they obtain, and are in return assisted and
protected. I met this morning with an entertaining account of these
facts in the Dialogues on Entomology, which my aunt lent me last month.
There is another species called the oak puceron, which bury themselves
in the crevices of the bark when it is a little separated from the wood,
and live at their ease on the sap. They are black, and nearly as large
as a common house-fly. Their trunk is twice the length of their bodies,
and it holds so fast by the wood, that, when pulled away, it frequently
brings a small piece along with it. Ants are so fond of this species of
puceron, that they are the surest guides where to find it; for whenever
we see a number of ants upon an oak, and all creeping into one cleft of
the bark, we may be certain, my aunt says, of finding quantities of oak
pucerons there.
Mary, two or three days ago, raised the turf in different places in a
dry pasture field, and shewed me clusters of ants gathered about some
large grey pucerons. My aunt says that these earth pucerons draw the
juices from the roots of plants, as the other species do from the stem
and branches. It is imagined by some people, that they are only the
common pucerons, which in winter creep into the earth to shelter
themselves: but this is not the case, as they are usually met with in
places distant from the trees or plants on which they might before have
fed. And she says, that though many may be killed by the cold, yet
numbers escape, and are found early in spring, sucking the buds of the
peach and other trees.
_14th._--I have not yet found the least difficulty in comprehending what
my uncle tells us in our geological conversations. This is partly owing
to the clearness with which he teaches; and partly to my immediately
writing down the substance of it for you. The habit of writing this
journal has been indeed of very great use to me, and I have to thank
you, dear mamma, for desiring me to do it. I am afraid Marianne will not
be much interested as yet by the present subject, for want of my uncle’s
explanations; but when I am once more with you and her, I will try to
give her at full length the details of what he has told us; and I am
sure that she will then like it for his sake.
We have just had another little chapter on the changes in the globe. My
uncle said, that extraordinary as the changes on its surface appear, yet
when we have an opportunity of penetrating a little into the interior by
means of deep mines, or of viewing a long section of the strata in
cliffs or on bare mountains, then our ideas expand into a clearer
conception of the extent and grandeur of its ancient revolutions. In
examining the more elevated chains of mountains, or in following the
beds of their torrents, we can perceive somewhat of its interior
structure thus laid open to us.
The low and level parts of the earth, when penetrated to a great depth,
generally exhibit parallel strata, composed of various substances, and
most of them containing vegetable and animal, and innumerable marine
productions. Similar strata, with the same kind of productions, compose
the hills even to a great height; and sometimes the shells are so
numerous, that an entire stratum seems to be formed of them. These
shells are frequently in such perfect preservation, that they retain
their sharpest ridges, and their tenderest forms. They are sometimes
found incrusted in hard stone, and sometimes inclosed in loose sand or
clay; and the nicest comparison cannot detect any difference between the
texture of these shells, and those which now inhabit the sea. It is,
therefore, fair to conclude, that they also must have formerly lived in
the sea, and, consequently, that the sea must once have flowed over
those places.
But we must not forget that in some countries none of these remains
occur, for instance, in Cornwall, and the highlands of Scotland; while
in others, not a well can be sunk, or a pit opened, without presenting
them in abundance; as in the south-eastern counties of England. The
reason of this difference will, I am sure, have suggested itself, if you
recollect our former conversations: Cornwall is composed of the lowest
series of rocks, which are therefore called primitive; and they, you
know, must be entirely destitute of organic remains. The next series
contains them very sparingly, but they abound in the three succeeding
series, or what are called the _secondary formations_; though sometimes
there are beds interposed, in which they are still rare. In examining
these organic remains, the skill of the botanist and zoologist has
discovered that several of the plants and animals are entirely different
from any with which we are at present acquainted; and a vast field of
inquiry has thus been opened in those departments of nature.
I asked my uncle whether these remains are regularly distributed through
the whole of those series in which they are so numerous. He likes that I
should ask him questions; he says it doubles his pleasure in giving
information, when he sees people really alive to what he tells them.
He replied, that, in one respect, the regularity is surprising, for they
are found, as it were, in families; each formation containing a
collection of species often peculiar to itself, and differing widely
from those of the adjoining one; so that at any two points, in similar
formations, however distant, we are sure of meeting the same general
assemblage of fossil remains. For instance, if the fossils found in the
chalk of Flamborough Head in Yorkshire, or in the cliffs of Dover, or
even in Poland, or Paris, be examined, eight or nine species out of ten
will be found to be the same. Again, if collections of fossils from the
_carboniferous_ limestone, of any of the above places, are compared,
they will be found to agree in the same manner with each other: but if
you compare the collection from the chalk, with that from the limestone,
you would not find one single instance of agreement; indeed very few
appearances of it that could deceive even your unpractised eye.”
“I wish, uncle, I could make these curious comparisons with my own
eyes.”
“So you shall, my dear Bertha. I have a few specimens of remarkable
fossils, though I have no regular collection; and when we reach home, I
will endeavour to shew you some instances of these facts, as they
interest you and Caroline so much.”
_15th._--I have made another extract from the Canada letters for my dear
mamma.
_“Loghouse, February 24th._
“Here we are at last; and though we must bear a good deal of
inconvenience for some time, yet we feel all the enjoyment of being
really _at home_.
“On Monday morning, Feb. 10, we left Cobourg, Mr. * * * * and I on
one seat, with a little girl between us; the maid and the other
two children on the seat before us, and our charioteer in front. We
had blankets and cloaks to roll about our feet, and a basket of
cold meat and bread. Another sleigh carried our bedding, trunks,
and luggage, besides baskets of poultry and our two dogs.
