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THE

BEAUTIES OF NATURE

AND THE

WONDERS OF THE WORLD
WE LIVE IN |

THE RIGHT HON.
SIR JOHN LUBBOCK, BART., M.P.

F.R.S8., D.C.L.. LL.D.

New Bork
MACMILLAN AND ©CO.

AND LONDON

1893

CoPpYRIGHT, 1892,
By MACMILLAN AND CO.

Set up and electrotyped September, 1892.
Reprinted December, 1892; January, 1893

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6098959 _

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Nortoood Press :
J. S. Cushing & Co.— Berwick & Smith.
Boston, Mass., U.S.A.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION : : :

~ Beauty and Happiness . ‘
The Love of Nature
Enjoyment of Scenery

Scenery of England gf ete

Foreign Scenery . «© . «+
The Aurora . - x ‘ .
The Seasons
CHAPTER II
On ANIMAL LIFE. : ‘ 2 ‘

Love of Animals .
Growth and Metamorphoses .
Rudimentary Organs
Modifications .

Colour : :
Communities of Animals

Ants

PAGE

39
41
43
45
48
50
57
58

CONTENTS

CHAPTER III

On ANIMAL LiFE—continued . és
Freedom of Animals
Sleep
Senses

Sense of Direction .

Number of Species .

Importance of the Smaller Apiasls
Size of Animals

Complexity of Animal Sieaabaks
Length of Life

On Individuality

Animal Immortality

CHAPTER IV

Dx Pic Lire. i... 4 <a

Structure of Flowers . : -
Insects and Flowers : . -
Past History of Flowers . 5pm ae
Fruits and Seeds .. . ;:

Leaves. : ; ¢ ‘ Ay

Aquatic Plants ‘ ee Ss .
On Hairs ; ; . : °
Influence of Soil

On Seedlings .

Sleep of Plants .
Behaviour of Leaves in oe ;
Mimicry .

Ants and Plants

100
101
102
104
112

115
128
134
136
137
138
144
148
151
152
152
155
156
156

ae ae LS . ae ee Oe C

hes 7
OE Ee ~.

CONTENTS vii

PAGE
Insectivorous Plants : : : : : »» 158
Movements of Plants. : ; i : . 159
Imperfection of our Knowledge . : ; - 163

CHAPTER V
Woops Garp Prenpg 0" ee os Poa eS - D
Fairy Land . . : z : é ‘ See i
Tropical Forests. : : . : ‘ on ATS
Structure of Trees . : F - ; ‘ . 185

Ages of Trees . ; ‘ : 5 ‘ : . 188
Meadows . , é : . : F ; . 192
Downs . : j ‘ : F ‘ . 194

CHAPTER VI

MovuntTaIns . eke Sp haere wes Cry Y See ok aN ga eS
Alpine Flowers : ‘ , : ‘ ‘ - 205
Mountain Scenery . . : . : ° . 206

‘The Afterglow . ; : ; ; . 218
The Origin of Moditeina ‘ . : i . 214
Glaciers . : ; ; ; ; : ‘ ~~ 227
PU amNa C5. brea 5S a Oe
Volcanoes : : ; : ; ; ‘ . 236
Origin of Volcanoes : tis ; é . 243

CHAPTER VII

WATER . : : ‘ ; ; : Sy 46
Rivers and Witchcraft ; ; : ; : 0 Zoek

viii CONTENTS

PAGE

Water Plants . ; : : ; : : « 268
Water Animals . : ; ; ; P Seas
Origin of Rivers i pis <e e ae e
The Course of Rivers. : 5 ; : ~ 256
Deltas . : : : ; ‘ ; : ~ mle

CHAPTER VIII

RIVERS AND LAKES . ; ‘ - , ; « OFF
On the Directions of Rivers . j ; ; «= 2ae
The Conflicts and Adventures of Rivers : . 301
On Lakes : “ i ; ; . 812

On the Configuration of Valleys . . . . 828

CHAPTER IX
THE SEA . > , : $ , - . 3835
The Sea Coast : ; : < 3 5 «OT
Sea Life . : ; j ; ; . . . 3844
The Ocean Depths . é ‘ : . ‘ . 351
Coral Islands . : ; ; ; : ; . 358

The Southern Skies : ‘ ; “ " . 865
The Poles ‘ ; ; ; ‘ : ; oer

CHAPTER X
THE Starry HEAVENS A ; : : F » 3873
The Moon ‘ ; = : ‘ : c + ae

The Sun . ' ; ; ‘ - P ; » 8SQ
The Planets . : 2 ; ; : - 387

CONTENTS ix

PAGE
Baoroete ee ee ce. e888
EGE ESET NP leer a titar p e s's B80
MORO inde cee ae ioe et ae ey te SRE
Mars ; , ; : : pra ‘ . 892
The Minor Planets . ait ° : ‘ . 893
Jupiter . ; ; Se aE we Matte wap Oh Ome
Saturn. : ‘ A ire ee’ he : . 3895
Uranus..«-. «. ie is ate ee hs Se ah te St
Neptune. ~. rg or gS ee ane eee ean |
Origin of the Planetary System . 6 ws ee
Comets . : : ‘ ; : ; ‘ . 401
Shooting Stars i Se ee Paes ener arene. 3
The Stars Sa ek Na i Sg eee ue ng a
NSE lo te oe hd a ne ee a eet ee,

ILLUSTRATIONS

oS
FIG. PAGE
1. Larva of Choerocampa porcellus. ; ‘ Pee |
2. Bougainvillea fruticosa; natural size. (After All-
man) . ; E . : . ; : oe 34
3. Do. do. magnified .. . : . 108
4, Do. do. Medusa-form ; 109
5. Medusa aurita, and progressive stages of aonckonaionk
‘(After Steenstrup) . : : ; : : . 110
6. White Dead-nettle ‘ y ‘ - ‘ : . 124
> ‘f Do. : ; ‘ : ‘ : . 125
8. Do. : : . ; : F . 125
9. Salvia . : ; : : ; ; : F é 12F
10) .- Do... ; : ‘ : ‘ ; , ’ . ae
jh es Bo : : ; : , ; . : «13
12. Primrose. ; ; ; ; ; ‘ : . TR
DO ; ; ; ‘ ; ; . we talao Ree
14. Arum . y : : ; : ; ; . 135
: 15. Twig of Beech : é : . 140
| 16. Arrangement of leaves in ‘Aer ARRISTE es ; . 142
17. Diagram to illustrate the formation of Mountain
Chains . : 216
18. Section across the Save from phates to Neuchatel.
(After Jaccard) . : : 219
19. Section from the Spitzen across the ‘Seanniais. anil
the Maderanerthal. (After Heim) ‘ ; . 221

xii ILLUSTRATIONS

FIG. PAGE
20. Glacier of the Bliimlis Alp. (After Reclus) . . 228
21. Cotopaxi. (After Judd) . : : : ; a
22. Lava Stream. (After Judd) . , 239

23. Stromboli, viewed from the north-west, April ‘1874.
(After Judd) . ; ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ : . 242
24, Upper Valley of St. Gotthard . ; 257

25. Section of a river valley. The dotted ie ahawe a
slope or talus of debris . ‘ 260

26. Valley of the Rhone, with the fier of Balionslie
showing a talus of debris ; : : ; > en

27. Section across a valley. .A, present river valley; B,
old river terrace. ; . . . 262

28. Diagram of an Alpine valley, saetae a river cone.
_Frontview . ; : ‘ . 263

29. Diagram of an Alpine valley, showing a river cone.
Lateral view . ; : ‘ : : . 265
30. Map of the Valais near Sion } ; , ; . 266
31. View in the Rhone Valley, showing a lateralcone . 267

82. Do. showing the slope of a
river cone : ; : : : ; . 268
33. Shore of the Lake of Gao near Vevey . 3 . 269
34. View in the district of the Broads, Norfolk : « ax
35. Delta of the Po . ; : : : ; : . 2738
36. Do. Mississippi , , ; : ‘ . 274
37. Map of the Lake District . : ; : 3 . 281

38. Section of the Weald of Kent. a, a, Upper Creta-
ceous strata, chiefly Chalk, forming the North and
South Downs; 0, 0, Escarpment of Lower Green-
sand, with a valley between it and the Chalk;
c, ¢, Weald Clay, forming plains; d, Hills formed
of Hastings Sand and Clay. The Chalk, etc., once
spread across the country, as shown in the dotted
lines ; : : - . 283
39. Map of the Weald of ak : ‘ . i . 284

ILLUSTRATIONS

xill

FIG. PAGE
40. Sketch Map of the Swiss Rivers . ; ‘ . 291
41, Diagram in illustration of mountain structure . . 296
42. Sketch Map of the Aar and its tributaries . ; 299
43. River system round Chur, as it used to be. 308
44, River system round Chur, as it is 309
45, River system of the Maloya 311
46. Final slope of a river . 317
47. Do. do. with a aks ; 318
48. Diagrammatic section of a valley (exaggerated). R R,

rocky basis of a valley ; AA, sedimentary strata ;

B, ordinary level of river; C, floodlevel . . 3829
49. Whitsunday Island. (After Darwin) . 359
50. A group of Lunar volcanoes ; spore Barocius,

etc. (After Judd) . : 380
51. Orbits of the inner Planets. (After Ball) . 388
52. Relative distances of the Planets from the Sun. (After

Ball) ; ; 389
53. Saturn, with the surrounding series of rings. (After

Lockyer) 395
54. The Parallactic Ellipse. (After. Ball) 413
55. Displacement of the hydrogen line in the spectrum of

Rigel. (After Clarke) : : » 416—

PLATES

BurNHAM BEECHES . Frontispiece

Winpsor Castie. (From a drawing by
J. Finnemore) : ‘
Aquatic VEGETATION, Rio. (Published
by Spooner and Co.)

Troricat Forest, West Inpres. (After
Kingsley)

Summit or Monr Buanc .

To face page 13
sé ¢e 145

6c ‘6 179
sé se 203

Xiv ILLUSTRATIONS

THe Mer pe Grace, Mont Buianc.

RypaLt Water. (From a photograph by
Frith and Co., published by Spooner
and Co.) .

WINDERMERE 3 2 : :

View IN THE VALAIS BELOW St. MAuRICE

VIEW UP THE VALAIS FROM THE LAKE OF
GENEVA . : 2 ines : ;

Tue Lanp’s Enp. (From a photograph
by Frith and Co., published by
Spooner and Co.) .

View oF THE Moon NEAR. THE THIRD
QuarTER. (From a photograph by
Prof. Draper) . : : ‘ :

To face page 229

251
254
266

270

337

- 817

INTRODUCTION
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If any one gave you a few acres, you would say that you
had received a benefit; can you deny that the boundless
extent of the earth is a benefit? If any one gave you
money, you would call that a benefit. God has buried
countless masses of gold and silver in the earth. If a house
were given you, bright with marble, its roof beautifully
painted with colours and gilding, you would call it no small
benefit. God has built for you a mansion that fears no fire
or ruin... covered with a roof which glitters in one
fashion by day, and in another by night. ... Whence
comes the breath you draw; the light by which you
perform the actions of your life? the blood by which your
life is maintained? the meat by which your hunger is
appeased? ... The true God has planted, not a few oxen,
but all the herds on their pastures throughout the world,
and furnished food to all the flocks; he has ordained the
alternation of summer and winter... has invented so
many arts and varieties of voice, so many notes to make
music. ... We have implanted in us the seed of all ages,
of all arts; and God our Master brings forth our intellects
from obscurity. — SENECA.

CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION

Tue world we live in is a fairyland of
exquisite beauty, our very existence is a-
miracle in itself, and yet few of us enjoy as
we might, and none as yet appreciate fully,
the beauties and wonders which surround us.
The greatest traveller cannot hope even in a
long life to visit more than a very small part
of our earth, and even of that which is under
our very eyes how little we see !

What we do see depends mainly on what
we look for. When we turn our eyes to the
sky, it is in most cases merely to see whether
it is likely to rain. In the same field the
farmer will notice the crop, geologists the
fossils, botanists the flowers, artists the colour-
ing, sportsmen the cover for game. Though

4 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

we may all look at the same things, it does
not at all follow that we should see them.

It is good, as Keble says, “to have our
thoughts lift up to that world where all is
beautiful and glorious,’ —but it is well to
realise also how much of this world is beauti-
ful. It has, I know, been maintained, as for
instance by Victor Hugo, that the general
effect of beauty is to sadden. ‘Comme la
vie de homme, méme la plus prospére, est
toujours au fond plus triste que gaie, le ciel
sombre nous est harmonieux. Le ciel écla-
tant et joyeux nous est ironique. La Nature
triste nous ressemble et nous console; la
Nature rayonnante, magnifique, superbe . . .
a quelque chose d’accablant.” *

This seems to me, I confess, a morbid
view. There are many no doubt on whom
the effect of natural beauty is to intensify
feeling, to deepen melancholy, as well as
to raise the spirits. As Mrs. W. R. Greg
in her memoir of her husband tells us:
“His passionate love for nature, so amply
fed by the beauty of the scenes around him,

1 Choses Vues.

I INTRODUCTION Ses!

intensified the emotions, as all keen percep-
tion of beauty does, but it did not add to
their joyousness. We speak of the pleasure
which nature and art and music give us;
what we really mean is that our whole be-
ing is quickened by the uplifting of the veil.
~ Something passes into us which makes our
sorrows more sorrowful, our joys more joyful,
—our whole life more vivid. So it was with
him. The long solitary wanderings over the
hills, and the beautiful moonlight nights on
the lake served to make the shadows seem
darker that were brooding over his home.”

But surely to most of us Nature when
sombre, or even gloomy, is soothing and con-
soling; when bright and beautiful, not only
raises the spirits, but inspires and elevates
our whole being —

Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; ’tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,

6 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,

Shall e’er prevail against us, or disturb

Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings.

Kingsley speaks with enthusiasm of the
heaths and moors round his home, “ where
I have so long enjoyed the wonders of na-
ture; never, I can honestly say, alone; be-
cause when man was not with me, I had
companions in every bee, and flower and
pebble; and never idle, because I could not
pass a swamp, or a tuft of heather, without
finding in it a fairy tale of which I could
but decipher here and there a line or two,
and yet found them more interesting than all
the books, save one, which were ever written
upon earth.” ; ,

Those who love Nature can never be dull.
They may have other temptations; but at
least they will run no risk of being beguiled,
by ennui, idleness, or want of occupation,
“to buy the merry madness of an hour with
the long penitence of after time.” The love
of Nature, again, helps us greatly to keep

1 Wordsworth.

oe INTRODUCTION 7

ourselves free from those mean and petty cares
which interfere so much with calm and peace
of mind. It turns “every ordinary walk
into a morning or evening sacrifice,” and
brightens life until it becomes almgst like a
fairy tale.

In the romances of the Middle Ages we read
of knights who loved, and were loved by,
Nature spirits, — of Sir Launfal and the Fairy
Tryamour, who furnished him with many
good things, including a magic purse, in
which

As oft as thou puttest thy hand therein
A mark of gold thou shalt iwinne,

as well as protection from the main dangers
of life. Such times have passed away, but
better ones have come. It is not now merely
the few, who are so favoured. All those
who love Nature she loves in return, and
will richly reward, not perhaps with the
good things, as they are commonly called,
but with the best things, of this world; not
with money and titles, horses and carriages,
but with bright and happy thoughts, content-
ment and peace of mind.

8 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

Happy indeed is the naturalist: to him —
the seasons come round like old friends; to.
him the birds sing: as he walks along, the
flowers stretch out from the hedges, or look
up from the ground, and as each year fades
away, he looks back on a fresh store of
happy memories.

Though we can never “remount the river
of our years,” he who loves Nature is always
young. But what is the love of Nature?
Some seem to think they show a love of
flowers by gathering them. How often one
finds a bunch of withered blossoms on the
roadside, plucked only to be thrown away!
Is this love of Nature? It is, on the con-
trary, a wicked waste, for a waste of beauty
is almost the worst waste of all.

If we could imagine a day prolonged for
a lifetime, or nearly so, and that sunrise and
sunset were rare events which happened but
a few times to each of us, we should certainly
be entranced by the beauty of the morning
and evening tints. The golden rays of the
morning are a fortune in themselves, but we
too often overlook the loveliness of Nature,

I INTRODUCTION 9

because it is constantly before us. For “the
senseless folk,” says King Alfred,

is far more struck
At things it seldom sees.

“Well,” says Cicero, “did Aristotle observe,
‘If there were men whose habitations had
been always underground, in great and com-
modious houses, adorned with statues and
pictures, furnished with everything which
they who are reputed happy abound with; and
if, without stirrmg from thence, they should
be informed of a certain divine power and
majesty, and, after some time, the earth should
open, and they should quit their dark abode to
come to us; where they should immediately
behold the earth, the seas, the heavens; should
consider the vast extent of the clouds and
force of the winds; should see the sun, and
observe his grandeur and beauty, and also his
creative power, inasmuch as day is occasioned
by the diffusion of his light through the sky ;
and when night has obscured the earth, they
should contemplate the heavens bespangled
and adorned with stars; the surprising variety

10 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE — CHAP.

of the moon, in her increase and wane; the
rising and setting of all the stars, and the
inviolable regularity of their courses; when,
says he, ‘they should see these things, they
would undoubtedly conclude that there are
Gods, and that these are their mighty
works.’ ’’?

Is my life vulgar, my fate mean,
Which on such golden memories can lean ? 2

At the same time the change which has

taken place in the character of our religion
has in one respect weakened the hold which
Nature has upon our feelings. . To the
Greeks —to our own ancestors, —every River
or Mountain or Forest had not only its own
- special Deity, but im some sense was itself
‘instinct with life. They were not only
peopled by Nymphs‘ and Fauns, Elves and
Kelpies, were not only the favourite abodes
of Water, Forest, or Mountain Spirits, but
they had a conscious existence of their own.

In the Middle Ages indeed, these spirits

1 Cicero, De Natura Deorum.
2 Thoreau.

noes INTRODUCTION : 11

were regarded as often mischievous, and apt
to take offence; sometimes as essentially
malevolent —even the most beautiful, like
the Venus of Tannhiuser, being often on that
very account all the more dangerous; while
the Mountains and Forests, the Lakes and .
Seas, were the abodes of hideous ghosts and
horrible monsters, of Giants and Ogres, Sor-
cerers and Demons. These fears, though
vague, were none the less extreme, and the
judicial records of the Middle Ages furnish
only too conclusive evidence that they were
a terrible reality. The light of Science has
now happily dispelled these fearful nightmares.

Unfortunately, however, as men have mul-
tiplied, their energies have hitherto tended,
not to beautify, but to mar. Forests have
been cut down, and replaced by flat fields in
geometrical squares, or on the continent by
narrow strips. Here and there indeed we
meet with oases, in which beauty has not
been sacrificed to profit, and it is then happily
found that not only is. there no loss, but the
_earth seems to reward even more richly those
who treat her with love and respect.

12 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

Scarcely any part of the world affords so
great a variety in so small an area as our own
island. Commencing in the south, we have
first the blue sea itself, the pebbly beaches,
the white chalk cliffs of Kent, the tinted
.sands of Alum Bay, the Red Sandstone of
Devonshire, Granite and Gneiss in Cornwall :
inland we have the chalk Downs and clear
streams, the well-wooded weald and the rich
hop gardens; farther westwards the undu-
lating gravelly hills, and still farther the
granite tors: in the centre of England .we
have to the east the Norfolk Broads and
the Fens; then the fertile Midlands, the
cornfields, rich meadows, and large oxen; and
to the west the Welsh mountains; farther
north the Yorkshire Wolds, the Lancashire
hills, the Lakes of Westmoreland; lastly, the
swelling hills, bleak moors, and picturesque
castles of Northumberland and Cumberland.

There are of course far larger rivers, but
perhaps none lovelier than |

The crystal Thamis wont to glide
In silver channel, down along the lee,

1 Spenser.

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I INTRODUCTION 13

by lawns and parks, meadows and wooded
banks, dotted with country houses and crowned
by Windsor Castle itself (see Illustration).
By many Scotland is considered even more
beautiful.

And yet too many of us see nothing in the
fields but sacks of wheat, in the meadows but
trusses of hay, and in woods but planks for
houses, or cover for game. Even from this
more prosaic point of view, how much there
is to wonder at and admire, in the wonderful
chemistry which changes grass and leaves,
flowers and seeds, into bread and milk, eggs
and cream, butter and honey!

Almost everything, says Hamerton, “that
the Peasant does, is lifted above vulgarity
by ancient, and often sacred, associations.”
There is, indeed, hardly any business or occu-
pation with reference to which the same might
not be said. The triviality or vulgarity does
not depend on what we do, but on the spirit
in which it isdone. Not only the regular pro-
fessions, but every useful occupation in life,
however humble, is honourable in itself, and
may be pursued with dignity and peace.

14 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

Working in this spirit we have also the sat-
isfaction of feeling that, as in some mountain
track every one who takes the right path,
seems to make the way clearer for those who
follow; so may we also raise the profession
we adopt, and smooth the way for those who
come after us. But, even for those who are
not Agriculturists, it must be admitted that
the country has special charms. One perhaps
is the continual change. Every week brings
some fresh leaf or flower, bird or insect.
Kvery month again has its own charms and
beauty. We sit quietly at home and Nature
decks herself for us.

In truth we all love change. Some think
they do not care for it, but I doubt if they
know themselves.

“Not, said Jefferies, “for many years
was I able to see why I went the same round
and did not care for change. I do not want
change: I want the same old and loved things,
the same wild flowers, the same trees and soft
ash-green; the turtle-doves, the blackbirds,
the coloured yellow-hammer sing, sing, sing-
ing so long as there is light to cast a shadow

lant INTRODUCTION 15

on the dial, for such is the measure of his
song, and I want them in the same place.
Let me find them morning after morning,
the starry-white petals radiating, striving
upwards up to their ideal. Let me see the
idle shadows resting on the white dust; let
me hear the humble-bees, and stay to look
down on the yellow dandelion disk. Let me
see the very thistles opening their great
crowns —I should miss the thistles; the reed
grasses hiding the moor-hen; the bryony
bine, at first crudely ambitious and lifted by
force of youthful sap straight above the
hedgerow to sink of its weight presently and
progress with crafty tendrils; swifts shot
through the air with outstretched wings like
erescent-headed shaftless arrows darted from
the clouds; the chaffinch with a feather in
her bill ; all the living staircase of the spring,
step by step, upwards to the great gallery of
the summer, let me watch the same succession
year by year.”

After all then he did enjoy the change
and the succession.

Kingsley again in his charming prose

16 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

idyll “ My Winter Garden” tries to persuade
himself that he was glad he had never
travelled, “having never yet actually got to
Paris.” Monotony, he says, “is pleasant in
itself; morally pleasant, and morally useful.
Marriage is monotonous; but there is much,
I trust, to be said in favour of holy wedlock. —
Living in the same house is monotonous;
but three removes, say the wise, are as bad
as a fire. Locomotion is regarded as an evil
by our Litany. The Litany, as usual, is
right. ‘Those who travel by land or sea’ are
to be objects of our pity and our prayers ;
and I do pity them. I delight in that same
monotony. It saves curiosity, anxiety, ex-
citement, disappointment, and a host of bad
passions.”

But even as he writes one can see that
he does not convince himself. Possibly, he
admits, “ after all, the grapes are sour”; and
when some years after he did travel, how
happy he was! At last, he says, trium-
phantly, “At last we too are crossing the
Atlantic. At last the dream of forty years,
please God, would be fulfilled, and I should

I INTRODUCTION 17

see (and happily not alone), the West Indies
and the Spanish Main. From childhood I
had studied their Natural History, their
Charts, their Romances; and now, at last, I
was about to compare books with facts, and
judge for myself of the reported wonders of
the Earthly Paradise.”

No doubt there is much to see everywhere.
The Poet and the Naturalist find “ tropical
forests in every square foot of turf.” It may
even be better, and especially for the more
sensitive natures, to live mostly in quiet
scenery, among fields and hedgerows, woods
and downs; but it is surely good for every
one, from time to time, to refresh and
strengthen both mind and body by a spell of
Sea air or Mountain beauty.

On the other hand we are told, and told
of course with truth, that though mountains
may be the cathedrals of Nature, they are
generally remote from centres of population ;
that our great cities are grimy, dark, and
ugly ; that factories are creeping over several
of our counties, blighting them into building
ground, replacing trees by chimneys, and

18 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

destroying almost every vestige of natural
beauty.

But if this be true, is it not all the more
desirable that our people should have access
to pictures and books, which may in some
small degree, at any rate, replace what they
have thus unfortunately lost? We cannot all
travel; and even those who can, are able to
see but a small part of the world. More-
over, though no one who has once seen, can
ever forget, the Alps, the Swiss lakes, or the
Riviera, still the recollection becomes less
vivid as years roll on, and it is pleasant,
from time to time, to be reminded of their
beauties.

There is one other advantage not less
important. We sometimes speak as if to
visit a country, and to see it, were the same
thing. But this is not so. It is not every
one who can see Switzerland like a Ruskin
or a Tyndall. Their beautiful descriptions
of mountain scenery depend less on their
mastery of the English language, great as that
is, than on their power of seeing what is
before them. It has been to me therefore.a

2 RM i ola ag

s:* INTRODUCTION 19

matter of much interest to know which

aspects of Nature have given the greatest

pleasure to, or have most impressed, those
who, either from wide experience or from
their love of Nature, may be considered best
able tojudge.. I will begin with an English
scene from Kingsley. He is describing his
return from a day’s trout-fishing : —

“What shall we see,” he says, “as we look
across the broad, still, clear river, where the
great dark trout sail to.and fro lazily in the
sun? White chalk fields above, quivering
hazy in the heat. A park full of merry hay-
makers; gay red and blue waggons; stalwart
horses switching off the flies; dark avenues
of tall elms; groups of abele, ‘tossing their
whispering silver to the sun’ ; and amid them
the house,—a great square red-brick mass,
made light and cheerful though by quoins
and windows of white Sarsden stone, with
high peaked French roofs, broken by louvres
and dormers, haunted by a thousand swallows
and starlings. Old walled gardens, gay with
flowers, shall stretch right and left. Clipt
yew alleys shall wander away into mysterious

20 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

glooms, and out of their black arches shall
come tripping children, like white fairies, to
laugh and talk with the girl who lies dream-
ing and reading in the hammock there, beneath
the black velvet canopy of the great cedar
tree, like some fair tropic flower hanging from
its boughs; and we will sit down, and eat
and drink among the burdock leaves, and
then watch the quiet house, and lawn, and
flowers, and fair human creatures, and shining
water, all sleeping breathless in the glorious
light beneath the glorious blue, till we doze
off, lulled by the murmur of a thousand in-
sects, and the rich minstrelsy of nightingale
and blackcap, thrush and dove.

“ Peaceful, graceful, complete English coun-
try life and country houses; everywhere fin-'
ish and polish ; Nature perfected by the wealth
and art of peaceful centuries! Why should
I exchange you, even for the sight of all the
Alps ?”’ |

Though Jefferies was unfortunately never
able to travel, few men have loved Nature
more devotedly, and speaking of his own
home he expresses his opinion that: “Of all

1 INTRODUCTION aA

sweet things there is none so sweet as fresh
~ alr—one great flower it is, drawn round about,

over, and enclosing us, like Aphrodite’s arms; -—

as if the dome of the sky were a bell-flower
drooping down over us, and the magical
essence of it filling all the room of the earth.
Sweetest of all things is wild-flower air. Full
of their ideal the starry flowers strained up-
wards on the bank, striving to keep above
the rude grasses that push by them; genius
has ever had such a struggle. The plain road
was made beautiful by the many thoughts it
gave. I came every morning to stay by the
star-lit bank.” .

Passing to countries across the ocean, Hum-
boldt tells us that: “If I might be allowed to
abandon myself to the recollection of my own
distant travels, I would instance, amongst the
most striking scenes of nature, the calm sub-
limity of a tropical night, when the stars, not
sparkling, as in our northern skies, shed their
soft and planetary light over the gently heav-
ing ocean; or I would recall the deep valleys
of the Cordilleras, where the tall and slender
palms pierce the leafy veil around them, and

92 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

waving on high their feathery and arrow-like
branches, form, as it were, ‘a forest above a
forest’; or I would describe the summit of
the Peak of Teneriffe, when a horizon layer
of clouds, dazzling in whiteness, has separated
the cone of cinders from the plain below, and
suddenly the ascending current pierces the
cloudy veil, so that the eye of the traveller
may range from the brink of the crater, along
the vine-clad slopes of Orotava, to the orange
gardens and banana groves that skirt the
shore. In scenes like these, it is not the
peaceful charm uniformly spread over the face
of nature that moves the heart, but rather the
peculiar physiognomy and conformation of the
land, the features of the landscape, the ever-
varying outline of the clouds, and their blend-
ing with the horizon of the sea, whether it
lies spread before us like a smooth and shining
mirror, or is dimly seen through the morning
mist. All that the senses can but imperfectly
comprehend, all that is most awful in such
romantic scenes of nature, may become a
source of enjoyment to man, by opening a wide
field to the creative power of his imagination.

‘

—. ™ -

I | INTRODUCTION 23

Impressions change with the varying move-
ments of the mind, and we are led by a happy
illusion to believe that we receive from the ex-
ternal world that with which we have. our-
selves invested it.”

Humboldt also singles out for especial praise
the following description given of Tahiti by
Darwin *: —

“The land capable of cultivation is scarcely
in any part more than a fringe of low alluvial
soil, accumulated round the base of mountains,
and protected from the waves of the sea by a
coral reef, which encircles at a distance the
entire line of coast. The reef is broken in sey-
eral parts so that ships can pass through, and
the lake of smooth water within, thus affords
a safe harbour, as well as a channel for the
native canoes. The low land which comes
down to the beach of coral sand is covered by
the most beautiful productions of the inter-
tropical regions. In the midst of bananas,
orange, cocoa-nut, and breadfruit trees, spots
are cleared where yams, sweet potatoes, sugar-
cane, and pine-apples are cultivated. Even

1Darwin’s Voyage of the Beagle.

24 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

the brushwood is a fruit tree, namely, the
guava, which from its abundance is as noxious
as a weed. In Brazil I have often admired
the contrast of varied beauty in the banana,
palm, and orange tree; here we have in addi-
tion the breadfruit tree, conspicuous from its
large, glossy, and deeply digitated leaf. It is
admirable to behold groves of a tree, sending
forth its branches with the force of an Eng-
lish Oak, loaded with large and most nutri-
tious fruit. However little on most occasions
utility explains the delight received from any
fine prospect, in this case it cannot fail to en-
ter as an element in the feeling. The little
winding paths, cool from the surrounding
shade, led to the scattered houses; and the
owners of these everywhere gave us a.cheerful
and most hospitable reception.”

Darwin himself has told us, after going
round the world that “in calling up images of
the past, I find the plas of Patagonia fre-
quently cross before my eyes; yet these plains
are pronounced by all to be most wretched
and useless. They are characterised only by
negative possessions; without habitations,

et INTRODUCTION 25

without water, without trees, without moun-
tains, they support only a few dwarf plants.
Why then—and the case is not peculiar to
myself — have these arid wastes taken so firm
possession of my mind? Why have not the
still more level, the greener and more fertile
pampas, which are serviceable to mankind,
produced an equal impression? I can scarcely
analyse these feelings, but it must be partly
owing to the free scope given to the imagina-
tion. The plains of Patagonia are boundless,
for they are scarcely practicable, and hence
unknown ; they bear the stamp of having thus
lasted for ages, and there appears no limit to
their duration through future time. If, as
the ancients supposed, the flat earth was sur-
~ rounded by an impassable breadth of water,
or by deserts heated to an intolerable excess,
who would not look at these last boundaries
to man’s knowledge with deep but ill-de-
fined sensations ?”’

Hamerton, whose wide experience and
artistic power make his opinion especially
important, says: —

“T know nothing in the visible world that

26 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

combines splendour and purity so perfectly as
a great mountain entirely covered with frozen
snow and reflected in the vast mirror of a
lake. As the sun declines, its thousand
shadows lengthen, pure as the cold green
azure in the depth of a glacier’s crevasse, and
the illuminated snow takes first the tender
colour of a white rose, and then the flush of a
red one, and the sky turns to a pale malachite
green, till the rare strange vision fades into
ghastly gray, but leaves with you a permanent
recollection of its too transient beauty.” ?

Wallace especially, and very justly, praises
the description of tropical forest scenery given
by Belt in his charming JVaturalist in Nica-
ragua :—

“On each side of the road great trees
towered up, carrying their crowns out of sight
amongst a canopy of foliage, and with lianas
hanging from nearly every bough, and passing
from tree to tree, entangling the giants in a
great network of coiling cables. Sometimes
a tree appears covered with beautiful flowers
which do not belong to it, but to one of the

1 Hamerton’s Landscape.

I : INTRODUCTION 27

lianas that twines through its branches and
‘sends down great rope-like stems to the
ground. Climbing ferns and vanilla cling to
the trunks, and a thousand epiphytes perch
themselves on the branches. Amongst these
are large arums that send down long aerial
roots, tough and strong, and universally used
instead of cordage by the natives. Amongst
the undergrowth several small species of
palms, varying in height from two to fifteen
feet, are common; and now and then magnif-
icent tree ferns send off their feathery crowns
twenty feet from the ground to delight the
sight by their graceful elegance. Great broad-
leaved heliconias, leathery melastome, and
succulent-stemmed, lop-sided leaved and flesh-
coloured begonias are abundant, and typical of
tropical American forests; but not less so are
the cecropia trees, with their white stems and
large palmated leaves standing up like great
candelabra. Sometimes the ground is carpeted
with large flowers, yellow, pink, or white,
that have fallen from some invisible tree-top
above; or the air is filled with a delicious
perfume, the source of which one seeks around

28 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

in vain, for the flowers that cause it are far
overhead out of sight, lost in the great over-
shadowing crown of verdure.”’ 3

“ But,” he adds, “ the uniformity of climate
which has led to this rich luxuriance and end-
less variety of vegetation is also the cause of
a monotony that in time becomes oppressive.”
To quote the words of Mr. Belt: “ Unknown
are the autumn tints, the bright browns and
yellows of English woods; much less the crim-
sons, purples, and yellows of Canada, where
the dying foliage rivals, nay, excels, the ex-
piring dolphin in splendour. Unknown the
cold sleep of winter; unknown the lovely
awakening of vegetation at the first gentle
touch of spring. A ceaseless round of ever-
active life weaves the fairest scenery of the
tropics into one monotonous whole, of which
the component parts exhibit in detail untold
variety of beauty.”

Siberia is no doubt as a rule somewhat
severe and inhospitable, but M. Patrin men-
tions with enthusiasm how one day descend-
ing from the frozen summits of the Altai, he
came suddenly on a view of the plain of the

! ~ y
or

i _ INTRODUCTION 929

Obi—the most beautiful spectacle, he says,
which he had ever witnessed. Behind him
were barren rocks and the snows of winter, in
front a great plain, not indeed entirely green,
or green only in places, and for the rest
covered by three flowers, the purple Siberian
Iris, the golden Hemerocallis, and the silvery
~ Narcissus — green, purple, gold, and white,
as far as the eye could reach.

Wallace tells us that he himself has de-
rived the keenest enjoyment from his sense
of colour : — ae

“The heavenly blue of the firmament, the
glowing tints of sunset, the exquisite purity
of the snowy mountains, and the endless
shades of green presented by the verdure-clad
surface of the earth, are a never- failing
source of pleasure to all who enjoy the ines-
timable gift of sight. Yet these constitute,
as it were, but the frame and background of
amarvellous and ever-changing picture. In
contrast with these broad and soothing tints,
we have presented to us in the vegetable and
animal worlds an infinite variety of objects
adorned with the most beautiful and most

30 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

varied hues. Flowers, insects, and birds are
the organisms most generally ornamented in
this way ; and their symmetry of form, their
variety of structure, and the lavish abun-
dance with which they clothe and enliven
the earth, cause them to be objects of
universal admiration. The relation of this
wealth of colour to our mental and moral
nature is indisputable. The child and the
savage alike admire the gay tints of flowers,
birds, and insects; while to many of us their
contemplation brings a solace and enjoyment
which is both intellectually and morally
beneficial. It can then hardly excite surprise
that this relation was long thought to afford a
sufficient explanation of the phenomena ofcol-
our in nature; and although the fact that —

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air,

might seem to throw some doubt on the suffi-
ciency of the explanation, the answer was
easy, — that in the progress of discovery man
would, sooner or later, find out and enjoy
every beauty that the hidden recesses of the
earth have in store for him.”

I , INTRODUCTION 31

Professor Colvin speaks with special admi-
ration of Greek scenery : —

“Tn other climates, it is only in particular
states of the weather that the remote ever
seems so close, and then with an effect which
is sharp and hard as well as clear; here the
clearness is soft; nothing cuts or glitters, seen
through that magic distance; the air has not
only a new transparency so that you can see
farther into it than elsewhere, but a new
quality, like some crystal of an unknown
water, so that to see into it 1s greater glory.”
_ Speaking of the ranges and promontories of
sterile limestone, the same. writer observes
that their colours are as austere and delicate
as the forms. “If here the scar of some old
quarry throws a stain, or there the clinging of
some thin leafage spreads a bloom, the stain
is of precious gold, and the bloom of silver.
Between the blue of the sky and the tenfold
blue of the sea these bare ranges seem, be-
neath that daylight, to present a whole sys-
tem of noble colour flung abroad over perfect
forms. And wherever, in the general sterility,
you find a little moderate verdure —a little

"Se THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

moist grass, a cluster of cypresses — or when-
ever your eye lights upon the one wood of the
district, the long olive grove of the Cephissus,
you are struck with a sudden sense of richness,
and feel as if the splendours of the tropics
would be nothing to this.”

Most travellers have been fascinated by the
beauty of night in the tropics. Our even-
ings no doubt are often delicious also, though ©
the mild climate we enjoy is partly due to the
sky being so often overcast. In parts of the
tropics, however, the air is calm and cloud-
less throughout nearly the whole of the year.
There is no dew, and the inhabitants sleep on
the house-tops, in full view of the brightness
of the stars and the beauty of the sky, which
is almost; indescribable.

“]] faisait,” says Bernardin de St. Pierre of
such a scene, “une de ces nuits délicieuses, si
communes entre les tropiques, et dont le plus
abile pinceau ne rendrait pas le beauté. La
lune paraissait au milieu du firmament, en-
tourée d’un rideau de nuages, que ses rayons
dissipaient par degrés. Sa lumiére se répan-
dait insensiblement sur les montagnes de l’fle

I INTRODUCTION oo

et sur leurs pitons, qui brillaient d’un vert
-argenté. Les vents retenaient leurs haleines.
. On entendait dans les bois, au fond des vallées,
au haut des rochers, de petits cris, de doux mur-
mures d’oiseaux, qui se caressaient dans leurs
nids, réjouis par la clarté de la nuit et la tran-
quillité de lair. Tous, jusqu’aux insectes,
bruissaient sous Vherbe. Les étoiles étince-
laient au ciel, et se réfléchissaient au sein de
la mer, qui répétait leurs images tremblantes.”’

In the Arctic and Antarctic regions the
nights are often made quite gorgeous by the
Northern Lights or Aurora borealis, and
the corresponding appearance in the Southern
hemisphere. The Aurora borealis generally
begins towards evening, and first appears as a
faint glimmer in the north, like the approach
of dawn. Gradually acurve of light spreads
like an immense arch of yellowish-white hue,
which gains rapidly in brilliancy, flashes and
vibrates like a flame in the wind. Often two
or even three arches appear one over the
other. After a while coloured rays dart
upwards in divergent pencils, often green

below, yellow in the centre, and crimson
D

24 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

above, while it is said that sometimes almost
black, or at least very dark violet, rays are
interspersed among the rings .of light, and
heighten their effect by contrast. Sometimes
the two ends of the arch seem to rise off the
horizon, and the whole sheet of light throbs
and undulates like a fringed curtain of light ;
sometimes the sheaves of rays unite into an
immense cupola; while at others the separate
rays seem alternately lit and extinguished.
Gradually the light flickers and fades away,
and has generally disappeared before the first
glimpse of dawn.

We seldom see the Aurora in the south of
England, but we must not complain; our
winters are mild, and every month has its
own charm and beauty.

In January we have the lengthening days.

« February “¢ the first butterfly.

«¢ March “¢ the opening buds.

«April “the young leaves and
| spring flowers.

“« May “ the song of birds.

“ June “ the sweet new-mown
hay. ,

I INTRODUCTION 35

In July we have the summer flowers.
“ August “the golden grain.
“ September “ _ the fruit.
* October “the autumn tints.
“ November “ the hoar frost on trees
and the pure snow.
“ December <“ last not least, the holi-
days of Christmas,
and the bright fire-
side.
It is well to begin the year in January,
for we have then before us all the hope of
spring.

Oh wind,
If winter comes, can spring be long behind?!

Spring seems to revive usall. In the Song
of Solomon —

My beloved spake, and said unto me,

Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

For, lo, the winter is past,

The rain is over and gone;

The flowers appear on the earth;

The time of the singing of birds is come,

The voice of the turtle is heard in our land,

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs,

And the vines with the tender grape give a good smell.

1 Shelley.

36 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

“ But indeed there are days,’ says Emer-
son, ‘‘ which occur in this climate, at almost
any season of the year, wherein the world
reaches its perfection, when the air, the
heavenly bodies, and the earth make a har-
mony, as if nature would indulge her off-
spring. ... These halcyon days may be
looked for with a little more assurance in
that pure October weather, which we distin-
guish by the name of the Indian summer.
The day, immeasurably long, sleeps over the
broad hills and warm wide fields. To have
lived through all its sunny hours, seems
longevity enough.” Yet does not the very
name of Indian summer imply the superi-
ority of the summer itself, —the real, the
true summer, ‘ when the young corn is burst-
ing into ear; the awned heads of rye, wheat,
and barley, and the nodding panicles of oats,
shoot from their green and glaucous stems, in
broad, level, and waving expanses of present
beauty and future promise. The very waters
are strewn with flowers: the buck-bean, the
‘water-violet, the elegant flowering rush, and
the queen of the waters, the pure and splendid

I INTRODUCTION oe

white lily, invest every stream and lonely
mere with grace.” ?

For our greater power of perceiving, and
therefore of enjoying Nature, we are greatly
indebted to Science. Over and above what is
visible to the unaided eye, the two magic
tubes, the telescope and microscope, have re-
vealed to us, at least partially, the infinitely
great and the infinitely little.

Science, our Fairy Godmother, will, unless
we perversely reject her help, and refuse her
gifts, so richly endow us, that fewer hours
of labour will serve to supply us with the
material necessaries of life, leaving us more
time to ourselves, more leisure to enjoy all
that makes life best worth living.

Even now we all have some leisure, and for
it we cannot be too grateful.

“Tf any one,” says Seneca, “gave you a
few acres, you would say that you had re-
ceived a benefit; can you deny that the
boundless extent of the earth is a benefit? If
a house were given you, bright with marble,
its roof beautifully painted with colours and

1 Howitt’s Book of the Seasons.

38 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP. I

gilding, you would call it no small benefit.
God has built for you a mansion that fears
no fire or ruin . . . covered with a roof which |
glitters in one fashion by day, and in another
by night. Whence comes the breath which
you draw; the light by which you perform
the actions of your life? the blood by which
your life is maintained? the ‘meat by which
your hunger is appeased? . . . The true God
has planted, not a few oxen, but all the herds
on their pastures throughout the world, and
furnished food to all the flocks; he has or-
dained the alternation of summer and winter
. . . he has invented so many arts and varie-
ties of voice, so many notes to make music.
. . . We have implanted in us the seeds of
all ages, of all arts; and God our Master
brings forth our intellects from obscurity.” *

1 Seneca, De Benejiciis.

CHAPTER II

ON ANIMAL LIFE

If thy heart be right, then will every creature be to thee
a mirror of life, and a book of holy doctrine.
THomas A Kempis.

