members of the animal kingdom. They resemble the flesh of animals in
containing a large proportion of albuminous proximate principles; and
produce in larger quantity than all other plants azote or nitrogen,
formerly regarded as one of the principal marks of distinction
between plants and animals. This element reveals itself by the
strong cadaverous smell, which most of them give out in decaying,
and also by the savory meat-like taste which others of them afford.
Of all known bodies, nitrogen is the most unstable. Its compounds
are decomposed by slight causes; and, therefore, its presence in the
animal frame is the cause of its activity and proneness to change.
To this circumstance also is owing the fugacious character of fungi,
their speedy growth and decay. Unlike other vegetables, fungi possess
the remarkable property of exhaling hydrogen gas; and the great
majority of species, like animals, absorb oxygen from the atmosphere,
and disengage in return from their surface a large quantity of
carbonic acid. By chemical analysis, they are found to contain,
besides sugar, gum, and resin, a yellow spirit like hartshorn, a
yellow empyreumatic oil, and a dry, volatile, crystalline salt, so
that their nature is eminently alkaline, like animal substances
extremely prone to corruption. The cream-like substance, of which
the family of Myxogastres is composed, resembles sarcode, and
exhibits Amœba-like movements. Some of them contain such a quantity
of carbonate of lime that a strong effervescence takes place on the
application of sulphuric acid. Fungi feed like animals upon organic
compounds elaborated by other plants. They contribute in no way as
vegetables to the balance of organic nature.
Another property they possess, which connects them with animals, is
their luminosity. This quality is very rare among plants, and is
almost peculiar to the lowest order of animals, particularly those
which inhabit the ocean. A species of mushroom (Agaricus olearius)
grows on the olive-tree which is often luminous at night, and
resembles the faint, lambent, flickering light emitted by the scales
of fish and sea-animals kept in a dark place. Anomalous conditions
of various species of Polyporus, Hypoxylon, etc., formerly referred
to the genus Rhizomorpha, from their root-like appearance, cover
the walls of dark mines with long, black, branchy, flat fibres, and
give out a remarkably vivid phosphorescent light, almost dazzling
the eye of the spectator. In the coal mines near Dresden, these
fungoid bodies are said to cover the roof, walls, and pillars with
an interlacing network of beautiful, flickering light like brilliant
gems in moonlight, giving the coal mine the appearance of an
enchanted palace on a festival night.
Fungi growing in mines exhibit the same characteristic colors which
they display on the surface of the ground. Sometimes, however,
species that grow in caves, or in hollow trees, assume the most
curious abnormal forms, their metamorphosis remaining incomplete, so
that instead of producing fructification the whole fungus becomes a
monstrous modification of the mycelium. Their love of seclusion and
darkness gives an etiolated, sickly complexion to the whole tribe. In
consequence of this habit, they are, as a rule, the most sombre of
all plants, although instances occur in which the prevailing neutral
tints are exchanged for the most brilliant scarlets and yellows.
Green, which is the most frequent of all colors, the household dress
of our mother earth, more characteristic of ferns, mosses, lichens,
and algæ than of the higher plants, is almost unknown in the fungi;
and even when it occurs, it is always more or less of a verdigris
tint, and does not appear to be owing to the action of light and
oxygen upon the contents of the cell.
Another of the remarkable peculiarities of the fungi is the extreme
rapidity of their growth, a peculiarity more frequently to be seen
among the lowest forms of animal life than among plants. They seem
special miracles of nature, rising from the ground, or from the
decaying trunk of the tree, full-formed and complete in all their
parts in a single night, like Minerva from the head of Jupiter, or
the armed soldiers from the dragon’s teeth of Cadmus, sown in the
furrows of Colchis. It has long been known that the growth of fungi
takes place with great rapidity during thundery weather, owing, in
all probability, to the nitrogenized products of the rain which then
falls. One is surprised after a thunderstorm in the beginning of
August, or a day of warm, moist, misty weather, such as often occurs
in September, to see in the woods thick clusters of these plants
which had sprung into existence in the short space of twenty-four
hours, covering almost every decayed stump and rotten tree. In
tropical countries, stimulated by the intense heat and light, the
rapidity of vegetable growth is truly astonishing; the stout, woody
stem of the bamboo-cane, for instance, shooting up in the dense
jungles of India at the rate of an inch per hour. In the Polynesian
Islands, so favorable to vegetable life are the climate and soil
that turnip, radish, and mustard seed when sown show their cotyledon
leaves in twenty-four hours; melons, cucumbers, and pumpkins spring
up in three days, and peas and beans in four. But swift as is this
development of vegetation in highly favorable circumstances, the
rapidity of fungoid growth, under ordinary conditions, is still more
astonishing. These plants usually form at the rate of twenty thousand
new cells every minute. The giant puff-ball (Lycoperdon giganteum),
occasionally to be seen in fields and plantations, increases from the
size of a pea to that of a melon in a single night; while the common
stinkhorn (Phallus impudicus) has been observed to attain a height of
four or five inches in as many hours.