“We travelled twenty miles that day very pleasantly; passing
through miles and miles of forest. I was delighted with this new
scene. Every now and then, we came to small _clearings_, with
loghouses, and generally with a good stock of cattle and poultry.
“At four o’clock, we reached the inn; and we passed the night there
very comfortably, sleeping on the floor in the sitting-room, where
we spread our mattresses and blankets.
“Next day, our road lay through thick woods; indeed, it scarcely
deserved that name, for it was merely a track through the snow
where other sleighs had lately passed. We turned backwards and
forwards through the crowded trees, and often had showers of snow
from branches which our heads touched: the boughs of the beautiful
hemlock pine were so loaded with it, and bent down so low, that we
were obliged to lie down, to pass under them; and twice we were
obliged to stop and cut a passage where trees had fallen across the
way. We drove for nine miles through woods without seeing any
habitation, except two Indian huts.
“When we arrived at the banks of the river, near the mills, we
found that the ice had given way, so that the sleighs could not
cross; and the miller’s boat could not ply, because there was still
a broad border of ice on each side of the river. We sent a man
across to beg of our friend Mr. ----, who was settled there, to send
his oxen and sleigh to a part of the river called the Little Lake,
two miles lower down; and we determined to walk across. This delay
was very embarrassing, but our travels were nearly at an end, and
that gave us spirits to proceed with vigour through the snow, which
came far above our ancles. The friends who came from the opposite
side to meet us, carried the two youngest children; the workmen
carried our bedding, and every thing else was left at the mills.
With this assistance we contrived to cross, and being soon packed
into the sleigh, we proceeded in the shades of evening to our home,
through nearly five miles of wood. Our loghouse was quite
illuminated by the glare of the fires which had been prepared for
us, and even if there had been no fire, we must have been warmed by
the joy our friend shewed at seeing us here.
“The house was not quite finished, and we found it rather cold at
night; but every day since we have made it more and more
comfortable. Our books fill up one side of the parlour, and give it
a comfortable look; and as it has two windows, one to the south,
and one to the west, we have now the delightful warm sun shining in
from ten till past five.
“This is really a pretty spot--even now, though the ground is
covered with snow. The river is broad, and rushes by with great
noise and rapidity, carrying down lumps of ice from the lake; it
winds beautifully, and the banks are fringed with fine spreading
cedars and lofty hemlock pines.
“We have been most prosperous in everything, voyage, journey, and
health; and when I look back and think of all we have gone through
since you and I parted, I cannot help feeling surprise, mixed with
gratitude, to that merciful Being, who has watched over us and
protected us all.”
_16th._--I was talking to Mary after dinner, about the ant and the
little puceron, and praising their mutual good feeling; but she said
there were very few instances of such friendship among insects, and a
great many of their hostility to each other. She mentioned the following
fact, which will, I think, amuse Marianne.
The _pierce-bois_, or wood-boring bee, an inhabitant of warm countries,
and distinguished by her beautiful violet wings, is remarkable for
boring long cylindrical cells in decayed trees, or even in window
frames. She first bores obliquely into the wood with her strong
mandibles, and then follows the direction of the fibres, forming a hole
or tunnel of more than a foot in length, and half an inch in diameter.
At the inner end of this pipe she deposits an egg, along with a
sufficient store of honey and farina, for the support of her future
offspring; and covering it with a thin partition, made of the particles
of wood she had scooped out and cemented together with wax, she proceeds
to deposit another egg and another supply of provision; and so on till
the whole pipe is full. I must also tell you, that from the innermost
cell she had previously bored a small channel to the outside of the
wood, as a kind of back door, by which the young produced from the first
laid eggs should escape in succession, each of them instinctively
piercing the partition in the right direction. But now, mamma, for my
fact: there is a small species of beetle that watches the operations of
the bee, and slily deposits its egg also in the cell. If this egg should
escape the vigilance of the poor bee, it is hatched into a larva before
her own eggs, and consuming all the food she had so industriously
prepared, the right owner of the dwelling perishes.
The wood-boring-bee reminded my uncle of the _teredo_ or ship-worm,
which destroys the planks on ships’ bottoms, by piercing them in all
directions; and he told us that the ingenious Mr. Brunel had himself
stated to a friend of his, that it was from the operations of this worm
that he had borrowed the method which has been adopted in forming the
tunnel under the Thames.
Mr. Brunel observed that the teredo’s head is covered with a strong
armour, through a little hole in which it perforates the wood first in
one direction and then in another, till the arched way is complete; when
it daubs both roof and sides with a kind of varnish. In like manner, Mr.
B. conducts his operations in the tunnel; removing the ground in front,
through the small apertures of a strong iron frame, which he calls the
_shield_, in imitation of the teredo’s armour; and then constructing a
circular arch of brick-work, with strong cement, so as to resist the
utmost pressure of the water. The shield is then moved forward nine
inches (the length of a brick), a fresh ring of brick-work is built, and
a fresh portion of ground is excavated.
This curious anecdote led to another of the same nature, an ingenious
contrivance borrowed from a lobster’s tail. On the other side of the
Clyde, opposite the city of Glasgow, there was abundance of fine water,
which it was desirable to convey across the river for the use of the
inhabitants; but so as not to interfere with the shipping, and not to be
contaminated with the salt water. Mr. Watt, the celebrated engineer,
undertook to carry it in iron pipes fitted one into the other like the
joints of a lobster’s tail, so that when laid across the river they
should adapt themselves to the form of the bottom. He perfectly
succeeded; these flexible pipes have been in use for twenty years, and
the inhabitants have been admirably supplied with this necessary of
life, through that great man’s happy power of observation.