CHAPTER II
ON ANIMAL LIFE

THERE is no species of animal or plant which
would not well repay, I will not say merely
the study of a day, but even the devotion of
a lifetime. Their form and structure, develop-
ment and habits, geographical distribution,
relation to other living beings, and past
history, constitute an inexhaustible study.

When we consider how much we owe to
the Dog, Man’s faithful friend, to the noble
Horse, the patient Ox, the Cow, the Sheep,
and our other domestic animals, we cannot
be too grateful to them; and if we cannot,
like some ancient nations, actually worship
them, we have perhaps fallen into the other
extreme, underrate the sacredness of animal
life, and treat them too much like mere

machines.
41

42 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

Some species, however, are no doubt more

interesting than others, especially perhaps

those which live together in true communi-
ties, and which offer so many traits — some
sad, some comical, and all interesting, — which
reproduce more or less closely the circum-
stances of our own life.

The modes of animal life are almost in-
finitely diversified ; some live on land, some
in water ; of those which are aquatic some
dwell in rivers, some in lakes or pools, some
on the sea-shore, others in the depths of the
ocean. Some burrow in the ground, some
find their home in the air. Some live in the
Arctic regions, some in the burning deserts ;
one little beetle (Hydrobius) in the thermal
waters of Hammam-Meskoutin, at a tempera-
ture of 130°. As to food, some are carnivor-
ous and wage open war; some, more insidious,
attack their victims from within; others feed
on vegetable food, on leaves or wood, on seeds
or fruits; in fact, there is scarcely an animal
or vegetable substance which is not the special
and favourite food of one or more species.
Hence to adapt them to these various require-

— 7)

sa ON ANIMAL LIFE 43

ments we find the utmost differences of form
and size and structure. Even the same in-
dividual often goes through great changes.

GROWTH AND METAMORPHOSES

The development, indeed, of an animal
from birth to maturity is no mere question
of growth. The metamorphoses of Insects
have long excited the wonder and admiration
of all lovers of nature. They depend to a
great extent on the fact that the little
creatures quit the egg at an early stage of
development, and lead a different life, so
that the external forces acting on them,
are very different from those by which they
are affected when they arrive at maturity. A
remarkable case is that of certain Beetles
which are parasitic on Solitary Bees. The
young lava is very active, with six strong
legs. It conceals itself in some flower, and
when the Bee comes in search of honey, leaps
upon her, but is so minute as not to be per-
ceived. The Bee constructs her cell, stores it

44 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

with honey, and lays her egg. At that mo-
ment the little larva quits the Bee and jumps
on to the egg, which she proceeds gradually
to devour. Having finished the egg, she
attacks the honey; but under these circum-
stances the activity which was at first so
necessary has become useless; the legs which
did such good service are no longer required ;
and the active slim larva changes into a white
fleshy grub, which floats comfortably in the
honey with its mouth just below the surface.

Even in the same group we may find great
differences. For instance, in the family of
Insects to which Bees and Wasps belong,
some have grub larvee, such as the Bee and
Ant; some have larve like caterpillars, such
as the Sawflies; and there is a group of
minute forms the larve of which live inside
the eggs of other insects, and present very
remarkable and abnormal forms.

These differences depend mainly on the
mode of life and the character of the food.

II ON ANIMAL LIFE 45

RUDIMENTARY ORGANS

Such modifications may be called adaptive,
but there are others of a different origin
that have reference to the changes which
the race has passed through in bygone ages.
In fact the great majority of animals do go
_ through metamorphoses (many of them as
remarkable, though not so familiar as those
of insects), but im many cases they are passed
through within the egg and thus escape
popular observation. Naturalists who accept
the theory of evolution, consider that the
development of each individual represents to
a certain extent that which the species has
itself gone through in the lapse of ages; that
every individual contains within itself, so to

say, a history of the race. Thus the rudi-
- mentary teeth of Cows, Sheep, Whales, etc.
(which never emerge from their sockets), the
rudimentary toes of many mammals, the hind
legs of Whales and of the Boa-constrictor,
which are imbedded in the flesh, the rudi-
mentary collar-bone of the Dog, etc., are in-

46 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

dications of descent from ancestors in which
these organs were fully developed. Again,
though used for such different purposes, the
paddle of a Whale, the leg of a Horse and of
a Mole, the wing of a Bird or a Bat, and the
arm of a Man, are all constructed on the same
model, include corresponding bones, and are
similarly arranged. The long neck of the
Giraffe, and the short one of the Whale (if
neck it can be called), contain the same
number of vertebre.

Even after birth the young of allied species
resemble one another much more than the
mature forms. The stripes on the young
Lion, the spots on the young Blackbird, are
well-known cases; and we find the same law
prevalent among the lower animals, as, for
instance, among Insects and Crustacea. The
Lobster, Crab, Shrimp, and Barnacle are very
unlike when full grown, but in their young
stages go through essentially similar metamor-
phoses. |

No animal is perhaps in this respect more
interesting than the Horse. The skull of a
Horse and that of a Man, though differing so

_ at atte

II ON ANIMAL LIFE 47

much, are, says Flower,’ “composed of exactly
the same number of bones, having the same
general arrangement and relation to each
other. Not only the individual bones, but
every ridge and surface for the attachment of
muscles, and every hole for the passage of
artery or nerve, seen in the one can be traced
in the other.’ It is often said that the
Horse presents a remarkable peculiarity in
that the canine teeth grow but once. There
are, however, in most Horses certain spicules
or minute points which are shed before the
appearance of the permanent canines, and
which are probably the last remnants of the
true milk canines.

The foot is reduced to a single toe, repre-
senting the third digit, but the second and
fourth, though rudimentary, are represented
by the splint bones; while the foot also con-
tains traces of several muscles, originally
belonging to the toes which have now disap-
peared, and which “ linger as it were behind,
with new relations and uses, sometimes in
a reduced, and almost, if not quite, function-

1 The Horse.

- 48 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

less condition.” Hven Man himself presents
traces of gill-openings, and indications of
other organs which are fully developed in
lower animals.

MODIFICATIONS

There is in New Zealand a form of Crow
(Hura), in which the female has undergone a
very curious modification. It is the only case
I know, in which the bill is differently shaped
in the two sexes. The bird has taken on the
habits of a Woodpecker, and the stout crow-
like bill of the cock-bird is admirably adapted
to tap trees, and if they sound hollow, to dig
down to the burrow of the Insect; but it
lacks the horny-pointed tip of the tongue,
which in the true Woodpecker is provided

with recurved hairs, thus enabling that bird -

to pierce the grub and draw it out. In the
Hura, however, the bill of the hen-bird has
become much elongated and slightly curved,
and when the cock has dug down to the
burrow, the hen inserts her long bill and

Il ON ANIMAL LIFE 49

draws out the grub, which they then divide
between them: a very pretty illustration of
the wife as helpmate to the husband.

It was indeed until lately the general
opinion that animals and plants came into
existence just as we now see them. We took
pleasure in their beauty; their adaptation to
their habits and mode of life in many cases
could not be overlooked or misunderstood.
Nevertheless the book of Nature was like
some missal richly illuminated, but written in
an unknown tongue. The graceful forms of
the letters, the beauty of the colouring, excited
our wonder and admiration; but of the true
meaning little was known to us; indeed we
scarcely realised that there was any meaning
to decipher. Now glimpses of the truth are
gradually revealing themselves, we perceive
that there is a reason, and in many cases we
know what the reason is, for every difference
in form, in size, and incolour; for every bone
and every feather, almost for every hair.’

1 Lubbock, Fifty Years of Science.

50 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

COLOUR

The colours of animals, generally, I believe,
serve as a protection. In some, however,
they probably render them more attractive to
their mates, of which the Peacock is one of
the most remarkable illustrations.

In richness of colour birds and insects vie
even with flowers. “One fine red admiral
butterfly,” says Jefferies,’ ““ whose broad wings,
stretched out like fans, looked simply splendid
floatmmg round and round the willows which
marked the margin of a dry pool. His blue
markings were really blue—blue velvet — his
red and the white stroke shone as if sunbeams
were in his wings. I wish there were more
of these butterflies; in summer, dry summer,
when the flowers seem gone and the grass is
not so dear to us, and the leaves are dull with
heat, a little colour is so pleasant. To me
colour is a sort of food; every spot of colour
is a drop of wine to the spirit.”

The varied colours which add so much to

1 The Open Air.

en ee

It ON ANIMAL LIFE a &

the beauty of animals and plants are not only
thus a delight to the eye, but afford us also
some of the most interesting problems in
Natural History.. Some probably are not
in themselves of any direct advantage.
The brilliant mother-of-pearl of certain shells,
which during life is completely hidden,
the rich colours of some internal organs of
animals, are not perhaps of any direct

benefit, but are incidental, like the rich and
_ brilliant hues of many minerals and precious
stones.

But although this may be true, I believe
that most of these colours are now of some
advantage. “The black back and _ silvery
belly of fishes’’ have been recently referred to
_by a distinguished naturalist as being obvi-
ously of no direct benefit. I should on
the contrary have quoted this case as one
where the advantage was obvious. The dark
back renders the fish less conspicuous to an
eye looking down into the water; while the
white under-surface makes them less visible
from below. The animals of the desert are
sand-coloured ; those of the Arctic regions are

52 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

white like snow, especially in winter; and
pelagic animals are blue. |

Let us take certain special cases. The
Lion, like other desert animals, is sand-col-
oured ; the Tiger which lives in the Jungle
has vertical stripes, making him difficult to
see among the upright grass; Leopards and
the tree-cats are spotted, like rays of. light
seen through leaves.

An interesting case is that of the animals
living in the Sargasso or gulf-weed of the
Atlantic. These creatures — Fish, Crustacea,
and Mollusks alike—are characterised by a
peculiar colouring, not continuously olive like
the Seaweed itself, but blotched with rounded
more or less irregular patches of bright, opake
white, so as closely to resemble fronds cov-
ered with patches of Flustra or Barnacles.

Take the case of caterpillars, which are
especially defenceless, and which as a rule
feed on leaves. The smallest and youngest
are green, like the leaves on which they live.
When they become larger, they are char-
acterised by longitudinal lines, which break
up the surface and thus render them less

II ON ANIMAL LIFE 53

conspicuous. On older and larger ones the
lines are diagonal, like the nerves of leaves.
Conspicuous caterpillars are generally either
nauseous in taste, or protected by hairs.

Fig. 1.— Cherocampa porcellus.

I say “ generally,” because there are some
interesting exceptions. The large caterpillars
of some of the Elephant Hawkmoths are very
conspicuous, and rendered all the more so by
the presence of a pair of large eyelike spots.
Every one who sees one of these caterpillars
is struck by its likeness to a snake, and the
so-called “‘eyes”’ do much to increase the de-
ception. Moreover, the ring on which they
are placed is swollen, and the insect, when
in danger, has the habit of retracting its head
and front segments, which gives it an addi-
tional resemblance to some small reptile. That
small birds are, as a matter of fact, afraid of
these caterpillars (which, however, I need not
say, are in reality altogether harmless) Weis-

54 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

mann has proved by actual experiment. He
put one of these caterpillars in a tray, in
which he was accustomed to place seed for
birds. Soon a little flock of sparrows and
other small birds assembled to feed as usual.
One of them lit on the edge of this tray, and _
was just going to hop in, when she spied the
caterpillar. Immediately she began bobbing
her head up and down in the odd way which
some small birds have, but was afraid to go
nearer. Another joined her and then another,
until at last there was a little company of ten
or twelve birds all looking on in astonishment, -
but not one ventured into the tray; while
one bird, which lit in it unsuspectingly, beat a
hasty retreat in evident alarm as soon as she
perceived the caterpillar. After waiting for
some time, Weismann removed it, when the
birds soon attacked the seeds. Other cater-
pillars also are probably protected by their
curious resemblance to spotted snakes. One
of the large Indian caterpillars has even ac-
quired the power of hissing.

Among perfect insects many resemble closely
the substances. near which they live. Some

it ON ANIMAL LIFE We

moths are mottled so as to mimic the bark of
trees, or moss, or the surface of stones. One
beautiful tropical butterfly has a dark wing
on which are painted a series of green leaf
tips, so that it closely resembles the edge of
a pinnate leaf projecting out of shade into
sunshine.

The argument is strengthened by those’
cases in which the protection, or other advan-
tage, is due not merely to colour, but partly
also to form. Such are the insects which
resemble sticks or leaves. Again, there are
cases in which insects mimic others, which, for
some reason or other, are less liable to danger.
So also many harmless animals mimic others
which are poisonous or otherwise well pro-
tected. Some butterflies, as Mr. Bates has
pointed out, mimic others which are nauseous
in taste, and therefore not attacked by birds.
In these cases it is generally only the females
that are mimetic, and in some cases only a
part of them, so that there are two, or even
three, kinds of females, the one retaining the
normal colouring of the group, the other
mimicking another species. Some spiders

56 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

closely resemble Ants, and several other in-
sects mimic Wasps or Hornets.

Some reptiles and fish have actually the
power of changing the colour of their skin so
as to adapt themselves to their surroundings.

Many cases in which the colouring does not
at first sight appear to be protective, will on
consideration be found to be so. It has, for
instance, been objected that sheep are not
coloured green ; but every mountaineer knows
that sheep could not have had a colour more
adapted to render them inconspicuous, and
that it is almost impossible to distinguish them
from the rocks which so constantly crop up
on hill sides. Even the brilliant blue of the
Kingfisher, which in a museum renders it so
conspicuous, In its native haunts, on the con-
trary, makes it difficult to distinguish from a
flash of light upon the water; and the richly-
coloured Woodpecker wears the genuine dress
of a Forester—the green coat and crimson
cap.

It has been found that some brilliantly
coloured and conspicuous animals are either
nauseous or poisonous. In these cases the

a ee Oe "

tg Oe er -"

II ON ANIMAL LIFE 57

brilliant colour is doubtless a protection by
rendering them more unmistakable.

COMMUNITIES

Some animals may delight us especially by
their beauty, such as birds or butterflies ;
others may surprise us by their size, as Ele-
phants and Whales, or the still more marvel-
lous monsters of ancient times may fascinate
us by their exquisite forms, such as many micro-
scopic shells ; or compel our reluctant attention
by their similarity to us in structure ; but none
offer more points of interest than those which
live in communities. Ido not allude to the
temporary assemblages of Starlings, Swallows,
and other birds at certain times of year, nor
even to the permanent associations of animals
brought together by common wants in suitable
localities, but to regular and more or less or-
ganised associations. Such colonies as those
of Rooks and Beavers have no doubt interest-
ing revelations and surprises in store for us,
but they have not been as yet so much studied

58 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

as those of some insects. Among these the
Hive Bees, from the beauty and regularity
of their cells, from their utility to man, and
from the debt we owe them for their uncon-
scious agency in the improvement of flowers,
hold a very high place; but they are prob-
ably less intelligent, and their relations with
other animals and with one another are less
complex than in the case of Ants, which have
been so well studied by Gould, Huber, Forel,
M‘Cook, and other naturalists.

The subject is a wide one, for there are at
least a thousand species of Ants, no two of
which have the same habits. In this country
we have rather more than thirty, most of
which I have kept in confinement. Their life
is comparatively long: I have had working
Ants. which were seven years old, and a Queen
Ant lived in one of my nests for fifteen years.
The community consists, in addition to the
young, of males, which do no work, of wingless
workers, and one or more Queen mothers, who
have at first wings, which, however, after one
Marriage flight, they throw off, as they never
leave the nest again, and in it wings would of

——S

11 ON ANIMAL LIFE 59

course be useless. The workers do not, except
- occasionally, lay eggs, but carry on all the af-
fairs of the community. Some of them, and
especially the younger ones, remain in the
nest, excavate chambers and tunnels, and tend
the young, which are sorted up according to
age, so that my nests often had the appear-
ance of a school, with the children arranged
in classes.

In our English Ants the workers in each
species are all similar except in size, but
among foreign species there are some in which
there are two or even more classes of workers,
differing greatly not only in size, but also in
form. The differences are not the result of
age, nor of race, but are adaptations to
different functions; the nature of which,
however, is not yet well understood. Among
the Termites those of one class certainly seem
to act as soldiers, and among the true Ants
also some have comparatively immense heads
and powerful jaws. It is doubtful, however,
whether they form a real army. Bates
observed that on a foraging expedition the
large-headed individuals did not walk in the

60 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

regular ranks, nor on the return did they
carry any of the booty, but marched along at
the side, and at tolerably regular intervals,
“like subaltern officers in a marching regi-
ment.’ He is disposed, however, to ascribe
to them a much humbler function, namely,
to serve merely “as indigestible morsels to
the ant thrushes.” This, I confess, seems to
me improbable.

Solomon was, so far as we yet know, quite
correct in describing Ants as having “ neither
guide, overseer, nor ruler.” The so-called
Queens are really Mothers. Nevertheless it
is true, and it is curious, that the working
Ants and Bees always turn their heads
towards the Queen. It seems as if the sight
of her gave them pleasure. On one occasion,
while moving some Ants from one nest into
another for exhibition at the Royal Institution,
I unfortunately crushed the Queen and killed
her. The others, however, did not desert her,
or draw her out as they do dead workers, but
on the contrary carried her into the new nest,
and subsequently into a larger one with which
I supplied them, congregating round her for

I ON ANIMAL LIFE 61

weeks just as if she had been alive. One
could hardly help fancying that they were
mourning her loss, or hoping anxiously for
her recovery.

The Communities of Ants are sometimes
very large, numbering even up to 500,000
individuals; and it is a lesson to us, that no
one has ever yet seen a quarrel between any
two Ants belonging to the same community.
On the other hand it must be admitted that
they are in hostility, not only with most other
insects, including Ants of different species,
but even with those of the same species if
belonging to different communities. I have
over and over again introduced Ants from
one of my nests into another nest of the same
species, and they were invariably attacked,
seized by a leg or an antenna, and dragged
out.

It is evident therefore that the Ants of
each community all recognise one another,
which is very remarkable. But more than
this, I several times divided a nest into two
halves, and found that even after a separation
of a year and nine months they recognised

62 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE eae

one another, and were perfectly friendly ;

while they at once attacked Ants from a

different nest, although of the same species.
It has been suggested that the Ants of each
nest have some sign or password by which
they recognise one another. To test this I
made some insensible. First I tried chloro-
form, but this was fatal to them; and as
therefore they were practically dead, I did
not consider the test satisfactory. I decided

therefore to intoxicate them. This was

less easy than I had expected. None of
my Ants would voluntarily degrade them-
selves by getting drunk. However, I got
over the difficulty by putting them into
whisky for a few moments. I took fifty
specimens, twenty-five from one nest and
twenty-five from another, made them dead

drunk, marked each with a spot of paint, and -

put them on a table close to where other Ants
from one of the nests were feeding. The
table was surrounded as usual with a moat of
water to prevent them from straying. The
Ants which were feeding soon noticed those
which I had made drunk. They seemed quite

II ON ANIMAL LIFE 63

astonished to find their comrades in such a
disgraceful condition, and as much at a loss
to know what to do with their drunkards as
we are. After a while, however, to cut my
story short, they carried them all away: the
strangers they took to the edge of the moat
and dropped into the water, while they bore
their friends home into the nest, where by
degrees they slept off the effects of the spirit.
Thus it is evident that they know their friends
even when incapable of giving any sign or
password.

This little experiment also shows that they
help comrades in distress. If a Wolf or a Rook
be ill or injured, we are told that it is driven
away or even killed by its comrades. Not so
with Ants. For instance, in one of my nests
an unfortunate Ant, in emerging from the
chrysalis skin, injured her legs so much that
she lay on her back quite helpless. For three
months, however, she was carefully fed and
tended by the other Ants. In another case
an Ant in the same manner had injured her
antennee. I watched her also carefully to see
what would happen. For some days she did

64 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

not leave the nest. At last one day she

ventured outside, and after a while met a —

stranger Ant of the same species, but be-
longing to another nest, by whom she was
at once attacked. I tried to separate them,
but whether by her enemy, or perhaps by my
well-meant but clumsy kindness, she was
evidently much hurt and lay helplessly on her
side. Several other Ants passed her without
taking any notice, but soon one came up,
examined her carefully with her antenne, and
carried her off tenderly to the nest. No one,
I think, who saw it could have denied to that
Ant one attribute of humanity, the quality of
kindness.

The existence of such communities as those
of Ants or Bees implies, no doubt, some power
of communication, but the amount is still a
matter of doubt. It is well known that if one
Bee or Ant discovers a store of food, others
soon find their way to it. This, however,
does not prove much. It makes all the
difference whether they are brought or sent.
If they merely accompany on her return a
companion who has brought a store of food,

—*

Se —

ee =e

II ON ANIMAL LIFE 65

it does not imply much. To test this, there-
fore, I made several experiments. [or in-
stance, one cold day my Ants were almost all
in their nests. One only was out hunting
and about six feet from home. I took a dead
bluebottle fly, pmned it on to a piece of cork,
and put it down just in front of her. She at
once tried to carry off the fly, but to her sur-
prise found it immovable. She tugged and
tugged, first one way and then another for
about twenty minutes, and then went straight
off to the nest. During that time not a single
Ant had come out; in fact she was the only
Ant of that nest out at the time. She went
straight in, but in a few seconds — less than
half a minute, — came out again with no less
than twelve friends, who trooped off with her,
and eventually tore up the dead fly, carrying
it off in triumph. |
Now the first Ant took nothing home with
her; she must therefore somehow have made
her friends understand that she had found
some food, and wanted them to come and help
her to secure it. In all such cases, however,

so far as my experience goes, the Ants brought
F

66 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

their friends, and some of my experiments
indicated that they are unable to send them.
Certain species of Ants, again, make slaves
of others, as Huber first observed. If a col-
ony of the slave-making Ants is changing the
nest, a matter which is left to the discretion of
the slaves, the latter carry their mistresses to
their new home. Again, if I uncovered one
of my nests of the Fuscous Ant (Formica
fusca), they all began running about in search
of some place of refuge. If now I covered over
one small part of the nest, after a while some
Ant discovered it. In sucha case, however, the.
brave little insect never remained there, she
came out in search of her friends, and the
first one she met she took up in her jaws,
threw over her shoulder (their way of carry-
ing friends), and took into the covered part ;
then both came out again, found two more
friends and brought them in, the same ma-
noeuvre being repeated until the whole commu-
nity was in a place of safety. This I think
says much for their public spirit, but seems to
prove that, in F. fusca at least, the powers of
communication are but limited.

Il ON ANIMAL LIFE 67

One kind of slave-making Ant has_be-
come so completely dependent on their slaves,
that even if provided with food they will die
of hunger, unless there is a slave to put it
into their mouth. I found, however, that
they would thrive very well if supplied with
a slave for an hour or so once a week to clean
and feed them.

But in many cases the community does not
consist of Ants only. They have domestic
animals, and indeed it is not going too far to
say that they have domesticated more animals
than we have. Of these the most important
are Aphides. Some species keep Aphides on
trees and bushes, others collect root-feeding
Aphides into their nests. They serve as cows
to the Ants, which feed on the honey-dew
secreted by the Aphides. Not only, more-
over, do the Ants protect the Aphides them-
selves, but collect their eggs in autumn,
and tend them carefully through the winter,
ready for the next spring. Many other insects
are also domesticated by Ants, and some of
them, from living constantly underground,

68 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

have completely lost their eyes and become
quite blind.

But I must not let myself be carried away
by this fascinating subject, which I have

treated more at length in another work.’ I .

will only say that though their intelligence
is no doubt limited, still I do not think that
any one who has studied the life-history of
Ants can draw any fundamental line of sep-
aration between instinct and reason.

When we see a community of Ants work-
“ing together in perfect harmony, it is impos-
sible not to ask ourselves how far they are
mere exquisite automatons ; how far they are
conscious beings? When we watch an
ant-hill tenanted by thousands of industrious
inhabitants, excavatmg chambers, forming
tunnels, making roads, guarding their home,
gathering food, feeding the young, tending
their domestic animals — each one fulfilling
its duties industriously, and without con-
fusion, —it is difficult altogether to deny
to them the gift of reason; and all our

1 Ants, Bees, and Wasps.

a Cit) bale

II ON ANIMAL LIFE 69

recent observations tend to confirm the
opinion that their mental powers differ
from those of men, not so much in kind
as in degree.

CHAPTER IIT

ON ANIMAL LIFE — continued

An organic being is a microcosm —a little universe,
formed of a host of self-propagating organisms, inconceiv-
ably minute and numerous as the stars of heaven.

Darwin.

CHAPTER III

ON ANIMAL LIFE — continued.

We constantly speak of animals asfree. A
fish, says Ruskin, “is much freer than a Man;
and as to a fly, it is a black incarnation of
freedom.” It is pleasant to think of anything
as free, but in this case the idea is, I fear, to
a great extent erroneous. Young animals may
frolic and play, but older ones take life very
seriously. About the habits of fish and flies,
indeed, as yet we know very little. Any one,
however, who will watch animals will soon
satisfy himself how diligently they work.
Even when they seem to be idling over flowers,
or wandering aimlessly about, they are in truth
diligently seeking for food, or collecting
materials for nests. The industry of Bees is
proverbial. When collecting honey or pollen

74 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

they often visit over twenty flowers in a
minute, keeping constantly to one species,
without yielding a moment’s dalliance to any
more sweet or lovely tempter. Ants fully
deserve the commendation of Solomon.
Wasps have not the same reputation for in-
dustry ; but I have watched them from before
four in the morning till dark at night work-
ing like animated machines without a mo-
ment’s rest or intermission. Sundays and
Bank Holidays are all the same to them.
Again, Birds have their own gardens and
farms from which they do not wander, and
within which they will tolerate no interfer-
ence. Their ideas of the rights of property
are far stricter than those of some statesmen.
As to freedom, they have their daily duties as
much as a mechanic in a mill or a clerk in an
office. They suffer under alarms, moreover,
from which we are happily free. Mr. Galton
believes that the life of wild animals is very
anxious. “From my own recollection,’ he
says, “I believe that every antelope in South
Africa has to run for its life every one or two
days upon an average, and that he starts or

ee ae

————— a a

II ON ANIMAL LIFE 75

gallops under the influence of a false alarm
many times in a day. ‘Those who have
crouched at night by the side of pools in the
desert, in order to have a shot at the beasts
that frequent it, see strange scenes of animal
life; how the creatures gambol at one moment
and fight at another; how a herd suddenly
halts in strained attention, and then breaks
into a maddened rush as one of them becomes
conscious of the stealthy movements or rank
scent of a beast of prey. Now this hourly life-
and-death excitement is a keen delight to
most wild creatures, but must be peculiarly
distracting to the comfort-loving temperament
of others. The latter are alone suited to
endure the crass habits and dull routine of
domesticated life. Suppose that an animal
which has been captured and _half-tamed,
received ill-usage from his captors, either as
punishment or through mere brutality, and
that he rushed indignantly into the forest
with his ribs aching from blows and stones.
If a comfort-loving animal, he will probably
be no gainer by the change, more serious
alarms and no less ill-usage awaits him: he

76 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

hears the roar of the wild beasts, and the
headlong gallop of the frightened herds, and
he finds the buttings and the kicks of other
~ animals harder to endure than the blows from
which he fled: he has peculiar disadvantages
from being a stranger; the herds of his own
species which he seeks for companionship con-
stitute so many cliques, into which he can
only find admission by more fighting with
their strongest members than he has spirit to
undergo. As a set-off against these miseries,
the freedom of savage life has no charms for
his temperament; so the end of it is, that
with a heavy heart he turns back to the
habitation he had quitted.”

But though animals may not be free, I
hope and believe that they are happy. Dr.
Hudson, an admirable observer, assures us
with confidence that the struggle for exist-
ence leaves them much leisure and famous
spirits. “In the animal world,” he exclaims,’
‘“‘what happiness reigns! What ease, grace,
beauty, leisure, and content! Watch these
living specks as they glide through their

1 Address to Microscopical Society, 1890,

nr ON ANIMAL LIFE 77

forests of algee, all ‘without hurry and care,’
as if their ‘span-long lives’ really could
endure for the thousand years that the old
catch pines for. Here is no greedy jostling
at the banquet that nature has spread for
them; no dread of each other ; but a leisurely
inspection of the field, that shows neither the
pressure of hunger nor the dread of an
enemy.

“ <'T'o labour and to be content ’ (that ‘ sweet
life’ of the son of Sirach)— to be equally ready
for an enemy or a friend — to trust in them-
selves alone, to show a brave unconcern for the
morrow, all these are the admirable points of
a character almost universal among animals,
and one that would lighten many a heart
were it more common among men. That
character is the direct result of the golden
law ‘If one will not work, neither let him
eat’ ; a law whose stern kindness, unflinch-
ingly applied, has produced whole nations of
living creatures, without a pauper in their
ranks, flushed with health, alert, resolute,
self-reliant, and singularly happy.”

It has often been said that Man is the only

78 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

animal gifted with the power of enjoying a
joke, but if animals do not laugh, at any
rate they sometimes play. We are, indeed,
apt perhaps to credit them with too much
of our own attributes and emotions, but we
can hardly be mistaken in supposing that
they enjoy certain scents and sounds. It is
difficult to separate the games of kittens
and lambs from those of children. Our
countryman Gould long ago described the
“amusements or sportive exercises’ which
he had observed among Ants. Forel was at
first incredulous, but finally confirmed these
statements; and, speaking of certain tropical
Ants, Bates says “the conclusion that they
were engaged in play was irresistible.”

SLEEP

We share with other animals the great
blessing of Sleep, nature’s soft nurse, “ the
mantle that covers thought, the food that
appeases hunger, the drink that quenches
thirst, the fire that warms cold, the cold that

IIT ON ANIMAL LIFE 79

moderates heat, the coin that purchases all
things, the balance and weight that equals the
shepherd with the king, and the simple with
the wise.’ Some animals dream as we do;
Dogs, for instance, evidently dream of | the
chase. With the lower animals which cannot
shut their eyes it is, however, more difficult
to make sure whether they are awake or
asleep. I have often noticed insects at night,
even when it was warm and light, behave
just as if they were asleep, and take no notice
of objects which would certainly have startled
them in the day. The same thing has also
been observed in the case of fish.

But why should we sleep? What a remark-
able thing it is that one-third of our life should
be passed in unconsciousness. “Half of our
days,” says Sir T. Browne, “we pass in the
shadow of the earth, and the brother of death
extracteth a third part of our lives.” The
obvious suggestion is that we require rest.
But this does not fully meet the case. In
sleep the mind is still awake, and lives a life
of its own: our thoughts wander, uncon-
trolled, by the will. The mind, therefore, 1s

80 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

not necessarily itself at rest; and yet we all
know how it is refreshed by sleep.

But though animals sleep, many of them
are nocturnal in their habits. Humboldt gives
a vivid description of night in a Brazilian
forest.

“Everything passed tranquilly till eleven
at night, and then a noise so terrible arose in
the neighbouring forest that it was almost
impossible to close our eyes. Amid the cries
of so many wild beasts howling at once the
Indians discriminated such only as were (at
intervals) heard separately. These were the
little soft cries of the sapajous, the moans of
the alouate apes, the howlings of the jaguar
and couguar, the peccary and the sloth, and
the cries of (many) birds. When the jaguars
approached the skirt of the forest our dog,
which till then had never ceased barking,
began to how] and seek for shelter beneath our
hammocks. Sometimes, after a long silence,
the cry of the tiger came from the tops of the
trees; and then it was followed by the sharp
and long whistling of the monkeys, which
appeared to flee from the danger which

III ON ANIMAL LIFE 81

threatened them. We heard the same noises
repeated durmg the course of whole months
whenever the forest approached the bed of the
river.

“ When the natives are interrogated on the
causes of the tremendous noise made by
the beasts of the forest at certain hours of
the night, the answer is, they are keeping the
feast of the full moon. I believe this agita-
tion is most frequently the effect of some con-
flict that has arisen in the depths of the
forest. The jaguars, for instance, pursue the
peccaries and the tapirs, which, having no
defence, flee in close troops, and break down
the bushes they find in their way. Terrified
at this struggle, the timid and distrustful
monkeys answer, from the tops of the trees,
the cries of the large animals. They awaken
the birds that live in society, and by degrees
the whole assembly is in commotion. It is
not always in a fine moonlight, but more par-
ticularly at the time of a storm of violent
showers, that this tumult takes place among
the wild beasts. ‘May heaven grant them a

quiet night and repose, and us also!’ said the
G

82 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

monk who accompanied us to the Rio Negro,
when, sinking with fatigue, he assisted in
arranging our accommodation for the night.”

Life is indeed among animals a struggle for
existence, and in addition to the more usual
weapons — teeth and claws — we find in some
animals special and peculiar means of offence
and defence.

If we had not been so familiarised with the
fact, the possession of poison might well seem
a wonderful gift. That a fluid, harmless in
one animal itself, should yet prove so deadly
when transferred to others, is certainly very
remarkable; and though the venom of the
Cobra or the Rattlesnake appeal perhaps more
effectively to our imagination, we have con-
clusive evidence of concentrated poison even
in the bite of a midge, which may remain for
days perceptible. The sting of a Bee or Wasp,
though somewhat similar in its effect, is a
totally different organ, being a modified ovi-
positor. Some species of Ants do not sting
in the ordinary sense, but eject their acrid
poison to a distance of several inches.

Another very remarkable weapon is the

— ve

ut ON ANIMAL LIFE 83

electric battery of certain Hels, of the Electric
Cat Fish, and the Torpedoes, one of which is
said to. be able to discharge an amount of
electricity sufficient to kill a Man.

Some of the Meduse and other Zoophytes
are armed by millions of minute organs
known as “thread cells.” Hach consists of a
cell, within which a firm, elastic thread is
tightly coiled. The moment the Medusa
touches its prey the cells burst and the
threads spring out. Entermg the flesh as
they do by myriads, they prove very ettfective
weapons.

The ink of the Sepia has passed into a proverb.
The animal possesses a store of dark fluid,
which, if attacked, it at once ejects, and thus
escapes under cover of the cloud thus created.

The so-called Bombardier Beetles, when at-
tacked, discharge at the enemy, from the
hinder part of their body, an acrid fluid which,
as soon as it comes in contact with air, ex-
plodes with a sound resembling a miniature
gun. Westwood mentions, on the authority
of Burchell, that on one occasion, “ whilst
resting for the night on the banks of one of

84 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

the large South American rivers, he went out
with a lantern to make an astronomical obser-
vation, accompanied by one of his black ser-
vant boys; and as they were proceeding,
their attention was directed to numerous
beetles running about upon the shore, which,
when captured, proved to be specimens of a
large species of Brachinus. On being seized
they immediately began to play off their artil-
lery, burning and staining the flesh to such a
degree that only a few specimens could be
captured with the naked hand, and leaving a
mark which remained a considerable time.
Upon observing the whitish vapour with
which the explosions were accompanied, the
negro exclaimed in his broken English, with evi-

dent surprise, ‘Ah, massa, they make smoke!’ ”’

Many other remarkable illustrations might
be quoted; as for instance the web of the
Spider, the pit of the Ant Lion, the mephitic
odour of the Skunk.

SENSES

We generally attribute to animals five
senses more or less resembling our own. But

III ON ANIMAL LIFE 85

even as regards our own senses we really
know or understand very little. Take the
question of colour. The rainbow is commonly
said to consist of seven colours — red, orange,
yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.

But it is now known that all our colour
sensations are mixtures of three simple col-
ours, red, green, and violet. We are, how-
ever, absolutely ignorant how we perceive
these colours. Thomas Young suggested
that we have three different systems of nerve
fibres, and Helmholtz regards this as “a not
improbable supposition”’; but so far as mi-
croscopical examination is concerned, there is
no evidence whatever for it.

Or take again the sense of Hearing. The
vibrations of the air no doubt play upon the
drum of the ear, and the waves thus produced -
are conducted through a complex chain of
small bones to the fenestra ovalis and so to
the inner ear or labyrinth. But beyond this
all is uncertainty. The labyrinth consists
mainly of two parts (1) the cochlea, and (2)
the semicircular canals, which are three in
number, standing at right angles to one

86 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

another. It has been supposed that they
enable us to maintain the equilibrium of the
body, but no satisfactory explanation of: their
function has yet been given. In the cochlea,
Corti discovered a remarkable organ consist-
ing of some four thousand complex arches,
which increase regularly in length and dimin-
ish in height. They are connected at one end
with the fibres of the auditory nerve, and
Helmholtz has suggested that the waves of
sound play on them, like the fingers of a per-
former on the keys of a piano, each separate
arch corresponding to a different sound. We
thus obtain a glimpse, though but a glimpse,
of the manner in which perhaps we hear; but
when we pass on to the senses of smell and
taste, all we know is that the extreme nerve
fibres terminate in certain cells which differ
in form from those of the general surface ;
but in what manner the innumerable differ-
ences of taste or smell are communicated to
the brain, we are absolutely ignorant.

If then we know so little about ourselves,
no wonder that with reference to other ani-
mals our ignorance is extreme.

III ON ANIMAL LIFE 87

We are too apt to suppose that the senses
of animals must closely resemble, and be con-
fined to ours.

No one can doubt that the sensations of
other animals differ in many ways from ours.
Their organs are sometimes constructed on
different principles, and situated in very un-
expected places. There are animals which
have eyes on their backs, ears in their legs,
and sing through their sides.

We all know that the senses of animals are
in many cases much more acute than ours, as
for instance the power of scent in the dog, of
sight in the eagle. Moreover, our eye is
much more sensitive to some colours than to
others ; least so to crimson, then successively
to red, orange, yellow, blue, and green; the
sensitiveness for green being as much as 750
times as great as for red. This alone may
make objects appear of very different colours
to different animals.

Nor is the difference one of degree merely.
The rainbow, as we see it, consists of seven
colours — red, orange, yellow, green, blue,
indigo, and violet. But though the red and

88 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

violet are the limits of the visible spectrum,
they are not the limits of the spectrum itself,
there are rays, though invisible to us, beyond
the red at the one end, and beyond the violet
at the other: the existence of the ultra red
can be demonstrated by the thermometer ;
while the ultra violet are capable of taking
a photograph. But though the red and violet
are respectively the limits of our vision, I
have shown’ by experiments which have been
repeated and confirmed by other naturalists,
that some of the lower animals are capable
of perceiving the ultra-violet rays, which to
us are invisible. It is an interesting question
whether these rays may not produce on them
the impression of a new colour, or colours,
differing from any of those known to us.

So again with hearing, not only may

animals in some cases hear better than we

do, but sounds which are beyond the reach
of our ears, may be audible to theirs. Even
among ourselves the power of hearing shrill
sounds is greater in some persons than in
others. Sound, as we know, is produced by

1 Ants, Bees, and Wasps, and The Senses of Animals.

- Ee

I ON ANIMAL LIFE 89

vibration of the air striking on the drum of
_the ear, and the fewer are the vibrations in
a second, the deeper is the sound, which
becomes shriller and shriller as the waves of
sound become more rapid. In human ears
the limits of hearing are reached when about
35,000 vibrations strike the drum of the ear
in a second.

Whatever the explanation of the gift of
hearing in ourselves may be, different plans
seem to be adopted in the case of other
animals. In many Crustacea and _ Insects
there are flattened hairs each connected with
a nerve fibre, and so constituted as to vibrate
in response to particular notes. In others
the ear cavity contains certain minute solid
bodies, known as otoliths, which in the same
way play upon the nerve fibres. Sometimes
these are secreted by the walls of the cavity
itself, but certain Crustacea have acquired the
remarkable habit of selecting after each
moult suitable particles of sand, which they
pick up with their pincers and insert into
their ears. .

Many insects, besides the two large

90) THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE | cnHap.

“compound” eyes one on each side of the
head, have between them three small ones,
known as the “ ocelli,” arranged in a triangle.
The structure of these two sets of eyes is
quite different. The ocelli appear to see as our
eyes do. The lens throws an inverted image
on the back of the eye, so that with these
eyes they must see everything reversed, as we
ourselves really do, though long practice
enables us to correct the impression. On the
other hand, the compound eyes consist of a
number of facets, in some species as many as
20,000 in each eye, and the prevailing
impression among entomologists now is that
each facet receives the impression of one
pencil of rays, that im fact the image
formed in a compound eye is a sort of
mosaic. In that case, vision by means of
these eyes must be direct; and it is indeed
difficult to wnderstand how an insect can
obtain a correct impression when it looks at
the world with five eyes, three of which see
everything reversed, while the other two see
things the right way up! |

On the other hand, some regard each

IT ON ANIMAL LIFE 91

facet as an independent eye, in which case
many insects realise the epigram of Plato —

Thou lookest on the stars, my love,
Ah, would that I could be

Yon starry skies with thousand eyes,
That I might look on thee!

Even so, therefore, we only substitute one
difficulty for another.

But this is not all. We have not only no
proof that animals are confined to our five
senses, but there are strong reasons for believ-
ing that this is not the case.

In the first place, many animals have
organs which from their position, structure,
and rich supply of nerves, are evidently
organs of sense; and yet which do not
appear to be adapted to any one of our five
senses.

As already mentioned, the limits of hearing
are reached when about 35,000 vibrations
of the air strike on the drums of our ears.
Light, as was first conclusively demonstrated
by our great countryman Young, is the 1m-
pression produced by vibration of the ether

92 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

on the retina of the eye. When 700 millions
of millions of vibrations strike the eye na
second, we see violet; and the colour changes
as the number diminishes, 400 millions of
millions giving us the impression of red.
Between 35 thousand and 400 millions of
millions the interval is immense, and it is

obvious that there might be any number of’

sensations. When we consider how greatly
animals differ from us, alike in habits and
structure, is it not possible, nay, more, is it
not likely that some of these problematical
organs are the seats of senses unknown to us,
and give rise to sensations of which we have
no conception ?

In addition to the capacity for receiving

and perceiving, some animals have the faculty

of emitting light. In our country the glow-
worm is the most familiar case, though some
other insects and worms have, at any rate
under certain conditions, the same power, and
it is possible that many others are really lumi-

nous, though with light which is invisible to

us. In warmer climates the Fire-fly, Lan-
thorn-fly, and many other ‘insects, shine with

III ON ANIMAL LIFE 93

much greater brilliance, and in these cases the
glow seems to be a real love-light, like the
lamp of Hero.

Many small marine animals, Medusa,
Crustacea, Worms, ete., are also brilliantly
luminous .at night. Deep-sea animals are
endowed also in many cases with special
luminous organs, to which I shall refer
again,

SENSE OF DIRECTION

It has been supposed that animals possess
also what has been called a Sense of Direc-
tion. Many interesting cases are on record of
animals finding their way home after being
taken a considerable distance. To account
for this fact it has been suggested that
animals possess a sense with which we are
not endowed, or of which, at any rate, we
possess only a trace. The homing instinct of
the pigeon has also been ascribed to the same
faculty. My brother. Alfred, however, who
has paid much attention to pigeons, informs
me that they are never taken any great dis-

94 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE cHaP.

tance at once; but if they are intended to
take a long flight, they are trained to do so
by stages.

Darwin suggested that it would be inter-
esting to test the case by taking animals in
a close box, and then whirlmg them round
rapidly before letting them out. This is in
fact done with cats in some parts of France,
when the family migrates, and is considered
the only way of preventing the cat from re-
turning to the old home. Fabre has tried
the same thing with some wild Bees (Chali-
codoma). He took some, marked them on
the back with a spot of white, and put them
into a bag. He then carried them a quarter
of a mile, stopping at a point where an old
cross stands by the wayside, and whirled the
bag rapidly round his head. While he was
doing so a good woman came by, who seemed
not a little surprised to find the Professor sol-
emnly whirling a black bag round his head
in front of the cross; and, he fears, suspected
him of Satanic practices. He then carried
his Bees a mile and a half in the opposite
direction and let them go. Three out of

ee |

ee re a)

roe

Er SRY ON ae Fy ed PLR IE

Km iy

mm | ON ANIMAL LIFE 95

ten found their way home. He tried the

game experiment several times, in one case

taking them a little over two miles. On
an average about a third of the Bees found
their way home. “La démonstration,” says
Fabre, “est suffisante. Ni les mouvements
enchevétrés d’une rotation comme je I’ai dé-
crite ; ni obstacle de collines 4 franchir et de
bois 4 traverser ; ni les embifiches d’une voie
qui s’avance, rétrograde, et revient par un
ample circuit, ne peuvent troubler les Chalico-
domes dépaysés et les empécher de revenir
au nid.”