Rapidity of growth in fungi is necessarily followed by rapidity
of decay. Though some of the larger and more corky species last
throughout the summer, autumn, and winter, and a few are perennial,
growing on the same trunk for many years, slowly and almost
insensibly adding layer to layer, and attaining an enormous size,
yet the vast generality of fungi are very fugacious. They are the
ephemera of the vegetable kingdom. The entire life of most of the
species ranges from four days to a fortnight or month; while there
are numerous microscopic species of the mould family whose lives are
so brief and evanescent as scarcely to allow sufficient time to make
drawings of their forms.
Fungi are extremely simple in their organization. They bring us back
to first principles, and reveal to us the secret manner in which
Nature builds up her most complicated vegetable structures. They
are composed entirely of cellular tissue, of a definite aggregation
of loose, more or less oval, elliptical cells with cavities between
them. These cells in many species may be seen by the naked eye, and
consist of little closed sacs of transparent colorless membrane. Here
is the starting-point of life. Such cells are the primary germ or
element from which every living thing, whether plant or animal, is
produced. The whole process of vegetable growth is but a continuous
multiplication of these cells.
Although the structure of fungi is generally of a loosely cellular
nature, yet they exhibit an astonishing variety of consistence. Each
genus, and in many instances each species, displays a different
texture. They range in substance from a watery pulp or a gelatinous
scum to a fleshy, corky, leathery, or even ligneous mass. Some are
mere thin fibres of airy cobweb spreading like a flocculent veil
over decaying matter; while others resemble large, irregular masses
of hard, tough wood. Their qualities are also exceedingly various.
Like the ferns, they all possess a peculiar odor by which they may
be easily recognized, although it is somewhat different in different
individuals, some smelling strongly of cinnamon and bitter almonds,
others of onions and tallow, while others yield an insupportable
stench. As regards their tastes, the fungi are equally diversified,
being insipid, acrid, styptic, caustic, or rich and sweet. Some have
no taste in the mouth while masticated, but shortly after swallowing
there is a dry, choking, burning sensation experienced at the back
of the throat, which lasts for a considerable time. Upward of 3,000
distinct species have been found and described in Britain alone;
while more than 20,000 species altogether are known to the scientific
world. In round numbers it may be said that fungi form about a third
of the flowerless plants.
The following instances may be brought forward as illustrations of
the remarkable shapes which many of the fungi exhibit. On the trunk
of the oak, the ash, the beech, and the chestnut may occasionally
be seen a fungus so remarkably like a piece of bullock’s liver that
it may be known from that circumstance alone. This is the Fistulina
hepatica, or liver fungus. Its substance is thick, fleshy, and juicy,
of a dark Modena red, tinged with vermilion. It is marbled like beet
root and consists of fibres springing from the base, from which a red
pellucid juice like blood slowly exudes. Of all vegetable substances
this exhibits the closest resemblance to animal tissue. Even in
the minutest particular it seems to be a caricature of nature, a
sportive imitation on an unfeeling oak tree of the largest gland of
the animal body. Like the liver it is also nutritious, and forms a
favorite article of food in Austria, though it is somewhat tough
and acrid in taste. Another remarkable species of fungus, called
Jew’s Ears (Hirneola Auricula-Judæ), from its close resemblance to
the human ear, clings to the trunks of living trees, particularly
the elder, throughout the whole autumnal season. Another remarkable
species, the Tremella mesenterica, common all the year round,
on furze and sticks in woods, bears a strong resemblance to the
human mesentery. It is of a rich orange color. This extraordinary
resemblance which different fungi bear to the different parts of the
animal body served to confirm the opinion of the ancient botanists
and herbalists that they were animal structures, or at least
intermediate links between the animal and vegetable kingdoms.
Although fungi in general are sober, nun-like plants, preferring
quiet Quaker colors suitable to the dim, secluded places which they
usually affect, yet some of them depart widely from this soberness
and exhibit themselves in the most gaudy hues. Some species are of a
brilliant scarlet color; others of a bright orange. Many are yellow,
while a few don the imperial purple. In short, they are to be found
of every color, from the purest white to the dingiest black, dark
emerald or leaf-green alone excepted. Some are beautifully zoned with
iridescent convoluted circles, or broad stripes of different hues.
Some shine as if sprinkled with mica; others are smooth as velvet,
and soft as kid-leather.
Let us take a specimen of one of the most perfectly formed and
highly developed fungi, the common, shaggy mushroom, for instance
(Agaricus procerus), which is also the most familiar example, and
endeavor to point out the peculiarities of its structure. Like all
plants, it consists of two distinct parts, the organs of nutrition
or vegetation and the organs of reproduction; the former bearing
but a very small proportion in size to the latter. The organs
of nutrition or vegetation consist of grayish-white interlacing
filaments, forming a flocculent net-like tissue, and penetrating
and ramifying through the decaying substances on which the mushroom
grows. These filaments are formed of elongated colorless cells. They
are developed under ground, and in other plants would be called
roots. This part of the fungus is called by botanists mycelium, and
is popularly known as the spawn by which the mushroom is frequently
propagated. In favorable circumstances this mycelium spreads with
great rapidity, sometimes, especially when prevented from developing
organs of reproduction, attaining enormous dimensions. It may be kept
dormant in a dry state for a long time, ready to grow up into perfect
plants when the necessary heat and moisture are applied. When the
requisite conditions are present and the mycelium begins to develop
the reproductive tissue, there is formed at first a small, round
tubercle, in which the rudiments or miniature organs of the future
plant may, after a while, be distinctly traced. In this infantile
condition, the mushroom is covered completely with a fine, silky veil
or volva, which afterward disappears. The tubercle rapidly increases,
until at last it produces from its interior a long, thick, fleshy
stem, or stipe, surmounted by a pileus, or round convex, concave, or
flat cap, similar to that anciently worn by the Scottish peasantry.
This is the organ of reproduction, equivalent to the thecæ of mosses
and the flowers of phanerogamous plants. This cap is covered with a
veil or wrapper, which is ruptured at a certain stage, and retires
to form an annulus or ring round the stem. When it is removed from
the under side of the pileus, a number of vertical plates or gills is
revealed of a pale pinkish-yellow or white color, different from the
rest of the plant, and radiating round the cap from a common centre.
The whole of this apparatus is called the hymenium. Each of the
gills when examined under the microscope is found to consist of a
number of elongated cells called basidia, united together on both
sides of a cellular stratum, and bearing at their summits four minute
spores supported on tiny stalks. It is by these spores, which become
detached when ripe, that the plant is propagated. These spores are
so very minute that many thousands of them are required to make a
body the size of a pin-head; and they are capable of enduring a
temperature at least equal to that of boiling water. While upon the
subject of spores I may mention here that the remarkable elastic
force with which many of the fungi eject their seed has often excited
attention, and is fully equal to anything of the same kind observed
among flowering plants.
The mushroom may be regarded as an ideal fungus of the highest
type. There are six large orders of fungi in which the organs of
fructification are widely different. The first order is called
Hymenomycetes, or naked fungi, because the seed-bearing organs are
naked or placed externally. This is the largest, most important, and
most highly developed order. The mushroom, toadstool, chantarelle,
amadou, are familiar examples of it. The hymenium assumes various
shapes in the different genera. In the mushroom it forms gills, in
the toadstool tubes, in the chantarelle veins, in the amadou pores,
and in the hydnum spines. The second order, called Gasteromycetes,
has the seed-bearing organs inclosed in a membraneous covering,
like the stomach of an animal, whence the name. The stinkhorn, the
Melanogaster, or red truffle of Bath, the bird’s-nest fungus, and the
puff-ball are familiar examples of this order. Some of the forms,
such as Stemonitis fusca, common on rotten wood, are exceedingly
elegant. The third order is called Concomycetes, or dust-fungi,
because the spore-cases are produced beneath the epidermis of plants,
or the matrix in which they are developed, in the form of a minute
collection of dust, entirely destitute of any covering or receptacle,
except that which is furnished by the skin of the plant raised around
them. This class is the most destructive of the whole tribe. Smut,
bunt, and rust are too familiar examples of this most notorious
class. The fourth order is called Hyphomycetes, or web-like fungi,
because the spores are free, developed or naked filament whose
terminal cells are often transformed into a series of spores like a
row of beads. The general appearance of the plants belonging to this
order is that of a quantity of dust-like seeds, imbedded in a flaky,
cottony substance, like a spider’s web. The different kinds of common
mould, blue, yellow, and green, the potato disease, caterpillar and
silkworm blights, and various kinds of mildew are common examples of
this order. The fifth order, called Physomycetes, is distinguished
by its stalked sacs containing numerous spores, or sporidea. It is
the smallest of all the orders. The black, felty cellar-fungus and
the gray mucor or mould on preserves are familiar illustrations of
this order. The sixth and last order is that of the Ascomycetes,
or asci-bearing fungi, whose spores, generally eight in number,
are produced in the interior of groups of elongated sacs or thecæ
contained in fleshy, leathery, or wart-like fructification. These
fungi, of which the morel, truffle, and vine disease are well-known
examples, resemble lichens in every respect except that they are
produced on decaying substances, and are possessed of a mycelium or
spawn destitute of the green cellular matter of lichens.