I must say, however, that I am _ not
convinced. In the first place, the distances

-were I think too short; and in the second,

though it is true that some of the Bees found
their way home, nearly two-thirds failed to
do so. It would be interesting to try the
experiment again, taking the Bees say five
miles. If they really possess any such sense,
that distance would be no bar to their return.
I have myself experimented with Ants, taking
them about fifty yards from the nest, and I
always found that they wandered aimlessly

96 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

about, having evidently not the slightest idea
of their way home. They certainly did not
appear to possess any “‘ sense of direction.”

NUMBER OF SPECIES

The total number of species may probably
be safely estimated as at least 2,000,000, of
which but a fraction have yet been described
or named. Of extinct species the number
was probably at least as great. In the
geological history of the earth there have
been at least twelve periods, in each of which
by far the greatest number were distinct. The
Ancient Poets described certain gifted mortals
as having been privileged to descend into the
interior of the earth, and exercised their
imagination in recounting the wonders thus
revealed. As in other cases, however, the
realities of Science have proved far more
varied and surprising than the dreams of
fiction. Of these extinct species our knowl-
edge is even more incomplete than that of
the existing species. But even of our contem-

It ON ANIMAL LIFE 97

poraries it is not too much to say that, as in
the case of plants, there is not one the structure,
habits, and life-history of which are yet fully
known to us. The male of the Cynips, which
produces the common King Charles Oak
Apple, has only recently been discovered,
those of the root-feeding Aphides, which live
in hundreds in every nest of the yellow
Meadow Ant (Lasius flavus) are still un-
known; the habits and mode of reproduction
of the common Eel have only just been dis-
covered ; and we may even say generally that
many of the most interesting recent discover-
ies have relation to the commonest and most
familiar animals.

IMPORTANCE OF THE SMALLER ANIMALS

Whatever pre-eminence Man may claim for
himself, other animals have done far more to
affect the face of nature. The principal
agents have not been the larger or more in-
telligent, but rather the. smaller, and individ-
ually less important, species. Beavers may

have dammed up many of the rivers of Brit-
H

98 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

ish Columbia, and turned them into a suc-
cession of pools or marshes, but this is a
slight matter compared with the action of
earthworms and insects’ in the creation of
vegetable soil; of the accumulation of ant-
malcules in filling up harbours and lakes;
or of Zoophytes in the construction of coral
islands.

Microscopic animals make up in number
what they lack in size. Paris is built of
Infusoria. The Peninsula of Florida, 78,000
square miles in extent, is entirely composed of
coral débris and fragments of shells. Chalk

consists mainly of Foraminifera and fragments -

of shells deposited in a deep sea. The num-
ber of shells required to make up a cubic inch
is almost incredible. Ehrenberg has estimated
that of the Bilin polishing slate which caps
the mountain, and has a thickness of forty
feet, a cubic inch contains many hundred
million shells of Infusoria.

In another respect these microscopic organ-

1 Prof. Drummond (Tropical Africa) dwells with great force
on the manner in which the soil of Central Africa is worked up
by the White Ants.

a
ieee, i

ie Te ee ee ee

REE SALES HP

ur ON ANIMAL LIFE ~ 99

isms are of vital importance. Many diseases

are now known, and others suspected, to be

entirely due to Bacteria and other minute
forms of life (Microbes), which multiply in- -
credibly, and either destroy their victims, or
after a while diminish again in numbers. We
live indeed in a cloud of Bacteria. At the
observatory of Montsouris at Paris it has
been calculated that there are about 80 in
each cubic meter of air. Elsewhere, however,
they are much more numerous. Pasteur’s re-
searches on the Silkworm disease led him to
the discovery of Bacterium anthracis, the
cause of splenic fever. Microbes are present
in persons suffering from cholera, typhus,
whooping-cough, measles, hydrophobia, etc.,
but as to their history and connection with
disease we have yet much to learn. It is

fortunate, indeed, that they do not all at-

tack us.

In surgical cases, again, the danger of com-
pound fractures and mortification of wounds
has been found to be mainly due to the pres-
ence of microscopic organisms; and Lister, by
his antiseptic treatment which destroys these

100 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

germs or prevents their access, has greatly
diminished the danger of operations, and the
sufferings of recovery.

SIZE OF ANIMALS

In the size of animals we find every grada-
tion from these atoms which even in the most
powerful microscopes appear as mere points,
up to the gigantic reptiles of past ages and
the Whales of our present ocean. The horned
Ray or Skate is 25 feet in length, by 30 in
width. The Cuttle-fishes of our seas, though
so hideous as to resemble a bad dream, are too
small to be formidable ; but off the Newfound-
land coast is a species with arms sometimes
30 feet long, so as to be 60 feet from tip to
tip. The body, however, is small in propor-
tion. The Giraffe attains a height of over
20 feet; the Elephant, though not so tall, is
more bulky; the Crocodile reaches a length
of over 20 feet, the Python of 60 feet, the
extinct Titanosaurus of the American Jurassic
beds, the largest land animal yet known to us,
100 feet in length and 30 in height; the

ales ON ANIMAL LIFE 101

Whalebone- Whale over 70 feet, Sibbald’s

Whale is said to have reached 80-90, which

is perhaps the limit. Captain Scoresby in-
deed mentions a Rorqual no less than 120
feet in length, but this is probably too great
an estimate.

COMPLEXITY OF ANIMAL STRUCTURE

The complexity of animal structure is even
more marvellous than their mere magnitude.
A Caterpillar contains more than 2000 mus-
cles. In our own body are some 2,000,000
perspiration glands, communicating with the
surface by ducts having a total length of some
10 miles; while that of the arteries, veins,
and capillaries must be very great; the blood
contains millions of millions of corpuscles,
each no doubt a complex structure in itself;
the rods in the retina, which are supposed to
be the ultimate recipient of light, are esti-
mated at 30,000,000; and Meinert has calcu-
lated that the gray matter of the brain is
built up of at least 600,000,000 cells. No

102 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

verbal description, however, can do justice to
the marvellous complexity of animal structure,
which the microscope alone, and even that but
faintly, can enable us to realise.

LENGTH OF LIFE

How little we yet know of the life-history
of Animals is illustrated by the vagueness of
our information as to the age to which they
live. Professor Lankester’* tells us that “ the
paucity and uncertainty of observations on
this class of facts is extreme.” The Rabbit is
said to reach 10 years, the Dog and Sheep 10
—12, the Pig 20, the Horse 30, the Camel 100,
the Elephant 200, the Greenland Whale 400
(?): among Birds, the Parrot to attain 100
years, the Raven even more. The Atur Par-
rot mentioned by Humboldt, talked, but could
not be understood, because it spoke in the
language of an extinct Indian tribe. It is
supposed from their rate of growth that among

1 Lankester, Comparative Longevity. See also Weismann,
Duration of Life.

a —— _ —
_— eo) ae oe eT oe

aitees

APT oy eh ge wtp

II ON ANIMAL LIFE 103

Fish the Carp is said to reach 150 years; and
a Pike, 19 feet long, and weighing 350 Ibs.,
is said to have been taken in Suabia in 1497
carrying a ring, on which was inscribed, “ I
am the fish which was first of all put ito the
lake by the hands of the Governor of the Uni-
verse, Frederick the Second, the 5th Oct.
1230.” This would imply an age of over 267
years. Many Reptiles are no doubt very long-
lived. A Tortoise is said to have reached 500
years. As regards the lower animals, the
greatest age on record is that of Sir J.
Dalzell’s Sea Anemone, which lived for over
50 years. Insects are generally short-lived ;
the Queen Bee, however, is said by Aristotle,
whose statement has not been confirmed by
recent writers, to live 7 years. I myself
had a Queen Ant which attained the age of
15 years.

The May Fly (Ephemera) is celebrated as

living only for a day, and has given its name
to all things short-lived. The statement
usually made is, indeed, very misleading, for
in its larval condition the Ephemera lives for
weeks. Many writers have expressed surprise

104. THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE cmap.

that in the perfect state its life should be so
short. It is, however, so defenceless, and,
moreover, so much appreciated by birds and
fish, that unless they laid their eggs very
rapidly none would perhaps survive to con-
tinue the species.

Many of these estimates are, as will be
seen, very vague and doubtful, so that we
must still admit with Bacon that, “ touching
the length and shortness of life in living
creatures, the information which may be had
is but slender, observation is negligent, and
tradition fabulous. In tame creatures their
degenerate life corrupteth them, in wild creat-
ures their exposing to all weathers often in-
tercepteth them.”

ON INDIVIDUALITY

When we descend still lower in the animal
scale, the consideration of this question opens
out a very curious and interesting subject
connected with animal individuality. As
regards the animals with which we are most

{11 ON ANIMAL LIFE 105

familiar no such question intrudes. Among
_ quadrupeds and birds, fishes and reptiles,
there is no difficulty m deciding whether a
given organism is an individual, or a part of
an individual. Nor does the difficulty arise
in the case of most insects. The Bee or But-
terfly lays an egg which develops successively
into a larva and pupa, finally producing Bee
or Butterfly. Im these cases, therefore, the
ego, larva, pupa, and perfect Insect, are re-
garded as stages in the life of a single indi-
vidual. In certain gnats, however, the larva
itself produces young larvee, each of which
develops into a gnat, so that the egg produces
not one gnat but many gnats.

The difficulty of determining what consti-
tutes an individual becomes still greater among
the Zoophytes. These beautiful creatures in
many cases so closely resemble plants, that
until our countryman Ellis proved them to be
animals, Crabbe was justified in saying —

Involved in seawrack here we find a race,

Which Science, doubting, Knows not where to place ;
On shell or stone is dropped the embryo seed,

And quickly vegetates a vital breed.

106 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

We cannot wonder that such organisms were
long regarded as belonging to the vegetable
kingdom. The cups which terminate the
branches contain, however, an animal struct-
ure, resembling a small Sea Anemone, and
possessing arms which capture the food by
which the whole colony is nourished. Some
of these cups, moreover, differ from the rest,
and produce eggs. These then we might
be disposed to term ovaries. But in many
species they detach themselves from the group
and lead an independent existence. Thus we
find a complete gradation from structures
which, regarded by themselves, we should un-
questionably regard as mere organs, to others
which are certainly separate and independent
beings.

Fig. 2 represents, after Allman, a colony of
Bougainvillea fruticosa of the natural size.
It is a British species, which is found growing
on buoys, floating timber, etc., and, says
Allman, “ When in health and vigour, offers
a spectacle unsurpassed in interest by any
other species — every branchlet crowned by
its graceful hydranth, and budding with Me-

a a

ee ~

ul ON ANIMAL LIFE~ 107

duse in all stages of development (Fig. 3), some

still in the condition of minute buds, in which
no trace of the definite Medusa-form can yet

Fig. 2. — Bougainvillea fruticosa; natural size. (After Allman.)

be detected ; others, in which the outlines of
the Medusa can be distinctly traced within
the transparent ectotheque (external layer) ;
others, again, just casting off this thin outer
pellicle, and others completely freed from it,

struggling with convulsive efforts to break

loose from the colony, and finally launched

108 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

forth in the full enjoyment of their freedom
into the surrounding water. I know of no.

. fr
f \ WAI
Jo NX
CESS
S-*

J eb \ i

by WA x \ 4
WA4 o fy
Si) /3/ LIVE yy Z
i \\ yy -
/ Z ans
Ii y } 7)
A if > iv M/A Mad
~ i # hy Ze BD
i fs Zs =
i Y ZZ eee
. *) Y ——_————S
Hy Wit KEZz, S
¥
1? 5

Fig. 3.— Bougainvillea fruticosa; magnified to show development.

form in which so many of the characteristic
features of a typical hydroid are more finely
expressed than in this beautiful species.”

rt ON ANIMAL LIFE 109

Fig. 4 represents the Medusa or free form
of this beautiful species.

If we pass to another
great group of Zoophytes,
that of the Jelly-fishes,
we have a very similar
case. For our first knowl-
edge of the life-history
of these Zoophytes we
are indebted to the Nor-
wegian naturalist Sars.
Take, for instance, the
common Jelly-fish (Me-
dusa aurita) (Fig. 5) of Fig. 4.— Bougainvillea
— oF ea ) ( 8 ) fruticosa, Medusa-form.

The egg is a pear-shaped body (7), covered
with fine hairs, by the aid of which it swims
about, the broader end in front. After a
while it attaches itself, not as might have
been expected by the posterior but by the
anterior extremity (2). The cilia then dis-
appear, a mouth is formed at the free end,
tentacles, first four (7), then eight, and at
length as many as thirty (¢), are formed, and
the little creature resembles in essentials the
freshwater polyp (Hydra) of our ponds.

“110 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

At the same time transverse wrinkles (¢)
are formed round the body, first near the
free extremity and then gradually descend-
ing. They become deeper and deeper, and
develop lobes or divisions one under the other,

Veer
ee

(

Fig. 5. — Medusa aurita, and progressive stages of development.

as at 5. After a while the top ring (and
subsequently the others one by one) detaches
itself, swims away, and gradually develops
into a Medusa (6). Thus, then, the life-his-
tory is very similar to that of the Hydroids,
only that while in the Hydroids the fixed
condition is the more permanent, and the free

1 ON ANIMAL LIFE 111

swimming more transitory, in the Medusz, on

the contrary, the fixed condition is apparently

only a phase in the production of the free
swimming animal. In both the one and the
other, however, the egg gives rise not to one
but to many mature animals. Steenstrup has
given to these curious phenomena, many other
cases of which occur among the lower animals,
and to which he first called attention, the
name of alternations of generations.

In the life-history of Infusoria (so called
because they swarm in most animal or vege-
table infusions) similar difficulties encounter _
us. The little creatures, many of which are
round or oval in form, from time to time
become constricted in the middle; the con-
striction becomes deeper and deeper, and at
length the two halves twist themselves apart
and swim away. In this case, therefore, there
was one, and there are now two exactly sim-
ilar; but are these two individuals? They
are not parent and offspring — that is clear,
for they are of the same age; nor are they
twins, for there is no parent. As already
mentioned, we regard the Caterpillar, Chrys-

112 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

alis, and Butterfly as stages in the life-history
of a single individual. But among Zoophytes,
and even among some insects, one larva often
produces several mature forms. In some
species these mature forms remain attached to
the larval stock, and we might be disposed to
regard the whole as one complex organism.
But in others they detach themselves and lead
an independent existence.

These considerations then introduce much

difficulty into our conception of the idea of an
Individual.

ANIMAL IMMORTALITY

But, further than this, we are confronted
by another problem. If we regard a mass of

coral as an individual because it arises by
continuous growth from a single egg, then it
follows that some corals must be thousands of
years old.

Some of the lower animals may be cut into
pieces, and each piece will develop into an

, ow
9

III ON ANIMAL LIFE 113

entire organism. In fact the realisation of

the idea of an individual gradually becomes

more and more difficult, and the continuity of
existence, even among the highest animals,
gradually forces itself upon us. I believe
that as we become more rational, as we real-
ise more fully the conditions of existence,
this consideration is likely to have important
moral results.

It is generally considered that death is the
common lot of all living beings. But is this
necessarily so? Infusoria and other unicellu-
lar animals multiply by division. That is to
say, if we watch one for a certain time, we
shall observe, as already mentioned, that a
constriction takes place, which grows gradu-
ally deeper and deeper, until at last the two
halves become quite detached, and each
swims away independently. The process is
repeated over and over again, and in this
manner the species is propagated. Here ob-
viously there is no birth and no death. Such
creatures may be killed, but they have no

natural term of life. They are, in fact, theo-
. |

114 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP. 111

retically immortal. Those which lived mil-
lions of years ago may have gone on dividing
and subdividing, and in this sense multitudes ©
_ of the lower animals are millions of years

old.

| a0) ae.
CHAPTER IV $55 pe
ON PLANT LIFE | ae

Flower in the crannied wall,

I pluck you out of the crannies,

I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,

Little flower — but if I could understand

What you are, root and all, and all in all,

I should know what God and man is.
TENNYSON.

~ CHAPTER IV

ON PLANT LIFE

We are told that in old days the Fairies
used to give presents of Flowers and Leaves to
those whom they wished to reward, or whom
they loved best ; and though these gifts were,
it appears, often received with disappoint-
ment, still it will probably be admitted that
flowers have contributed more to the happi-
ness of our lives than either gold or silver or
precious stones; and that our happiest days
have been spent out-of-doors in the woods and
fields, when we have

. . . found in every woodland way
The sunlight tint of Fairy Gold.t

To many minds Flowers acquired an ad-
ditional interest when it was shown that

1 Thomson.

117

118 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

there was a reason for their colour, size, and
form —in fact, for every detail of their organ-
isation. If we did but know all that the
smallest flower could tell us, we should have
solved some of the greatest mysteries of
Nature. But we cannot hope to succeed —
even if we had the genius of Plato or Aris-
totle — without careful, patient, and rever-
ent study. From such an inquiry we may
hope much ; already we have glimpses, enough
to convince us that the whole history will
open out to us conceptions of the Universe
wider and grander than any which the Imagi-
nation alone would ever have suggested.
Attempts to explain the forms, colours, and
other characteristics of animals and plants
are by no means new. Our Teutonic fore-
fathers had a pretty story which explained
certain points about several common plants.
Balder, the God of Mirth and Merriment, was,
characteristically enough, regarded as deficient
in the possession of immortality. The other
divinities, fearing to lose him, petitioned Thor
to make him immortal, and the prayer was
granted on condition that every animal and

cm
;

Iv ON PLANT LIFE 119

plant would swear not to injure him. To
secure this object, Nanna, Balder’s wife,
descended upon the earth. Loki, the God
of Envy, followed her, disguised as a crow
(which at that time were white), and settled
on a little blue flower, hoping to cover it up,
so that Nanna might overlook it. The flower,

however, cried out “forget-me-not, forget-me-
r= not;

and has ever since been known under
that name. Loki then flew up into an oak
and sat on a mistletoe. Here he was more
successful. Nanna carried off the oath of
the oak, but overlooked the mistletoe. She
thought, however, and the divinities thought,
that she had successfully accomplished her
mission, and that Balder had received the gift
of immortality.

One day, supposing Balder proof, they

amused themselves by shooting at him, post-
‘ing him against a Holly. Loki tipped an

arrow with a piece of Mistletoe, against which
Balder was not proof, and gave it to Balder’s
brother. This, unfortunately, pierced him to
the heart, and he fell dead. Some drops of
his blood spurted on to the Holly, which

120 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

accounts for the redness of the berries; the
Mistletoe was so grieved that she has ever
since borne fruit like tears; and the crow,
whose form Loki had taken, and which till
then had been white, was turned black.

This pretty myth accounts for several things,
but is open to fatal objections.

Recent attempts to explain the facts of -
Nature are not less fascinating, and, I think,
more successful.

Why then this marvellous variety? this
inexhaustible treasury of beautiful forms?
Does it result from some imnate tendency in
each species? Is it intentionally designed to
delight the eye of man? Or has the form
and size and texture some reference to the
structure and organisation, the habits and
requirements of the whole plant ?

I shall never forget hearing Darwin’s paper
on the structure of the Cowslip and Primrose,
after which even Sir Joseph Hooker compared
himself to Peter Bell, to whom

A primrose by a river’s brim
A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more.

IV ON PLANT LIFE 121

We all, I think, shared the same feeling, and
found that the explanation of the flower then
given, and to which I shall refer again, in-
vested it with fresh interest and even with
new beauty.

A regular flower, such, for instance, as a
Geranium or a Pink, consists of four or more
whorls of leaves, more or less modified: the
lowest whorl is the Calyx, and the separate
leaves of which it is composed, which however
are sometimes united into a tube, are called
sepals; (2) a second whorl, the corolla, con-
sisting of coloured leaves called petals, which,
however, like those of the Calyx, are often
united into a tube; (3) of one or more sta-
mens, consisting of a stalk or filament, and
a head or anther, in which the pollen is pro-
duced ; and (4) a pistil, which is situated in the
centre of the flower, and at the base of which
is the Ovary, containing one or more seeds.

Almost all large flowers are brightly col-
oured, many produce honey, and many are
sweet-scented.

What, then, is the use and purpose of this
complex organisation ?

122 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

It is, I think, well established that the
main object of the colour, scent, and honey of
flowers is to attract insects, which are of use
to the plant in carrying the pollen from flower
to flower. .

In many species the pollen is, and no doubt
it originally was in all, carried by the air.
In these cases the chance against any given
grain of pollen reaching the pistil of another
flower of the same species is of course very
great, and the quantity of pollen required is
therefore immense.

In species where the pollen is wind-borne
as in most of our trees — firs, oaks, beech,
ash, elm, etc., and many herbaceous plants,
the flowers are as a rule small and inconspic-
uous, greenish, and without either scent or
honey. Moreover, they generally flower early,
so that the pollen may not be intercepted by
the leaves, but may have a better chance of
reaching another flower. And they produce
an immense quantity of pollen, as otherwise
there would be little chance that any would
reach the female. flower. Every one must
have noticed the clouds of pollen produced by

IV ON PLANT LIFE 123

the Scotch Fir. When, on the contrary, the
pollen is carried by insects, the quantity nec-
essary is greatly reduced. Still it has been
calculated that. a Peony flower produces be-
tween 3,000,000 and 4,000,000 pollen grains ;
in the Dandelion, which is more specialised,
the number is reduced to about 250,000 ;
while in such a flower as the Dead-nettle it is
still smaller.

The honey attracts the insects; while the
scent and colour help them to find the flowers,
the scent being especially useful at night,
which is perhaps the reason why evening
flowers are so sweet.

It is to insects, then, that flowers owe
their beauty, scent, and sweetness. Just as
gardeners, by continual selection, have added
so much to the beauty of our gardens, so to
the unconscious action of insects is due the
beauty, scent, and sweetness of the flowers of
our woods and fields.

Let us now apply these views to a few
common flowers. ‘Take, for instance, the
White Dead-nettle.

The corolla of this beautiful and familiar

124 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

flower (Fig. 6) consists of a narrow tube, some-
what expanded at the upper end (Fig. 7),
where the lower lobe forms a platform, on
each side of which is a
small projecting. tooth
(Fig. 8,m). The upper
portion of the corolla
is an arched hood (co),
under which lie four
anthers (a a), in pairs,
while between them,
and projecting some-
what downwards, is
the pointed pistil (s¢) ;
the tube at the lower
part contains honey,
and above the honey
is a row of hairs running round the tube.
Now, why has the flower this peculiar
form? What regulates the length of
the tube? What is the use of the arch?
What lesson do the little teeth teach
us? What advantage is the honey to the
flower? Of what use is the fringe of hairs?
Why does the stigma project beyond the

Fig. 6.— White Dead-nettle.

elnino eer er ean ere Prey

PETA, FS GAGND TH IETS Say pee

IV ON PLANT LIFE 125

anthers? Why is the corolla white, while
the rest of the plant is green?
The honey of course serves to attract the

Humble Bees by which the flower is fertilised,

and to which it is especially adapted; the

Fig. 7. Fig. 8.

white colour makes the flower more conspicu-
ous; the lower lip forms the stage on which
the Bees may alight; the length of the tube
is adapted to that of their proboscis; its
narrowness and the fringe of fine hairs exclude
small insects which might rob the flower of
its honey without performing any service in
return; the arched upper lip protects the
stamens and pistil, and prevents rain-drops
from choking up the tube and washing away
the honey; the little teeth are, I believe, of

126 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

no use to the flower in its present condition,
they are the last relics of lobes once much
larger, and still remaining so in some allied
species, but which in the Dead-nettle, being
no longer of any use, are gradually disap-
pearing; the height of the arch has refer-
ence to the size of the Bee, bemg just so
much above the alighting stage that the
Bee, while sucking the honey, rubs its back
against the hood and thus comes in contact
first with the stigma and then with the
anthers, the pollen-grains from which adhere
to the hairs on the Bee’s back, and are thus
carried off to the next flower which the Bee
visits, when some of them are then licked
off by the viscid tip of the stigma."

In the Salvias, the common blue Salvia of
our gardens, for instance,—a plant allied to
the Dead-nettle,—the flower (Fig. 9) is con-
structed on the same plan, but the arch is
much larger, so that the back of the Bee does
not nearly reach it. The stamens, however,
have undergone a remarkable modification.
Two of them have become small and function-

1 Lubbock, Flowers and Insects.

PP RO ai

IV te ON PLANT LIFE 127

less. In the other two the anthers or cells pro-
ducing the pollen, which in most flowers form
together a round knob or
head at the top of the
stamen, are separated by
a long arm, which plays
on the top of the stamen
as on a hinge. Of these
two arms one hangs down
into the tube, closing the

passage, while the other Fig. 9.
lies under the arched upper lip. Wien 3 the
Bee pushes its proboscis down the tube (Fig. 11)

Fig. 10. ; Fig. 11.

it presses the lower arm to one side, and the
. upper arm consequently descends, tapping the

128 _ ‘THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

Bee on the back, and dusting it with pollen.
When the flower is a little older the pistil
(Fig. 9, p) has elongated so that the stigma
(Fig. 10, st) touches the back of the Bee and
carries off some of the pollen. This sounds a
little complicated, but is clear enough if we
take a twig or stalk of grass and push it
down the tube, when one arm of each of the
two larger stamens will at once make its
appearance. It is one of the most beautiful
pieces of plant mechanism which I know,
and was first described by Sprengel, a poor
German schoolmaster.

SNAPDRAGON

At first sight it may seem an objection to
the view here advocated that the flowers in
some species —as, for instance, the common
Snapdragon (Antirrhinum), which, according
to the above given tests, ought to be fertilised
by insects — are entirely closed. A little con-
sideration, however, will suggest the reply.
The Snapdragon is especially adapted for

IV ON PLANT LIFE 129

fertilisation by Humble Bees. The stamens
and pistil are so arranged that smaller species
would not effect the object. It is therefore
an advantage that they should be excluded,
and in fact they are not strong enough to
move the spring. The Antirrhinum is, so to
speak, a closed box, of which the Humble
Bees alone possess the key.

FURZE, BROOM, AND LABURNUM

Other flowers such as the Furze, Broom,
Laburnum, etc., are also opened by Bees.
The petals lock more or less into one an-
other, and the flower remains at first closed.
When, however, the insect alighting on it
presses down the keel, the flower bursts ppeus
and dusts it with pollen.

SWEET PEA

In the above cases the flower once opened
does not close again. In others, such as the
Sweet Pea and the Bird’s-foot Lotus, Nature

130 . THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP, °

has been more careful. When the Bee alights
it clasps the “wings” of the flower with its
legs, thus pressmg them down; they are, |
however, locked into the “ keel,’ or lower
petal, which accordingly is also forced down,
thus exposing the pollen which rubs against,
and part of which sticks to, the breast of the
Bee. When she leaves the flower the keel
and wings rise again, thus protecting the rest
of the pollen and keeping it ready until
another visitor comes. It is easy to carry out
the same process with the fingers.

PRIMULA

In the Primrose and Cowslip, again, we find
quite a different plan. It had long been
known that if a number of Cowslips or Prim-
roses are examined, about half would be found
to have the stigma at the top of the tube and
the stamens half way down, while in the other
half the stamens are at the top and the stigma
half way down. These two forms are about
equally numerous, but never occur on the

IV ON PLANT LIFE 131

same stock. They have been long known to
children and gardeners, who call them thrum-
eyed and pin-eyed. Mr. Darwin was the
first to explain the significance of this curious
difference. It cost him several years of
patient labour, but when once pointed out it
is sufficiently obvious. An insect thrusting its

x 250
Fig. 12. Fig. 13.
Flower and Pollen of Primrose

proboscis down a primrose of the long-styled
form (Fig. 12) would dust its proboscis at a
part (a) which, when it visited a short-styled
- flower (Fig. 13), would come just opposite
the head of the pistil (st), and could not fail
to deposit some of the-pollen on the stigma.
Conversely, an insect visiting a short-styled
plant would dust its proboscis at a part farther

132 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

from the tip; which, when the insect subse-
quently visited a long-styled flower, would
again come just opposite to the head of the
pistil. Hence we see that by this beautiful
arrangement insects must carry the pollen of
the long-styled form to the short-styled, and
vice versa.

The economy of pollen is not the only
advantage which plants derive from these
visits of Insects. A second and scarcely less
important is that they tend to secure “ cross
fertilisation’; that is to say, that the seed
shall be fertilised by pollen from another
plant. The fact that “cross fertilisation” is
of advantage to the plant doubtless also
explains the curious arrangement that in
many plants the stamen and pistil do not
mature at the same time — the former having
shed their pollen before the pistil 1s mature ;
or, which happens less often, the pistil having
withered before the pollen is ripe. In most
Geraniums, Pinks, etc., for instance, and
many allied species, the stamens ripen first,
and are followed after an interval by the
pistil.

IV ON PLANT LIFE 138

THE NOTTINGHAM CATCHFLY

The Nottingham Catchfly (Silene nutans)
is a very interesting case. The flower is
adapted to be fertilised by Moths. Accord-
ingly it opens towards evening, and as is
generally the case with such flowers, is pale
in colour, and sweet-scented. There are two
sets of stamens, five in each set. ‘The first
evening that the flower opens one set of sta-
mens ripen and expose their pollen. ‘Towards
morning these wither away, the flower shrivels
up, ceases to emit scent, and looks as if it
were faded. So it remains all next day.
Towards evening it reopens, the second set of
stamens have their turn, and the flower again
becomes fragrant. By morning, however, the
second set of stamens have shrivelled, and the
flower is again asleep. Finally.on the third
evening it re-opens for the last time, the long
spiral stigmas expand, and can hardly fail to
be fertilised with the pollen brought by Moths
from other flowers.

134 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

THE HEATH

‘In the hanging flowers of Heaths the sta-
mens form a ring, and each one bears two
horns. When the Bee inserts its proboscis
into the flower to reach the honey, it is sure
to press against one of these horns, the ring
is dislocated, and the pollen falls on to the
head of the insect. In fact, any number of
other interesting cases might be mentioned.

BEES AND FLIES

Bees are intelligent insects, and would soon
cease to visit flowers which did not supply
them with food. Flies, however, are more
stupid, and are often deceived. Thus in our
lovely little Parnassia, five of the ten stamens
have ceased to produce pollen, but are pro-
longed into fingers, each terminating in a
shining yellow knob, which looks exactly like
a drop of honey, and by which Flies are con-

IV ON PLANT LIFE 135

tinually deceived. Paris quadrifolia also
takes them in with a deceptive promise of the
same kind. Some foreign plants have livid
yellow and reddish flowers, with a most offen-
sive smell, and are constantly visited by Flies,
which apparently take them for pieces of
decaying meat.

The flower of the common Lords
and Ladies (Arum) of our hedges
is a very interesting case. The
narrow neck bears a number of
hairs pointing downwards. The
stamens are situated above the
stigma, which comes to maturity
first. Small Flies enter the flower
apparently for shelter, but the hairs
prevent them from returning, and
they are kept captive until the
anthers have shed their pollen.
Then, when the Flies have been
well dusted, the hairs shrivel up, leaving a
clear road, and the prisoners are permitted
to escape. The tubular flowers of Aristolochia
offer a very similar case.

Fig. 14.—Arum.

136 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

PAST HISTORY OF FLOWERS

If the views here advocated are correct, it
follows that the original flowers were small
and green, as wind-fertilised flowers are even
now. But such flowers are inconspicuous.
Those which are coloured, say yellow or white,
are of course much more visible and more.
likely to be visited by insects. I have else-
where given my reasons for thinking that
under these circumstances some flowers be-
came yellow, that some of them became white,
others subsequently red, and some finally blue.
It will be observed that red and blue flowers
are as a rule highly specialised, such as
Aconites and Larkspurs as compared with
Buttercups; blue Gentians as compared with
yellow, etc- I have found by experiment
that Bees are especially partial to blue and
pink.

Tubular flowers almost always, if not
always, contain honey, and are specially suited
to Butterflies and Moths, Bees and Flies.
Those which are fertilised by Moths generally

Iv ON PLANT LIFE 137

come out in the evening, are often very sweetly
scented, and are generally white or pale
yellow, these colours being most visible in the
twilight.

Aristotle long ago noticed the curious fact
that in each journey Bees confine themselves
to some particular flower. This is an economy
of labour to the Bee, because she has not to
vary her course of proceeding. It is also an
advantage to the plants, because the pollen
is carried from each flower to another of the
same species, and is therefore less likely to be
wasted.

FRUITS AND SEEDS

After the flower comes the seed, often
contained in a fruit, and which itself en-
closes the future plant. Fruits and seeds
are adapted for dispersion, beautifully and in
various ways: some by the wind, being either
provided with a wing, as in the fruits of many
trees — Sycamores, Ash, Elms, ete.; or with
a hairy crown or covering, as with Thistles,
Dandelions, Willows, Cotton plant, ete.

138 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

Some seeds are carried by animals; either
as food — such as most edible fruits and seeds,
acorns, nuts, apples, strawberries, raspberries,
blackberries, plums, grasses, etc. —or invol-
untarily, the seeds having hooked hairs or
processes, such as burrs, cleavers, etc.

Some seeds are scattered by the plants
themselves, as, for instance, those of many
Geraniums, Violets, Balsams, Shamrocks, ete.
Our little Herb Robert throws its seeds some
25 feet.

Some seeds force themselves into the
ground, as those of certain grasses, Cranes’-
bills (Hrodiums), ete.

Some are buried by the parent plants,
as those of certain clovers, vetches, violets,
etc.

Some attach themselves to the soil, as
those of the Flax; or to trees, as in the case
of the Mistletoe.

LEAVES

Again, as regards the leaves there can, I
think, be no doubt that similar considerations

Iv ON PLANT LIFE 139

of utility are applicable. Their forms are
almost infinitely varied. To quote Ruskin’s
vivid words, they “take all kinds of strange
shapes, as if to invite us to examine them.
Star-shaped, heart-shaped, spear-shaped, arrow-
shaped, fretted, fringed, cleft, furrowed, ser-
rated, smuated, in whorls, in tufts, in spires,
in .wreaths, endlessly expressive, deceptive,
fantastic, never the same from foot-stalk to
blossom, they seem perpetually to tempt our
watchfulness and take delight in outstepping
our wonder.”

But besides these differences of mere form,
there are many others: of structure, texture,
and surface; some are scented or have a
strong taste, or acrid juice, some are smooth,
others hairy; and the hairs again are of

various kinds. 2

I have elsewhere! endeavoured to explain
some of the causes which have determined
these endless varieties. In the Beech, for in-
stance (Fig. 15), the leaf has an area of about
3 square inches. The distance between the
buds is about 14 inch, and the leaves lie in

1 Flowers, Fruits, and Leaves.

140 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

the general plane of the branch, which bends
slightly at each internode.. The basal half of
the leaf fits the swell of
the twig, while the upper.
half follows the edge of
the leaf above; and the
form of the inner edge
being thus determined,
decides that of the outer
one also.

The weight, and con-
sequently the size of the
leaf, is limited by the
strength of the twig; and,
again, in a climate such as
ours it is important to plants to have their
leaves so arranged as to secure the maximum
of light. Hence in leaves which lie parallel to
the plane of the boughs, as in the Beech, the
width depends partly on the distance between
the buds; if the leaves were broader, they
would overlap, if they were narrower, space
would be wasted. Consequently the width
being determined by the distance between the
buds, and the size depending on the weight

Fig. 15.— Beech.

IV ON PLANT LIFE 144

which the twig can safely support, the length
also is determined. This argument is well
illustrated by comparing the leaves of the
Beech with those of the Spanish Chestnut.
The arrangement is similar, and the distance
between the buds being about the same, so is
the width of the leaves. But the terminal
branches of the Spanish Chestnut being much
stronger, the leaves can safely be heavier ;
hence the width being fixed, they grow in
length and assume the well-known and
peculiar sword-blade shape.

In the Sycamores, Maples (Fig. 16), and
Horse-Chestnuts the arrangement is altogether
different. The shoots are stiff and upright
with leaves placed at right angles to the
branches instead of beimg parallel to them.
The leaves are in pairs and decussate with
one another ; while the lower ones have long
petioles which bring them almost to the level
of the upper pairs, the whole thus forming a
beautiful dome.

For leaves arranged as in the Beech the
gentle swell at the base is admirably suited ;
but in a crown of leaves such as those of the

142 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

Sycamore, space would be wasted, and it is
better that they should expand at once, so
soon as their stalks have carried them free
from the upper and inner leaves.

In the Black Poplar the arrangement of
the leaves is again quite different. The leaf
stalk is flattened, so that the leaves hang

Fig. 16.— Acer platanoides.

vertically. In connection with this it will
be observed that while in most leaves the
upper and under surfaces are quite unlike, in
the Black Poplar on the contrary they are
very similar. The stomata or breathing holes,
moreover, which in the leaves of most trees
are confined to the under surface, are in this
species nearly equally numerous on both.

Iv ON PLANT LIFE 143

The “Compass” Plant of the American
prairies, a plant not unlike a small sunflower,
is another species with upright leaves, which
growing in the wide open prairies tend to point
north and south, thus exposing both surfaces
equally to the light and heat. Such a position
also affects the internal structure of the leaf,
the two sides becoming similar in structure,
while in other cases the upper and under
surfaces are very different.

In the Yew the leaves are inserted close
to one another, and are linear; while in the
Box they are further apart and_ broader.
In other cases the width of the leaves is
determined by what botanists call the “ Phyl-
lotaxy.” Some plants have the leaves oppo-
site, each pair being at right angles with the
pairs above and below.

In others they are alternate, and arranged
round the stem in a spiral. In one very
common arrangement the sixth leaf stands
directly over the first, the intermediate ones
forming a spiral which has passed twice round
the stem. This, therefore, is known as the
2 arrangement. Common cases are }, 4, 2, ,

144 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE. CHAP.

and ,’;. In the first the leaves are generally |
broad, in the @ arrangement they are elliptic,
in the >; and more complicated arrangements
nearly linear. The Willows afford a very
interesting series. Salix herbacea has the 4
arrangement and rounded leaves, Salix caprea
elliptic leaves and 2, Salix pentandra lancet-
shaped leaves and 3, and S. incana linear leaves
and a +; arrangement. The result is that
whether the series consists of 2, 3, 5, 8, or 13
leaves, in every case, if we look perpendicu-
larly at a twig the leaves occupy the whole
circle.

In herbaceous plants upright leaves as a
rule are narrow, which is obviously an advan-
tage, while prostrate ones are broad.

AQUATIC PLANTS

Many aquatic plants have two kinds of.
leaves ; some more or less rounded, which
float on the surface; and others cut up into
narrow segments, which remain below. The
latter thus present a greater extent of surface.

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Iv ON PLANT LIFE 145

In air such leaves would be unable even to
support their own weight, much less . to
resist the force of the wind. In still air,
however, for the same reason, finely-divided
leaves may be an advantage, while in exposed
positions compact and entire leaves are more
suitable. Hence herbaceous plants tend to
have divided, bushes and trees entire, leaves.
There are many cases when even in the same
family low and herb-like species have finely-
cut leaves, while in shrubby or ligneous ones
they more or less resemble those of the Laurel
or Beech.

These considerations affect trees more than
herbs, because trees stand more alone, while
herbaceous plants are more affected by sur-
rounding plants. Upright ‘leaves tend to be
narrow, as in the case of grasses; horizontal
leaves, on the contrary, wider. Large leaves
are more or less. broken up into leaflets,
as in the Ash, Mountain-Ash, Horse-Chest-
nut, etc. .

The forms of leaves depend also much on

the manner in which they are packed into the
buds.

146 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

The leaves of our English trees, as I have

already said, are so arranged as to secure the

maximum of light; in very hot countries the
reverse is the case. Hence, in Australia, for
instance, the leaves are arranged not hori-
zontally, but vertically, so as to present, not
their surfaces, but their edges, to the sun.
One English plant, a species of lettuce, has
the same habit. This consideration has led
also to other changes. In many species the
leaves are arranged directly under, so as to
shelter, one another. The Australian species
of Acacia have lost their true leaves, and
the parts which in them we generally call
leaves are in reality vertically-flattened leaf
stalks.

In other cases the stem itself is green, and
to some extent replaces the leaves. In our
common Broom we see an approach to this,
and the same feature is more marked in
Cactus. Or the leaves become fleshy, thus
offermg, in proportion to their volume, a
smaller surface for evaporation. Of this the
Stonecrops, Mesembryanthemum, etc., are
familiar instances. Other modes of checking

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Iv ON PLANT LIFE 147

transpiration and thus adapting plants to dry
situations are by the development of hairs,
by the formation of chalky excretions, by
the sap becoming saline or viscid, by the leaf
becoming more or less rolled up, or protected
by a covering of varnish.

Our English trees are for the most part
deciduous. Leaves would be comparatively
useless in winter when growth is stopped by
the cold; moreover, they would hold the
snow, and thus cause the boughs to be broken
down. Hence perhaps the glossiness of Ever-
green leaves, as, for instance, of the Holly,
from which the snow slips off. In warmer
climates trees tend to retain their leaves, and
some species which are deciduous in the north
become evergreen, or nearly so, in the south
of Europe. Evergreen leaves are as a rule
tougher and thicker than those which drop off
in autumn ; they require more protection from
the weather. But some evergreen leaves are
much longer lived than others; those of the
Evergreen Oak do not survive a second year,
those of the Scotch Pine. live for three, of the
Spruce Fir, Yew, etc., for eight or ten, of the

148 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

Pinsapo even eighteen. As a general rule
the Conifers with short leaves keep them on
for several years, those with long ones for
fewer, the length of the leaf being somewhat,
in the inverse ratio to the length of its life ;
but this is not an invariable criterion, as other
circumstances also have to be taken into con-
sideration.

Leaves with strong scent, aromatic taste, or
acrid juice, are characteristic of dry regions,
where they run especial danger of being eaten,
and where they are thus more or less effec-
tively protected.

ON HAIRS

The hairs of plants are useful in various
ways. In some cases (1) they keep off super-
fluous moisture; in others (2) they prevent
too rapid evaporation ; in some (3) they serve
as a protection against too glaring light; in
some (4) they protect the plant from brows-
ing quadrupeds; in others (5) from being
eaten by insects; or, (6) serve as a quickset
hedge to prevent access to the flowers.

x. eee

IV % ON PLANT LIFE 149

In illustration of the first case I may refer
to many alpine plants, the well-known Edel-
weiss, for instance, where the woolly covering
of hairs prevents the “ stomata,’ or minute
pores leading into the interior of the leaf,
from being clogged up by rain, dew, or fog,
and thus enable them to fulfil their functions
as soon as the sun comes out.

As regards the second case many desert and
steppe-plants are covered with felty hairs,
which serve to prevent too rapid evaporation |
and consequent loss of moisture.

The woolly hairy leaves of the Mulleins
(Verbascum) doubtless tend to protect them
from being eaten, as also do the spines of
Thistles, and those of Hollies, which, be it
remarked, gradually disappear on the upper
leaves which browsing quadrupeds cannot
reach.

I have already alluded to the various ways
in which flowers are adapted to fertilisation
by imsects. But Ants and other small creep-
ing insects cannot effectually secure this object.
Hence it is important that they should be ex-
cluded, and not allowed to carry off the honey,

150 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE — CHAP.

for which they would perform no service in
return. In many cases, therefore, the open-
ing of the flower is either contracted to a

narrow passage, or is itself protected by a

fringe of hairs. In others the peduncle, or
the stalk of the plant, 1s protected by a hedge,
or chevaux de frise, of hairs.

In this connection I might allude to the
many plants which are more or less viscid.

_ This also is in most cases a provision to pre-

clude creeping insects from access to the
flowers.

There are various other kinds of hairs to
which I might refer — glandular hairs, secre-
tive hairs, absorbing hairs, etc. It is marvel
lous how. beautifully the. form and structure
of leaves is adapted to the habits and require-

ments of the plants, but I must not enlarge

further on this interesting subject.