Although fungi are in an especial manner capable of universal
dissemination, yet we find that in their geographical distribution
they are as much restricted as other plants. Some representatives of
the class are found in every part of the world, and some particular
species have the power of indefinite extension and localization,
but, as a whole, like the higher cryptogams, they can only spread
within certain limited areas. In tropical forests, where the
exuberance of the vegetation excludes the rays of the sun, and
creates the dim light and the still, moist air which they love,
and where there is always an immense quantity of decaying organic
matter, we might expect to find them in the greatest quantity and
luxuriance. But, strange to say, fungi, as a class, are comparatively
rare in tropical woods. Their headquarters seem to be in northern
latitudes, where the temperature is mild and genial, and where
there is a constant supply of moisture. Professor Fries of Upsal,
the presiding genius of these plants, gathered in Sweden, within
a space of ground not exceeding a square furlong, more than two
thousand distinct species. “This country,” says Mr. Berkeley, “with
its various soils, large mixed forests, and warm summer temperature,
seems to produce more species than any part of the known world;
and next in order, perhaps, are the United States as far south as
South Carolina, where they absolutely swarm. A moist autumn after
a genial summer is most conducive to their growth, but cold, wet
summers are seldom productive. The portion of the Himalayas which
lies immediately north of Calcutta is, perhaps, almost as prolific
in point of individuals as the countries named above, but the number
of species on examination proves far less than might at first have
been suspected. It is probably not a fifth of what occurs in Sweden.
Great Britain, though possessing a considerable list of species, is
not abundant in individuals, except as regards a limited number of
species. The exuberance, even in the most favorable autumn, is not to
be compared with that of Sweden or many parts of Germany.” They are
found in Arctic and Antarctic regions, almost as far as the limits
of vegetation. They penetrate to the dreary regions of Greenland
and Lapland, supplying the natives with their tinder, and with an
excellent styptic for stopping blood and allaying pain; and they
announce to the hapless exiles of Siberia, when their gayly colored
forms spring forth from the crevices of the rocks, and in the dark
haunts of the gloomy fir-woods, that the stormy blasts of winter and
spring are past, and that the summer and autumn, those short, sweet
seasons of indescribable beauty and pleasure, have come.
Certain genera and species occur only in tropical and sub-tropical
regions, having their northern limit in the north of Africa or the
coast of the Mediterranean. Several genera and species are confined
to New Zealand, others to Ceylon and Java, others to the Cape de
Verde Islands and the United States. Like flowering plants, the fungi
of different climates and zones are found at different heights along
the sides of tropical mountains that rise above the snow-line. In the
Sikkim Himalayas, Polyporus Sanguineus, and Xanthopus luxuriate in
the stifling tropical woods at the base of the hills; higher up the
fungi peculiar to Ceylon and Java grow among the palms and tree-ferns
of the mid regions; higher still, the species of Southern Europe
abound in the deodar forests and among the rhododendron thickets of
the upper heights; while below the line of perpetual snow, on grassy
slopes and amid scrubby vegetation, may be seen species, if not
identical with, at least very closely allied to, those of Britain and
Sweden. One species has been found at a height of 18,000 feet, which
is probably the highest range of fungoid growth.
FAIRY RINGS
--A. B. STEELE
The green circles, or parts of circles in pastures, popularly known
as fairy rings, have given rise to many curious beliefs and sayings,
and their marvelously rapid growth has struck the uncultivated as
a supernatural phenomenon. The prevalent belief was that they were
caused by the midnight dancing and revelry of the fairies; and
Shakespeare speaks of the elves--
“Whose pastime
Is to make midnight mushrooms.”
In the west of England these rings are called “hogs’ tracks.” In the
myths and folklore of Sweden they are said to be enchanted circles
made by fairies. The elves perform their midnight _stimm_, or dance,
and the grass produced after the dancing is called _ailfexing_. A
belief prevails in some parts of this country that any one treading
within the magic circles either loses consciousness, or can not
retrace his steps. Many absurd theories have been propounded as to
the cause of these rings. Aubrey, who wrote the _Natural History of
Wiltshire_, in the Seventeenth Century, says that they are generated
from the breaking out of a fertile subterraneous vapor, which comes
from a kind of conical concave, and endeavors to get out at a narrow
passage at the top, which forces it to make another cone, inversely
situated to the other, the top of which is the green circle. Another
remarkable theory by a writer, quoted in Captain Brown’s notes to
White’s _Selborne_, attributes these rings to the droppings of
starlings, which when in large flights frequently alight on the
ground in circles, and are sometimes known to sit a considerable time
in these annular congregations. It was also thought that such circles
were caused by the effects of electricity, and for this belief
the withered part of the grass within the circles may have given
foundation. Priestley was a strong advocate of the electric theory,
and was supported by many eminent men of his time.
“So from the clouds the playful lightning wings,
Rives the firm oak, and prints the fairy rings,”