The time indeed will no doubt come when
we shall be able to explain every difference of
form and structure, almost infinite as these
differences are. |

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Iv ON PLANT LIFE 151

INFLUENCE OF SOIL

The character of the vegetation is of course
vreatly influenced by that of the soil. In this
respect granitic and calcareous regions offer
perhaps the best marked contrast.

There are in Switzerland two kinds of
Rhododendrons, very similar in their flowers,
but contrasted in their leaves: Rhododendron
hirsutum having them hairy at the edges as
the name indicates; while in R. ferrugineum
they are rolled, but not hairy, at the edges,
and become ferrugineous on the lower side.
This species occurs in the granitic regions,
where R. hirsutum does not grow.

The Yarrows (Achillea) afford us a similar
ease. Achillea atrata and A. moschata will
live either on calcareous or granitic soil, but
in a district where both occur, A. atrata grows
so much the more vigorously of the two if the
soil is calcareous that it soon _exterminates
A. moschata; while in granite districts, on
the contrary, A. moschata is victorious and
A. atrata disappears.

152 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

Every keen sportsman will admit that a
varied “bag” has a special charm, and the
botanist in a summer’s walk may see at least
a hundred plants in flower, all with either the
interest of novelty, or the charm of an old
friend.

ON SEEDLINGS

In many cases the Seedlings afford us an
interesting insight into the former condition
of the plant. Thus the leaves of the Furze
are reduced to thorns; but those of the Seed-
ling are herbaceous and trifoliate like those of
the Herb Genet and other allied species, sub-
sequent ones gradually passing into spines.
This is evidence that the ancestors of the
Furze bore leaves.

Plants may be said to have their habits as
well as animals.

SLEEP OF PLANTS

Many flowers close their petals during
rain; the advantage of which is that it pre-
vents the honey and pollen from being spoilt

Iv ON PLANT LIFE 153

or washed away. LEverybody, however, has
observed that even in fine weather certain
flowers close at particular hours. This habit
of going to sleep is surely very curious. Why
should flowers do so? In animals we can
better understand it; they are tired and
require rest. But why should flowers sleep ?
Why should some flowers do so, and not
others? Moreover, different flowers keep
different hours. The Daisy opens at sunrise
and closes at sunset, whence its name “ day’s-
eye.” The Dandelion (Leontodon) is said to
open about seven and to close about five;
Arenaria rubra to be open from nine to three;
the White Water Lily (Nymphea), from about
seven to four; the common Mouse-ear Hawk-
weed (Hieracium) from eight to three; the
Scarlet Pimpernel (Anagallis) to waken at
seven and close soon after two; Tragopogon
pratensis to open at four in the morning,
and close just before twelve, whence its
English name, “John go to bed at noon.”
Farmers’ boys in some parts are said to regu-
late their dinner time by it. Other flowers,
on the contrary, open in the evening.

154 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

Now it is obvious that flowers which are
fertilised by night-flying insects would derive
no advantage from being open by day; and
on the other hand, that those which are
fertilised by bees would gain nothing by
being open at night. Nay it would be a
distinct disadvantage, because it would render
them liable to be robbed of their honey and
pollen, by insects which are not capable of
fertilising them. I have ventured to suggest
then that the closing of flowers may have
reference to the habits of msects, and is may
be observed also in support of this, that wind-
fertilised flowers do not sleep; and that many
of those flowers which attract insects by
smell, open and emit their scent at particular
hours; thus Hesperis matronalis and Lychnis
vespertina smell in the evening, and Orchis -
bifolia is particularly sweet at night.

But it is not the flowers only which
“sleep” at night; in many species the leaves
also change their position, and Darwin has
given strong reasons for considering that the
object is to check transpiration and thus tend
to a protection against cold.

Iv ON PLANT LIFE -155

BEHAVIOUR OF LEAVES IN RAIN

The behaviour of plants with reference to
rain affords many points of much interest.
The Germander Speedwell (Veronica) has two
strong rows of hairs, the Chickweed (Stellaria)
one, running down the stem and thus conduct-
ing the rain tothe roots. Plants with a main
~tap-root, like the Radish or the Beet, have
leaves sloping inwards so as to conduct the
rain towards the axis of the plant, and con-
sequently to the roots ; while, on the contrary,
where the roots are spreading the leaves slope
outwards.

In other cases the leaves hold the rain or
dew drops. Every one who has been in the
Alps must have noticed how the leaves of the
Lady’s Mantle (Alchemilla) form little cups
containing each a sparkling drop of icy water.
Kerner has suggested that owing to these cold
drops, the cattle and sheep avoid the leaves.

156 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

MIMICRY

In many cases plants mimic others which
are better protected than themselves. Thus
Matricaria Chamomilla mimics the true Cham-
omile, which from its bitterness is not eaten
by quadrupeds. Ajuga Chamepitys mimics
Kuphorbia Cyparissias, with which it often
grows, and which is protected by its acrid
juice. The most familiar case, however, is
that of the Stinging and the Dead Nettles.
They very generally grow together, and
though belonging to quite different families
are so similar that they are constantly mis-
taken for one another. Some Orchids have a
curious resemblance to insects, after which
they have accordingly been named the Bee
Orchis, Fly Orchis, Butterfly Orchis, etc., but
it has not yet been satisfactorily shown what
advantage the resemblance is to the plant.

ANTS AND PLANTS

The transference of pollen from plant to

Iv ON PLANT LIFE 157

plant is by no means the only service which
insects render.

Ants, for instance, are In many cases very
useful to plants. They destroy immense
numbers of caterpillars and other insects.
Forel observing a large Ants’ nest counted
more than 28 insects brought in as food per
minute. In some cases Ants attach them-
selves to particular trees, constituting a sort
of bodyguard. A species of Acacia, described
by Belt, bears hollow thorns, while each leaflet
produces honey in a crater-formed gland at
the base, as well as a small, sweet, pear-
shaped body at the tip. In consequence it
is inhabited by myriads of a small ant, which
nests in the hollow thorns, and thus finds
meat, drink, and lodging all provided for it.
These ants are continually roaming over the
plant, and constitute a most efficient body-
guard, not only driving off the leaf-eating
ants, but, in Belt’s opinion, rendermg the
leaves less liable to be eaten by herbivorous
mammalia. Delpino mentions that on one
occasion he was gathering a flower of Clero-
dendrum, when he was himself suddenly
attacked by a whole army of small ants.

pe THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE * — cmap.

INSECTIVOROUS PLANTS

In the cases above mentioned the relation
between flowers and insects is one of mutual
advantage. But this is by no means an in-
variable rule. Many insects, as we all know,
live on plants, but it came upon botanists as a
surprise when our countryman Ellis first dis-
covered that some plants catch and devour in-
sects. This he observed in a North American
plant Dionza, the leaves of which are formed
something like a rat-trap, with a hinge in the
middle, and a formidable row of spines round
the edge. On the surface are a few very sen-
sitive hairs, and the moment any small insect
alights on the leaf ‘and touches one of these
hairs the two halves of the leaf close up
quickly and catch it. The surface then throws
out a glutinous secretion, by means of which
the leaf sucks up the nourishment contained
in the insect.

Our common Sun-dews (Drosera) are also
insectivorous, the prey being in their case

= ON PLANT LIFE 159

captured by glutinous hairs. Again, the Blad-
derwort (Utricularia), a plant with pretty
yellow flowers, growing in pools and slow
streams, is so called because it bears a great
number of bladders or utricles, each of which
is a real miniature eel-trap, having an orifice
guarded by a flap opening inwards which
allows small water animals to enter, but pre-
vents them from coming out again. The
Butterwort (Pinguicula) is another of these
carnivorous plants.

MOVEMENTS OF PLANTS

While considering Plant life we must by
no means confine our attention to the higher
orders, but must remember also those lower
groups which converge towards the lower
forms of animals, so that in the present state
of our knowledge the two cannot always be
distinguished with certainty. Many of them
differ indeed greatly from the ordinary con-
ception of a plant. Even the comparatively
highly organised Seaweeds multiply by means

160 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

of bodies called spores, which an untrained
observer would certainly suppose to be animals.
They are covered by vibratile hairs or “ cilia,”
by means of which they swim about freely in
the water, and even possess a red spot which,
as being especially sensitive to light, may be
regarded as an elementary eye, and with the
aid of which they select some suitable spot, to
which they ultimately attach themselves.

It was long considered as almost a charac-
teristic of plants that they possessed no power
of movement. ‘This is now known to be an
error. In fact, as Darwin has shown, every
growing part of a plant is In continual and
even constant rotation. The stems of climb-
ing plants make great sweeps, and in other
cases, when the motion is not so apparent, it
nevertheless really exists. I have already
mentioned that many plants change the posi-
tion of their leaves or flowers, or, as it is
called, sleep at night.

The common Dandelion raises its head
when the florets open, opens and shuts morn-
ing and evening, then lies down again while
the seeds are ripening, and raises itself a

Iv ON PLANT LIFE 161

second time when they are ready to be carried
_ away by the wind.

Valisneria spiralis is a very interesting case.
It is a native of HKuropean rivers, and the
female flower has a long spiral stalk which
enables it to float on the surface of the water.
The male flowers have no stalks, and grow
low down on the plant. They soon, however,
detach themselves altogether, rise to the sur-
face, and thus are enabled to fertilise the
female flowers among which they float. The
spiral stalk of the female flower then contracts
and draws it down to the bottom of the water
so that the seeds may ripen in safety. Many
plants throw or bury their seeds.

The sensitive plants close their leaves when
touched, and the leaflets of Desmodium gyrans
are continually revolving. I have already
mentioned that the spores of seaweeds swim
freely in the water by means of cilia. Some
microscopic plants do so throughout a great
part of their lives.

A still lower group, the Myxomycetes,
which resemble small, more or less branched,

masses of jelly, and live in damp soil, among
M

162 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

decaying leaves, under bark and in similar
moist situations, are still more remarkably ~
animal like. They are never fixed, but in
almost continual movement, due to differences
of moisture, warmth, light, or chemical action.
If, for instance, a moist body is brought into
contact with one of their projections, or
“‘pseudopods,’ the protoplasm seems to roll
itself in that direction, and so the whole
organism gradually changes its place. So
again, while a solution of salt, carbonate of
potash, or saltpetre causes them to withdraw
from the danger, an infusion of sugar, or tan,
produces a flow of protoplasm towards the
source of nourishment. In fact,in the same
way it rolls over and round its food, absorbing
what is nutritious as it passes along. In cold
weather they descend into the soil, and one
of them (Ethalium), which lives in tan pits,
descends in winter to a depth of several
feet. When about to fructify it changes its
habits, seeks the light instead of avoiding it,
climbs upwards, and produces its fruit above
ground. |

Iv ON PLANT LIFE 163

IMPERFECTION OF OUR KNOWLEDGE

The total number of living species of
plants may be roughly estimated at 500,000,
and there is not one, of which we can
say that the structure, uses, and life-history
are yet fully known to us. Our museums
contain large numbers which botanists have
not yet had ‘time to describe and name.
Even in our own country not a year passes
without some additional plant being discov-
ered ; as regards the less known regions of
the earth not half the species have yet been
collected. Among the Lichens and Fungi
especially many problems of their life-history,
some, indeed, of especial importance to man,
still await solution.

Our knowledge of the fossil forms, more-
over, falls far short even of that of existing
species, which, on the other hand, they must
have greatly exceeded in number. Every
difference of form, structure, and colour has
doubtless some cause and explanation, so that
the field for research is really inexhaustible.

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CHAPTER V
WOODS AND FIELDS

“By day or by night, summer or winter, beneath trees’
the heart feels nearer to that depth of life which the far sky
means. The rest of spirit, found only in beauty, ideal and
pure, comes there because the distance seems within touch
of thought.” JEFFERIES.

CHAPTER V
WOODS AND FIELDS

RuraAt life, says Cicero, “is not delightful
by reason of cornfields only and meadows, and
vineyards and groves, but also for its gardens
and orchards, for the feeding of cattle, the
swarms of bees, and the variety of all kinds of
flowers.’ Bacon considered that a garden is
“the greatest refreshment to the spirits of
man, without which buildings and palaces
are but gross handyworks, and a man shall
ever see, that when ages grow to civility and
elegancy men come to build stately sooner
than to garden finely, as if gardening were
the greater perfection.”

No doubt “the pleasure which we take in a
garden is one of the most innocent delights in
human life.”! Elsewhere there may be scat-

1 The Spectator.
167

168 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE ‘CHAP,

tered flowers, or sheets of colour due to one or
two species, but in gardens one glory follows
another. Here are brought together all the
quaint enamelled eyes,

That on the green turf sucked the honeyed showers,

And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.

Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,

The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,

The white pink and the pansy freaked with jet,

The glowing violet,

The musk rose, and the well attired woodbine,

With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,

And every flower that sad embroidery wears.

We cannot, happily we need not try to,
contrast or compare the beauty of gardens
with that of woods and fields.

And yet to the true lover of Nature wild
flowers have a charm which no garden can
equal. Cultivated plants are but a living
herbarium. They surpass, no doubt, the
dried specimens of a museum, but, lovely as
they are, they can be no more compared with
the natural vegetation of our woods and fields
than the captives in the Zoological Gardens
with the same wild species in their native

forests and mountains.
1 Milton.

v WOODS AND FIELDS 169

Often, indeed, our woods and fields rival
gardens even in the richness of colour. We
have all seen meadows white with Narcissus,
glowing with Buttercups, Cowslips, early
purple Orchis, or Cuckoo Flowers; cornfields
blazing with Poppies; woods carpeted with
Bluebells, Anemones, Primroses, and Forget-
me-nots; commons with the yellow Lady’s
Bedstraw, Harebells, and the sweet Thyme;
marshy places with the yellow stars of the
Bog Asphodel, the Sun-dew sparkling with
diamonds, Ragged Robin, the beautifully
fringed petals of the Buckbean, the lovely
little Bog Pimpernel, or the feathery tufts of
Cotton Grass; hedgerows with Hawthorn and
Traveller’s Joy, Wild Rose and Honeysuckle,
while underneath are the curious leaves and
orange fruit of the Lords and Ladies, the
snowy stars of the Stitchwort, Succory, Yar-
row, and several kinds of Violets; while all
along the banks of streams are the tall red
spikes of the Loosestrife, the Hemp Agrimony,
Water Groundsel, Sedges, Bulrushes, Flower-
ing Rush, Sweet Flag, ete.

Many other sweet names will also at once

170 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE ‘CHAP,

occur to us — Snowdrops, Daffodils and Hearts-
ease, Lady’s Mantles and Lady’s ‘Tresses,
Kyebright, Milkwort, Foxgloves, Herb Roberts,
Geraniums, and among rarer species, at least
in England, Columbines and Lilies.

But Nature does not provide delights for
the eye only. The other senses are not for-
gotten. A thousand sounds — many delight-
ful in themselves, and all by association—
songs of birds, hum of insects, rustle of leaves,
ripple of water, seem to fill the air.

Flowers again are sweet, as well as lovely.
The scent of pine woods, which is said to
be very healthy, is certainly delicious, and
the effect of Woodland scenery is good for

the mind as well as for the body.
“Resting quietly under an ash tree, with
the scent of flowers, and the odour of green
buds and leaves, a ray of sunlight yonder
lighting up the lichen and the moss on the
oak trunk, a gentle air stirring in the branches
above, giving glimpses of fleecy clouds sailing
in the ether, there comes into the mind a feel-
ing of intense joy in the simple fact of living.” *

1 Jefferies.

v WOODS AND FIELDS 171

The wonderful phenomenon of phospho-
rescence is not a special gift to the animal king-
dom. Henry O. Forbes describes a forest in
Sumatra: “The stem of every tree blinked
with a pale greenish-white light which un-
dulated also across the surface of the ground
like moonlight coming and going behind the
clouds, from a minute thread-like fungus in-
visible in the day-time to the unassisted eye ;
and here and there thick dumpy mushrooms
displayed a sharp, clear dome of light, whose

intensity never varied or changed till the break
“of day ; long phosphorescent caterpillars and
centipedes crawled out of every corner, leaving
a trail of light behind them, while fire-flies
darted about above like a lower firmament.” * -

Woods and Forests were to our ancestors
the special scenes of enchantment. .

The great Ash tree Yggdrasil bound to-
gether Heaven, Harth, and Hell. Its top
reached to Heaven, its branches covered the
Karth, and the roots penetrated into Hell.
The three Normas or Fates sat under it, spin-
ning the thread of life.

1 Forbes, A Naturalist’s Wanderings in the Eastern Archi-
pelago.

172 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

Of all the gods and goddesses of classical
mythology or our own folk-lore, none were
more fascinating than the Nature Spirits —
Klves and Fairies, Neckans and _ Kelpies,
Pixies and Ouphes, Mermaids, Undines, Water
Spirits, and all the Elfin world

Which have their haunts in dale and piny mountain,
Or forests, by slow stream or tingling brook.

They come out, as we are told, especially on
moonlight nights. But while evening thus
clothes many a scene with poetry, forests are
fairy land all day long.

Almost any wood contains many and many
a spot well suited for Fairy feasts; where one
might most expect to find Titania, resting, as
once we are told,

She lay upon a bank, the favourite haunt

Of the Spring wind in its first sunshine hour,
For the luxuriant strawberry blossoms spread
Like a snow shower then, and violets

Bowed down their purple vases of perfume —
About her pillow, — linked in a gay band
Floated fantastic shapes ; these were her guards,
Her lithe and rainbow elves.

The fairies have disappeared, and, so far as

v WOODS AND FIELDS 173

England is concerned, the larger forest
animals have vanished almost as completely.
The Elk and Bear, the Boar and Wolf have
gone, the Stag has nearly disappeared, and
but a scanty remnant of the original wild
Cattle linger on at Chillingham. Still the
woods teem with life; the Fox and Badger,
Stoat and Weasel, Hare and Rabbit, and
Hedgehog, :

The tawny squirrel vaulting through the boughs,
Hawk, buzzard, jay, the mavis and the merle,!

the Owls and Nightjar, the Woodpecker, Nut-
hatch, Magpie, Doves, and a hundred more.
In early spring the woods are bright with
the feathery catkins of the Willow, followed
by the soft green of the Beech, the white or
pink flowers of the Thorn, the pyramids of the

‘Horse-chestnut, festoons of the Laburnum and

Acacia, and the Oak slowly wakes from its
winter sleep, while the Ash leaves long linger
in their black buds.

Under foot is a carpet of flowers— Anem-

- ones, Cowslips, Primroses, Bluebells, and

1 Tennyson.

174 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

the golden blossoms of the Broom, which,
however, while Gorse and Heather continue ~
in bloom for months, “blazes for a week or
two, and is then completely extinguished, like
a fire that has burnt itself out.” ?

In summer the tints grow darker, the birds
are more numerous and full of life; the air
teems with insects, with the busy murmur of
bees and the idle hum of flies, while the cool
of morning and evening, and the heat of the
day, are all alike delicious.

As the year advances and the flowers wane,
we have many beautiful fruits and berries,
the red hips and haws of the wild roses,
scarlet holly berries, crimson yew cups, the
translucent berries of the Guelder Rose,
hanging coral beads of the Black Bryony,
feathery festoons of the Traveller’s Joy, and
others less conspicuous, but still exquisite in
themselves — acorns, beech nuts, ash keys, and
many more. It is really difficult to say which
are most beautiful, the tender greens of spring
or the rich tints of autumn, which glow so
brightly in the sunshine.

1 Hamerton.

var WOODS AND FIELDS 175

Tropical fruits are even more striking. No
one who has seen it can ever forget a grove of
orange trees in full fruit; while the more we |
examine the more we find to admire; all per-
fectly and exquisitely finished “usque ad
ungues,” perfect inside and outside, for
Nature

Does in the Pomegranate close
Jewels more rare than Ormus shows.!

In winter the woods are comparatively
bare and lifeless, even the Brambles and
Woodbine, which straggle over the tangle of
underwood being almost leafless.

Still even then they have a beauty and
interest of their own; the mossy boles of the
trees; the delicate tracery of the branches
which can hardly be appreciated when they
are covered with leaves; and under foot the
beds of fallen leaves; while the evergreens
‘seem brighter than in summer; the ruddy
stems and rich green foliage of the Scotch
Pines, and the dark spires of the Firs, seeming
to acquire fresh beauty.

1 Marvell.

176 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

Again in winter, though no doubt the
living tenants of the woods are much less
numerous, many of our birds being then far
away in the dense African forests, on the
other hand those which remain are much
more easily visible. We can follow the birds
from tree to tree, and the Squirrel from
bough to bough.

It requires little imagination to regard
trees as conscious beings, indeed it is almost
an effort not to do so.

“The various action of trees rooting them-
selves in inhospitable rocks, stooping to look
into ravines, hiding from the search of glacier
winds, reaching forth to the rays of rare sun-
shine, crowding down together to drink at
sweetest streams, climbing hand in hand
among the difficult slopes, opening in sudden -
dances among the mossy knolls, gathering
- Into companies at rest among the fragrant
fields, ghding in grave procession over the
heavenward ridges —nothing of this can be
conceived among the unvexed and unvaried
felicities of the lowland forest; while to all
these direct sources of greater beauty are

Vv WOODS AND FIELDS 177

added, first the power of redundance, the

mere quantity of foliage visible in the folds

and on the promontories of a single Alp
being greater than that of an entire lowland
landscape (unless a view from some Cathedral
tower); and to this charm of redundance, that
of clearer visibility — tree after tree being con-
stantly shown in successive height, one behind
another, instead of the mere tops and flanks
of masses as in the plains; and the forms of
multitudes of them continually defined against
the clear sky, near and above, or against
white clouds entangled among their branches,
instead of being confused in dimness of
distance.” *

There is much that is interesting in the
relations of one species to another. Many
plants are parasitic upon others. The foliage
of the Beech is so thick that scarcely anything
will grow under it, except those spring plants,
such as the Anemone and the Wood Butter-
cup or Goldilocks, which flower early before
the Beech is in leaf.

There are other cases in which the reason

1 Ruskin.

178 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

for the association of species is less evident.
The Larch and the Arolla (Pinus Cembra)
are close companions. They grow together
in Siberia; they do not occur in Scandinavia
or Russia, but. both reappear in certain Swiss
valleys, especially in the cantons of Lucerne
and Valais and the Engadine.

Another very remarkable case which has

recently been observed is the relation existing
between some of our forest trees and certain
Fungi, the species of which have not yet
been clearly ascertained. The root tips of the
trees are as it were enclosed in a thin sheet
of closely woven mycelium. It was at first
supposed that the fungus was attacking the
roots of the tree, but it is now considered
that the tree and the fungus mutually benefit
one another. The fungus collects nutriment
from the soil, which passes into the tree and
up to the leaves, where it is elaborated into
sap, the greater part being utilized by the
tree, but a portion reabsorbed by the fungus.
There is reason to think that, in some cases
at any rate, the mycelium is that of the
Truffle.

S
mM
es)
a
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es
—
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Vv WOODS AND FIELDS 179

The great tropical forests have a_ totally
different character from ours. I reproduce
here the plate from Kingsley’s At Last. The
trees strike all travellers by their magnificence,
the luxuriance of their vegetation, and their
great variety. Our forests contain compara-
tively few species, whereas in the tropics we
are assured that it is far from common to see
two of the same species near one another.
But while in our forests the species are few,
each tree has an independence and individu-
ality of its own. In the tropics, on the con-
trary, they are interlaced and interwoven, so
as to form one mass of vegetation; many of
the trunks are almost concealed by an under-
growth of verdure, and intertwined by spiral
stems of parasitic plants; from tree to tree
hang an inextricable network of lianas, and it
is often difficult to tell to which tree the
fruits, flowers, and leaves really belong. The
trunks run straight up to a great height with-
out a branch, and then form a thick leafy
canopy far overhead; a.canopy so dense that
even the blaze of the cloudless blue sky is
subdued, one might almost say into a weird

180 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

gloom, the effect of which is enhanced by the
solemn silence. At first such a forest gives
the impression of being more open than an
English wood, but a few steps are sufficient
to correct this error. There is a thick under-
growth matted together by wiry creepers, and
the intermediate space is traversed in all
directions by lines and cords.

The English traveller misses sadly the
sweet songs of our birds, which are replaced
by the hoarse chatter of parrots. Now and
then a succession of cries even harsher and
more discordant tell of a troop of monkeys
passing across from tree to tree among the
higher branches, or lower sounds indicate to
a practised ear the neighbourhood of an ape,
a sloth, or some other of the few mammals
which inhabit the great forests. Occasionally .
a large blue bee hums past, a brilliant butter-
fly flashes across the path, or a humming-bird
hangs in the air over a flower like, as St.
Pierre says, an emerald set in coral, but
“how weak it is to say that that exquisite
little being, whirring and fluttering in the air,
has a head of ruby, a throat of emerald, and

- WOODS AND FIELDS 181

wings of sapphire, as if any triumph of the
_jeweller’s art could ever vie with that spark-
ling epitome of life and light.” *

Sir Wyville Thomson graphically describes
a morning in a Brazilian forest : —

“The night was almost absolutely silent,
only now and then a peculiarly shrill cry of
some night bird reached us from the woods.
As we got into the skirt of the forest the
morning broke, but the réveil in a Brazilian
forest is wonderfully different from the slow
creeping on of the dawn of a summer morning
at home, to the music of the thrushes answer-
ing one another's full rich notes from neigh-
bouring thorn-trees. Suddenly a yellow light
spreads upwards in the east, the stars quickly
fade, and the dark fringes of the forest and
the tall palms show out black against the
yellow sky, and almost before one has time to
observe the change the sun has risen straight
and fierce, and the whole landscape is bathed
in the full light of day. But the morning is
yet for another hour cool and fresh, and the
scene is indescribably beautiful. The woods.

1 Thomson, Voyage of the Challenger.

182 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

so absolutely silent and still before, break at
once into noise and movement. Flocks of
toucans flutter and scream on the tops of the
highest forest trees hopelessly out of shot, the
ear is pierced by the strange wild screeches of
a little band of macaws which fly past you
like the wrapped-up ghosts of the birds on
some gaudy old brocade.” ?

Mr. Darwin tells us that nothing can be
better than the description of tropical forests
given by Bates.

“The leafy crowns of the trees, scarcely
two of which could be seen together of the
same kind, were now far away above us, in
another world as it were. We could only see
at times, where there was a break above, the
tracery of the foliage against the clear blue
sky. Sometimes the leaves were palmate, or
of the shape of large outstretched hands; at
others finely cut or feathery like the leaves of
Mimosee. Below, the tree trunks were every-
where linked together by sipos; the woody
flexible stems of climbing and creeping trees,
whose foliage is far away above, mingled with

1 Thomson, Voyage of the Challenger.

v WOODS AND FIELDS 183

that of the taller independent trees. Some
were twisted in strands like cables, others had
thick stems contorted in every variety of shape,
entwining snake-like round the tree trunks or
forming gigantic loops and coils among the
larger branches; others, again, were of zigzag
shape, or indented like the steps of a staircase,
sweeping from the ground to a giddy height.”

The reckless and wanton destruction of
forests has ruined some of the richest countries
on earth. Syria and Asia Minor, Palestine
and the north of Africa were once far more
populous than they are at present. They wera
once lands “flowing with milk and honey,”
according to the picturesque language of the
Bible, but are now in many places reduced to
dust and ashes. Why is there this melancholy
change? Why have deserts replaced cities ?
It is mainly owing to the ruthless destruction
of the trees, which has involved that of
nations. Even nearer home a similar process
may be witnessed. ‘T'wo French departments
—the Hautes- and Basses-Alpes—are being
gradually reduced to ruin by the destruction
of the forests. Cultivation is diminishing,

184 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

vineyards are being washed away, the towns
are threatened, the population is dwindling,
and unless something is done the country will
be reduced to a desert; until, when it has
been released from the destructive presence of
man, Nature reproduces a covering of vege-
table soil, restores the vegetation, creates the
forests anew, and once again fits these regions
for the habitation of man.

In another part of France we have an illus-
tration of the opposite process.

The region of the Landes, which fifty years
ago was one of the poorest and most miserable
in France, has now been made one of the most
prosperous owing to the planting of Pines.
The increased value is estimated at no less
than 1,000,000,000 francs. Where there were
fifty years ago only a few thousand poor and
unhealthy shepherds whose flocks pastured on
the scanty herbage, there are now sawmills,
charcoal kilns, and turpentine works, inter-
spersed with thriving villages and fertile agri-
cultural lands.

In our own country, though woodlands are
perhaps on the increase, true forest scenery is

¥ WOODS AND FIELDS 185

gradually disappearing. This is, I suppose, un-
avoidable, but it is a matter of regret. Forests
have so many charms of theirown. They give
a delightful impression of space and of abun-
dance.

The extravagance is sublime. Trees, as
Jefferies says, “throw away handfuls of flower ;
and in the meadows the careless, spendthrift
ways of grass and flower and all things are not
to be expressed. Seeds by the hundred million
float with absolute indifference on the air.
The oak has a hundred thousand more leaves
than necessary, and never hides a single acorn.
Nothing utilitarian — everything on a scale of
splendid waste. Such noble, broadcast, open-
armed waste is delicious to behold. Never
was there such a lying proverb as ‘ Enough is
as good as a feast.’ Give me the feast; give
me squandered millions of seeds, luxurious
carpets of petals, green mountains of oak-
leaves. The greater the waste the greater
the enjoyment —the nearer the approach to
real life.”

It is of course impossible here to give any
idea of the complexity of structure of our

186 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

forest trees. A slice across the stem of a
tree shows many different tissues with more or
less technical names, bark and cambium, med-
ullary rays, pith, and more or less specialised
tissue; air-vessels, punctate vessels, woody
fibres, liber fibres, scalariform vessels, and
other more or less specialised tissues.

Let us take a single leaf. The name is
synonymous with anything very thin, so that
we might well fancy that a leaf would consist
of only one or two layers of cells. Far from
it, the leaf is a highly complex structure. On
the upper surface are a certain ‘number of
_ scattered hairs, while in the bud these are
often numerous, long, silky, and serve to
protect the young leaf, but the greater number
fall off soon after the leaf expands. The hairs
are seated on a layer of flattened cells —the
skin or epidermis. Below this are one or
more layers of “ palisade cells,’ the function
of which seems to be to regulate the quantity
of light entering the leaf. Under these again
is the “‘ parenchyme,” several layers of more or
less rounded cells, leaving air spaces and pas-
sages between them. From place to place in

v WOODS AND FIELDS 187

the parenchyme run “ fibro-vascular bundles,”
forming a sort of skeleton to the leaf, and
comprising air-vessels on the upper side, rayed
or dotted vessels with woody fibre below, and
vessels of various kinds. The under surface
of the leaf is formed by another layer of
flattened cells, supporting generally more or
less hairs, and some of them specially modi-
fied so as to leave minute openings or
“stomata” leading into the air passages.
These stomata are so small that there are
millions on a single leaf, and on plants growing
in dry countries, such as the Evergreen Oak,
Oleander, etc., they are sunk in pits, and fur-
ther protected by tufts of hair.

The cells of the leaf again are themselves
complex. They consist of a cell wall per-
forated by extremely minute orifices, of pro-
toplasm, cell fluid, and numerous granules
of “Chlorophyll,” which give the leaf its
green colour.

While these are, stated very briefly, the
essential parts of a leaf, the details differ in
every species, while in the same species and |
even in the same plant, the leaves present

188 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

minor differences according to the situation
in which they grow.

Since, then, there is so much complex
structure in a single leaf, what must it be in a
whole plant? There is a giant seaweed (Mac-
rocystis), which has been known to reach a
length of 1000 feet, as also do some of the
lianas of tropical forests. These, however,
attain no great bulk, and the most gigantic
specimens of the vegetable kingdom yet
known are the Wellingtonia (Sequoia) gigan-
tea, which grows to a height of 450 feet, and
the Blue Gum (Eucalyptus) even to 480.

One is apt to look on animal structure as
more delicate, and of a higher order, than
that of plants. And sono doubt it is. Yet
an animal, even man himself, will recover
from a wound or an operation more rapidly
and more perfectly than a tree.’ 7

Trees again derive a special interest from
the venerable age they attain. In some cases,
no doubt, the age is more or less mythical, as,
for instance, the Olive of Minerva at Athens,
the Oaks mentioned by Pliny, ‘which were

1Sir J. Paget, On the Pathology of Plants.

v WOODS AND FIELDS 189 .

thought coeval with the world itself,” the
_ Fig tree, “under which the wolf suckled the
founder of Rome and his brother, lasting (as
Tacitus calculated) 840 years, putting out
new shoots, and presaging the translation of
that empire from the Cesarian line, happen-
ing in Nero’s reign.’ * But in other cases the
estimates rest on a surer foundation, and it
cannot be doubted that there are trees still
living which were already of considerable size
at the time of the Conquest. The Soma
Cypress of Lombardy, which is 120 feet high
and 23 in circumference, is calculated to go
back to forty years before the birth of Christ.
Francis the First is said to have driven his
sword into it in despair after the battle of
Padua, and Napoleon altered his road over the
Simplon so as to spare it.

Ferdinand and Isabella in 1476 swore
to maintain the privileges of the Biscayans
under the old Oak of Guernica. In the
Ardennes an Oak cut down in 1824 con-
tained a funeral urn and some Samnite
coins. A writer at the time drew the conclu-

1Evelyn’s Sylva.

190 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

sion that it must have been already a large
tree when Rome was founded, and though the
facts do not warrant this conclusion, the tree
did, no doubt, go back to Pagan times. The
great Yew of Fountains Abbey is said to have
sheltered the monks when the abbey was re-
built in 1133, and is estimated at an age of
1300 years; that at Brabourne in Kent at
3000. De Candolle gives oe following as the
ages attaimable : —

The Ivy ; : ‘ : ‘ 450 years
Larch ‘ ; ; : : 570
Plane ‘ ; ; : Toy 4
Cedar of Tebanon: ? : ‘ 800 «
Lime : : ‘ ; ; 1100 «
Oak TNtest , : : 1500.
Taxodium distichum ; . ‘ 4000 to 6000
Baobab ; : : ; ‘ 6000 years

Nowhere is woodland scenery more beau-
tiful than where it passes gradually into the
open country. The separate trees, having
more room both for their roots and branches,
are finer, and can be better seen, while, when
they are close together, “one cannot see the
wood for the trees.” The vistas which open
out are full of mystery and of promise,

ee - WOODS AND FIELDS 191

and tempt us gradually out into the green
fields.

What pleasant memories these very words
recall, games in the hay as children, and sunny
summer days throughout life.

“Consider,” says Ruskin,’ “ what we owe
to the meadow grass, to the covering of the
dark ground by that glorious enamel, by
the companies of those soft countless and
peaceful spears. The fields! Follow but
forth for a little time the thought of all that
we ought to recognise in those words. All
spring and summer is in them—the walks
by silent scented paths, the rests in noonday
heat, the joy of herds and flocks, the power
of all shepherd life and meditation, the life of
sunlight upon the world, falling in emerald
streaks, and soft blue shadows, where else it
would have struck on the dark mould or
scorching dust, pastures beside the pacing
brooks, soft banks and knolls of lowly hills,
thymy slopes of down overlooked by the blue
line of lifted sea, crisp lawns all dim with
early dew, or smooth in evening warmth of

1 Modern Painters. .

192 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE ____ onap.

barred sunshine, dinted by happy feet, and
softening in their fall the sound of loving
voices.

“Go out, in the spring time, among the
meadows that slope from the shores of the
Swiss lakes to the roots of their lower moun-
tains. There, mingled with the taller gentians
and the white narcissus, the grass grows deep
and free, and as you follow the winding
mountain paths, beneath arching boughs all
veiled and dim with blossom, — paths, that for
ever droop and rise over the green banks and
mounds sweeping down in scented undulation,
steep to the blue water, studded here and
there with new mown heaps, filling all the
air with fainter sweetness, — look up towards
the higher hills, where the waves of everlast-
ing green roll silently into their long inlets
among the shadows of the pines ; and we may,
perhaps, at last know the meaning of those
quiet words of the 147th Psalm, ‘ He maketh
the grass to grow upon the mountains.’ ”

“On fine days,’ he tells us again in his
Autobiography, “ when the grass was dry, I

Vv WOODS AND FIELDS 193

used to lie down on it, and draw the blades
as they grew, with the ground herbage of
buttercup or hawkweed mixed among them,
until every square foot of meadow, or mossy
bank, became an infinite picture and _ posses-
sion to me, and the grace and adjustment to
each other of growing leaves, a subject of
more curious interest to me than the com-
position of any painter’s masterpieces.”

In the passage above quoted, Ruskin alludes
especially to Swiss meadows. They are espe-
cially remarkable in the beauty and variety of
flowers. In our fields the herbage is mainly
grass, and if it often happens that they glow
with Buttercups or are white with Ox-eye-
daisies, these are but unwelcome intruders
and add nothing to the value of the hay.
Swiss meadows, on the contrary, are sweet
and lovely with wild Geraniums, Harebells,
Bluebells, Pmk Restharrow, Yellow Lady’s
Bedstraw, Chervil, Kyebright, Red and White
Silenes, Geraniums, Gentians, and many other
flowers which have no familiar English names ;
all adding not only to the beauty and sweetness |
of the meadows, but forming a valuable part

194 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

of the crop itself. On the other hand “turf”
is peculiarly English, and no turf is more de-
lightful than that of our Downs — delightful
to ride on, to sit on, or to walk on. ‘The turf
indeed feels so springy under our feet that
walking on it seems scarcely an exertion: one
could almost fancy that the Downs themselves
were still rising, even higher, into the air.
The herbage of the Downs is close rather
than short, hillocks of sweet thyme, tufts of
golden Potentilla, of Milkwort — blue, pink,
and white —of sweet grass and Harebells :
here and there pink with Heather, or golden

with Furze or Broom, while over all are the

fresh air and sunshine, sweet scents, and the
hum of bees. And if the Downs seem full of
life and sunshine, their broad shoulders are
types of kindly strength, they give also an
impression of power and antiquity, while every
now and then we come across a tumulus, or a
group of great grey stones, the burial place of
some ancient hero, or a sacred temple of our
pagan forefathers.

1 M. Correvon informs me that the Gruyére cheese is supposed
to owe its peculiar flavour to the alpine Alchemi!la, which is now
on that account often purposely sown elsewhere.

‘
SL Ul

‘
a

Vv WOODS AND FIELDS 195

On the Downs indeed things change slowly,
-and in parts of Sussex the strong slow oxen
still draw the waggons laden with warm hay
or golden wheat sheaves, or drag the wooden
plough along the slopes of the Downs, just as
they did a thousand years ago.

I love the open Down most, but without
hedges England would not be England.
Hedges are everywhere full of beauty and
interest, and nowhere more so than at the
foot of the Downs, when they are in great
part composed of wild Guelder Roses and rich
dark Yews, decked with festoons of Travel-
ler’s Joy, the wild Bryonies, and garlands of
Wild Roses covered with thousands of white
or delicate pink flowers, each with a centre of ©
gold.

At the foot of the Downs spring clear spark-
ling streams; rain from heaven purified still
further by being filtered through a thousand
feet of chalk; fringed with purple Loosestrife
and Willowherb, starred with white Water
Ranunculuses, or rich Watercress, while every
now and then a brown water rat rustles in
the grasses at the edge, and splashes into

196 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

the water, or a pink speckled trout glides
out of sight.

In many of ‘our midland and northern
counties most of the meadows lie in parallel
undulations or “rigs.” These are generally
about a furlong (220 yards) in length, and
either one or two poles (53 or 11 yards) in
breadth. They seldom run straight, but tend
to curve towards the left. At each end of
the field a high bank, locally called a balk,
often 3 or 4 feet high, runs at right angles to
the rigs. In small fields there are generally
eight, but sometimes ten, of these rigs, which
make in the one case 4, in the other 5 acres.
These curious characters carry us back to the
old tenures, and archaic cultivation of land,
and to a period when the fields were not in
pasture, but were arable.

They also explain our curious system of
land measurement. The “acre” is the amount
which a team of oxen were supposed to plough
in a day. It corresponds to the German
“morgen” and the French “ journée.” The
furlong or long “furrow” is the distance
which a team of oxen can plough conven-

v WOODS AND FIELDS 197

iently without stopping to rest. Oxen, as we
know, were driven not with a whip, but with
a goad or pole, the most convenient length for
which was 16% feet, and the ancient plough-
man used his “ pole” or “perch” by placing
it at right angles to his first furrow, thus
measuring the amount he had to _ plough.
Hence our “pole” or “perch” of 163 feet,
which at first sight seems a very singular
unit to have selected. This width is also con-
venient both for turning the plough, and also
for sowing. Hence the most convenient unit
of land for arable purposes was a furlong in
length and a perch or pole in width.

The team generally consisted of eight oxen.
Few peasants, however, possessed a whole
team, several generally joming together, and
dividing the produce. Hence the number of
“rigs,” one for each ox. We often, however,
find ten instead of eight; one being for the
parson’s tithe, the other tenth going to the
ploughman.

When eight oxen were employed the goad
would not of course reach the leaders, which
were guided by a man who walked on the

198 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

near side. On arriving at the end of each

furrow he turned them round, and as it was

easier to pull than to push them, this gradu-
ally gave the furrow a turn towards the left,
thus. accounting for the slight curvature.
Lastly, while the oxen rested on arriving at
the end of the furrow, the ploughmen scraped
off the earth which had accumulated on the
coulter and ploughshare, and the accumulation
of these scrapings gradually formed the balk.
It is fascinating thus to trace indications
of old customs and modes of life, but it would
carry us away from the present subject.
Even though the Swiss meadows may. offer
a greater variety, our English fields are yet
rich in flowers: yellow with Cowslips and
Primroses, pink with Cuckoo flowers and
purple with Orchis, while, however, unwel-
come to the eye of the farmer,
the rich Buttercup

Its tiny polished urn holds up,
Filled with ripe summer to the edge,}

turning many a meadow into a veritable field
of the cloth of gold, and there are few prettier
1J. R. Lowell,

Vv WOODS AND FIELDS 199

sights in nature than an English hay field on
a summer evening, with a copse perhaps at
one side and a brook on the other; men with
forks tossing the hay in the air to dry;
women with wooden rakes arranging it in
swathes ready for the great four-horse wag-
gon, or collecting it in cocks for the night;
while some way off the mowers are still at
work, and we hear from time to time the
pleasant sound of the whetting of the scythe.
All are working with a will lest rain should
come and their labour be thrown away. This
too often happens. But though we often com-
plain of our English climate, it is yet, take
_ it all in all, one of the best in the world,
bemg comparatively free from extremes either
of heat or cold, drought or deluge. To the
happy mixture of sunshine and of rain we
owe the greenness of our fields, |
sparkling with dewdrops
Indwelt with little angels of the Sun, }
lit and

warmed by golden sunshine
And fed by silver rain,

which now and again sprinkles the whole earth

with diamonds.
1 Hamerton.

CHAPTER VI ar
MOUNTAINS oie
: 3

Mountains ‘‘ seem to have been built for the human race,
as at once their schools and cathedrals; full of treasures of
illuminated manuscript for the scholar, kindly in simple
lessons for the worker, quiet in pale cloisters for the thinker,
glorious in holiness for the worshipper. They are great
cathedrals of the earth, with their gates of rock, pavements of
cloud, choirs of stream and stone, altars of snow, and vaults
of purple traversed by the continual stars.”— RuskIn.

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CHAPTER VI
MOUNTAINS

Tue Alps are to many of us an inexhaustible
source of joy and peace, of health, and even of
life.. We have gone to them jaded and worn,
feeling, perhaps without any external cause,
anxious and out of spirits, and have returned
full of health, strength, and energy. Among
the mountains Nature herself seems freer and
happier, brighter and purer, than elsewhere.
The rush of the rivers, and the repose of the
lakes, the pure snowfields and majestic glaciers,
the fresh air, the mysterious summits of the
mountains, the blue haze of the distance, the
morning tints and the evening glow, the beauty
of the sky and the grandeur of the storm, have
all refreshed and delighted us time after time,
and their memories can never fade away.

208

204 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE“ CHAP.

Even now as I write comes back to me the
bright vision of an Alpine valley—blue sky
above, glittering snow, bare grey or rich red
rock, dark pines here and there, mixed with
- bright green larches, then patches of smooth
alp, with clumps of birch and beech, and dotted
with brown chalets; then belowthem rock again,
and wood, but this time with more deciduous
trees; and then the valley itself, with emer-
ald meadows, interspersed with alder copses,
threaded together by a silver stream; and I
almost fancy I can hear the tinkling of distant
cowbells coming down from the alp, and the
delicious murmur of the rushing water. The
endless variety, the sense of repose and yet of
power, the dignity of age, the energy of youth,
the play of colour, the beauty of form, the
mystery of their origin, all combine to invest
mountains with a solemn beauty.

I feel with Ruskin that “‘ mountains are the
beginning and the end of all natural scenery ;
in them, and in the forms of inferior landscape
that lead to them, my affections are wholly
bound up; and though I can look with happy
admiration at the lowland flowers, and woods,

a MOUNTAINS 205

and open skies, the happiness is tranquil and
cold, like that of examining detached flowers
in a conservatory, or reading a pleasant book.”
And of all mountain views which he has seen,
the finest he considers is that from the Mont-
anvert: “I have climbed much and wandered
much in the heart of the high Alps, but I have
never yet seen anything which equalled the
view from the cabin of the Montanvert.”

It is no mere fancy that among mountains
the flowers are peculiarly large and brilliant
in colour. Not only are there many beautiful
species which are peculiar to mountains, —
alpine Gentians, yellow, blue, and purple;
alpine Rhododendrons, alpine Primroses and
Cowslips, alpine Lychnis, Columbine, Monks-
hood, Anemones, Narcissus, Campanulas, Sol-
danellas, and a thousand others less familiar
to us,—but it is well established that even
within the limits of the same species those
living up in the mountains have larger and
brighter flowers than their sisters elsewhere.

Various alpine species belonging to quite
distinct families form close moss-like cushions,
gemmed with star-like flowers, or covered

206 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

completely with a carpet of blossom. On the
lower mountain slopes and in alpine valleys
trees seem to flourish with peculiar luxuriance.
Pines and Firs and Larches above; then, as we ~
descend, Beeches and magnificent Chestnuts,
which seem to rejoice in the sweet, fresh air
and the pure mountain streams.

T'o any one accustomed to the rich bird life
of English woods and hedgerows, it must be
admitted that Swiss woods and Alps seem
rather lonely and deserted. Still the Hawk,
or even Kagle, soaring high up in the air, the
weird cry of the Marmot, and the knowledge
that, even if one cannot see Chamois, they
may all the time be looking down on us, give
the Alps, from this point of view also, a
special interest of their own.

Another great charm of mountain districts
is the richness of colour. “ Consider,’ first,
the difference produced in the whole tone of
landscape colour by the introductions of purple,
violet, and deep ultra-marine blue which we
owe to mountains. In an ordinary lowland
landscape we have the blue of the sky; the

1 Ruskin.

= MOUNTAINS 207

green of the grass, which I will suppose (and

this is an unnecessary concession to the low-

lands) entirely fresh and bright; the green of
trees; and certain elements of purple, far
more rich and beautiful than we generally
should think, in their bark and shadows (bare
hedges and thickets, or tops of trees, in sub-
dued afternoon sunshine, are nearly perfect
purple and of an exquisite tone), as well as in
ploughed fields, and dark ground in general.
But among mountains, in addition to all this,
large unbroken spaces of pure violet and
purple are introduced in their distances ; and
even near, by films of cloud passing over the
darkness of ravines or forests, blues are pro-
duced of the most subtle tenderness; these
azures and purples passing into rose colour of
otherwise wholly unattainable delicacy among
the upper summits, the blue of the sky being
at the same time purer and deeper than in the
plains. Nay, in some sense, a person who-
has never seen the rose colour of the rays of
dawn crossing a blue mountain twelve or
fifteen miles away can hardly be said to know
what tenderness in colour means at all; bright

208 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

tenderness he may, indeed, see in the sky or
in a flower, but this grave tenderness of the
far-away hill-purples he cannot conceive.”
“T-do not know,” he says elsewhere, “ any
district possessing a more pure or uninter-
rupted fulness of mountain character (and
that of the highest order), or which appears to
have been less disturbed by foreign agencies,
than that which borders the course of the
Trient between Valorsine and Martigny. The
paths which lead to it, out of the valley of the
Rhone, rising at first in steep circles among
the walnut trees, hike winding stairs among
the pillars of a Gothic tower, retire over the
shoulders of the hills into a valley almost
unknown, but thickly inhabited by an indus-
trious and patient population. Along the
ridges of the rocks, smoothed by old glaciers,
into long, dark, billowy swellings, like the
backs of plunging dolphins, the peasant
watches the slow colouring of the tufts of moss
and roots of herb, which, little by little, gather
a feeble soil over the iron substance; then,
supporting the narrow strip of clinging ground
with a few stones, he subdues it to the spade,

ars

VI | MOUNTAINS 209

and ina year or two a little crest of corn is
seen waving upon the rocky casque.”

Tyndall, speaking of the scene from the
summit of the Little Scheideck,’ says: ‘“ The
upper air exhibited a commotion which we
did not experience ; clouds were wildly driven
against the flanks of the Eiger, the Jungfrau
thundered behind, while in front of us a mag-
nificent rainbow, fixing one of its arms in the
valley of Grindelwald, and, throwing the
other right over the crown of the Wetterhorn,
clasped the mountain in its embrace. Through
jagged apertures in the clouds floods of golden
light were poured down the sides of the moun-
tain. On the slopes were innumerable chalets,
glistening in the sunbeams, herds browsing
peacefully and shaking their mellow bells ;
while the blackness of the pine trees, crowded
into woods, or scattered in pleasant clusters
over alp and valley, contrasted forcibly with
the lively green of the fields.”

Few men had more experience of moun-
tains than Mr. Whymper, and from him,
I will quote one remarkable passage de-

1 The Glaciers of the Alps.

910 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

scribing the view from the summit of the
Matterhorn just before the terrible catastrophe
which overshadows the memory of his first
ascent.

“The day was one of those superlatively
calm, and clear ones which usually precede
bad weather. The atmosphere was perfectly
still and free from all clouds or vapours.
Mountains fifty, nay, a hundred miles off
looked sharp and near. All their details —
ridge and crag, snow and glacier — stood out
with faultless definition. Pleasant thoughts
of happy days in bygone years came up
unbidden as we recognised the old familiar
forms. All were revealed, not one of the
principal peaks of the Alps was hidden. I see
them clearly now, the great inner circle of
giants, backed by the ranges, chains, and
massifs. . . . Ten thousand feet beneath us
were the green fields of Zermatt, dotted with
chalets, from which blue smoke rose lazily.
Kight thousand feet below, on the other side,
were the pastures of Breuil. There were black
and gloomy forests; bright and cheerful
meadows, bounding waterfalls and tranquil

VI MOUNTAINS ys ©

lakes, fertile lands and savage wastes, sunny
plains and frigid plateaux. There were the
most rugged forms and the most graceful
outlines, bold perpendicular cliffs and gentle
undulating slopes; rocky mountains and
snowy mountains, sombre and solemn, or
glittermg and white, with walls, turrets, pin-
nacles, pyramids, domes, cones, and spires!
There was every combination that the world
can give, and every contrast that the heart
could desire.”

These were summer scenes, but the
Autumn and Winter again have a grandeur
and beauty of their own.

“ Autumn is dark on the mountains; grey
mist rests on the hills. The whirlwind is
heard on the heath. Dark rolls the river
through the narrow plain. The leaves twirl
round with the wind, and strew the grave of
the dead.” *

Even bad weather often but enhances the
beauty and grandeur of mountains. When
the lower parts are hidden, and the peaks
stand out above the clouds, they look much

1 Ossian.

212 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

loftier than if the whole mountain side is
visible. The gloom lends a weirdness and
mystery to the scene, while the flying clouds
give it additional variety.

Rain, moreover, adds vividness to the
colouring. The leaves and grass become a
brighter green, “every sunburnt rock glows
into an agate,” and when fine weather returns
the new snow gives intense brilliance, and
invests the woods especially with the beauty
of Fairyland. How often in alpine districts
does one long “for the wings of a dove,’ more
thoroughly to enjoy and more completely to
explore, the mysteries and recesses of the
mountains. ‘The mind, however, can go, even
if the body must remain behind.

Each hour of the day has a beauty of its
own. ‘The mornings and evenings again glow
with different and even richer tints.

In mountain districts the cloud effects are
brighter and more varied than in flatter
regions. The morning and evening tints are
seen to the greatest advantage, and clouds
floating high in the heavens sometimes glitter
with the most exquisite iridescent hues

ee es

petite, Ai

1) =o

VI MOUNTAINS 213

that blush and glow
Like angels’ wings.?

On low ground one may be in the clouds,
but not above them. But as we look down
from mountains and see the clouds floating
far below us, we almost seem as if we were
looking down on earth from one of the heav-
enly bodies.

Not even in the Alps is there anything
more beautiful than the “after glow” which
lights up the snow and ice with a rosy tint
for some time after the sun has set. Long
after the lower slopes are already in the shade,
the summit of Mont Blanc for instance is
transfigured by the light of the setting sun
glowing on the snow. It seems almost like
a light from another world, and vanishes as
suddenly and mysteriously as it came. :

As we look up from the valleys the
mountain peaks seem like separate pinnacles
projecting far above the general level. This,
however, is a very erroneous impression, and
when we examine the view from the top of
any of the higher mountains, or even from

1 Bullar, Azores.

214 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

one of very moderate elevation, if well placed,

such say as the well-known Piz Languard, we

see that in many cases they must have once
formed a dome, or even a table land, out of
which the valleys have been carved. Many

mountain chains were originally at least twice .

as high as they are now, and the highest
peaks are those which have suffered least
from the wear and tear of time.

We used to speak of the everlasting hills,
and are only beginning to realise the vast
and many changes which our earth has un-
dergone. . PN!

There rolls the deep where grew the tree.
- Oearth, what changes hast thou seen!

There where the long street roars, hath been
The stillness of the central sea.

The hills are shadows, and they flow
From form to form, and nothing stands;
They melt like mist, the solid lands,
Like clouds they shape themselves and go.

THE ORIGIN OF MOUNTAINS

Geography moreover acquires a new in-
terest when we once realise that mountains

1Tennyson.

ee ee =e”

VI MOUNTAINS 215

are no mere accidents, but that for every
mountain chain, for every peak and valley,
there is a cause and an explanation.

The origin of Mountains is a question of
much interest. The building up of Volcanoes
is even now going on before our eyes. Some
others, the Dolomites for instance, have been
regarded by Richthofen and other geologists
as ancient coral islands. The long lines of
escarpment which often stretch for miles across
country, are now ascertained, mainly through
the researches of Whitaker, to be due to the
differential action of aerial causes. The gen-
eral origin of mountain chains, however, was
at first naturally enough attributed to direct
upward pressure from below. To attribute
them in any way to subsidence seems almost
a paradox, and yet it appears to be now well
established that the general cause is lateral
compression, due to contraction of the under-—
lying mass. The earth, we know, has been
gradually cooling, and as it contracted in doing
so, the strata of the crust would necessarily be
thrown into folds. When an apple dries and
shrivels in winter, the surface becomes covered

216 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

with ridges. Or again, if we place some sheets
of paper between two weights on a table, and
then bring the weights nearer together, the
_ paper will be crumpled up.

In the same way let us take a section of
the earth’s surface AB (Fig. 17), and suppose
that, by the gradual cooling and consequent
contraction of the mass, AB sinks to A’B’,

A B

‘RB’

. A IB"

A’ %
Fa B

Fig. 17.— Adapted from Ball’s paper ‘‘ On the Formation of Alpine Valleys
. and Lakes,” Lond. and Ed. Phil, Mag. 1863, p. 96.

then to A”B”, and finally to A”B”. Of
course if the cooling of the surface and of the
deeper portion were the same, then the strata
between A and B would themselves contract,
and might consequently still form a regular
curve between A” and B”. As a matter of
fact, however, the strata at the surface of our
globe have long since approached a constant
temperature. Under these circumstances
there would be no contraction of the strata

between A and B corresponding to that of —

Basie Nie nye

VI | MOUNTAINS AT

those in the interior, and consequently they
could not lie flat between A” and B”, but
must be thrown into folds, commencing along
any line of least resistance. Sometimes in-
deed the strata are completely inverted, as
in Fig. 19, and in other cases they have
been squeezed for miles out of their original
position. This explanation was first, I be-
lieve, suggested by Steno. It has been re-
cently developed by Ball and Suess, and espe-
cially by Heim. In this manner it is probable
that most mountain chains originated."

The structure of mountain districts confirms
this theoretical explanation. It is obvious
of course that when strata are thrown into
_folds, they will, if strained too much, give
way at the summit of the fold. Before doing
so, however, they are stretched and conse-
quently loosened, while on the other hand the
strata at the bottom of the fold are compressed :
the former, therefore, are rendered more sus-
ceptible of disintegration, the latter on the
contrary acquire greater powers of resistance.

1See especially Heim’s great work, Unt. ti. d. Mechanismus
der Gebirgsbildung.

9218 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP, VI

Hence denudation will act with more effect

on the upper than on the lower portion

of the folds, and if continued long enough,
so that, as shown in the above diagram, the
dotted portion is removed, we find the origi-

nal hill tops replaced by valleys, and the origi-

nal valleys forming the hill tops. Every
visitor to Switzerland must have noticed hills
where the strata lie as shown in parts of Fig.
18, and where it is obvious that strata corre-
sponding to those in dots must have been origi-
nally present.

In the Jura, for instance, a glance at any
good map of the district will show a succes-
sion of ridges running parallel to one another
in a slightly curved line from 8.W. to N.E.
That these ridges are due to folds of the
earth’s surface is clear from the following
figure in Jaccard’s work on the Geology of the
Jura, showing a section from Brenets due
south to Neuchatel by Le Locle. These folds
-are comparatively slight and the hills of no
great height. Further south, however, the
strata are much more violently dislocated and
compressed together. The Mont Saléve is the
remnant of one of these ridges.

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In the Alps the contortions are much
greater than in the Jura. Fig. 19 shows a
section after Heim, from the Spitzen across
the Brunnialp, and the Maderanerthal. It
is obvious that the valleys are due mainly to
erosion, that the Maderaner valley has been
cut out of the crystalline rocks s, and was
once covered by the Jurassic strata j7, which
must have formerly passed in a great arch
over what is now the valley.

However improbable it may seem that so
great an amount of rock should have dis-
appeared, evidence is conclusive. Ramsay has
shown that in some parts of Wales not less
than 29,000 feet have been removed, while
there is strong reason for the belief that in
Switzerland an amount has been carried away
equal to the present height of the mountains ;
though of course it does not follow that the
Alps were once twice as high as they are at
present, because elevation and erosion must
have gone on contemporaneously.

It has been calculated that the strata
between Bale and the St. Gotthard have
been compressed from 202 miles to 130

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miles, the Ardennes from 50 to 25 miles,
and the Appalachians from 153 miles to
65! Prof. Gumbel has recently expressed
the opinion that the main force to which
the elevation of the Alps was due acted
along the main axis of elevation. Exactly
the opposite inference would seem really to
follow from the facts. If the centre of force
were along the axis of elevation, the result
would, as Suess and Heim have pointed out,
be to extend, not to compress, the strata;
and the folds would remain quite unaccounted
for. The suggestion of compression is on the
contrary consistent with the main features of
Swiss geography. The principal axis follows
a curved line from the Maritime Alps towards
the north-east by Mont Blanc and Monte
Rosa and St. Gotthard to the mountains over-
looking the Engadine. The geological strata
follow the same direction. North of a line

running through Chambery, Yverdun, Neu-

chatel, Solothurn, and Olten to Waldshut on
the Rhine are Jurassic strata; between that
line and a second nearly parallel and running
through Annecy, Vevey, Lucerne, Wesen,

Oe ee ee ee

. vI MOUNTAINS 223

Appenzell, and Bregenz on the Lake of Con-
stance, is the lowland occupied by later
Tertiary strata; between this second line
and another passing through Albertville, St.
Maurice, Lenk, Meiringen, and Altdorf lies a
more or less broken band of older Tertiary
strata; south of which are a Cretaceous zone,
one of Jurassic age, then a band of crystalline
rocks, while the central core, so to say, of the
Alps, as for instance at St. Gotthard, consists
mainly of gneiss or granite. The sedimentary
deposits reappear south of the Alps, and in
the opinion of some high authorities, as, for
instance, of Bonney and Heim, passed con-
tinuously over the intervening regions. The
last great upheaval commenced after the
Miocene period, and continued through the
Pliocene. Miocene strata attain in the Righi
a height of 6000 feet.

For neither the hills nor the mountains are
everlasting, or of the same age.

The Welsh mountains are older than the
Vosges, the Vosges than the Pyrenees, the Pyr-
-enees than the Alps, and the Alps than the
Andes, which indeed are still rising ; so that

294 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

if our English mountains are less imposing
so far as mere height is concerned, they are
most venerable from their great antiquity.
But though the existing Alps are in one
sense, and speaking geologically, very recent,
there is strong reason for believing that there
was a chain of lofty mountains there long
previously. “The first indication,” says Judd,
“of the existence of a line of weakness in this
portion of the earth’s crust is found towards
the close of the Permian period, when a series
of volcanic outbursts on the very grandest
scale took place” along a line nearly follow-
ing that of the present Alps, and led to the
formation of a range of mountains, which, in
his opinion, must have been at least 8000 to
9000 feet high. Ramsay and Bonney have
also given strong reasons for believing
that the present line of the Alps was, at a
still earlier period, occupied by a range
of mountains no less lofty than those of
to-day. Thus then, though the present Alps
are comparatively speaking: so recent, there
are good grounds for the belief that they were
preceded by one or more earlier ranges, once

“i MOUNTAINS 225

as lofty as they are now, but which were more
or less completely levelled by the action of air
and water, just as is happening now to the
present mountain ranges.

Movements of elevation and subsidence are
still going on in various parts of the world.
Scandinavia is rising in the north, and sink-
ing at the south. South America is rising on
the west and sinking in the east, rotating in
fact on its axis, like some stupendous pendu-
lum.

The crushing and folding of the strata to
which mountain chains are due, and of which
the Alps afford such marvellous illustrations,
necessarily give rise to Harthquakes, and the
slight shocks so frequent in parts of Switzer-
land’ appear to indicate that the forces which
have raised the Alps are not yet entirely spent,
and that slow subterranean movements are still
in progress along the flanks of the mountains.

But if the mountain chains are due to com-
pression, the present valleys are mainly the
result of denudation. As soon as a mountain
range is once raised, all nature seems to con-

1 In the last 150 years more than 1000 are recorded.

296 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

spire against it. Sun and Frost, Heat and
Cold, Air and Water, Ice and Snow, every
plant, from the Lichen to the Oak, and. every
animal, from the Worm to Man himself, com-
bine to attack it. Water, however, is the
most powerful agent ofall. The autumn rains
saturate every pore and cranny; the water as
it freezes cracks and splits the hardest rocks ;
while the spring sun melts the snow and swells
the rivers, which in their turn carry off the
debris to the plains.

Perhaps, however, it would after all be more
correct to say that Nature, like some great
artist, carves the shapeless block into form, ane
endows the rude mass with life and beauty.

“What more,” said Hutton long ago, “is
required to explain the configuration of our
mountains and valleys? Nothing but time.
It is not any part of the process that will be
disputed ; but, after allowing all the parts, the
whole will be denied; and for what? Only.
because we are not disposed to allow thas
quantity of time which the absolution of so
much wasted mountain might require.”

The tops of the Swiss mountains stand,

VI MOUNTAINS 227

and since their elevation have probably
always stood, above the range of ice, and
hence their bold peaks. In Scotland, on
the contrary, and still more in Norway, the
sheet of ice which once, as is the case with
Greenland now, spread over the whole coun-
try, has shorn off the summits and reduced
them almost to gigantic bosses; while in
Wales the same causes, together with the
resistless action of time—for, as already
mentioned, the Welsh hills are far older
than the mountains of Switzerland — has
ground down the once lofty summits and
reduced them to mere stumps, such as, if
the present forces are left to work out their
results, the Swiss mountains will be thou-
sands, or rather tens of thousands, of years
hence.

The “snow line” in Switzerland is gener-
ally given as being between 8500 and 9000
feet. Above this level the snow or névé
gradually accumulates until it forms “ glac-
iers,’ solid rivers of ice. which descend more
or less far down the valleys. No one who
has not seen a glacier can possibly realise

“ATV SHMMIA 243 JO A9FVTD — "0S “SMT

*66e abnd aonf OL, “aOVID Ad UAW AHL

_ CHAP, VI’, - . MOUNTAINS 299

what they are like. Fig. 20 represents the
glacier of the Bliimlis Alp, and the Plate
the Mer de Glace.

They are often very beaut: “ Mount
Beerenberg,’ says Lord Dufferin, “in size,
colour, and effect far surpassed anything |
had anticipated. The glaciers were quite
an unexpected element of beauty. Imagine
a mighty river, of as great a volume as the
Thames, started down the side of a moun-
tain, bursting over every impediment, whirled
into a thousand eddies, tumbling and rag-
ing on from ledge to ledge in quivering
cataracts of foam, then suddenly struck
rigid by a power so instantaneous in its
action. that even the froth and fleeting
wreaths of spray have stiffened to the immu-
tability of sculpture. Unless you had seen
it, it would be almost impossible: to conceive
the strangeness of the contrast between the
actual tranquillity of these silent crystal
rivers and the violent descending energy
impressed upon their exterior. You must
_ remember too all this is upon a scale of such
prodigious magnitude, that when we suc-

230 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

ceeded subsequently in approaching the spot

—where with a leap like that of Niagara

one of these glaciers plunges down into the
sea — the eye, no longer able to take in its
fluvial character, was content to rest i
simple astonishment at what then appeared
a lucent precipice of grey-green ice, rising
to the height of several hundred feet above
the masts of the vessel.” *

The cliffs above glaciers shower down
fragments of rock which gradually accu-

mulate at the sides and at the end of

the glaciers, forming mounds known as
‘“ moraines.’ Many ancient moraines occur
far beyond the present region of glaciers.
In considering the condition of alpine
valleys we must remember that the glaciers
formerly descended much further than they
do at present. The glaciers of the Rhone
for instance occupied the whole of the Valais,
filled the Lake of Geneva—or rather the
site now occupied by that lake —and rose
2000 feet up the slopes of the Jura; the
Upper Ticino, and contributory valleys, were

1 Letters from High Latitudes.

ee <a eee ee

+) ee

es,

tied ae. ee

VI MOUNTAINS 231.

occupied by another which filled the basin
of the Lago Maggiore ; a third occupied the
valley of the Dora Baltea, and has left a
moraine at Ivrea some twenty miles long, and
which rises no less than 1500 feet above the
present level of the river. The Scotch and
Scandinavian valleys were similarly filled
by rivers of ice, which indeed at one time
covered the whole country with an immense
sheet, as Greenland is at present. Hnor-
mous blocks of stone, the Pierre a Niton
at Geneva and the Pierre 4 Bot above
Neuchatel, for imstance, were carried by
these glaciers for miles and miles; and many
of the stones in the Norfolk cliffs were
brought by ice from Norway (perhaps, how-
ever, by Icebergs), across what is now the
German Ocean. Again wherever the rocks
are hard enough to have withstood the
weather, we find them polished and ground,
just as, and even more so than, those at the
ends and sides of existing glaciers.

The most magnificent glacier tracks in the
Alps are, in Ruskin’s opinion, those on the
rocks of the great angle opposite Martigny ;

Zon THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

the most interesting those above the channel
of the Trient between Valorsine and the valley
of the Rhone.

In Great Britain I know no better illus-
tration of ice action than is to be seen on the
road leading down from Glen Quoich to Loch
Hourn, one of the most striking examples of
desolate and savage scenery in Scotland. Its
name in Celtic is said to mean the Lake of
Hell. All along the roadside are smoothed
and polished hummocks of rock, most of them
deeply furrowed with approximately parallel
stria, presenting a gentle slope on the upper
end, and a steep side below, clearly showing
the direction of the great ice flow.

Many of the upper Swiss valleys contain
lakes, as, for imstance, that of the Upper
Rhone, the Lake of Geneva, of the Reuss, the
Lake of Lucerne, of the Rhine, that of Con-
stance. These lakes are generally very deep.

The colour of the upper rivers, which are
white with the diluvium from the glaciers, is
itself evidence of the erosive powers which
they exercise. This finely-divided matter is,
_ however, precipitated in the lakes, which, as

vi . MOUNTAINS 233

well as the rivers issuing from them, are a
beautiful rich blue.

“Ts it not probable that this action of
finely-divided matter may have some influ-
ence on the colour of some of the Swiss lakes
—as that of Geneva for example? This lake
is simply an expansion of the river Rhone,
which rushes from the end of the Rhone
glacier, as the Arveiron does from the end of
the Mer de Glace. Numerous other streams
jom the Rhone right and left during its
downward course; and these feeders, being
almost wholly derived from glaciers, join the
Rhone charged with the finer matter which
these in their motion have ground from the
rocks over which they have passed. But the
glaciers must grind the mass beneath them
to particles of all sizes, and I cannot help
thinking that the finest of them must remain
suspended in the lake throughout its entire
length. Faraday has shown that a precipi-
tate of gold may require months to sink to
the bottom of a bottle not more than five
inches high, and in all probability it would
require ages of calm subsidence to bring all

234 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

the particles which the Lake of Geneva con-
tains to its bottom. It seems certainly worthy
of examination whether such ‘particles sus-
pended in the water contribute to the pro-
duction of that magnificent blue which has
excited the admiration of all who have seen
it under favourable circumstances.” *

Among the Swiss mountains themselves
each has its special character. Tyndall thus
describes a view in the Alps, certainly one of
the most beautiful—that, namely, from the
summit of the Aigischhorn. |

“Skies and summits are to-day without a
cloud, and no mist or turbidity interferes
with the sharpness of the outlines. Jung-
frau, Monk, Eiger, Trugberg, cliffy Strahlgrat,
stately lady-like Aletschhorn, all grandly
pierce the empyrean. Like a Saul of Moun-
tains, the Finsteraarhorn overtops all his
neighbours ; then we have the Oberaarhorn,
with the riven glacier of Viesch rolling from
his shoulders. Below is the Marjelin See,
with its crystal precipices and its floating ice-
bergs, snowy white, sailing on a blue green

1 Glaciers of the Alps.

ge ee

a ee

VI MOUNTAINS 235

sea. Beyond is the range which divides the
Valais from Italy. Sweeping round, the
vision meets an aggregate of peaks which look
as fledglings to their mother towards the
mighty Dom. Then come the repellent crags
of Mont Cervin; the ideal of moral savagery,
of wild untameable ferocity, mingling involun-
tarily with our contemplation of the gloomy
pile. Next comes an object, scarcely less
grand, conveying, it may be, even a deeper
impression of majesty and might than the
Matterhorn itself —the Weisshorn, perhaps
the most splendid object in the Alps. But
beauty is associated with its force, and we
think of it, not as cruel, but as grand and
strong. Further to the right the great
Combin lifts up his bare head; other peaks
crowd around him; while at the extremity of
the curve round which our gaze has swept
rises the sovran crown of Mont Blanc. And
now, as day sinks, scrolls of pearly clouds
draw themselves around the mountain crests,
being wafted from them into the distant air.
They are without colour of any kind; still, by
grace of form, and as the embodiment of |

236 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

lustrous light and most tender shade, their
beauty is not to be described.’ *

VOLCANOES

Volcanoes belong to a totally different
series of mountains.

It is practically impossible to number the
Volcanoes on our earth. Humboldt enumer-
ated 223, which Keith Johnston raised to
nearly 300. Some, no doubt, are always
active, but in the majority the eruptions are
occasional, and though some are undoubtedly
now extinct, it is impossible in all cases to
distinguish those which are only in repose
from those whose day of activity is over.
Then, again, the question would arise, which
should be regarded as mere subsidiary cones
and which are separate volcanoes. The
slopes of Etna present more than 700 small
cones, and on Hawaii there are several
thousands. In fact, most of the very lofty
volcanoes present more or less lateral cones.

The molten matter, welling up through

1 Mountaineering in 1861.

a a ee ee ee Fe ee ee ee

Le oe

ns, a a

VI MOUNTAINS 237

some fissure, gradually builds itself up into
a cone, often of the most beautiful regularity,
such as the gigantic peaks of Chimporazo,
Cotopaxi (Fig. 21), and Fusiyama, and hence
it is that the crater is so often at, or very
near, the summit.
Perhaps no spectacle in Nature is more

magnificent than a Volcano in activity. It_
has been my- good fortune to have stood

Fig. 21.— Cotopaxi.

more than once at the edge of the crater
of Vesuvius durmg an eruption, to have
watched the lava seething below, while enor-
mous stones were shot up high into the air.
Such a spectacle can never be forgotten.

238 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP. VI

‘The most imposing crater in the world is
probably that of Kilauea, at a height of
about 4000 feet on the side of Mouna Loa,
in the Island of Hawaii. It has a diameter
of 2 miles, and is elliptic in outline, with a
longer axis of about 3, and a circumference
of about 7 miles. The interior is a great
lake of lava, the level of which is constantly
changing. Generally, it stands about 800
feet below the edge, and the depth is about
1400 feet. The heat is intense, and, espe-
cially at night, when the clouds are coloured
scarlet by the reflection from the molten
lava, the effect is said to be magnificent.
Gradually the lava mounts in the crater
until it either bursts through the side or
runs over the edge, after which the crater
remains empty, sometimes for years.

A lava stream flows down the slope of
the mountain like a burning river, at first
rapidly, but as it cools, scoriz gradually
form, and at length the molten matter
covers itself completely (Fig. 22), both above
and at the sides, with a solid crust, within
which, as in a tunnel, it continues to flow

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240 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

slowly as long as it is supplied from the
source, here and there breaking through the
crust which, as continually, re-forms in front.
Thus the terrible, inexorable river of fire
slowly descends, destroying everything in
its course.

The stream of lava which burst from
Mouna Loa in 1885 had a length of 70 miles;
that of Skaptar-Jokul in Iceland in 1783 had
a length of 50 miles, and a maximum depth
of nearly 500 feet. It has been calculated that
the mass of lava equalled that of Mont Blane.

The stones, ashes, and mud ejected during
eruptions are even more destructive than the
rivers of lava. In 1851 Tomboro, a voleano
on the Island of Sumbava, cost more lives
than fell in the battle of Waterloo. The
earthquake of Lisbon in 1755 destroyed
60,000 persons. During the earthquake of
Riobamba and the mud eruption of Tungu-
ragua, and again in that of Krakatoa, it is

estimated that the number who perished was -

between 30,000 and 40,000. At the earth-
quake of Antioch in 526 no less than 200,000
persons are said to have lost their lives.

1 Sy tS Gy ieee ee

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vI MOUNTAINS 241

Perhaps the most destructive eruption of
modern times has been that on Cosequina.
For 25 miles it covered the ground with
muddy water 16 feet in depth. The dust
and ashes formed a dense cloud, extending
over many miles, some of it being carried 20
degrees to the west. The total mass ejected
has been estimated at 60 milliaids of square
yards. .

Stromboli, in the Mediterranean (Fig. 23),
though only 2500 feet in height, is very im-
posing from its superb regularity, and its
roots plunge below the surface to a depth of ©
4000 feet.

It is, moreover, very interesting from the
regularity of its action, which has a period
of 5 minutes or a little less. On looking
down into the crater one sees at a depth of
say 300 feet a seething mass of red-hot lava;
this gradually rises, and then explodes, throw-
ing up a cloud of vapour and stones, after
which it sinks again. So regular is it that
the Volcano has been compared to a “flashing”’
lighthouse, and this wonderful process has
been going on for ages.

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CHAP. VI MOUNTAINS 2438

Though long extinct, volcanoes once existed
in the British Isles; Arthur’s Seat, near
Edinburgh, for instance, appears to be the
funnel of a small volcano, belonging to the
Carboniferous period.

The summit of a volcanic mountain is
sometimes entirely blown away. Between
my first two visits to Vesuvius 200 feet of the
mountain had thus disappeared. Vesuvius
itself stands in a more ancient crater, part
of which still remains, and is now known as
Somma, the greater portion having disap-
peared in the great eruption of 79, when the
mountain, waking from its long sleep, de-
stroyed Herculaneum and Pompeii.

As regards the origin of volcanoes there
have been two main theories. Impressed by
the magnitude and grandeur of the phenom-
ena, enhanced as they are by their destruc-
tive character, many have been disposed to
regard the craters of volcanoes as gigantic
chimneys, passing right through the solid
crust of the globe, and communicating with
a central fire. Recent researches, however,
have indicated that, grand and imposing as

O44 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

they are, volcanoes must yet be regarded as
due mainly to local and superficial causes.

A glance at the map shows that volcanoes
are almost always situated on, or near, the sea
coast. From the interior of continents they
are entirely wanting. The number of active
volcanoes in the Andes, contrasted with their
absence in the Alps and Ourals, the Hima-
layas, and Central Asian chains, is very strik-
ing. Indeed, the Pacific Ocean is encircled,
as Ritter has pointed out, by a ring of fire.
Beginning with New Zealand, we have the
Volcanoes of Tongariro, Whakaii, etc.; thence
the circle passes through the Fiji Islands, Sol-
omon Islands, New Guinea, Timor, Flores,
Sumbava, Lombock, Java, Sumatra, the Philip-
pines, Japan, the Aleutian Islands, along the
Rocky Mountains, Mexico, Peru, and Chili, to
Tierra del Fuego, and, in the far south, to the
two great Volcanoes of Erebus and Terror on
Victoria Land. |

We know that the contraction of the
Earth’s surface with the strains and fractures,
the compression and folds, which must inevi-
tably result, is still in operation, and must

Me MOUNTAINS 245

give rise to areas of high temperature, and
consequently to volcanoes. We must also
remember that the real mountain chains of
our earth are the continents, compared to
which even the Alps and Andes are mere
wrinkles. It is along the lines of the great
mountain chains, that is to say, along the
main coast lines, rather than in the centres of
the continents, which may be regarded as com-
paratively quiescent, that we should naturally
expect to find the districts of greatest heat,
and this is perhaps why volcanoes are gener-
ally distributed along the coast lines.

Another reason for regarding Volcanoes as
local phenomena is that many even of those
comparatively near one another act quite
independently. This is so with Kilauea and
Mouna Loa, both on the small island of
Hawaii.

Again, if volcanoes were in connection
with a great central sea of fire, the erup-
tions must follow the same laws as regulate
the tides. This, however, is not the case.
There are indeed indications of the exist-
ence of slight tides in the molten lake which

246 “THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

underlies Vesuvius, and during the eruption
of 1865 there was increased activity twice
a day, as we should expect to find in any
great fluid reservoir, but very different indeed
from what must have been the case if the
mountain was in connection with a central
ocean of molten matter.

Indeed, unless the “crust” of our earth
was of great thickness we should be subject
to perpetual earthquakes. No doubt these
are far more frequent than is generally
supposed; indeed, with our improved in-
struments it can be shown that instead of
occasional vibrations, with long intermediate
periods of -rest, we have in reality short
intervals of rest with long periods of vibra-
tion, or rather perhaps that the crust of the ©
earth is in constant tremor, with more |
violent oscillation from time to time.

It appears, moreover, that earthquakes
are not generally deep-seated. The point at
which the shock is vertical can be ascer-
tamed, and it is also possible in some cases
to determine the angle at which it emerges
elsewhere. When this has been done it has

vI MOUNTAINS . 247

always been found that the seat of disturb-
ance must have been within 30 geographical
miles of the surface. .

Yet, though we cannot connect volcanic
action with the central heat of the earth,
but must regard it as a minor and _ local
manifestation of force, volcanoes still remain
among the grandest, most awful, and at the
- game time most magnificent spectacles which.
the earth can afford.

CHAPTER VII

WATER

Of all inorganic substances, acting in their own proper
nature, and without assistance or combination, water is the
most wonderful. If we think of it as the source of all the
changefulness and beauty which we have seen in the clouds;
then as the instrument by which the earth we have contem-
plated was modelled into symmetry, and its crags chiselled
into grace; then as, in the form of snow, it robes the moun-
tains it has made, with that transcendent light which we
could not have conceived if we had not seen; then as it
exists in the foam of the torrent, in the iris which spans it,
in the morning mist which rises from it, in the deep crystal-
line pools which mirror its hanging shore, in the broad lake
and glancing river, finally, in that which is to all human
minds the best emblem of unwearied, unconquerable power,
the wild, various, fantastic, tameless unity of the sea; what
shall we compare to this mighty, this universal element, for
glory and for beauty? or how shall we follow its eternal
cheerfulness of feeling? It is like trying to paint a soul. —
RUSKIN.

Wie A

——— ~—h

PO ee eee ade, eee

‘tee abod avs OF, ‘MaLVM TVYCAD

CHAPTER VII
WATER

In the legends of ancient times running
water was proof against all sorcery and
witchcraft :

No spell could stay the living tide
Or charm the rushing stream.

There was much truth as well as beauty in
this idea.

Flowing waters, moreover, have not only
power to wash out material stains, but they
also clear away the cobwebs of the brain —
the results of over incessant work —and re-
store us to health and strength.

Snowfields and glaciers, mountain torrents,
sparkling brooks, and stately rivers, meres
and lakes, and last, not least, the great ocean
itself, all alike possess this magic power.

1 Leyden. :
251

252 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

“When I would beget content,” says Izaak
Walton, “and increase confidence in the
power and wisdom and providence of AlI-
mighty God, I will walk the meadows by
some gliding stream, and there contemplate
the lilies that take no care, and those very —
many other little living creatures that are
not only created, but fed (man knows not
how) by the goodness of the God of Nature,
and therefore trust in Him;” and in his
quaint old language he craves a special bless-
ing on all those “that are true lovers of
virtue, and dare trust in His Providence, and
be quiet, and go a angling.”

At the water’s edge flowers are especially
varied and luxuriant, so that the banks of a
river are a long natural garden of tall and
graceful grasses and sedges, the Meadow
Sweet, the Flowering Rush, the sweet Flag,
the Bull Rush, Purple Loosestrife, Hemp
Agrimony, Dewberry, Forget-me-not, and a
hundred more, backed by Willows, Alders,
Poplars, and other trees.

The Animal world, if less conspicuous to
the eye, is quite as fascinating to the imagina-

vil WATER 253

tion. Here and there a speckled Trout may
be detected (rather by the shadow than the
substance) suspended in the clear water, or
darting across a shallow; if we are quiet we
may see Water Hens or Wild Ducks swim-
ming among the lilies, a Kingfisher sitting on
a branch or flashing away like a gleam of
light; a solemn Heron stands maybe at the
water's edge, or slowly rises flapping his
great wings; Water Rats, neat and clean
little creatures, very different from their
coarse brown namesakes of the land, are
abundant everywhere; nor need we even yet
quite despair of seeing the Otter himself.

Insects of course are gay, lively, and in-
numerable; but after all the richest fauna is
that visible only with a microscope.

“To gaze,’ says Dr. Hudson, “into that
wonderful world which lies in a drop of
water, crossed by some stems of green weed,
to see transparent living mechanism at work,
and to gain some idea of its modes of action,
to watch a tmy speck, that can sail through
the prick of, a needle’s poimt; to see its
crystal armour flashing with ever varying

254 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

tint, its head glorious with the halo of its
quivering cilia; to see it gliding through the
emerald stems, hunting for its food, snatching
at its prey, fleeing from its enemy, chasing its
mate (the fiercest of our passions blazing in
an invisible speck); to see it whirling in a
mad dance, to the sound of its own music,
the music of its happiness, the exquisite happi-
ness of living—can any one, who has once
enjoyed this sight, ever turn from it to mere
books and drawings, without the sense that
he has left all Fairyland behind him?” ?

The study of Natural History has indeed
the special advantage of carrying us into the
country and the open air.

Lakes are even more restful than rivers or
the sea. Rivers are always flowing, though
it may be but slowly; the sea may rest
awhile, now and then, but is generally full of
action and energy; while lakes seem to sleep
and dream. Lakes in a beautiful country are
like silver ornaments on a lovely dress, like
liquid gems in a beautiful setting, or bright
eyes In a lovely face. Indeed as we gaze

1 Dr. Hudson, dries to the Microscopical Society, 1889.

WE 34 ri

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bare

To face page 254.

WINDERMERE,

VII WATER .— 255

down on a lake from some hill or cliff it
almost. looks solid, like some great blue
crystal.

It is not merely for purposes of commerce
or convenience that men love to live near
rivers.

Let me live harmlessly, and near the brink
Of Trent or Avon have my dwelling-place ;
Where I may see my quill, or cork, down sink,
With eager bite of pike, or bleak, or dace,
And on the world and my Creator think :
-While some men strive ill-gotten goods t’ embrace :
And others spend their time in base excess _~
Of wine; or worse, in war, or wantonness.

Let them that will, these pastimes still pursue,
And on such pleasing fancies feed their fill:
So I the fields and meadows green may view
And daily by fresh rivers walk at will,
Among the daisies and the violets blue,
Red hyacinth and yellow daffodil.t

It is interesting and delightful to trace a
river from its source to the sea.

“ Beginning at the hill-tops,” says Geikie,
“we first meet with the spring or ‘well-eye,’
from which the river takes its rise. A patch
of bright green, mottling the brown heathy

1 F,. Davors.

256 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

slope, shows where the water comes to the
surface, a treacherous covering of verdure
often concealing a deep pool beneath. From
this source the rivulet trickles along the grass
and heath, which it soon cuts through, reach-
ing the black, peaty layer below, and running
in it for a short way as in a gutter. Exca-
vating its channel in the peat, it comes down
to the soil, often a stony earth bleached white
by the peat. Deepening and widening the
channel as it gathers force with the increas-

ing slope, the water digs into the coating of.

drift or loose decomposed rock that covers
the hillside. In favourable localities a nar-
row precipitous gully, twenty or thirty feet
deep, may thus be scooped out in the course
of a few years.”

If, however, we trace one of the Swiss
rivers to its source we shall generally find
that it begins in a snow field or névé nestled
in a shoulder of some great mountain.

Below the névé lies a glacier, on, in, and
under which the water runs in a thousand
little streams, eventually emerging at the
~ end, in some cases forming a beautiful blue

i a ee

iii

Vil WATER D957

cavern, though in others the end of the
glacier is encumbered and concealed by earth
and stones.

Fig. 24.— Upper Valley of St. Gotthard.

The uppermost Alpine valleys are perhaps

generally, though by no means always, a
s

258 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

little desolate and severe, as, for instance,
that of St. Gotthard (Fig. 24). The sides are
clothed with rough pasture, which is flowery
indeed, though of course the flowers are not
visible at a distance, interspersed with live
rock and fallen masses, while along the
bottom rushes a white torrent. The snowy
peaks are generally more or less hidden by
the shoulders of the hills.

The valleys further down widen and be-
come more varied and picturesque. The
snowy peaks and slopes are more often
visible, the “ alps” or pastures to which the
cows are taken in summer, are greener and
dotted with the huts or chalets of the cow-
herds, while the tinkling of the cowbells
comes to one from time to time, softened by
distance, and suggestive of mountain rambles.
Below the alps there is generally a steeper
part clothed with Firs or with Larches and
Pines, some of which seem as if they were
scaling the mountains in regiments, preceded
by a certain number of skirmishers. Below
the fir woods again are Beeches, Chestnuts,
and other deciduous trees, while the central

vit _ WATER 259

cultivated portion of the valley is partly
arable, partly pasture, the latter differing
from our meadows in containing a greater
variety of flowers — Campanulas, Wild Ge-
raniums, Chervil, Ragged Robin, Narcissus,
etc. Here and there is a brown village,
while more or less in the centre hurries
along, with a delightful rushing sound, the
mountain torrent, to which the depth, if not
the very existence of the valley, is mainly
due. The meadows are often carefully
irrigated, and the water power is also used
for mills, the streams seeming to rush on, as
Ruskin says, “eager for their work at the
mill, or their ministry to the meadows.”
Apart from the action of running water,
snow and frost are continually disintegrating
the rocks, and at the base of almost any
steep cliff-may be seen a slope of debris
(as in Figs. 25, 26). This stands at a regular
angle —the angle of repose —and unless it
is continually removed by a stream at the
base, gradually creeps up higher and higher,
until at last the cliff entirely disappears.
Sometimes the two sides of the valley

260 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

approach so near that there is not even room
for the river and the road: in that case
Nature claims the supremacy, and the road
has to be carried in a cutting, or perhaps in
a tunnel through the rock. In other cases
Nature is not at one with herself. - In many

Fig. 25. — Section of a river valley. The dotted line shows a slope or
talus of debris.

places the debris from the rocks above would
reach right across the valley and dam up the
stream. Then arises a struggle between
rock and river, but the river is always vic-
torious in the end; even if dammed back for
a while, it concentrates its forces, rises up
the rampart of rock, rushes over trium-
phantly, resumes its original course, and
gradually carries the enemy away.

261

WATER

VII

Another prominent feature in many valleys

lake, terraces,

iver, or

fforded by the old ri

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which were formed at atime when the river

ran at a level far above its present bed.

262 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP. VII

Thus many a mountain valley gives some

such section as the following.

Fig. 27. —.A, present river valley; B, old river terrace.

First, a face of rock, very steep, and in
some places almost perpendicular; secondly,
a regular talus of fallen rocks, stones, etc.,
as shown in the view of the Rhone Valley
(Fig. 26), which takes what is known as the
slope of repose, at an angle which depends
on the character of the material. As a rule
for loose rock fragments it may be taken
roughly to be an angle of about 45°. Then
an irregular slope followed in many places
by one or more terraces, and lastly the
present bed of the river.

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264 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE cmap. vu

The width or narrowness of the valley in
relation to its depth depends greatly on the-
condition of the rocks, the harder and tougher
they are the narrower as a rule being the
valley.

From time to time:a side stream enters the
main valley. This is itself composed of many
smaller rivulets. If the lateral valleys are
steep, the streams bring with them, especially
after rains, large quantities of earth and stones.
When, however, they reach the main valley,
the rapidity of the current being less, their
power of transport also diminishes, and they
spread out the material which they carry down
in a depressed cone (Figs. 28, 29, 51, 32).

A side stream with its terminal cone, when
seen from the opposite side of the valley, pre-
sents the appearance shown in Figs. 28, 31,
or, if we are looking down the valley, as in
Figs. 29, 32, the river being often driven to
one side of the main valley, as, for instance,
is the case in the Valais, near Sion, where the
Rhone (Fig. 30) is driven out of its course by,
and forms a curve round, the cone brought
down by the torrent of the Borgne.

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266 | THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

Sometimes two lateral valleys (see Plate)

come down nearly opposite one another, so

that the cones meet, as, for instance, some
little way below Vernayaz, and, indeed, in
several other places in the Valais (Fig. 31).
Or more permanent lakes may be due to a

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ridge of rock running across the valley,
as, for instance, just below St. Maurice in
the Valais.

Almost all river valleys contain, or have
contained, in their course one or more lakes,
and where a river falls into a lake a cone like

‘99% abnd aonf of, ‘AOIMOVW “LS MOTAM SIVIVA AHL NI MAIA

. vil WATER 267

those just described is formed, and projects
into the lake. Thus on the Lake of Geneva,

Fig. 81.— View in the Rhone Valley, showing a lateral cone.

between Vevey and Villeneuve (see Fig. 33),
there are several such promontories, each

268 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

marking the place where a stream falls ito
the lake. |

the Rhone Valley, showing the slope of a river cone.

iew in

Fig. 32. — V

The Rhone itself has -not only filled. up
what was once the upper end of the lake,

VII WATER 269

but has built out a strip of land into the
water.

Fig. 88. — Shore cf the Lake of Geneva, near Vevey.

That the lake formerly extended some
distance up the Valais no one can doubt
who looks at the flat ground about Ville-

270 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE “CHAP.

neuve. The Plate opposite, from a photo-
graph taken above Vevey, shows this clearly.
It is quite evident that the lake must for-
merly have extended further up the valley,
and that it has been filled up by material
brought down by the Rhone, a process which
is still continuing.

At the other end of the lake the river
rushes out 15 feet deep of “not flowing, but
flymg water; not water neither — melted
glacier matter, one should call it; the force
of the ice is in it, and the wreathing of the
clouds, the gladness of the sky, and the coun-
tenance of time.” ?

In flat countries the habits of rivers are
very different. For instance, in parts of Nor-
folk there are many small lakes or “ broads”
in a network of rivers—the Bure, the Yare,
the Ant, the Waveney, ete.—which do not
rush on with the haste of some rivers, or the
stately flow of others which are steadily set
to reach the sea, but rather seem like rivers
wandering in the meadows on a_ holiday.
They have often no natural banks, but are

1 Ruskin.

‘0LZ abnd oonf OF ‘VAINAD JO AMVI AHL WONT SIVIVA AHL da MATA

"
~ ry J

ee ee

1 oe Wes | aie

a | WATER 271

bounded by dense growths of tall grasses,

_ Bulrushes, Reeds, and Sedges, interspersed

with the spires of the purple Loosestrife,
Willow Herb, Hemp Agrimony, and other

Fig. 34. — View in the district of the Broads, Norfolk.

flowers, while the fields are very low and pro-
tected by dykes, so that the red cattle appear
to be browsing below the level of the water ;
and as the rivers take most unexpected
turns, the sailing boats often seem (Fig. 34)
as if they were in the middle of the fields.

At present these rivers are restrained in
their courses by banks; when left free they

272 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

are continually changing their beds. Their
courses at first sight seem to follow no rule,
but, as it is termed, from a celebrated river
of Asia Minor, to “meander” along without
aim or object, though in fact they follow
very definite laws. |

Finally, when the river at length reaches
the sea, it In many cases spreads out in the
form of a fan, forming a very flat cone or
“delta,” as it is called, from the Greek capi-
tal A, a name first applied to that of the
Nile, and afterwards extended to other rivers.
This is due to the same cause, and resembles,
except in size, the comparatively minute
cones of mountain streams.

Fig. 35 represents the delta of the Po, and
it will be observed that Adria, once a great
port, and from which the Adriatic was named,
is now more than 20 miles from the sea.
Perhaps the most remarkable case is that of
the Mississippi (Fig. 86), the mouths of which
project into the sea like a hand, or like the
petals of a flower. For miles the mud is too
soft to support trees, but 1s covered by sedges
(Miegea); the banks of mud gradually be-

VIL WATER 273

come too soft and mobile even for them.
The pilots who. navigate ships up the river

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live in frail houses resting on planks, and
kept in place by anchors. Still further, and

file

Wig, 35.

274 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

the banks of the Mississippi, if banks they
can be called, are mere strips of reddish mud,

Fig. 36,

intersected from time to time by transverse
streams of water, which gradually separate

VII WATER “975

them into patches. These become more and
more liquid, until the land, river, and sea
merge imperceptibly into one another. The
river is so muddy that it might almost be
called land, and the mud so saturated by
water that it might well be called sea, so that
one can hardly say whether a given spot is
on the continent, in the river, or on the open
ocean.

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CHAPTER VIII

RIVERS AND LAKES

CHAPTER VIII

RIVERS AND LAKES
ON THE DIRECTIONS OF RIVERS

In the last chapter I have alluded to the
wanderings .of rivers within the limits of
their own valleys; we have now to consider
the causes which have determined the direc-
tions of the valleys themselves.

If a tract of country were raised up in
the form of a boss or dome, the rain which
fell on it would partly sink in, partly run
away to the lower ground. The least in-
equality in the surface would determine the
first directions of the streams, which would
carry down any loose material, and thus
form little channels, which would be gradu-
ally deepened and enlarged. It is as difficult
for a river as for a man to get out of a
groove.

279

- 280 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE cmap. vit

In such a case the rivers would tend to
radiate with more or less regularity from the
centre or axis of the dome, as, for instance,
in our English lake district (Fig. 37). Der-
went Water, Thirlmere, Coniston Water, and
Windermere, run approximately N. and §.;
Crummock Water, Loweswater, and Butter-—
mere N.W. by 8.E.; Waste Water, Ullswater,
and Hawes Water N.E. by S.W.; while
Ennerdale Water lies nearly E. by W. Can
we account in any way, and if so how, for
these varied directions?

The mountains of Cumberland and West-
moreland form a more or less oval boss, the
axis of which, though not straight, runs
practically from E.N.E. to W.S.W., say from
Scaw Fell to Shap Fell; and a sketch map
shows us almost at a glance that Derwent
Water, Thirlmere, Ullswater, Coniston Water,
and Windermere run at right angles to this
axis; Ennerdale Water is just where the boss
ends and the mountains disappear; while
Crummock Water and Waste Water lie at
the intermediate angles.

So much then for the direction. We have

Cumberland
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Firth {

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Chanree

QT Dims

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Morecambe
Bay

Fig. 37. — Map of the Lake District.

282 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

still to consider the situation and origin, and
it appears that Ullswater, Coniston Water,
the River Dudden, Waste Water, and Crum-
mock Water le along the lines of old faults,
which no doubt in the first instance deter-
mined the flow of the water.

Take another case. In the Jura the
valleys are obviously (see Fig. 18) in many
cases due to the folding of the strata. It
seldom happens, however, that the case is
so simple. If the elevation is considerable
the strata are often fractured, and fissures
are produced. Again if the part elevated
contains layers of more than one character,
this at once establishes differences. ‘Take,
for instance, the Weald of Kent (Figs. 38,
39). Here we have (omittmg minor layers)
four principal strata concerned, namely, the
Chalk, Greensand, Weald Clay, and Hastings
Sands.

The axis of elevation runs (Fig. 39) from
Winchester by Petersfield, Horsham, and
Winchelsea to Boulogne, and as shown in
the following section, taken from Professor
Ramsay, we have on each side of the axis

VIII RIVERS AND LAKES 283

two. ridges or “escarpments,’ one that of
the Chalk, the other that of the Greensand,
while between the Chalk and the Green-
sand is a valley, and between the Green-
sand and the ridge of Hastings Sand an
undulating plain, in each case with a gen-
tle slope from about where the London and

eee eee ‘ ee

“tlt a
nosil a AT Witte

Fig. 38. — a, a, Upper Cretaceous strata, chiefly Chalk, forming the North
and South Downs; b, b, Escarpment of Lower Greensand, with a valley be-
tween it and the Chalk; c, c, Weald Clay, forming plains; @, Hills formed
of Hastings Sand and Clay. The Chalk, etc., once spread across the country,
as shown in the dotted lines.

Brighton railway crosses the Weald towards
the east. Under these’ circumstances we
might have expected that the streams drain-
ing the Weald would have run in the direc-
tion of the axis of elevation, and at the
bases of the escarpments, as in fact the
Rother does for part of its course, into the
sea between the North and South Downs,
instead of which as a rule they run north
and south, cutting in some cases directly
through the escarpments; on the north, for

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Fig. 39. — Map of the Weald of Kent,

s :
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CHAP. VII RIVERS AND LAKES 985

instance, the Wye, the Mole, the Darenth,
the Medway, and the Stour; and on the
south the Arun, the Addur, the Ouse, and
the Cuckmere.

They do not run in faults or cracks, and
it is clear that they. could not have excavated
their present valleys under circumstances
such as now exist. They carry us back in-
deed to a time when the Greensand and
Chalk were continued across the Weald in a
great dome, as shown by the dotted lines in
Fig. 38. They then ran down the slope of
the dome, and as the Chalk and Greensand
gradually weathered back, a process still in
operation, the rivers deepened and deepened
their valleys, and thus were enabled to keep
their original course.”

Other evidence in support of this view
is afforded by the presence of gravel beds
in some places at the very top of the Chalk
escarpment — beds which were doubtless
deposited when, what is now the summit
of a hill, was part of a continuous slope.

The course of the Thames offers us a some-
what similar instance. It rises on the Oolites

286 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

near Cirencester, and cuts through the escarp-
ment of the Chalk between Wallingford and
Reading. The cutting through the Chalk has
evidently been effected by the river itself.
But this could not have happened under
existing conditions. We must remember,
however, that the Chalk escarpment is gradu-
ally moving eastwards. The Chalk escarp-
ments indeed are everywhere, though of
course only slowly, crumbling away. Be-
tween Farnham and Guildford the Chalk is
reduced to a narrow ridge known as the
Hog’s Back. In the same way no doubt the
area of the Chalk formerly extended much
further west than it does at present, and, in-
deed, there can be little doubt, somewhat
further west than the source of the Thames,
almost to the valley of the Severn. At that
time the Thames took its origin in a Chalk
spring. Gradually, however, the Chalk was
worn away by the action of weather, and
especially of ram. The river maintained its
course while gradually excavating, and sink-
ing deeper and deeper into, the Chalk. At
present the river meets the Chalk escarpment

VIII RIVERS AND LAKES 287

near Wallingford, but the escarpment. itself
is still gradually retreating eastward.

So, again, the Elbe cuts right across the
Erz-Gebirge, the Rhine through the moun-
tains between Bingen and Coblenz, the Poto-
mac, the Susquehannah, and the Delaware
through the Alleghanies. The case of the
Dranse will be alluded to further on (p. 292).
In these cases the rivers preceded the moun-
tains. Indeed as soon as the land rose above
the waters, rivers would begin their work,
and having done so, unless the rate of eleva-
tion of the mountain exceeded the power of
erosion of the river, the two would proceed
simultaneously, so that the river would not
alter its course, but would cut deeper and
deeper as the mountain range gradually
rose.

Rivers then are in many cases older than
mountains. Moreover, the mountains are
passive, the rivers active. Since it seems to
be well established that in Switzerland a
mass, more than equal to what remains, has
been removed ; and that many of the present
mountains are not sites which were originally

268— _. THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

raised highest, but those which have suffered
least, it follows that if in some cases the
course of the river is due to the direction of
the mountain ridges, on the other hand the
direction of some of the present ridges is due
to that of the rivers. At any rate it is cer-
tain that of the original surface not a trace
or a fragment remains in situ. Many of our
own English mountains were once valleys,
and many of our present valleys occupy the
sites of former mountain ridges.

Heim and Riitimeyer point out that of the
two factors which have produced the relief of
mountain regions, the one, elevation, is tem-
porary and transitory ; the other, denudation,
is constant, and gains therefore nee the
upper hand. |

We must not, however, expect too great
regularity. The degree of hardness, the
texture, and the composition of the rocks
cause great differences.

On the other hand, if the alteration of
level was too rapid, the result might be
greatly to alter the river courses. Mr.
Darwin mentions such a case, which, more-

nota

VIII RIVERS AND LAKES 289

over, is perhaps the more interesting as being
evidently very recent. . ;

“Mr. Gill,” he says, “mentioned to me a
most interesting, and as far as I am aware,
quite unparalleled case, of a subterranean dis-
turbance having changed the drainage of a
country. Travelling from Casma to Huaraz
(not very far distant from Lima) he found a
plain covered with ruins and marks of ancient
cultivation, but now quite barren. Near it
was the dry course of a considerable river,
whence the water for irrigation had formerly
been conducted. There was nothing in the
appearance of the water-course to indicate
that the river had not flowed there a few
years previously ; in some parts beds of sand
and gravel were spread out; in others, the
solid rock had been worn into a broad chan-—
nel, which in one spot was about 40 yards in
breadth and 8 feet deep. It is self-evident
that a person following up the course of a

‘stream will always ascend at a greater or less

inclination. Mr. Gill therefore, was much
astonished when walking up the bed of this
ancient river, to find himself suddenly going

290 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

downhill. He imagined that the downward
slope had a fall of about 40 or 50 feet per-
pendicular. We here have unequivocal evi-
dence that a ridge had been uplifted right
across the old bed of a stream. From the
moment the river course was thus arched,
the water must necessarily have been thrown
back, and a new channel formed. From that
moment also the neighbouring plain must
have lost its fertilismg stream, and become
a desert.’’*

The strata, moreover, often — indeed gener-
ally, as we have seen, for instance, in the case
of Switzerland—pbear evidence of most vio-
lent contortions, and even where the convul-
sions were less extreme, the valleys thus
resulting are sometimes complicated by the
existence of older valleys formed under pre-
vious conditions.

In the Alps then the present configuration
of the surface is mainly the result of denuda-
tion. If we look at a map of Switzerland
we can trace but little relation between the
river courses and the mountain. chains.

1 Darwin’s Voyage of a Naturalist.

Vil RIVERS AND LAKES 991

The rivers, as a rule (Fig. 40), run either

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S.E. by N.W., or, at right angles to this, N.E.
and §.W. The Alps themselves follow a

292 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

somewhat curved line from the Maritime Alps,
commencing with the islands of Hyéres, by
Briancon, Martigny, the Valais, Urseren Thal,
Vorder Rhein, Innsbruck, Radstadt, and
Rottenmann to the Danube, a little below
Vienna, —at first nearly north and south, but
gradually curving round until it becomes
S.W. by N.E.

The central mountains are mainly composed
of Gneiss, Granite, and crystalline Schists:
the line of junction between these rocks and
the secondary and tertiary strata on the north,
runs, speaking roughly, from Hyéres to Gre-
noble, and then by Albertville, Sion, Chur, Inns,
bruck, Radstadt, and Hieflau, towards Vienna.
It is followed (in some part of their course)
by the Isére, the Rhone, the Rhine, the Inn,
and the Enns. One of the great folds shortly
described in the preceding chapter runs up
the Isére, along the Chamouni Valley, up the
Rhone, through the Urseren Thal, down the
Rhine Valley to Chur, along the Inn nearly to
Kufstein, and for some distance along the
Enns. Thus, then, five great rivers have
taken advantage of this main fold, each of

ee ee

ois = nee mmm Se oY he

VIII RIVERS AND LAKES 293

them eventually breaking through into a
transverse valley.

The Pusterthal in the Tyrol offers us an
interesting case of what is obviously a single
valley, which has, however, been slightly
raised in the centre, near Toblach, so that
from this point the water flows in opposite
directions — the Drau eastward, and the Rienz
westward. In this case the elevation is
single and slight: in the main valley there
are several, and they are much _loftier,
stil we may, I think, regard that of
the Isére from Chambery to Albertville,
of the Rhone from Martigny to its source,
of the Urseren Thal, of the Vorder Rhine
from its source to Chur, of the Inn from
Landeck to below Innsbruck, even perhaps
of the Enns from Radstadt to Hieflau as
in one sense a single valley, due to one of
these longitudinal folds, but interrupted by
bosses of gneiss and granite, — one culminat-
ing in Mont Blanc, and another in the St.
Gotthard, — which have separated the waters
of the Isére, the Rhone, the Vorder Rhine,
the Inn, and the Enns. That the valley of

294. THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

Chamouni, the Valais, the Urseren Thal,
and that of the Vorder Rhine really form —
part of one great fold is further shown by
the presence of a belt of Jurassic strata
nipped in, as it were, between the crystalline
rocks.

This seems to throw light on the remark-
able turns taken by the Rhone at Martigny
and the Vorder Rhine at Chur, where they
respectively quit the great longitudinal fold,
and fall into secondary transverse valleys.
The Rhone for the upper part of its course, as
far as Martigny, runs in the great longitudi-
nal fold of the Valais; at Martigny it falls
into and adopts the transverse valley, which
properly belongs to the Dranse; for the
Dranse is probably an older river and ran in
the present course even before the great fold
of the Valais. This would seem to indicate
that the Oberland range is not so old as the
Pennine, and that its elevation was so
gradual that the Dranse was able to wear
away a passage as the ridge gradually rose.
After leaving the Lake of Geneva the Rhone
follows a course curving gradually to the

1) ers

vill RIVERS AND LAKES 295

south, until it reaches St. Genix, where it falls
into and adopts a transverse valley which
properly belongs to the little river Guiers; it
subsequently joins the Ain and finally falls
into the Sadne. If these valleys were attrib-
uted to their older occupiers we should there-
fore confine the name of the Rhone to the
portion of its course from the Rhone glacier to
Martigny. From Martigny it occupies succes-
sively the valleys of the Dranse, Guiers, Ain,
and Sadne. In fact, the Sadne receives the
Ain, the Ain the Guiers, the Guiers the
Dranse, and the Dranse the Rhone. This is
not a mere question of names, but also one of
antiquity. The Sadne, for instance, flowed
past Lyons to the Mediterranean for ages
before it was joined by the Rhone. In our
nomenclature, however, the Rhone has swal-
lowed up the others. This is the more curious
because of the three great rivers which unite
to form the lower Rhone, namely, the Sadne,
the Doubs, and the Rhone itself, the Sadne
brings for a large part of the year the
greatest volume of water, and the Doubs
has the longest course. Other similar cases

296 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

might be mentioned. The Aar, for instance,
is a somewhat larger river than the Rhine.

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es S
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But why should the rivers, after running ~

VIII RIVERS AND LAKES 297

for a certain distance in the direction of the
main axis, so often break away into lateral
valleys? If the elevation of a chain of moun-
tains be due to the causes suggested in p. 214,
it is evident, though, so far as I am aware,
stress has not hitherto been laid upon this,
that the compression and consequent folding
of the strata (Fig. 41) would not be in the
direction A B only, but also at right angles to
it, in the direction A C, though the amount of
folding might be much greater in one direc-
tion than in the other. Thus in the case of
Switzerland, while the main folds run south-
west by north-east, there would be others at
right angles to the main axis. The complex
structure of the Swiss mountains may be
partly due to the coexistence of these two
directions of pressure at right angles to one
another. The presence of a fold so originating
would often divert the river to a course more
or less nearly at right angles to its original
direction. |

Switzerland, moreover, slopes northwards
from the Alps, so that the lowest part of the
great Swiss plain is that along the foot of

298 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

the Jura. Hence the main drainage runs
along the line from Yverdun to Neuchatel,
down the Zihl to Soleure, and then along the
Aarto Waldshut: the Upper Aar, the Emmen,
the Wiggern, the Suhr, the Wynen, the lower
Reuss, the Sihl, and the Limmat, besides
several smaller streams, running approxi-
mately parallel to one another north-north-
east, and at angles to the main axis of
elevation, and all joing the Aar from the
south, while on the north it does not receive
a single contributary of any importance.

On the south side of the Alps again we
have the Dora Baltea, the Sesia, the Ticino,
the Olonna, the Adda, the Adige, etc., all
running south-south-east from the axis of
elevation to the Po.

Indeed, the general slope of Switzerland,
being from the ridge of the Alps towards the
north, it will be observed (Fig. 42) that almost
all the large affluents of these rivers running
in longitudinal valleys fall in on the south, as,
for instance, those of the Isére from Albertville
to Grenoble, of the Rhone from its source to
Martigny, of the Vorder Rhine from its source

vul RIVERS AND LAKES 299

to Chur, of the Inn from Landeck to Kufstein,

si
-
&
sy ie me see :
Vs mi
: ApH (
é 58 “|
XY Ay, (aM, :
i. 4) ay) x; pg ;
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of the Enns from its source to near Admont,

Fig. 42.

300 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

of the Danube from its source to Vienna, and
as just mentioned, of the Aar from Bern to
Waldshut. Hence also, whenever the Swiss
rivers running east and west break into a
transverse valley, as the larger ones all do,
and some more than once, they invariably,
whether originally running east or westwards,
turn towards the north.

But although we thus get a clue to
the general structure of Switzerland, the
whole question is extremely complex, and
the strata have been crumpled and folded
in the most complicated manner, sometimes
completely reversed, so that older rocks have
been folded back on younger strata, and even
in some cases these folds again refolded.
Moreover, the denudation by aerial action, by
glaciers, frosts, and rivers has removed hun-
dreds, or rather thousands, of feet of strata.
In fact, the mountain tops are not by any
means the spots which have been most
elevated, but those which have been least
denuded; and hence it is that so many of the
peaks stand at about the same altitude.

VIII RIVERS AND LAKES 301

‘THE CONFLICTS AND ADVENTURES OF RIVERS

Our ancestors looked upon rivers as being in
some sense alive, and in fact in their “struggle
for existence” they not only labour to adapt
their channel to their own requirements, but
in many cases enter into conflict with one
another.

In the plain of Bengal, for instance, there
are three great rivers, the Brahmapootra
coming from the north, the Ganges from the

_._west, and the Megna from the east, each of
them with a number of tributary streams.
Mr. Fergusson’ has given us a most interest-
ing and entertaining account of the struggles
between these great rivers to occupy the
fertile plain of Bengal.

The Megna, though much inferior in size to
the Brahmapootra, has one great advantage.
It depends mainly on the monsoon rains for
its supply, while the Brahmapootra not only
has a longer course to run, but relies for its
floods, to a great extent, on the melting of the

1 Geol. Jour., 1868.

802 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

snow, so that, arriving later at the scene of
the struggle, it finds the country already
occupied by the Megna to such an extent that
it has been driven nearly 70 miles northwards,
and forced to find a new channel.

Under these circumstances it has attacked
the territory of the Ganges, and being in
flood earlier than that river, though later
than the Megna, it has in its turn a great
advantage.

Whatever the ultimate result may be the
struggle continues vigorously. At Sooksaghur,
says Fergusson, “there was a noble country
house, built by Warren Hastings, about a mile
from the banks of the Hoogly. When I first
knew it in 1830 half the avenue of noble trees,
which led from the river to the house, was
gone; when [ last saw it, some eight years
afterwards, the river was close at hand. Since
then house, stables, garden, and village are all
gone, and the river was on the point of break-
ing through the narrow neck of high land
that remained, and pouring itself into some
weak-banded nullahs in the lowlands beyond :
and if it had succeeded, the Hoogly would

Vvul RIVERS AND LAKES 303

have deserted Calcutta. At this juncture the

Eastern Bengal Railway Company intervened.

They were carrying their works along the
ridge, and they have, for the moment at least,
stopped the oscillation in this direction.”

This has affected many of the other tribu-
taries of the Ganges, so that the survey made
by Rennell in 1780-90 is no longer any evi-
dence as to the present course of the rivers.
They may now be anywhere else; in some
cases all we can say is that they are certainly
not now where they were then.

The association of the three great Huropean
rivers, the Rhine, the Rhone, and the Danube,
with the past history of our race, invests them
with a singular fascination, and their past his-
tory is one of much interest. They all three
rise in the group of mountains between the
Galenstock and the Bernardino, within a space
of a few miles; on the east the waters run into
the Black Sea, on the north into the German
Ocean, and on the west into the Mediterranean.
But it has not always been so. Their head-
waters have been at one time interwoven
together.

304 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

At present the waters of the Valais escape
from the Lake of Geneva at the western end, .
and through the remarkable defile of Fort de
l’Ecluse and Malpertius, which has a depth of
600 feet, and is at one place not more than
14 feet across. Moreover, at various points
round the Lake of Geneva, remains of lake
terraces show that the water once stood at a
level much higher than the present. One
of these is rather more than 250 feet’ above
the lake.

A glance at the map will show that be-
tween Lausanne and Yverdun there is a low
tract of land, and the Venoge, which falls
into the Lake of Geneva between Lausanne
and Morges, runs within about half a mile of
the Nozon, which falls into the Lake of Neu-
chatel at Yverdun, the two being connected
by the Canal d’Entreroches, and the height
of the watershed being only 76 metres (250
feet), corresponding with the above mentioned
lake terrace. It is evident, therefore, that
when the Lake of Geneva stood at the level of
the 250 feet terrace the waters ran out, not as

1 Favre, Rech. Geol. de la Savoie,

~~ =e

Vill RIVERS AND LAKES 805

now at Geneva and by Lyons to the Mediter-
ranean, but near Lausanne by Cissonay and
Entreroches to Yverdun, and through the
Lake of Neuchatel into the Aar and the Rhine.

But this is not the whole of the curious
history. At present the Aar makes a sharp
turn to the west at Waldshut, where it falls
into the Rhine, but there is reason to believe
that at a former period, before the Rhine had
excavated its present bed, the Aar continued
its course eastward to the Lake of Constance,
by the valley of the Klettgau, as is indicated by
the presence of gravel beds containing pebbles
which have been brought, not by the Rhine
from the Grisons, but by the Aar from the
Bernese Oberland, showing that the river
which occupied the valley was not the Rhine
but the Aar. It would seem also that at an
early period the Lake of Constance stood at a

considerably higher level, and that the outlet

was, perhaps, from Frederichshaven to Ulm,
along what are now the valleys of the
Schussen and the Ried, into the Danube.
Thus the head-waters of the Rhone appear
to have originally run by Lausanne and the

306 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

Lake of Constance into the Danube, and so to
the Black Sea. Then, after the present valley
was opened between Waldshut and Basle,
they flowed by Basle and the present Rhine,
and after joming the Thames, over the plain
which now forms the German Sea into the
Arctic Ocean between Scotland and Norway.
Finally, after the opening of the passage at
Fort de l’Ecluse, by Geneva, Lyons, and the
Valley of the Sadne, to the Mediterranean.

It must not, however, be supposed that
these changes in river courses are confined to
the lower districts. Mountain streams have
also their adventures and vicissitudes, their
wars and invasions. Take for instance the
Upper Rhine, of which we have a very inter-
esting account by Heim. It is formed of
three main branches, the Vorder Rhine, Hinter
Rhine, and the Albula. The two latter, after
meeting near Thusis, unite with the Vorder
Rhine at Reichenau, and run by Chur, May-
enfeld, and Sargans into the Lake of Con-
stance at Rheineck. At some former period,
however, the drainage of this district was
very different, as is shown in Fig. 43.

VII RIVERS AND LAKES 307

The Vorder and Hinter Rhine united then
(Fig. 43) as they do now at Reichenau, but at
a much higher level, and ran to Mayenfeld,
not by Chur, but by the Kunckel Pass to Sar-
gans, and so on, not to the Lake of Constance,
but to that of Zurich. The Landwasser at
that time rose in the Schlappina Joch, and
after receiving as tributaries the Vereina and
the Sardasca, joined the Albula, as it does now
at Tiefenkasten ; but instead of going round
to meet the Hinter Rhine near Thusis, the
two together travelled parallel with, but at
some distance from, the Hinter Rhine, by
Heide to Chur, and so to Mayenfeld.

In the meanwhile, however, the Land-
quart was stealthily creeping up the valley,
attacked the ridge which then united the
Casanna and the Madrishorn, and gradually
forcing the passage, invaded (Fig. 44) the
valleys of the Schlappina, Vereina, and Sar-
dasca, absorbed them as tributaries, and,
detaching them from their allegiance to the
Landwasser, annexed the whole of the upper
province which had formerly belonged to that
river. 3

308 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

The Schyn also gradually worked its way
upwards from Thusis till it succeeded in
sapping the Albula, and carried it down the

vacua

Fig. 48. — River system round Chur, as it used to be.

valley to join the Vorder Rhine near Thusis.
In what is now the main valley of the Rhine
above Chur another stream ate its way
back, and eventually tapped the main river

Vu RIVERS AND LAKES 309

at Reichenau, thus divertmg it from the
-Kunckel, and carrying it round by Chur.
At Sargans a somewhat similar process

8 Vaduz

Thasis
fe)
N
‘~S
RS
8
cI

Fig. 44, — River system round Chur, as it is.

was repeated, with the addition that the
material brought down by the Weisstannen,
or perhaps a rockfall, deflected the Rhine,
just as we see in Fig. 30 that the Rhone

310 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE OMAP,

was pushed on one side by the Borgne. The
Rhone, however, had no choice, it was obliged
to force, and has forced its way over the cone
deposited by the Borgne. The Rhine, on the
contrary, had the option of running down by
Vaduz to Rheinach, and has adopted this
course. The watershed between it and the
‘Weisstannen is, however, only about 20 feet
in height, and the people of Zurich watch it
carefully, lest any slight change should enable
the river to return to its old bed. The result
of all these changes is that the rivers have
changed their courses from those shown in Fig.
43 to their present beds as shown in Fig. 44.
Another interesting case is that of the
Upper Engadine (Fig. 45), to which attention
has been called by Bonney and Heim. The fall
of the Val Bregaglia is much steeper than that
of the Inn, and the Maira has carried off the
head-waters of that river away into Italy.
The Col was formerly perhaps as far south as
Stampa: the Albegna, the Upper Maira, and
the stream from the Forgno Glacier, originally —
belonged to the Inn, but have been captured
by the Lower Maira. Their direction still

_ vili RIVERS AND LAKES _ SE:

indicates this; they seem as if they regretted
the unwelcome change, and yearned to rejoin

their old companions.
Moreover, as rivers are

continually cutting back

their valleys they must of

course sometimes meet.

In these cases when the
valleys are at different
levels the lower rivers
have drained the upper
ones, and left dry, deserted
valleys. In other cases,
especially in flatter dis-
tricts, we have bifurca-
tions, as, for instance, at
Sargans, and several of
the Italian lakes. Every
one must have been struck
by the peculiar bifurcation
of the Lakes of Como and
- Lugano, while a very slight
depression would connect
the Lake Varese with the

Fig. 45.— River system of the
Maloya.

Maggiore, and give it also a double southern end.

O12 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

ON LAKES

The problem of the origin of Lakes is by
no means identical with that of Valleys.
The latter are due, primarily as a rule to
geological causes, but so far as their present
condition is concerned, mainly to the action
of rain and rivers. Flowing water, however,
cannot give rise to lakes.

It is of course possible to have valleys with-
out lakes, and in fact the latter are, now at
least, exceptional. There can be no lakes if
the slope of the valley is uniform. To what
then are lakes due ?

Professor Ramsay divides Lakes into three
classes : —

1. Those due to irregular accumulations of
drift, and which are generally quite shallow.

2. Those formed by moraines.

3. Those which occupy true basins scooped
by glacier ice out of the solid rock.

To these must, however, I think be added
at least one other great class and several
minor ones, namely, —

vit RIVERS AND LAKES 313

4. Those due to inequalities of elevation
or depression. |

5. Lakes in craters of extinct volcanoes,
for instance, Lake Avernus. |

6. Those caused by subsidence due to the
removal of underlying soluble rocks, such as
some of the Cheshire Meres.

7. Loop lakes in deserted river courses, of
which there are many along the course of the
Rhine.

8. Those due to rockfalls, landslips, or lava
currents, damming up the course of a river.

9. Those caused by the advance of a gla-
cier across a lateral valley, such as the Mer-
gelen See, or the ancient lake whose margins
form the celebrated “ Parallel Roads of Glen
Roy.”

As regards the first class we find here and
there on the earth’s surface districts sprinkled
with innumerable shallow lakes of all sizes,
down to mere pools. Such, for instance, occur
in the district of Le Doubs between the
Rhone and the Sadne, that of La Sologne
near Orleans, in parts of North America, and
in Finland. Such lakes are, as a rule, quite

314 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

shallow. Some geologists, Geikie, for in-
stance, ascribe them to the fact of these
regions having been covered by sheets of
ice which strewed the land with irregular
masses of clay, gravel, and sand, lying on a
stratum impervious to water, either of hard
rock such as granite or gneiss, or of clay, so
that the rain cannot percolate through it, and
without sufficient inclination to throw it off.

2. To Ramsay’s second class of Lakes
belong those formed by moraines. ‘The
materials forming moraines being, however,
comparatively loose, are easily cut through
by streams. There are in Switzerland many
cases of valleys crossed by old moraines, but
they have generally been long ago worn
through by the rivers.

3. Ramsay and Tyndall attribute most of
the great Swiss and Italian lakes to the action
of glaciers, and regard them as rock basins.
It is of course obvious that rivers cannot
make basin-shaped hollows surrounded by
rock on all sides. The Lake of Geneva,
1230 feet above the sea, is over 1000 feet
deep; the Lake of Brienz is 1850 feet above

VIII RIVERS AND LAKES 815

the sea, and 2000 feet deep, so that its
bottom is really below the sea level. The
Italian Lakes are even more remarkable.
The Lake of Como, 700 feet above the sea,
is 1929 feet deep. Lago Maggiore, 685 feet
‘above the sea, is no less than 2625 feet
deep.

If the mind is at first staggered at the
magnitude of the ‘scale, we must remember
that the ice which is supposed to have scooped
out the valley in which the Lake of Geneva
now reposes, was once at least 4000 feet
thick; while the moraines were also of
gigantic magnitude, that of Ivrea, for in-
stance, being no less than 1500 feet above
the river, and several miles long.

Indeed it is obvious that a glacier many
hundred, or in some cases several thousand,
feet in thickness, must exercise great pressure
on the bed over which it travels. We see
this from the striz and grooves on the solid
rocks, and the fine mud which is carried down
by glacial streams. The deposit of glacial
rivers, the “loess” of the Rhine itself, is
mainly the result of this ice-waste, and that is

316 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

why it is so fine, soimpalpable. That glaciers
do deepen their beds seems therefore unques-
tionable.

Moreover, though the depth of some of
these lakes is great, the true slope is very
shght. )

Tyndall and Ramsay do not deny that the
original direction of valleys, and consequently
of lakes, is due to cosmical causes and geo-—
logical structure, while even those who have
most strenuously opposed the theory which
attributes lakes to glacial erosion do not
altogether deny the action of glaciers. Favre
himself admits that “it is impossible to deny
that valleys, after their formation, have been
swept out and perhaps enlarged by rivers and
glaciers.”

Even Ruskin admits “that a glacier may
be considered as a vast instrument of friction,
a white sand-paper applied slowly but irresist-
ibly to all the roughness of the hill which it
covers.”

It is obvious that sand-paper applied
“irresistibly”? and long enough, must
gradually wear away and lower the surface.

VIII RIVERS AND LAKES 317

I cannot therefore resist the conclusion that
glaciers have taken an important part in the
formation of lakes.

The question has sometimes been discussed
as if the point at issue were whether rivers or
glaciers were the most effective as excavators.
But this is not so. Those who believe that
lakes are in many cases due to glaciers might |
yet admit that rivers have greater power of
erosion. There is, however, an essential dif-
ference in the mode of action. Rivers tend
to regularise their beds; they drain, rather
than form lakes. Their tendency is to cut
through any projections so that finally their
course assumes some such curve as that

below, from the source (a) to its entrance into
the sea (0).

UR yie tay eee

Fig. 46. — Final Slope of a River.

Glaciers, however, have in addition a scoop-
ing power, so that if similarly a d b in Fig.
47 represent the course of a glacier, starting
at a and gradually thinning out to e, it may

318 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

scoop out the rock to a certain extent at d;
in that case if it subsequently retires say to
c, there would be a lake lying in the basin
thus formed between ¢ and e.
a
évaey ;

Fig. 47.

On the other hand I am not disposed to
attribute the Swiss lakes altogether to the
action of glaciers. In the first place it does
not seem clear that they occupy true rock
basins. On this point more evidence is re-
quired. That some lakes are due to unequal
changes of level will hardly be denied. No
one, for instance, as Bonney justly observes,’
would attribute the Dead Sea to glacial ero-
sion. 3

The Alps,.as we have seen, are a succession
of great folds, and there is reason to regard
the central one as the oldest. If then the
same process continued, and the outer fold
was still further raised, or a new one formed,
more quickly than the rivers could cut it

1 Growth and Structure of the Alps.

VIII RIVERS AND LAKES 819 -

back, they would be dammed up, and lakes
would result.

Moreover, if the formation of a mountain
region be due to subsidence, and consequent
crumpling, as indicated on p. 217, so that the
strata which originally occupied the area A B
C D are compressed into A’ B’ C’ D’, it is
evident, as already mentioned, that while the
line of least resistance, and, consequently, the
principal folds might be in the direction A’ B’,
there must also be a tendency to the forma-
tion of similar folds at right angles, or in the
direction A’ C’. Thus, in the case of Switzer-
land, while the main folds run south-west by
north-east there would also be others at right
angles, though the’'amount of folding might. be
much greater in the one direction than in the
other. To this cause the bosses, for instance
—at Martigny, the Furea, and the Ober Alp,
— which intersect the great longitudinal val-
ley of Switzerland, are perhaps due.

The great American lakes also are probably
due to differences of elevation. Round Lake
Ontario, for instance, there is a raised beach
which at the western end of the lake is 363

320 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP. +

feet above the sea level, but rises towards the
Kast and North until near Fine it reaches an
elevation of 972 feet. As this terrace must
have been originally horizontal we have here
a lake barrier, due to a difference of elevation,
amounting to over 600 feet. |
In the same way we get a clue to the curi-
ous cruciform shape of the Lake of Lucerne
as contrasted with the simple outline of such
lakes as those of Neuchatel or Zurich. That
of Lucerne is a complex lake. Soundings
have shown that the bottom of the Urner See
is quite flat. It is in fact the old bed of the
Reuss, which originally ran, not as now by
Lucerne, but by Schwytz and through the
Lake of Zug. In the same way the Alpnach
See is the old bed of the Aa, which likewise
ran through the Lake of Zug. The old river
terraces of the Reuss can be traced in places
between Brunnen and Goldau. Now these
terraces must have originally sloped from the
upper part downwards, from Brunnen towards
Goldau. But at present the slope is the other
way, 2.e. from Goldau towards Brunnen.
From this and other evidence we conclude

VIII RIVERS AND LAKES 821

that in-the direction from Lucerne towards
Rapperschwyl] there has been an elevation of
the land, which has dammed up the valleys
and thus turned parts of the Aa and the
Reuss into lakes — the two branches of the
Lake of Lucerne known as the Alpnach See
and: Urner See.

During the earthquakes of 1819 while part
of the Runn of Cutch, 2000 square miles in
area, sunk several feet, a ridge of land, called
by the natives the Ulla-Bund or “the wall of
God,” thirty miles long, and in parts sixteen
miles wide, was raised across an ancient arm
of the Indus, and turned it temporarily into
a lake.

In considering the great Italian lakes,
which descend far below the sea level, we
must remember that the Valley of the Po is a
continuation of the Adriatic, now filled up
and converted into land, by the materials
brought down from the Alps. Hence we are
tempted to ask whether the lakes may not
be remains of the ancient sea which once
occupied the whole plain. Moreover just as
the Seals of Lake Baikal in Siberia carry us

322 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

back to the time when that great sheet of
fresh water was in connection with the Arctic
Ocean, so there is in the character of the
Fauna of the Italian lakes, and especially the
presence of a Crab in the Lake of Garda,
some confirmation of such an idea. Further
evidence, however, is necessary before these
interesting questions can be definitely an-
swered.

Lastly, some lakes and inland seas seem to
be due to even greater cosmical causes. Thus
a line inclined ten degrees to the pole be-
ginning at Gibraltar would pass through
a great chain of inland waters—the Medi- »
terranean, Black Sea, Caspian, Aral, Baikal,
and back again through the great American

+ Jakes:

But though many causes have contributed
to the original formation and direction of |
Valleys, their present condition is mainly due
to the action of water. When we contemplate
such a valley, for example, as that which is
called par excellence the “ Valais,” we can at
first hardly bring ourselves to realise this;
but we can trace up valleys, from the little

VIII RIVERS AND LAKES 323

watercourse made by last night’s rains up to
the greatest valleys of all.

These considerations, however, do not of
course apply to such depressions as those
of the great oceans. These were probably
formed when the surface of the globe began
to solidify, and, though with many modifica-
tions, have maintained their main features
ever since.

ON THE CONFIGURATION OF VALLEYS

The conditions thus briefly described repeat
themselves in river after river, valley after
valley, and it adds, I think, very much to the
interest with which we regard them if, by
studying the general causes to which they are
due, we can explain their origin, and thus to
some extent understand the story they have
to tell us, and the history they record.

What, then, has that history been? The
same valley may be of a very different char-
acter, and due to very different causes, in dif-
ferent parts of its course. Some valleys are
due to folds (see Fig. 41) caused by subterra-

324 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

nean changes, but by far the greater number
are, in their present features, mainly the re-
sult of erosion. As soon as any tract of land
rose out of the sea, the rain which fell on the
surface would trickle downwards in a thou-
sand rills, forming pools here and there (see
Fig. 37), and gradually collecting into larger
and larger streams. Wherever the slope was
sufficient the water would begin cutting into -
the soil and carrying it off to the sea. This
action would be the same in any case, but,
of course, would differ in rapidity according
to the hardness of the ground. On the
other hand, the character of the valley
would depend greatly on the character of
the strata, being narrow where they were
hard and tough; broader, on the contrary,
where they were soft, so that they crumbled
readily into the stream, or where they were
easily split by the weather. Gradually the
stream would eat into its bed until it reached
a certain slope, the steepness of which would
depend on the volume of water. The erosive
action would then cease, but the weathering
of the sides and consequent widening would

VIII RIVERS AND LAKES 325

continue, and the river would wander from
one part of its valley to another, spreading
the materials and forming a river plain. At -
length, as the rapidity still further diminished,
it would no longer have sufficient power even
to carry off the materials brought down. It
would form, therefore, a cone or delta, and
instead of meandering, would tend to divide
into different branches. These three stages,
we may call those of —

1. Deepening and widening ;

2. Widening and levelling ;

3. Filling up;
and every place in the second stage has passed
through the first; every one in the third has
passed through the second.

A velocity of 6 inches per second will lift
fine sand, 8 inches will move sand as coarse
as linseed, 12 inches will sweep along fine
gravel, 24 inches will roll along rounded
pebbles an inch diameter, and it requires 3
feet per second at the bottom to sweep along
angular stones of the size of an egg.

When a river has so adjusted its slope that
it neither deepens its bed in the upper portion

326 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

of its course, nor deposits materials, it is said
to have acquired its “regimen,” and in such
a case if the character of the soil remains the
same, the velocity must also be uniform. The
enlargement of the bed of a river is not, how-
ever, in proportion to the increase of its wa-
ters as 1t approaches the sea. If, therefore,
the slope did not diminish, the regimen would
be destroyed, and the river would again com-
mence to eat out its bed. Hence as rivers
enlarge, the slope diminishes, and consequently
every river tends to assume some such “regi-
men” as that shown in Fig. 46.

Now, suppose that the fall of the river is
again Increased, either by a fresh elevation,
or locally by the removal of a barrier. Then
once more the river regains its energy. Again
it cuts into its old bed, deepening the valley,
and leaving the old plain as a terrace high
above its new course. In many valleys sev-
eral such terraces may be seen, one above
the other. In the case of a river running in a
transverse valley, that is to say of a valley
lying at right angles to the “strike” or direc-
tion of the strata (such, for instance, as the

Vill RIVERS AND LAKES Sat

Reuss), the water acts more effectively than
in longitudimal valleys running along the
strike. Hence the lateral valleys have been
less deeply excavated than that of the Reuss
itself, and the streams from them enter the
main valley by rapids or cascades. Again,
rivers running in transverse valleys cross
rocks which in many cases differ in hardness,
and of course they cut down the softer strata
more rapidly than the harder ones; each ridge
of harder rock will therefore form a dam and
give rise to a rapid, or cataract. We often
as we ascend a river, after a comparatively
flat plain, find ourselves in a narrow defile,
down which the water rushes in an impet-
uous torrent, but at the summit of which,
to our surprise, we find another broad flat
valley.

Another lesson which we learn from the
study of river valleys, is that, just as geological
structure was shown by Sir C. Lyell to be no
evidence of cataclysms, but the result of slow
action; so also the excavation of valleys is
due mainly to the regular flow of rivers; and
floods, though their effects are more sudden

898 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

and striking, have had, after all, comparatively
little part in the result.

The mouths of rivers fall into two princi-
pal classes. If we look at any map we cannot
but be struck by the fact that some rivers
terminate in a delta, some in an estuary. The
Thames, for instance, ends in a noble estuary,
to which London owes much of its wealth
and power. It is obvious that the Thames
could not have excavated this estuary while
the coast was at its present level. But we
know that formerly the land stood higher,
that the German Ocean was once dry land,
and the Thames, after joining the Rhine, ran
northwards, and fell eventually into the Arctic _
Ocean. The estuary of the Thames, then,
dates back to a period when the south-east of
England stood at a higher level than the
present, and even now the ancient course of
the river can be traced by soundings under
what is now sea. The sites of present deltas,
say of the Nile, were also once under water,
and have been gradually reclaimed by the
deposits of the river.

It would indeed be a great mistake to

vill RIVERS AND LAKES 329

suppose that rivers always tend to deepen
their valleys. This is only the case when the
slope exceeds a certain angle. When the fall
is but slight they tend on the contrary to
raise their beds by depositing sand and mud
brought down from higher levels. Hence in
the lower part of their course many of the
most celebrated rivers —the Nile, the Po, the
Mississippi, the Thames, etc. —run upon em-
bankments, partly of their own creation.

Fig. 48. — Diagrammatic section of a valley (exaggerated)

R R, rocky basis of valley; A A, sedimentary strata; B, ordinary level
of river; C, flood level.

The Reno, the most dangerous of all the
Apennine rivers, is in some places as much as
30 feet above the adjoining country. Rivers
under such conditions, when not interfered
with by Man, sooner or later break through

their banks, and leaving their former bed,
take a new course along the lowest part of

330 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

their valley, which again they gradually raise
above the rest. Hence, unless they are kept
in their own channels by human agency,
such rivers are continually changing their
course.

If we imagine a river running down a
regularly inclined plane in a more or less
straight line; any inequality or obstruction
would produce an oscillation, which when
once started would go on increasing until
the force of gravity drawing the water in a
straight line downwards equals that of the
force tending to divert its course. Hence the
radius of the curves will follow a regular law
depending on the volume of water and the
angle of inclination of the bed. If the fall
is 10 feet per mile and the soil homogeneous,
the curves would be so much extended that
the course would appear almost straight.
With a fall of 1 foot per mile the length of
the curve is, according to Fergusson, about
six times the width of the river, so that a
river 1000 feet wide would oscillate once in
6000 feet. This is an important considera-
tion, and much labour has been lost in trying

VIII RIVERS AND LAKES 331

to prevent rivers from following their natural
law of oscillation. But rivers are very true to
their own laws, and a change at any part is
continued both upwards and downwards, so
that a new oscillation in any place cuts its
way through the whole plain of the river both
above and below.

The curves of the Mississippi are, for in-
stance, for a considerable part of its course
so regular that they are said. to have been
used by the Indians as a measure of dis-
tance. :

If the country is flat a river gradually
raises the level on each side, the water which
overflows during floods being retarded by
reeds, bushes, trees, and a thousand other
obstacles, gradually deposits the solid matter
which it contains, and thus raising the sur-
face, becomes at length suspended, as it were,
above the general level. When this elevation
has reached a certain point, the river during
some flood bursts its banks, and deserting its
old bed takes a new course along the lowest
accessible level. This then it gradually fills
up, and so on; coming back from time to

332 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHA:

time if permitted, after a long cycle of years,
to its first course. .

In evidence of the vast quantity of sediment
which rivers deposit, I may mention that the
river-deposits at Calcutta are more than 400
feet in thickness.

In addition to temporary “ spates,’ due to
heavy rain, most rivers are fuller at one time
of year than another, our rivers, for instance,
in winter, those of Switzerland, from the
melting of the snow, in summer. The Nile
commences to rise towards the beginning of
July; from August to October it floods all the
low lands, and early in November it sinks
again. At its greatest height the volume of
water sometimes reaches twenty times that
when it is lowest, and yet perhaps not a
drop of rain may have fallen. Though we
now know that this annual variation is due
to the melting of the snow and the fall of
rain on the high lands of Central Africa, still
when we consider that the phenomenon has
been repeated annually for thousands of years
it is impossible not to regard it with wonder.
In fact Egypt itself may be said to be the
bed of the Nile in flood time.

vu RIVERS AND LAKES 333

Some rivers, on the other hand, offer no
such periodical differences. The lower Rhone,
for instance, below the junction with the
SaOne, is nearly equal all through the year,
and yet we know that the upper portion is
greatly derived from the melting of the Swiss
snows. In this case, however, while the
Rhone itself is on this account highest in
summer and lowest in winter, the Sadne, on
the contrary, is swollen by the winter’s rain,
and falls during the fine weather of summer.
Hence the two tend to counterbalance one
another.

Periodical differences are of course com-
paratively easy to deal with. It is very dif-
ferent with floods due to irregular rainfall.
Here also, however, the mere quantity of rain
is by no means the only matter to be con-
sidered. For instance a heavy rain in the
watershed of the Seme, unless very prolonged,
causes less difference in the flow of the river,
say at Paris, than might at first have been
expected, because the height of the flood in “
the nearer affluents has passed down the river
before that from the more distant streams has

334 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE cnap. vit

“~

_ arrived. The highest level is reached when —
the rain in the districts drained by the various _
affluents happens to be so timed that the —
different floods coincide in their arrival at —
Paris.

CHAPTER IX

THE SEA

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
I love not Man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel

What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.

Roll on, thou deep and dark-blue Ocean — roll!
Byron.

a
cate

‘ree abnd aovf OT,

‘aN $,QNVT FHL

ee ee ee

CHAPTER IX
THE SEA

WueEn the glorious summer weather comes,
when we feel that by a year’s honest work we
have fairly won the prize of a good holiday,
how we turn instinctively to the Sea. We
pine for the delicious smell of the sea air, the
murmur of the waves, the rushing sound of
the pebbles on the sloping shore, the cries of
the sea-birds; and long to

Linger, where the pebble-paven shore,

Under the quick, faint kisses of the Sea,
Trembles and sparkles as with ecstasy.!

How beautiful the sea-coast is! At the
foot of a cliff, perhaps of pure white chalk, or
rich red sandstone, or stern grey granite, lies
the shore of gravel or sand, with a few

1 Shelley.
Zz 337

338 ° THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE —_ cmap,

scattered plants of blue Sea Holly, or yellow-
flowered Horned Poppies, Sea-kale, Sea Con-
volvulus, Saltwort, Artemisia, and Sea-grasses ;
the waves roll leisurely in one by one, and as
they reach the beach, each in turn rises up in
an arch of clear, cool, transparent, green
water, tipped with white or faintly pinkish
foam, and breaks lovingly on the sands;
while beyond hes the Das Sea sparkling in
the sunshine.
. O pleasant Sea

Earth hath not a plain
So boundless or so beautiful as thine.

The Sea is indeed at times overpoweringly
beautiful. At morning and evening a sheet
of living silver or gold, at mid-day deep blue ;
even

Too deeply blue; too beautiful; too bright;
Oh, that the shadow of a cloud might rest
Somewhere upon the splendour of thy breast
In momentary gloom.?

There are few prettier sights than the beach
at a seaside town on a fine summer’s day;
the waves sparkling in the sunshine, the water

1 Campbell. 2 Holmes,

IX THE SEA 839

and sky each bluer than the other, while the
sea seems as if it had nothing to do but to
laugh and play with the children on the sands;
the children perseveringly making castles with
spades and: pails, which the waves then run
up to and wash away, over and over and
over again, until evening comes and the chil-
dren go home, when the Sea makes every-
thing smooth and ready for the next day’s
play.

Many are satisfied to admire the Sea from
shore, others more ambitious or more free
prefer a cruise. They feel with Tennyson’s
voyager :

We left behind the painted buoy
That tosses at the harbour-mouth ;

And madly danced our hearts with joy,
As fast we fleeted to the South:

How fresh was every sight and sound
On open main or winding shore!

We knew the merry world was round,
And we might sail for evermore.

Many appreciate both. The long roll of
the Mediterranean on a fine day (and I sup-
pose even more of the Atlantic, which I have
never enjoyed), far from land in a good ship,

340 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

and with kind friends, is a joy never to be
forgotten.

To the Gulf Stream and the Atlantic Ocean
Northern Europe owes its mild climate. The
same latitudes on the other side of the Atlantic
are much colder. To find the same average
temperature in the United States we must go
far to the south. Immediately opposite us
lies Labrador, with an average temperature
the same as that of Greenland; a coast
almost destitute of vegetation, a country of
snow and ice, whose principal wealth consists
in its furs, and a scattered population, mainly
composed of Indians and Esquimaux. But the
Atlantic would not alone produce so great an
effect. We owe our mild and genial climate
mainly to the Gulf Stream —a river in the
ocean, twenty million times as great as the
Rhone —the greatest, and for us the most
important, river in the world, which brings to
our shores the sunshine of the West Indies.

The Sea is outside time. A thousand, ten
thousand, or a million years ago it must have
looked just as it does now, and as it will ages
hence. With the land this is not so. The

Ix THE SEA 341

mountains and hills, rivers and_ valleys,
animals and plants are continually changing :
but the Sea is always the same,

Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same
Year after year.

Directly we see the coast, or even a ship,
the case is altered. Boats may remain the
same for centuries, but ships are continually
being changed. The wooden walls of old
England are things of the past, and the iron-
clads of to-day will soon be themselves im-
proved off the face of the ocean.

The great characteristic of Lakes is peace,
that of the Sea is energy, somewhat restless,
perhaps, but still movement without fatigue.

The Earth lies quiet like a child asleep,

The deep heart of the Heaven is calm and still,
Must thou alone a restless vigil keep,

And with thy sobbing all the silence fill.

A Lake in a storm rather gives us the impres-
sion of a beautiful Water Spirit tormented by
some Evil Demon; but a storm at Sea is one
of the grandest manifestations of Nature.

1 Bell.

342 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

Yet more; the billows and the depths have more;
High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast ;
They hear not now the booming waters roar,
The battle thunders will not break their rest.
Keep. thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave;
Give back the true and brave.

The most vivid description of a storm at
sea is, | think, the followmg passage from
Ruskin’s Modern Painters :

“Few people, comparatively, have ever
seen the effect on the sea of a powerful gale
continued without intermission for three or
four days and nights; and to those who have
not, I believe it must be unimaginable, not
from the mere force or size of the surge, but
from the complete annihilation of the limit
between sea and air. The water from its pro-
longed agitation is beaten, not into mere
creaming foam, but into masses of accumu-
lated yeast, which hangs in ropes and wreaths
from wave to wave, and, where one curls over
to break, form a festoon like a drapery from
its edge; these are taken up by the wind, not
in dissipating dust, but bodily, in writhing,
hanging, coiling masses, which make the air

1 Hemans.

es THE SEA 343

white and thick as with snow, only the flakes
are a foot or two long each: the surges them-
selves are full of foam in their very bodies
underneath, making them white all through,
as the water.is under a great cataract; and
‘their masses, being thus half water and half
air, are torn to pieces by the wind whenever
they rise, and carried away in roaring smoke,
which chokes and strangles like actual water.
Add to this, that when the air has been ex-
hausted of its moisture by long rain, the spray
of the sea is caught by it as described above,
and covers its surface not merely with the
smoke of finely divided water, but with boil-
ing mist; imagine also the low rain-clouds
brought down to the very level of the sea, as
I have often seen them, whirling and flying in
rags and fragments from wave to wave; and
finally, conceive the surges themselves in their
utmost pitch of power, velocity, vastness, and
madness, lifting themselves in precipices and
peaks, furrowed with their whirl of ascent,
through all this chaos, and you will under-
stand that there is indeed no distinction left
between the sea and air; that no object, nor

—

344 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

horizon, nor any landmark or natural evidence
of position is left; and the heaven is all spray,
and the ocean all cloud, and that you can see
no further in any direction than you see
through a cataract.”

SEA LIFE

The Sea teems with life. The Great Sea
Serpent is, indeed, as much a myth as the
Kraken of Pontoppidan, but other monsters,
scarcely less marvellous, are actual realities.
The Giant Cuttle Fish of Newfoundland,
though the body is comparatively small, may
measure 60 feet from the tip of one arm to
that of another The Whalebone Whale
reaches a length of over 70 feet, but is timid
and inoffensive. The Cachalot or Sperm
Whale, which almost alone among animals
roams over the whole ocean, is as large, and
much more formidable. It is armed with
powerful teeth, and is said to feed mainly on
Cuttle Fish, but sometimes on true fishes, or
even Seals. When wounded it often attacks
boats, and its companions do not hesitate to

IX THE SEA 345

come to the rescue. In one case, indeed, an
American ship was actually attacked, stove
in, and sunk by a gigantic male Cachalot.

The Great Roqual is still more formidable,
and has been said to attain a length of 120
feet, but this is probably an exaggeration.
So far as we know, the largest species of all
is Simmond’s Whale, which reaches a maxi-
mum of 85 to 90 feet.

In former times Whales were frequent on
our coasts, so that, as Bishop Pontoppidan
said, the sea sometimes appeared as if covered
with smoking chimneys, but they have been
gradually driven further and further north,
and are still becoming rarer. As they re-
treated man followed, and to them we owe
much of our progress in geography. Is it
not, however, worth considering whether they
might not also be allowed a “ truce of God,”
whether some part of the ocean might not be
allotted to them where they might be allowed
to breed in peace? As a mere mercantile
arrangement the maritime nations would prob-
ably find this very remunerative. The reck-
less slaughter of Whales, Sea Elephants, Seals,

346 * ‘THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

and other marine animals is a sad blot, not ;
only on the character, but on the common
sense, of man. oy ,

The monsters of the ocean require large
quantities of food, but they are supplied
abundantly. Scoresby mentions cases in
which the sea was for miles tinged of an
olive green by a species of Medusa. He
calculates that in a cubic mile there must
have been 23,888,000,000,000,000, and though
no doubt the living mass did not reach to any
great depth, still, as he sailed through water
thus discoloured for many miles, the number
must have been almost incalculable.

This is, moreover, no rare or exceptional
case. Navigators often sail for leagues
through shoals of creatures, which alter the
whole colour of the sea, and actually change
it, as Reclus says, into “une masse animée.”

Still, though the whole ocean teems with
life, both animals and plants are most abun-
dant near the coast. Air-breathing animals,
whether mammals or insects, are naturally
not well adapted to live far from dry land.
Even Seals, though some of them make re-

ce THE SEA 347

markable migrations, remain habitually near
the shore. Whales alone are specially modified
so as to make the wide ocean their home. Of
birds the greatest wanderer is the Albatross,
which has such powers of flight that it is said
even to sleep on the wing.

Many Pelagic animals—Jelly-fishes, Mol-
luses, Cuttle-fishes, Worms, Crustacea, and
some true fishes — are remarkable for having
become perfectly transparent; their shells,
muscles, and even their blood have lost all
colour, or even undergone the further modifi-
cation of having become blue, often with
beautiful opalescent reflections. This obvi-
ously renders them less visible, and less liable
to danger.

The sea-shore, wherever a firm hold can be
obtained, is covered with Sea-weeds, which
fall roughly into two main divisions, olive-
green and red, the latter colour having a special
relation to light. These Sea-weeds afford
food and shelter to innumerable animals.

The clear rocky pools left by the retiring
tide are richly clothed with green sea-weeds,
while against the sides are tufts of beautiful

348 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

filmy red alge, interspersed with Sea-anem-
ones, — white, creamy, pink, yellow, purple,
with a coronet of blue beads, and of many
mixed colours; Sponges, Corallines, Starfish,
Limpets, Barnacles, and other — shell-fish;
feathery Zoophytes and Annelides expand their
pink or white disks, while here and there a
Crab scuttles across; little Fish or Shrimps
timidly come out from crevices in the rocks,
or from among the fronds of the sea-weeds, or
hastily dart from shelter to shelter; each
little pool is, in fact, a miniature ocean in
itself, and the longer one looks the more and
more one will see.

The dark green and brown sea-weeds do —
not live beyond a few—say about 15—
fathoms in depth. Below them occur delicate
scarlet species, with Corallines and a different
set of shells, Sea-urchins, ete. Down to about
100 fathoms the animals and plants are still
numerous and varied. But they gradually
diminish in numbers, and are replaced by new
forms.

To appreciate fully the extreme loveliness
of marine animals they must be seen alive.

Ix THE SEA 349

“A tuft of Sertularia, laden with white, or
brilliantly tinted Polypites,’ says Huincks,
“like blossoms on some tropical tree, is a per-
fect marvel of beauty. The unfolding of a
mass of Plumularia, taken from amongst the
miscellaneous contents of the dredge, and
thrown into a bottle of clear sea-water, is a
sight which, once seen, no dredger will for-
get. <A tree of Campanularia, when each one
of its thousand transparent calycles — itself a
study of form—dJis crowned by a circlet of
beaded arms, drooping over its margin like
the petals of a flower, offers a rare combi-
nation of the elements of beauty.

The rocky wall of some deep tidal pool,
thickly studded with the long and slender
stems of Tubularia, surmounted by the bright
rose-coloured heads, is like the gay parterre
of a garden. Equally beautiful is the dense
growth of Campanularia, covering (as I have
seen it in Plymouth Sound) large tracts of the
rock, its delicate shoots swaying to and fro
with each movement of the water, like trees
in a storm, or the colony of Obelia on the
waving frond of the tangle looking almost

350 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

ethereal in its grace, transparency, and deli-
cacy, as seen against the coarse dark surface
that supports it.” :

Few things are more beautiful than to look
down from a boat into transparent water.
At the bottom wave graceful sea-weeds, brown,
green, or rose-coloured, and of most varied
forms; on them and on the sands or rocks
rest starfishes, mollusca, crustaceans, Sea-
anemones, and innumerable other animals of
strange forms and varied colours; in the clear
water float or dart about endless creatures;
true fishes, many of them brilliantly coloured ;
Cuttle-fishes like bad dreams; Lobsters and
Crabs with graceful, transparent Shrimps;
Worms swimming about like living ribbons,
some with thousands of coloured eyes, and
Meduse like living glass of the richest and
softest hues, or glittering in the sunshine with -
all the colours of the rainbow.

And on calm, cool nights how often have I
stood on the deck of a ship watching with
wonder and awe the stars overhead, and the
sea-fire below, especially in the foaming,
silvery wake of the vessel, where often sud-

Ix THE SEA 351

denly appear globes of soft and lambent light,
given out perhaps from the surface of some
large Medusa.

“A beautiful white cloud of foam,” says
Coleridge, “at momently intervals coursed by
the side of the vessel with a roar, and little
stars of flame danced and sparkled and went
out in it; and every now and then light de-
tachments of this white cloud-like foam darted
off from the vessel’s side, each with its own
small constellation, over the sea, and scoured
out of sight like a Tartar troop over a wilder-
ness.”

Fish also are sometimes luminous. ‘The
Sun-fish has been seen to glow like a white-
hot cannon-ball, and in one species of Shark
(Squalus fulgens) the whole surface sometimes
gives out a greenish lurid light which makes
it a most ghastly object, like some great
ravenous spectre.

THE OCEAN DEPTHS

The Land bears a rich harvest of life, but
only at the surface. The Ocean, on the con-

352 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

trary, though more richly peopled in its upper
layers, which swarm with such innumerable
multitudes of living creatures that they are,
so to say, almost themselves alive — teems
throughout with living beings.

The deepest abysses have a fauna of their
own, which makes up for the comparative
scantiness of its numbers, by the peculiarity
and interest of their forms and organisation.
The middle waters are the home of various
Fishes, Medusa, and animalcules, while the
upper layers swarm with an inexhaustible
variety of living creatures.

It used to be supposed that the depths of
the Ocean were destitute of animal life, but
recent researches, and especially those made
during our great national expedition in the
“Challenger,’ have shown that this is not
the case, but that the Ocean depths have a
wonderful and peculiar life -of their own.
Fish have been dredged up even from a depth
of 2750 fathoms.

The conditions of life in the Ocean depths
are very peculiar. The light of the sun can- |
not penetrate beyond about two hundred

1% THE SEA 353

fathoms ; deeper than this complete darkness
prevails. Hence in many species the eyes
have more or less completely disappeared.

Sir Wyville Thomson mentions a kind of
Crab (Ethusa granulata), which when living
near the surface has well developed eyes; in
deeper water, 100 to 400 fathoms, eyestalks
are present, but the animal is apparently
blind, the eyes themselves being absent;
while in specimens from a depth of 500-700
fathoms the eyestalks themselves have lost
their special character, and have become
fixed, their terminations bemg combined into
a strong, pointed beak.

In other deep sea creatures, on the con-
trary, the eyes gradually become more and
more developed, so that while in some species
the eyes gradually dwindle, in others mer
become unusually large.

Many of the latter species may be said to
be a light to themselves, being provided with
a larger or smaller number of curious luminous
organs. The deep sea fish are either silvery,
pink, or in many cases black, sometimes re-
lieved with scarlet, and when the luminous:

354 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

organs flash out must present a very remark-
able appearance.

We have still much tog learn as to the
structure and functions of these organs, but
there are cases in which their use can be
surmised with some probability. The light
is evidently under the will of the fish.’ It is
easy to imagine a Photichthys (Light Fish)
swimming in the black depths of the Ocean,
suddenly flashing out light from its luminous
organs, and thus bringing into view any prey
which may be near; while, if danger is dis-
closed, the light is again at once extinguished.
It may be observed that the largest of these
organs is in this species situated just under |
the eye, so that the fish is actually provided
with a bull’s eye lantern. In other cases the
light may rather serve as a defence, some
having, as, for instance, in the genus Scope-
lus, a pair of large ones in the tail, so that
“a strong ray of light shot forth from the
stern-chaser may dazzle and frighten an
enemy.” ;

In other cases they appear to serve as”

1 Gunther, History of Fishes.

Ix THE SEA 355

lures. The “Sea-devil” or “Angler” of
our coasts has on its head three long, very
flexible, reddish filaments, while all round its
head are fringed appendages, closely resem-
bling fronds of sea-weed. The fish conceals
itself at the bottom, in the sand or among
sea-weed, and dangles the long filaments in
front of its mouth. Little fishes, taking these
filaments for worms, unsuspectingly approach,
and thus fall victims.

Several species of the same family live at
great depths, and have very similar habits.
A mere red filament would be invisible in the
dark and therefore useless. They have, how-
ever, developed a luminous organ, a living
“olow-lamp,” at the end of the filament,
which doubtless proves a very effective lure.

In the great depths, however, fish are com-
paratively rare. Nor are Molluscs much more
abundant. Sea-urchins, Sea Slugs, and Star-
fish are more numerous, and on one occasion
20,000 specimens of an Echinus were brought
up at a single haul. True corals are rare, nor
are Hydrozoa frequent, though a gaint species,
allied to the little Hydra of our ponds but

356 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

upwards of 6 feet in height, has more than
once been met with. Sponges are numerous,
and often very beautiful. The now well
known Euplectella, ““ Venus’s Flower-basket,”
resembles an exquisitely delicate fabric woven
in spun silk; it is in the form of a gracefully
curved tube, expanding slightly upwards and
ending in an elegant frill. The wall is formed
of parallel bands of glassy siliceous fibres,
crossed by others at right angles, so as to
form a square meshed net. These sponges
are anchored on the fine ooze by wisps of
glassy filaments, which often attain a con-
siderable length. Many of these beautiful
organisms, moreover, glow when alive with
a soft diffused light, flickering and sparkling
at every touch. What would one not give
to be able to wander a while in these wonder-
ful regions !

It is curious that no plants, so far as we
know, grow in the depths of the Ocean, or,
indeed, as far as our present information goes,
at a greater depth than about 100 fathoms.

As regards the nature of the bottom itself,
it is in the neighbourhood of land mainly

Ix THE SEA 357

composed of materials, brought down by
rivers or washed from the shore, coarser near
the coast, and tending to become finer and
finer as the distance increases and the water
deepens. The bed of the Atlantic from 400
to 2000 fathoms is covered with an ooze, or
very fine chalky deposit, consisting to a great
extent of minute and more or less broken
shells, especially those of Globigerina. At
still greatér depths the carbonate of lime
gradually disappears, and the bottom consists
of fine red clay, with numerous minute parti-
cles, some of volcanic, some of meteoric, origin,
fragments of shooting stars, over 100,000,000
of which are said to strike the surface of our
earth every year. How slow the process of
deposition must be, may be inferred from the
fact that the trawl sometimes brings up many
teeth of Sharks and ear-bones of Whales (in
one case no less than 600 teeth and 100 ear-
bones), often semi-fossil, and which from their
great density had remained intact for ages,
long after all the softer parts had perished
and disappeared.

The greatest depth of the Ocean appears

358 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

to coincide roughly with the greatest height
of the mountains. There are indeed cases
recorded in which it is said that “no bottom”
was found even at 39,000 feet. It is, how-
ever, by no means easy to sound at such great
depths, and it is now generally considered
that these earlier observations are untrust-
worthy. The greatest depth known in the
Atlantic is 3875 fathoms—a little to the
north of the Virgin Islands, but the sound-
ings as yet made in the deeper parts of the
Ocean are few in number, and it is not to be
supposed that the greatest depth has sige been
ascertained.

CORAL ISLANDS

In many parts of the world the geography
itself has been modified by the enormous de-
velopment of animal life.. Most islands fall
into one of three principal categories:

Firstly, Those which are in reality a part
of the continent near which they lie, being
connected by comparatively shallow water,
and standing to the continent somewhat in’

~ THE SEA 359

the relation of planets to the sun; as, for
instance, the Cape de Verde Islands to Africa,
Ceylon to India, or Tasmania to Australia.
Secondly, Volcanic islands; and
Thirdly, Those which owe their origin to
the growth of Coral reefs.

Fig. 49. — Whitsunday Island.

Coral islands are especially numerous in
the Indian and Pacific Oceans, where there
are innumerable islets, in the form of rings,
or which together form rings, the rings them-
selves being sometimes made up of ringlets.
These “atolls” contain a. circular basin of
yellowish green, clear, shallow water, while
- outside is the dark blue deep water of the
Ocean. The islands themselves are quite low,
with a beach of white sand rising but a few

360 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

feet above the level of the water, and bear
generally groups of tufted Cocoa Palms.

It used to be supposed that these were the
summits of submarine volcanoes on which the
coral had grown. But as the reef-making
coral does not live at greater depths than
about twenty-five fathoms, the immense
number of these reefs formed an almost
insuperable objection to this theory. The |
Laccadives and Maldives for instance — mean-
ing literally the “lac of or 100,000 islands,”
and the “ thousand islands’’ —are a series of
such atolls, and it was impossible to imagine
so great a number of craters, all so nearly of
the same altitude.

In shallow tracts of sea, coral reefs no
doubt tend to assume the well-known circular
form, but the difficulty was to account for
the numerous atolls which rise to the surface
form the abysses of the ocean, while the coral-
forming zoophytes can only live near the
surface.

Darwin showed that so far from the
ring of corals resting on a corresponding
ridge of rocks, the lagoons, on the contrary,

Ix | THE SEA 361

now occupy the place which was once the
highest land. He poimted out that some
lagoons, as for instance that of Vanikoro,
contain an island in the middle; while other
islands, such as Tahiti, are surrounded by a
margin of smooth water separated from the
ocean by a coral reef. Now if we suppose
that Tahiti were to sink slowly it would
gradually approximate to the condition of
Vanikoro; and if Vanikoro gradually sank,
the central island would disappear, while on
the contrary the growth of the coral might
neutralise the subsidence of the reef, so that
we should have simply an atoll with its
lagoon. The same considerations explain the
origin of the “barrier reefs,’ such as that
which runs for nearly a thousand miles, along
the north-east coast of Australia. Thus
Darwin’s theory explains the form and the
approximate identity of altitude of these
coral islands. But it does more than
this, because it shows that there are great
areas in process of subsidence, which though
slow, is of great importance in physical
geography.

362 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

The lagoon islands have received much
attention ; which “ is not surprising, for every
one must be struck with astonishment, when
he first beholds one of these vast rings of
coral-rock, often many leagues in diameter,
here and there surmounted by a low verdant
island with dazzling white shores, bathed on
the outside by the foaming breakers of the
ocean, and on the inside surrounding a calm
expanse of water, which, from reflection is
generally of a bright but pale green colour.
The naturalist will feel this astonishment more
deeply after having examined the soft and
almost gelatinous bodies of these apparently
insignificant coral-polypifers, and when he
knows that the solid reef increases only on the
outer edge, which day and night is lashed by
the breakers of an ocean never at rest. Well
did Francois Pyrard de Laval, in the year
1605 exclaim, ‘C’est une merveille de voir
chacun de ces atollons, environné d’un grand
bane de pierre tout autour, n’y ayant point
d’artifice humain.’”’? | |

Of the enchanting beauty of the coral beds

1Darwin, Coral Reefs.

Ix THE SEA 363

themselves we are assured that language con-
veys no adequate idea. ‘There were corals,”
says Prof. Ball, ‘ which, in their living state,
are of many shades of fawn, buff, pink, and
blue, while some were tipped with a magenta-
like bloom. Sponges which looked as hard as
stone spread over wide areas, while sprays of
coralline added their graceful forms to the
picture. Through the vistas so formed, golden-
banded and metallic-blue fish meandered, while
on the patches of sand here and there Holo-
thurias and various mollusca and crustaceans
might be seen slowly crawling.”

Abercromby also gives a very graphic
description of a Coral reef. “As we ap-
proached,” he says, “the roaring surf on
the outside, fingery lumps of beautiful live
coral began to appear of the palest lavender-
blue colour; and when at last we were almost
within the spray, the whole floor was one
mass of living branches of coral. |

“ But it is only when venturing as far as is
prudent into the water, over the outward edge
of the great sea wall, that the true character
of the reef and all the beauties of the ocean

364 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE cmap.

can be really seen. After walking over a flat
uninteresting tract of nearly bare rock, you
look down and see a steep irregular wall,
expanding deeper into the ocean than the eye
can follow, and broken into lovely grottoes
and holes and canals, through which small
resplendent fish of the brightest blue or gold
flit fitfully between the lumps of coral. ‘The
sides of these natural grottoes are entirely
covered with endless forms of tender-coloured
coral, but all beautiful, and all more or less of
the fingery or branching species, known as
madrepores. It is really impossible to draw
or describe the sight, which must be taken
with all its surroundings as adjuncts.” !

The vegetation of these fairy lands is also
very lovely; the Coral tree (Erythrina) with —
light green leaves and bunches of scarlet
blossoms, the Cocoa-nut always beautiful, the
breadfruit, the graceful tree ferns, the
Barringtonia, with large pink and white
flowers, several species of Convolvulus,
and many others unknown to us even by
name.

1 Abercromby, Seas and Skies in many Latitudes.

ix THE SEA 365

THE SOUTHERN SKIES

In considering these exquisite scenes, the
beauty of the Southern skies must not be
omitted. “From the time we entered the
torrid zone,” says Humboldt, “we were never
wearied with admiring, every night, the
beauty of the southern sky, which, as we
advanced towards the south, opened new
constellations to our view. We feel an inde-
scribable sensation, when, on approaching the
equator, and particularly on passing from
one hemisphere to the other, we see those
stars which we have contemplated from our
infancy, progressively sink, and finally dis-
appear. Nothing awakens in the traveller a
livelier remembrance of the immense distance
by which he is separated from his country,
than the aspect of an unknown firmament.
The grouping of the stars of the first magni-
tude, some scattered nebule rivalling in
splendour the milky way, and tracts of space
remarkable for their extreme blackness, give
a particular physiognomy to the southern sky.
This sight fills with admiration even those,

366 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

who, uninstructed in the branches of accurate
science, feel the same emotions of delight in
the contemplation of the heavenly vault, as
in the view of a beautiful landscape, or a
majestic river. A traveller has no need of
being a botanist to recognise the torrid zone
on the mere aspect of its vegetation; and,
without having acquired any notion of
astronomy, he feels he is not in Europe, when
he sees the immense constellation of the Ship,
or the phosphorescent clouds of Magellan,
arise on the horizon. The heaven and the
earth, in the equinoctial regions, assume an
exotic character.”

“The sunsets in the Eastern Archipelago,”
says H. O. Forbes,’ “were scenes to be re-
membered for a life-time. The tall cones of
Sibissie and Krakatoa rose dark purple out of
an unruffled golden sea, which stretched away
to the south-west, where the sun went down; ©
over the horizon gray fleecy clouds lay in
banks and streaks, above them pale blue lanes
of sky, alternating with orange bands, which
higher up gave place to an expanse of

14 Naturalist’s Wanderings in the Eastern Archipelago.

Ix | THE SEA 267

red stretching round the whole heavens.
Gradually as the sun retreated deeper and
deeper, the sky became a marvellous golden
curtain, in front of which the gray clouds
coiled themselves into weird forms before
dissolving into space. . . .”

THE POLES

The Arctic and Antarctic regions have
always exercised a peculiar fascination over
the human mind. Until now every attempt
to reach the North Pole has failed, and the
South has proved even more inaccessible.
In the north, Parry all but reached lat. 83 ;
in the south no one has penetrated beyond
lat. 71.11. And yet, while no one can say
what there may be round the North Pole, and
some still imagine that open water might be
found there, we can picture to ourselves the
extreme South with somewhat more confidence.

Whenever ships have sailed southwards,
except at a few places where land has been
met with, they have come at last to a wall of
ice, from fifty to four hundred feet high. In

368 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

those regions it snows, if not incessantly, at
least very frequently, and the snow melts but
little. As far as the eye can reach nothing is
to be seen but snow. Now this snow must
gradually accumulate, and solidify into ice,
until it attains such a slope that it will move
forward as a glacier. The enormous Icebergs
of the Southern Ocean, moreover, show that
it does so, and that the snow of the extreme
south, after condensing into ice, moves slowly
outward and at length forms a wall of ice,
from which Icebergs, from time to time,
break away. We do not exactly know what,
under such circumstances, the slope would
be; but Mr. Croll points out that if we take
it at only half a degree, and this seems quite
a minimum, the Ice cap at the South Pole
must be no less than twelve miles in thickness.
It is mdeed probably even more, for some of
the Southern tabular icebergs attain a height
of eight hundred, or even a thousand feet
above water, indicating a total thickness of
the ice sheet even at the edge, of over a mile.

Sir James Ross mentions that — “ Whilst
measuring some angles for the survey near

Ix THE SEA 369

Mount Lubbock an island suddenly appeared,
which he was quite sure was not to be seen
two or three hours previously. He was much
astonished, but it eventually turned out to be
a large iceberg, which had turned over, and so
exposed a new surface covered with earth and
stones.” :

The condition of the Arctic regions is quite
different. There is much more land, and no
such enormous solid cap of ice. Spitzbergen,
the land of “ pointed mountains,” is said to be
very beautiful. Lord Dufferin describes his
first view of it as “‘a forest of thin lilac peaks,
so famt, so pale, that had it not been for
the gem-like distinctness of their outline one
could have deemed them as unsubstantial as
the spires of Fairy-land.”

It is, however, very desolate; scarcely any
vegetation excepting a dark moss, and even
this goes but a little way up the mountain
side. Scoresby ascended one of the hills near
Horn Sound, and describes the view as “‘ most
extensive and grand. A fine sheltered bay
was seen to the east of us, an arm of the same
on the north-east, and the sea, whose glassy

370 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

surface was unruffled by a breeze, formed an
immense expanse on the west; the glaciers,
rearing their proud crests almost to the tops
of mountains between which they were lodged,
and defying the power of the solar beams, |
were scattered in various directions about the
sea-coast and in the adjoining bays. Beds of
snow and ice fillg extensive hollows, and
giving an enamelled coat to adjoining valleys,
one of which, commencing at the foot of the
mountain where we stood, extended in a con-
tinual line towards the north, as far as the eye
could reach — mountain rising above moun-
tain, until by distance they dwindled into
insignificance, the whole contrasted by a cloud-
less canopy of deepest azure, and enlightened
by the rays of a blazing sun, and the effect,
aided by a feeling of danger, seated as we
were on the pinnacle of a rock almost sur-
“rounded by tremendous precipices —all united
to constitute a picture singularly sublime.”

One of the glaciers of Spitzbergen is 11
miles in breadth when it reaches the sea-
coast, the highest part of the precipitous front
adjoining the sea being over 400 feet, and it

Tia THE SEA 371

extends far upwards towards the summit of
the mountain. The surface forms an inclined
plane of smooth unsullied snow, the beauty
and brightness of which render it a con-
spicuous landmark on that inhospitable shore.
From the perpendicular face great masses of
ice from time to time break away,

Whose blocks of sapphire seem to mortal eye
Hewn from cerulean quarries of the sky.?

Field ice is comparatively flat, though it
may be piled up perhaps as much as 950 feet.
It is from glaciers that true icebergs, the
beauty and brilliance of which Arctic tray-
ellers are never tired of describing, take their
origin. . )

The attempts to reach the North Pole have
cost many valuable lives; Willoughby and
Hudson, Behring and Franklin, and many
other brave mariners; but yet there are few
expeditions more popular than those to “ the
Arctic,’ and we cannot but hope that it is
still reserved for the British Navy after so
many gallant attempts at.length to reach the
North Pole.

1 Montgomery.

M
M8 |
Sabe
<4
me A
ico faa
sa
Bae be
fe}
ie oo: 4
a mW
* Oo =
=a 4 m

A man can hardly lift up his eyes towards the heavens
without wonder and veneration, to see so many millions of
radiant lights, and to observe their courses and revolutions,
even without any respect to the common good of the
Universe. — SENECA.

CHAPTER X
THE STARRY HEAVENS

Many years ago I paid a visit to Naples,
and ascended Vesuvius to see the sun rise from
the top of the mountain. We went up to
the Observatory in the evening and spent the
night outside. The sky was clear; at our
feet was the sea, and round the bay the lights
of Naples formed a lovely semicircle. Far
more beautiful, however, were the moon and
the stars overhead; the moon throwing a
silver path over the water, and the stars
shining in that clear atmosphere with a
brilliance which I shall never forget.

For ages and ages past men have admired
the same glorious spectacle, and yet neither
the imagination of Man nor the genius of
- Poetry had risen to the truer and grander
375

376 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

conceptions of the Heavens for which we
are indebted to astronomical Science. The
mechanical contrivances by which it was
attempted to explain the movements of the
heavenly bodies were clumsy and _ prosaic
when compared with the great discovery of
Newton. Ruskin is unjust I think when he
says “Science teaches us that the clouds are
a sleety mist; Art, that they are a golden
throne.” I should be the last to disparage
the debt we owe to Art, but for our knowl-
edge, and even more, for our appreciation,
feeble as even yet it is, of the overwhelming
grandeur of the Heavens, we are mainly in-
debted to Science.

There is scarcely a form which the fancy of
Man has not sometimes detected in the clouds,
—chains of mountains, splendid cities, storms
at sea, flights of birds, groups of animals,
monsters of all kinds, —and our superstitious
ancestors often terrified themselves by fantas-
tic visions of arms and warriors and battles
which they regarded as portents of coming
calamities. There is hardly a day on which
Clouds do not delight and surprise us by their

ce page 377.

To fa

MOON.

THI

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 377

forms and colours. They belong, however, to
our Earth, and I must now pass on to ‘the
heavenly bodies.

THE MOON

The Moon is the nearest, and being the
nearest, appears to us, with the single excep-
tion of the Sun, the largest, although it is in
reality one of the smallest, of the heavenly
bodies. Just as the Earth goes round the
Sun, and the period of revolution constitutes
a year, so the Moon goes round the Earth
approximately in a period of one month.
But while we turn on our axis every twenty-
four hours, thus causing the alternation of
light and darkness —day and night — the
Moon takes a month to revolve on hers, so
that she always presents the same, or very
nearly the same, surface to us.

Seeing her as we do, not like the Sun and
Stars, by light of her own, but by the reflected
light of the Sun, her form appears to change,
because the side upon which the Sun shines
_is not always that which we see. Hence the

378 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

“phases ’’ of the Moon, which add so much to
her’ beauty and interest.

Who is there who has not watched them
with admiration? <“ We first see her as an
exquisite crescent of pale light in the western
sky after sunset. Night after night she
moves further and further to the east, until
she becomes full, and rises about the same
time that the Sun sets. From the time of
full moon the disc of light begins to diminish,
until the last quarter is reached. Then it is
that the Moon is seen high in the heavens in
the morning. As the days.pass by, the cres-
cent shape is again assumed. The crescent
wanes thinner and thinner as the Moon draws
closer to the Sun. Finally, she becomes lost
in the overpowering light of the Sun, again
to emerge as the new moon, and again to go
through the same cycle of changes.’ ?

But although she is so small the Moon is
not only, next to the Sun, by far the most
beautiful, but also for us the most important,
of the heavenly bodies. Her attraction, aided
by that of the Sun, causes the tides, which

1 Ball, Story of the Heavens.

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 379

are of such essential service to navigation.
They carry our vessels in and out of port, and,
indeed, but for them many of our ports would
themselves cease to exist, being silted up by
the rivers running into them. The Moon is
also of invaluable service to sailors by enabling
them to determine where they are, and guid-
ing them over the pathless waters.

The geography of the Moon, so far as con-
cerns the side turned towards us, has been
carefully mapped and studied, and may almost
be said to be as well known as that of our
own earth. The scenery is in a high degree
weird and rugged ; it is a great wilderness of
extinct volcanoes, and, seen with even a very
moderate telescope, is a most beautiful object.
The mountains are of great size. Our loftiest
mountain, Mount Everest, is generally stated
as about 29,000 feet in height. The moun-
tains of the Moon reach an altitude of over
42,000, but this reckons to the lowest depres-
sion, and it must be remembered that we
reckon the height of mountains to the sea
level only. Several of the craters on the
Moon have a diameter of 40 or 50—one of

380 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

them even as much as 78—miles. Many
also have central cones, closely resembling
those in our own volcanic regions. In some
cases the craters are filled nearly to the brim
with lava. The volcanoes seem, however, to
be all extinct ; and there is not a single case

Fig. 50.— A group of Lunar Volcanoes.

in which we have conclusive evidence of any
change in a lunar mountain.

The Moon, being so much smaller than the
earth, cooled, of course, much more rapidly,
and it is probable that these mountains are
millions of years old —much older than many

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 381

of our mountain chains. Yet no one can look
at a map of the Moon without being struck
with the very rugged character of its moun-
tain scenery. This is mainly due to the
absence of air and water. To these two
mighty agencies, not merely “the cloud-
capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, the
solemn temples,’ but the very mountains
themselves, are inevitable victims. Not
merely storms and hurricanes, but every
gentle shower, every fall of snow, tends to
soften our scenery and lower the mountain
peaks. These agencies are absent from the
Moon, and the mountains stand to-day just
as they were formed millions of years ago.
But though we find on our own globe (see,
for instance, Fig. 21) voleanic regions closely
resembling those of the Moon, there are other
phenomena on the Moon’s surface for which
our earth presents as yet no explanation.
From Tycho, for instance, a crater 17,000
feet high and 50 miles across, a number of
rays or streaks diverge, which for hundreds,
or in some cases two or three thousand, miles
pass straight across plains, craters, and moun-

382 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

tains. The true nature of these streaks is not
yet understood.

THE SUN

The Sun is more than 400 times as distant
as the Moon; a mighty glowing globe, in-
finitely hotter than any earthly fiery furnace,
300,000 times as heavy, and 1,000,000 times
as large as the earth. Its diameter is 865,000
miles, and it revolves on its axis in between
25 and 26 days. Its distance is 92,500,000
miles. And yet it is only a star, and by no
means one of the first magnitude.

The surface of the Sun is the seat of vio-
lent storms and tempests. From it gigantic
flames, consisting mainly of hydrogen, flicker
and leap. Professor Young describes one as
being, when first observed, 40,000 miles high.
Suddenly it became very brilliant, and in
half an hour sprang up 40,000 more. For
another hour it soared higher and _ higher,
reaching finally an elevation of no less than
350,000 miles, after which it slowly faded
away, and in a couple of hours had entirely
disappeared. This was no doubt an excep-

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 383

tional case, but a height of 100,000 miles is
not unusual, and the velocity frequently
reaches 100 miles in a second.

The proverbial spots on the Sun in many
respects resemble the appearances which would
be presented if a comparatively dark central
mass was here and there exposed by apertures
through the more brilliant outer gases, but
their true nature is still a matter of discus-
sion.

During total eclipses it is seen that the
Sun is surrounded by a “corona,” or aureola of
light, consisting of radiant filaments, beams,
and sheets of light, which radiate in all direc-
tions, and the true nature of which is still
doubtful.

Another stupendous problem connected
with the Sun is the fact that, as geology
teaches us, it has given off nearly the same
quantity of light and heat for millions of
years. How has this come to pass? Certainly
not by any process of burning such as we are
familiar with. Indeed, if the heat of the Sun
were due to combustion it would be burnt up
in 6000 years. It has been suggested that

384 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

the meteors, which fall in showers on to the
Sun, replace the heat which is emitted. To
some slight extent perhaps they do so, but the
main cause seems to be the slow condensation
of the Sun itself. Mathematicians tell us
that a contraction of about 220 feet a year .
would account for the whole heat emitted, and
as the present diameter of the Sun is about
860,000 miles, the potential store of heat is
still enormous.

To the Sun we owe our light and heat; it
is not only the centre of our planetary system,
it is the source and ruler of our lives. It
draws up water from the ocean, and pours it
down in rain to fill the rivers and refresh the
plants; it raises the winds, which purify the
air and waft our ships over the seas; it draws
our carriages and drives our steam-engines,
for coal is but the heat of former ages stored
up for our use; animals live and move by the
Sun’s warmth; it inspires the song of birds,
paints the flowers, and ripens the fruit.
Through it the trees grow. For the beauties
of nature, for our food and drink, for our
clothing, for our light and life, for the very

x THE STARRY HEAVENS ' 385

possibility of our existence, we are indebted
to the Sun.

What is the Sun made of ? Comte men-
tioned as a problem, which it was impossible
that man could ever solve, any attempt to
determine the chemical composition of the
heavenly bodies. “Nous concevons,” he said, -
“la possibilité de déterminer leurs formes,
leurs distances, leurs grandeurs, et leurs mouve-
ments, tandis que nous ne saurions jamais
étudier par aucun moyen leur composition
chimique ou leur structure minéralogique.”
To do so might well have seemed hopeless,
and yet the possibility has been proved, and a
beginning has been made. In the early part
of this century Wollaston observed that the
bright band of colours thrown by a prism, and
known as the spectrum, was traversed by
dark lines, which were also discovered, and
described more in detail, by Fraunhofer, after
whom they are generally called “ Fraunhofer’s
lines.” The next step was made by Wheat-
stone, who showed that the spectrum formed
by incandescent vapours was formed of bright
lines, which differed for each substance, and

2¢

386 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

might, therefore, be used as a convenient
mode of analysis. In fact, by this process
several new substances have actually been
discovered. These bright lines were found
on comparison to coincide with the dark lines
in the spectrum, and to Kirchhoff and Bunsen
is due the credit of applying this method
of research to astronomical science. They
arranged their apparatus so that one-half was
lighted by the Sun, the other by the incan-
descent gas they were examining. When the
vapour of sodium was treated in this way they
found that the bright line-in the flame of soda
exactly coincided with a line in the Sun’s
spectrum. The conclusion was obvious; there
is sodium in the Sun. It must, indeed, have
been a glorious moment when the thought
flashed upon them; and the discovery, with
its results, is one of the greatest triumphs of
human genius.

The Sun has thus been proved to contain
hydrogen, sodium, barium, magnesium, cal-
cium, aluminium, chromium, iron, nickle, man-
ganese, titanium, cobalt, lead, zine, copper,
cadmium, strontium, cerium, uranium, potas-

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 387

sium, ete., in all 36 of our terrestrial ele-
ments, while as regards some others the
evidence is not conclusive. We cannot as
yet say that any of our elements are absent,
nor though there are various lines which can-
not as yet be certainly referred to any known
substance, have we clear proof that the Sun
contains any element which does not exist on
our earth. On the whole, then, the chemical
composition of the Sun appears closely to
resemble that of our earth.

THE PLANETS

The Syrian shepherds watching their flocks
by night long ago noticed —and they were
probably not the first —that there were five
stars which did not follow the regular course
of the rest, but, apparently at least, moved
about irregularly. These they appropriately
named Planets, or wanderers.

Further observations have shown that this ir-
regularity of their path is only apparent, and
that, like our own Earth, they really revolve
round the Sun. To the five first observed —

388 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn —
two large ones, Uranus and Neptune, and a
group of minor bodies, have since been added.

The following two diagrams give the rela-
tive orbits of the Planets.

Nenus w Mercury ‘ ;
fina ay ea \ \
/ / Si . \ \
; / b ‘ H H
H ; ; \ i \ '
' ' : { . i ' }
i ea | Sun ! ; j
. % / } H |
' ‘ \ 3 / i H
\ . MR ae 7 ; i
‘ as te ont ’ !
\ ‘, 88 days “ / j
\ 5. Si 4 / : ;
N, ge er a yy
. SS 225 d ays we
Fe RTE es ee
365 days
~~ oe oo 4
"687 days

Fig. 51. — Orbits of the inner Planets,
MERCURY

It is possible, perhaps probable, that there
may be an inner Planet, but, so far as we

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 389

know for certain, Mercury is the one nearest
to the Sun, its average distance being
36,000,000 miles. It is much smaller than
the Earth, its weight being only about vith

-_-——— ne
Pees mor wee memes a.
_--—— =~

pee 165 yer;

see scare
_--*Neptune i
ae ‘

ee ars RE Ss
wee gaye “a
= ~
ai ae

gyeat® sorenemes Saturn
= oy

7 ni aS

sicaget Pigeon 12 ea

fi aweras One a

%
we Mars eo
pes. yw

ine }

wy
Fig. 52.— Relative distances of the Planets from the Sun.

of ours. Mercury is a shy though beautiful

object, for being so near the Sun it is not

easily visible ; it may, however, generally be

seen at some time or other during the year as

a morning or evening star.

390 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

VENUS

The true morning or evening star, however,
is Venus —the peerless and capricious Venus.

Venus, perhaps, “has not been noticed,
not been thought of, for many months. It is
a beautifully clear evening; the sun has just
set. The lover of nature turns to admire the
sunset, as every lover of nature will. In the
golden glory of the west a beauteous gem is
seen to glisten; it is the evening star, the
planet Venus. A week or two later another
beautiful sunset is seen, and now the planet
is no longer a glistening, point low down; it
has risen high above the horizon, and con-
tinues a brilliant object long after the shades
of night have descended. Again a little
longer and Venus has gained its full brilliancy
and splendour. All the heavenly host—even
Sirius and Jupiter—must pale before the
splendid lustre of Venus, the unrivalled queen
of the firmament.” *

Venus is about as large as our Earth, and
when at her brightest outshines about fifty

1 Ball, Story of the Heavens.

>a). So o> *ee eee

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 391

times the most brilliant star. Yet, like all
the other planets, she glows only with the
reflected light of the Sun, and consequently
passes through phases like those of the Moon,
though we cannot see them with the naked
eye. To Venus also owe we mainly the power
of determining the distance, and consequently
the magnitude, of the Sun.

THE EARTH

Our own Earth has formed the subject of
previous chapters. I will now, therefore, only
call attention to her movements, in which, of
course, though unconsciously, we participate.
In the first place, the Earth revolves on her
axis in 24 hours. Her circumference at the
tropics is 24,000 miles. Hence a person at the
tropics is moving in this respect at the rate of
1000 miles an hour, or over 16 miles a
minute.

But more than this, astronomers have
ascertained that the whole solar system is
engaged in a great voyage through space,
moving towards a point on the constellation

392 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

of Hercules at the rate of at least 20,000
miles an hour, or over 300 miles a minute.!

But even more again, we revolve annually
round the Sun in a mighty orbit 580,000,000
miles in circumference. In this respect we
are moving at the rate of no less than 60,000
miles an hour, or 1000 miles a minute—a
rate far exceeding of course, in fact by some
100 times, that of a cannon ball.

How few of us know, how little we any of
us realise, that we are rushing through space
with such enormous velocity.

MARS

To the naked eye Mars appears like a

ruddy star of the first magnitude. It has
two satellites, which have been happily named

Phobos and Deimos— Fear and Dismay. It.

is little more than half as large as the Earth,
and, though generally far more distant, it
sometimes approaches us within 35,000,000
miles. This has enabled us to study its
physical structure. It seems very probable

1Some authorities estimate it even higher.

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 893

that there is water in Mars, and the two poles
are tipped with white, as if capped by ice and
snow. It presents also a series of remarkable
parallel lines, the true nature of which is not
yet understood.

THE MINOR PLANETS -*

A glance at Figs. 51 and 52 will show that
the distances of the Planets from the Sun
follow a certain rule.

If we take the numbers 0, 3, 6, 12, 24, 48,
96, each one (after the second) the double of
that preceding, and add four, we have the
series.

Now the distances of the Planets from the
Sun are as follow: —

Mercury. Venus. Earth. Mars. Jupiter. Saturn.
3.9 7.2 10. =—-15.2° 52.9 95.4
For this sequence, which was first noticed

by Bode, and is known as Bode’s law, no

explanation can yet be given. It was of
course at once observed that between Mars
and Jupiter one place is vacant, and it has

394. THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

now been ascertained that this is occupied by
a zone of Minor Planets, the first of which
was discovered by Piazzi on January 1, 1801,
a worthy prelude to the succession of scientific

discoveries which form the glory of our cen- »

tury. At present over 300 are known, but
certainly these are merely the larger among
an immense number, some of them doubtless
mere dust.

JUPITER

Beyond the Minor Planets we come to the

stupendous Jupiter, containing 300 times the

mass, and being 1200 times the size of our
Earth —larger indeed than all the other
planets put together. It is probably not
solid, and from its great size still retains a
large portion of the original heat, if we may
use such an expression. Jupiter usually
shows a number of belts, supposed to be due
to clouds floating over the surface, which have
a tendency to arrange themselves in belts or
bands, owing to the rotation of the planet.
Jupiter has four moons or satellites.

J we see inet gee ne

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 395

SATURN

Next to Jupiter in size, as in position,
comes Saturn, which, though far inferior in
dimensions, is much superior in beauty. To
the naked eye Saturn appears as a brilliant
star, but when Galileo first saw it through a
telescope it appeared to him to be composed
of three bodies in a line, a central globe with
a small one on each side. Huyghens in 1658

Fig. 53. — Saturn.

first showed that in reality Saturn was sur-
rounded by a series of rings (see Fig. 53).
Of these there are three, the inner one very
faint, and the outer one divided into two by
a dark line. These rings are really enormous
shoals of minute bodies revolving round the
planet, and rendering it perhaps the most

396 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

marvellous and beautiful of all the heavenly
bodies.

While we have one Moon, Mars two, and
Jupiter four, Saturn has no less than eight
satellites.

URANUS

Saturn was long supposed to be the outer-
most body belonging to the solar system.
In 1781, however, on the 13th March,
William Herschel was examining the stars
in the constellation of the Twins. One struck
him because it presented a distinct disc, while
the true fixed stars, however brilliant, are,
even with the most powerful telescope, mere
points of light. At first he thought it might —
be a comet, but careful observations showed
that it was really a new planet. Though
thus discovered by Herschel it had often
been seen before, but its true nature was
unsuspected. It has a diameter of about
31,700 miles.

Four satellites of Uranus have been dis-
covered, and they present the remarkable
peculiarity that while all the other planets

< tieg

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 397

and their satellites revolve nearly in one
plane, the satellites of Uranus are nearly at
right angles, indicating the presence of some
local and exceptional influence.

NEPTUNE

The study of Uranus soon showed that it
followed a path which could not be accounted
for by the influence of the Sun and the other
then known planets. It was suspected, there-
fore, that this was due to some other body
not yet discovered. To calculate where
such a body must be so as to account for
these irregularities was a most complex and
difficult, and might have seemed almost a
hopeless, task. It was, however, solved al-
most simultaneously and independently by
Adams in this country, and Le Verrier in
France.

Neptune, so far as we yet know the out-
most of our companions, is 35,000 miles in

diameter, and its mean distance from the Sun
is 2,780,000,000 miles.

898 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

ORIGIN OF THE PLANETARY SYSTEM

The theory of the origin of the Planetary
System known as the “ Nebular Hypothesis,”
which was first suggested by Kant, and de-
veloped by Herschel and Laplace, may be
fairly said to have attained a high degree of
probability. The space now occupied by the
solar system is supposed to have been filled
by a rotating spheroid of extreme tenuity
and enormous heat, due perhaps to the col-
lision of two originally separate bodies. The
heat, however, having by degrees radiated
into space, the gas cooled and contracted
towards a centre, destined to become the Sun.
Through the action of centrifugal force the
gaseous matter also flattened itself at the
two poles, taking somewhat the form of a
disc. For a certain time the tendency to
contract, and the centrifugal force, counter-
balanced one another, but at length a time
_ came when the latter prevailed and the outer
zone detached itself from the rest of the
sphere. One after another similar rings were
thrown off, and then breaking up, formed the
planets and their satellites.

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 399

That each planet and satellite did form
originally a ring we still have evidence in the
wonderful and beautiful rings of Saturn,
which, however, in all probability will eventu-
ally form spherical satellites like the rest.
Thus then our Earth was originally a part
of the Sun, to which again it is destined one
day to return. M. Plateau has shown experi-
mentally that by rotating a globe of oil in a
mixture of water and spirit having the same
density this process may be actually repeated
in miniature.

This brilliant, and yet simple, hypothesis
is consistent with, and explains many other
circumstances connected with the position,
magnitude, and movements of the Planets
and their satellites.

The Planets, for instance, lie more or less
in the same plane, they revolve round the
Sun and rotate on their own axis in the same
direction —a series of coincidences which can-
not be accidental, and for which the theory
would account. Again the rate of cooling
would of course follow the size; a small body
cools more rapidly than a large one. The

400 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

Moon is cold and rigid; the Earth is solid at
the surface, but intensely hot within; Jupiter
and Saturn, which are immensely larger, still
retain much of their original heat, and have
a much lower density than the Earth; and
astronomers tell us on other grounds that the
Sun itself is still contracting, and that to this
the maintenance of its temperature is due.

Although, therefore, the Nebular Theory
cannot be said to have been absolutely proved,
it has certainly been brought to a high state
of probability, and is, in its main features,
generally accepted by astronomers.

The question has often been asked whether
any of the heavenly bodies are inhabited, and
as yet it is impossible to give any certain
answer. It seems & priori probable that the
millions of suns which we see as stars must
have satellites, and that some at least of them
may be inhabited. So far as our own system
is concerned the Sun is of course too hot to
serve as a dwelling-place for any beings with
bodies such as ours. The same may be said
of Mercury, which is at times probably ten
times as hot as our tropics. The outer planets

a
;
.
¥
?

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 401

appear to be still in a state of vapour. The
Moon has no air or water.

Mars is in a condition which most nearly
resembles ours. All, however, that can be .
said is that, so far as we can see, the exis-_

tence of living bemgs on Mars is not impos-
sible. |

COMETS

The Sun, Moon, and Stars, glorious and
wonderful as they are, though regarded with
great interest, and in some cases worshipped
as deities, excited the imagination of our
ancestors less than might have been expected,
and even now attract comparatively little
attention, from the fact that they are always
with us. Comets, on the other hand, both as
rare and occasional visitors, from their large
size and rapid changes, were regarded in
ancient times with dread and with amaze-
ment.

Some Comets revolve round the Sun in
ellipses, but many, if not the majority, are
visitors indeed, for having once passed round

402 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

the Sun they pass away again into space,
never to return.

The appearance which is generally regarded
as characteristic of a Comet is that of a
head with a central nucleus and a long tail.
Many, however, of the smaller ones possess
no tail, and in fact Comets present almost
innumerable differences. Moreover the same
Comet changes rapidly, so that when they
return, they are identified not in any way by
their appearance, but by the path they
pursue.

Comets may almost be regarded as the
ghosts of heavenly bodies. The heads, in
some cases, may consist of separate solid
fragments, though on this astronomers are
by no means agreed, but the tails at any rate
are in fact of almost inconceivable tenuity.
We know that a cloud a few hundred feet
thick is sufficient to hide, not only the stars,
but even the Sun himself. A Comet is
thousands of miles in thickness, and yet even
extremely minute stars can be seen through
it with no appreciable diminution of bright-
ness. This extreme tenuity of comets is

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 403

moreover shown by their small weight.
Enormous as they are I remember Sir G.
Airy saying that there was probably more
matter in a cricket ball than there is in a
comet. No one, however, now doubts that
the weight must be measured in tons; but
it is so small, in relation to the size, as to
be practically inappreciable. If indeed they
were comparable in mass even to the planets,
we should long ago ‘have perished. The
security of our system is due to the fact that
the planets revolve round the Sun in one
direction, almost in circles, and very nearly
in the same plane. Comets, however, enter
our system in all directions, and at all angles ;
they are so numerous that, as Kepler said,
there are probably more Comets in the sky
than there are fishes in the sea, and but for
their extreme tenuity they would long ago
have driven us into the Sun.

When they first come in sight Comets
have generally no tail; it grows as they
approach the Sun, from which it always
points away. It is no mere optical illusion ;
but while the Comet as a whole is attracted

404. THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

by the Sun, the tail, how or why we know

not, is repelled. When once driven off, more-—

over, the attraction of the Comet is not suf-
ficient to recall it, and hence perhaps so many
Comets have now no tails.

Donati's Comet, the great Comet of 1858,
was first noticed on the 2d June as a faint
nebulous spot. For three months it remained
quite inconspicuous, and even at the end of
August was scarcely visible to the naked eye.
In September it grew rapidly, and by the
middle of October the tail extended no less
than 40 degrees, after which it gradually
disappeared.

Faint as is the light emitted by Comets,
it is yet their own, and spectrum analysis has
detected the presence in them of carbon,
hydrogen, nitrogen, sodium, and probably of
iron.

Comets then remain as wonderful, and
almost as mysterious, as ever, but we need no
longer regard “a comet as a sign of impend-
ing calamity; we may rather look upon it as
an interesting and a beautiful visitor, which
comes to please us and to instruct us, but

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 405

never to threaten or to destroy.’* We are
free, therefore, to admire them in peace, and
beautiful, indeed, they are. |

“The most wonderful sight I remember,”
says Hamerton, “as an effect of calm, was
the inversion of Donati’s Comet, in the year
1858, durmg the nights when it was suffi-
ciently near the horizon to approach the rugged
outline of Graiganunie, and be reflected
beneath it in Loch Awe. In the sky was an
enormous aigrette of diamond fire, in the
water a second aigrette, scarcely less splendid,
with its brilliant point directed upwards, and
its broad, shadowy extremity ending indefi-
nitely in the deep. ‘To be out on the lake
alone, in a tiny boat, and let it rest motionless
on the glassy water, with that mcomparable
spectacle before one, was an experience to be
remembered through a lifetime. I have seen
many a glorious sight since that now distant
year, but nothing to equal it in the association
of solemnity with splendour.” ?

1 Ball. 2Hamerton, Landscape.

406 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

SHOOTING STARS

On almost any bright night, if we watch a
short time some star will suddenly seem to

drop from its place, and, after a short plunge, | |

to disappear. This appearance is, however,

partly illusory. While true stars are immense ~

bodies at an enormous distance, Shooting Stars
are very small, perhaps not larger than a pavy-
ing stone, and are not visible until they come
within the limits of our atmosphere, by the
friction with which they are set on fire and
dissipated. ‘They are much more numerous on
some nights than others. From the 9th to
the 11th August we pass through one cluster
which is known as the Perseids; and on the
13th and 14th November a still greater group
called by astronomers the Leonids. © The
Leonids revolve round the Sun in a period of
33 years, and in an elliptic orbit, one focus of
which is about at the same distance from the

Sun as we are, the other at about that of —

Uranus. The shoal of stars is enormous; its
diameter cannot be less than 100,000 miles,
and: its length many hundreds of thousands.

P —T — ~~ sr |

:
;
:
s
¥
4
¥
>

:
we

eae Eee Gi Oe pa

x THE STARRY HEAVENS | 407

There are, indeed, stragglers scattered over the
whole orbit, with some of which we come in
contact every year, but we pass through the
main body three times in a century — last in
1866 — capturing millions on each occasion.
One of these has been graphically described
by Humboldt :

“From half after two in the morning the
most extraordinary luminary meteors were
seen in the direction of the east. M. Bonp-

land, who had risen to enjoy the freshness of

the air, perceived them first. Thousands of
bodies and falling stars succeeded each other
during the space of four hours. Their direc-
tion was very regular from north to south.
They filled a space in the sky extending from
due east 30° to north and south. In an ampli-
tude of 60° the meteors were seen to rise
above the horizon at east-north-east, and at.
east, to describe arcs more or less extended,
and to fall towards the south, after having
followed the direction of the meridian. Some
of them attained a height of 40°, and all ex-
ceeded 25° or 30°. No trace of clouds was to
be seen. M. Bonpland states that, from the

408 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

first appearance of the phenomenon, there was
not in the firmament a space equal in extent
to three diameters of the moon which was not
filled every instant with bolides and falling
stars. The first were fewer in number, but
as they were of different sizes it was impos-
sible to fix the limit between these two classes
of phenomena. All these meteors left lumi-
nous traces from five to ten degrees in length,
as often happens in the equinoctial regions.
The phosphorescence of these traces, or lumi-
nous bands, lasted seven or eight seconds.
Many of the falling stars had a very distinct
nucleus, as large as the disc of Jupiter, from
which darted sparks of vivid light. The
bodies seemed to burst as by explosion; but
the largest, those from 1° to 1° 15' in diameter,
disappeared without scintillation, leaving be-
hind them phosphorescent bands (trabes),
exceeding in breadth fifteen or twenty min-
utes. The light of these meteors was white,
and not reddish, which must doubtless be
attributed to the absence of vapour and the
extreme transparency of the air.” *

1Humboldt, Travels.

te! nae ene

nator,

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 409

The past history of the Leonids, which Le
Verrier has traced out with great probability,
if not proved, is very interesting. They did
not, he considers, approach the Sun until
126 a.p., when, in their career through the
heavens, they chanced to come near to Uranus.
But for the influence of that planet they
would have passed round the Sun, and then
departed again for ever. By his attraction,

however, their course was altered, and they

will now continue to revolve round the
Sun.

There is a remarkable connection between
star showers and comets, which, however, is
not yet thoroughly understood. Several star
showers follow paths which are also those of
comets, and the conclusion appears almost
irresistible that these comets are made up of
Shooting Stars.

We are told, indeed, that 150,000,000 of
meteors, including only those visible with a
moderate telescope, fall on the earth annually.
At any rate, there can be no doubt that
every year millions of them are captured by
the earth, thus constituting an appreciable,

410 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE ' CHAP,

and in the course of ages a constantly in-
creasing, part of the solid substance of the
globe.

THE STARS

We have been dealing in the earlier part of
this chapter with figures and distances so
enormous that it is quite impossible for us to
realise them ; and yet we have still others to
consider compared with which even the solar
system is insignificant. .

In the first place, the number of the Stars is
enormous. When we look at the sky at night
they seem, indeed, almost innumerable; so
that, like the sands of the sea, the Stars of

heaven have ever been used as effective sym-

bols of number. The total number visible to
the naked eye is, however, in reality only
about 3000, while that shown by the tele-
scope is about 100,000,000. Photography,
however, has revealed to us the existence
of others which no telescope can show. We
cannot by looking long at the heavens see
more than at first; in fact, the first glance is
the keenest. In photography, on the contrary,

U r
Nt Re sh J

et o> 9 ee

Bile — ad tae

MEAP URAT ER FES mney aay ee

3 THE STARRY HEAVENS 411

no light which falls on the plate, however

faint, is lost; it is taken in and stored up.

In an hour the effect is 3600 times as great
as in asecond. By exposing the photographic
plate, therefore, for some hours, and even on
successive nights, the effect of the light is as
it were accumulated, and stars are rendered |
visible, the light of which is too feeble to be
shown by any telescope.

The distances and magnitudes of the
Stars are as astonishing as their numbers,
Sirius, for instance, being about twenty times
as heavy as the Sun itself, 50 times as
bright, and no less than 1,000,000 times as
far away; while, though like other stars it
seems to us stationary, it is in reality sweep-
ing through the heavens at the rate of 1000

miles a minute; Maia, Electra, and Alcyone,

three of the Pleiades, are considered to be
respectively 400, 480, and 1000 times as _ bril-
liant as the Sun, Canopus 2500 times, and
Arcturus, incredible as it may seem, even
8000 times, so that, in fact, the Sun is by
no means one of the largest Stars. Even
the minute Stars not separately visible to the

412 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

naked eye, and the millions which make up

the Milky Way, are considered to be on an

average fully equal to the Sun in lustre.
Arcturus is, so far as we know at present,

the swiftest, brightest, and largest of all. Its_

speed is over 300 miles a second, it is said to
be 8000 times as bright as the Sun, and 80
times as large, while its distance is so great
that its light takes 200 years in reaching us.
The distances of the heavenly bodies are
ascertained by what is known as “ parallax.”
Suppose the ellipse (Fig. 54), marked Jan.,
Apr., July, Oct., represents the course of the
Earth round the Sun, and that A B are two
stars. Ifin January we look at the star A,
we see it projected against the front of the
sky marked 1. Three months later it would
appear to be at 2, and thus as we move round
our orbit the star itself appears to move in
the ellipse 1, 2, 3,4. The more distant star
B also appears to move in a similar, but
smaller, ellipse; the difference arising from
the greater distance. The size of the ellipse
is inversely proportional to the distance, and
hence as we know the magnitude of the

page

ee Ce

Apr.

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 413

earth’s orbit we can calculate the distance of
the star. The difficulty is that the apparent
ellipses are so minute that it is in very few
cases possible to measure them.

dan ‘ At

Fig. 54,— The Parallactic Ellipse.

The distances of the Fixed Stars thus tested
are found to be enormous, and indeed gener-
ally incalculable; so great that in most cases,
whether we look at them from one end
of our orbit or the other —though the dif-
ference of our position, corresponding to the
points marked January and July in Fig. 54,
is 185,000,000 miles — no apparent change of
position can be observed. In some, however,
the parallax, though very minute, is yet ap-

414 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE —__ cuap,

: proximately measurable. The first star to
which this test was applied with success was
that known as 61 Cygni, which is thus shown
to be no less than 40 billions of miles away
from us — many thousand times as far as we
are from the Sun. The nearest of the Stars,
so far as we yet know, is a Centauri, the dis-
tance of which is about 25 billions of miles.
The Pleiades are considered to be at a dis-
tance of nearly 1500 billions of miles.
= Ae regards the chemical composition of the
Stars, it is; moreover, obvious that the power-
ful engine of investigation afforded us by the
spectroscope is by no means confined to the
substances which form part of our system.
The incandescent body can thus be examined,
no matter how great its distance, so long only
as the light is strong enough. That this

method was theoretically applicable to the

light of the Stars is mdeed obvious, but the
practical difficulties are very great. Sirius,
the brightest of all, is, in round numbers, a
hundred millions of millions of miles from us ;
and, though as bright as fifty of our suns, his
light when it reaches us, after a journey of

;
e
*.
;
/

hes al ee ee ee ee er ee oe

,
a

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 415

sixteen years, is at most one two-thousand-
millionth part as bright. Nevertheless, as
long ago as 1815 Fraunhofer recognised the
fixed lines in the light of four of the Stars ;
in 1863 Miller and Huggins in our own
country, and Rutherford in America, suc-
ceeded in determining the dark lines in the
spectrum of some of the brighter Stars, thus
showing that these beautiful and mysterious
lights contain many of the material substances
with which we are familiar. In Aldebaran,
for instance, we may infer the presence of
hydrogen, sodium, magnesium, iron, calcium,
tellurium, antimony, bismuth, and mercury.
As might have been expected, the composition
of the Stars is not uniform, and it would
appear that they may be arranged in a few
well-marked classes, indicating differences of
temperature, or perhaps of age.

Thus we can make the Stars teach us their
own composition with light, which started
from its source years ago, in many cases long
before we were born. _

Spectrum analysis has also thrown an un-
expected light on the movements of the Stars.

416 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

Ordinary observation, of course, is powerless
to inform us whether they are moving towards
or away from us. Spectrum analysis, how-
ever, enables us to solve the problem, and
we know that some are approaching, some
receding.

Fig. 55. — Displacement of the hydrogen line in the spectrum of Rigel.

If a star, say for instance Sirius, were
motionless, or rather if it retained a constant
distance from the earth, Fraunhofer’s lines
would occupy exactly the same position in
the spectrum as they do in that of the Sun.
On the contrary, if Sirius were approaching,
the lines would be slightly shifted towards the
blue, or if it were receding towards the red.
Fig. 55 shows the displacement of the hydro-
gen line in the spectrum of Rigel, due to the
fact that it is receding from us at the rate of
39 miles a second. The Sun affords us an
excellent test of this theory. As it revolves
on its axis one edge is always approaching
and the other receding from us at a known

Te ae as yell geting Se ot

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 417

rate, and observation shows that the lines
given by the light of the two edges differ
accordingly. So again as regards the Stars,
we obtain a similar test derived from the
EKarth’s movement. As we revolve in our
orbit we approach or recede any given star,
and our rate of motion being known we
thus obtain a second test. The results thus
examined have stood their ground satisfac-
torily, and in Huggins’ opinion may be relied
on within about an English mile a second.
The effect of this movement is, moreover,
independent of the distance. A lateral mo-
tion, say of 20 miles a second, which in a
nearer object would appear to be a stupendous
velocity, becomes in the Stars quite imper-
ceptible. A motion of the same rapidity, on
the other hand, towards or away from us, dis-
places the dark lines equally, whatever the
distance of the object may be. We may then
affirm that Sirius, for instance, is receding
from us at the rate of about 20 miles a second.
Betelgeux, Rigel, Castor, Regulus, and others
are also moving away; while some — Vega,
Arcturus, and Pollux, for example — are
2E

418 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP.

approaching us. By the same process it is
shown that some groups of stars are only
apparently in relation to one another. Thus
in Charles’ Wain some of the stars are
approaching, others receding.

I have already mentioned that Sirius,
though it seems, like other stars, so stationary
that we speak of them as “fixed,” is really
sweeping along at the rate of 1000 miles a
minute. Even this enormous velocity is ex-
ceeded in other cases. One, which is numbered
as 1830 in Groombridge’s Catalogue of the

Stars, and is therefore known as “Groom- —
bridge’s 1850,” moves no less than 12,000 -

miles a minute, and Arcturus 22,000 miles a
minute, or 32,000,000 of miles a day; and
yet the distances of the Stars are so great that
1000 years would make hardly any difference
in the appearance of the heavens.

Changes, however, there certainly would
be. Even in the short time during which
we have any observations, some are already
on record. One of the most interesting is the
fading of the 7th Pleiad, due, according to
Ovid, to grief at the taking of Troy. Again,

oe gy ‘aah ay

s THE STARRY HEAVENS 419

the “fiery Dogstar,’ as it used to be, is
now, and has been for centuries, a clear

white.
The star known as Nova Cygni—the “new
star in the Constellation of the Swan” — was

first observed on the 24th November 1876 by
Dr. Schmidt of Athens, who had examined
that part of the heavens only four days before,
and is sure that no such star was visible then.
At its brightest it was a brilliant star of the
third magnitude, but this only lasted for a
few days; in a week it had ceased to be a
conspicuous object, and in a fortnight became
invisible without a telescope. Its sudden
splendour was probably due to a collision be-
tween two bodies, and was probably little, if
at all, less than that of the Sun itself. It is
still a mystery how so great a conflagration
_ ean have diminished so rapidly.

But though we speak of some stars as
specially variable, they are no doubt all un-
dergoing slow change. There was a time
when they were not, and one will come when
they will cease to shine. Each, indeed, has a
life-history of its own. Some, doubtless, rep-

420 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

resent now what others once were, and what
many will some day become. 3

_ For, in addition to the luminous heavenly
bodies, we cannot doubt that there are count-
less others invisible to us, some from their
greater distance or smaller size, but others,
doubtless, from their feebler light; indeed, we
know that there are many dark bodies which
now emit no light, or comparatively little.
Thus in the case of Procyon the existence of ©
an invisible body is proved by the movement
of the visible star. Again, I may refer to the
curious phenomena presented by Algol, a
bright star in the head of Medusa. The star
shines without change for two days and thir-
teen hours; then in three hours and a half
dwindles from a star of the second to one of
the fourth magnitude; and then, in another
three and a half hours, reassumes its original
brilliancy. These changes led astronomers to
infer the presence of an opaque body, which
intercepts at regular intervals a part of the
light emitted by Algol; and Vogel has now
shown by the aid of the spectroscope that
Algol does in fact revolve round a dark, and

a ee ee rt

: 3 THE STARRY HEAVENS 471

therefore invisible, companion. The spectro-

scope, in fact, makes known to us the

presence of many stars which no telescope
could reveal.

Thus the floor of heaven is not only
“thick inlaid with patines of bright gold,”
but studded also with extinct stars, once prob-
ably as brilliant as our own Sun, but now
dead and cold, as Helmholtz tells us that our
Sun itself will be some seventeen millions of
years hence.

Such dark bodies cannot of course be seen,
and their existence, though we cannot doubt
it, is a matter of calculation. In one case,
however, the conclusion has received a most
interesting confirmation. The movements of
Sirius led mathematicians to conclude that it
had also a mighty and massive neighbour, the
relative position of which they calculated,
though no such body had ever been seen. In
February 1862, however, the Messrs. Alvan
Clark of Cambridgeport were completing
their 18-inch glass for the Chicago Observa-
tory. “Why, father,” exclaimed the younger
Clark, “‘the star has a companion.’ The

4292 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

father looked, and there was a faint star
due east from the bright one, and distant
about ten seconds. ‘This was exactly the pre-
dicted direction for that time, though the dis-
coverers knew nothing of it. As the news
went round the world many observers turned
their attention to Sirtus; and it was then
found that, though it had never before been
noticed, the companion was really shown under
favourable circumstances by any powerful |
telescope. It is, in fact, one-half of the size of
Sirius, though only zotooth of the bright-
ness.” ?

Stars are, we know, of different magni-
tudes and different degrees of glory. They
are also of different colours. Most, indeed, are
white, but some reddish, some ruddy, some
intensely red ; others, but fewer, green, blue,
or violet. It is possible that the compara-
tive rarity of these colours is due to the fact
that our atmosphere especially absorbs green
and blue, and it is remarkable that almost all
of the green, blue, or violet stars are one of
the pairs of a Double Star, and in every case

1 Clarke, System of the Stars.

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 423

the smaller one of the two, the larger being
red, orange, or yellow. One of the most

exquisite of these is 8 Cygni, a Double Star,
the larger one being golden yellow, the smaller
light blue. With a telescope the effect is very
beautiful, but it must be magnificent if one
could only see it from a lesser distance.
Double Stars occur in considerable numbers.
In some cases indeed the relation may only be
apparent, one being really far in front of the
other. In very many cases, however, the
association is real, and they revolve round
one another. In some cases the period may
extend to thousands of years; for the distance
which separates them is enormous, and, even
when with a powerful telescope it is indi-
cated only by a narrow dark line, amounts
to hundreds of millions of miles. The Pole
Star itself is double. Andromeda is triple,
with perhaps a fourth dark and therefore
invisible companion. These dark bodies have
a special interest, since it is impossible not
to ask ourselves whether some at any rate
of them may not be inhabited. In e Lyre
there are two, each again being itself double.

424 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

€Cancri, and probably also @ Orionis, consist
of six stars, and from such a group we pass
on to Star Clusters in which the number is
very considerable. The cluster in Hercules
consists of from 1000 to 4000. A stellar
swarm in the Southern Cross contains several
hundred stars of various colours, red, green,
greenish blue, and blue closely thronged to-
gether, so that they have been compared to a
“superb piece of fancy jewellery.” ?

The cluster in the Sword Handle of Per-
seus contains innumerable stars, many doubt-
less as brilliant as our Sun. We ourselves
probably form a part of such a cluster. The
Milky Way itself, as we know, entirely sur-
rounds us; it is evident, therefore, that the
Sun, and of course we ourselves, actually lie
in it. It is, therefore, a Star Cluster, one of
countless numbers, and containing our Sun
as a single unit.

- It has as yet been found impossible to
determine even approximately the distance
of these Star Clusters.

1 Kosmos. ad

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 425

NEBULA

From Stars we pass insensibly to Nebule,
which are so far away that their distance
is at present quite immeasurable. All that
we can do is to fix a minimum, and this
is so great that it is useless to express it
in miles. Astronomers, therefore, take the
velocity of light asa unit. It travels at the
rate of 180,000 miles a second, and even at
this enormous velocity it must have taken
hundreds of years to reach us, so that we see
them not as they now are but as they were
hundreds of years ago.

It is no wonder, therefore, that in many of
these clusters it is impossible to distinguish
the separate stars of which they are composed.
As, however, our telescopes are improved,
more and more clusters are being resolved.
Photography also comes to our aid, and, as
already mentioned, by long exposure stars can
be made visible which are quite imperceptible
to the eye, even with aid of the most powerful
telescope.

Spectrum analysis also seems to show that

426 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

such a nebula as that in Andromeda, which
with our most powerful instruments appears
only as a mere cloud, is really a vast cluster
of stellar points.

This, however, by no means applies to all
the nebule. The spectrum of a star is a
bright band of colour crossed by dark lines;
that of a gaseous nebula consists of bright
lines. This test has been made use of, and
indicates that some of the nebule are really
Immense masses of incandescent and very
attenuated gas; very possibly, however, in a
condition of which we have no experience, and
arranged in discs, bands, rings, chains, wisps,
knots, rays, curves, ovals, spirals, loops,
wreaths, fans, brushes, sprays, lace, waves,
and clouds. Huggins has shown that many
of them are really stupendous masses of
glowing gas, especially of hydrogen, and
perhaps of nitrogen, while the spectrum also
shows other lines which perhaps may indicate
some of the elements which, so far as our
Karth. is concerned, appear to be missing
between hydrogen and lithium. Many of
the nebule are exquisitely beautiful, and
their colour very varied.

os THE STARRY HEAVENS 427

In some cases, moreover, nebulze seem to
_be gradually condensing into groups of stars,
and in many cases it is difficult to say whether
we should consider a given group as a cluster
of stars surrounded by nebulous matter or a
gaseous nebula condensed here and there into
stars.

“Besides the single Sun,” says Proctor,
“the universe contains groups and systems
and streams of primary suns; there are
galaxies of minor orbs; there are clustering
stellar aggregations showing every variety of
richness, of figure, and of distribution ; there
are all the various forms of star cloudlets,
resolvable and irresolvable, circular, elliptical,
and spiral; and lastly, there are irregular
masses of luminous gas clinging in fantastic
-convolutions around stars and star systems.
Nor is it unsafe to assert that other forms
and varieties of structure will yet be dis-
covered, or that hundreds more exist which
we may never hope to recognise.”

Nor is it only as regards the magnitude
and distances of the heavenly bodies that we
are lost in amazement and admiration. The

428 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE CHAP,

lapse of time is a grander element in Astron-

omy even than in Geology, and dates back
long before Geology begins. We must figure
to ourselves a time when the solid matter
which now composes our Earth was part of
a continuous and intensely heated gaseous
body, which extended from the centre of the
Sun to beyond the orbit of Neptune, and
had, therefore, a diameter of more than
6,000,000,000 miles.

As this slowly contracted, Neptune was
detached, first perhaps as a ring, and then as a
spherical body. Ages after this Uranus broke
away.

Then after another incalculable period
Saturn followed suit, and here the tendencies
to coherence and disruption were so evenly
balanced that to this day a portion circulates
as rings round the main body instead of being
broken up into satellites. Again after succes-
sive intervals Jupiter, Mars, the Asteroids,
the Earth, Venus, and Mercury all passed
through the same marvellous phases. The
time which these changes would have re-
quired must have been incalculable, and they

ee ee ee os 4 a Say

x THE STARRY HEAVENS 429

all of course preceded, and preceded again

by another incalculable period, the very com-

mencement of that geological history which
itself indicates a lapse of time greater than
human imagination can realise. |

Thus, then, however far we penetrate in
time or in space, we find ourselves surrounded
by mystery. Just as in time we can form no
idea of a commencement, no anticipation of
an end, so space also extends around us,
boundless in all directions. Our little Earth
revolves round the mighty Sun; the Sun
itself and the whole solar system are moving
with inconceivable velocity towards a point
in the constellation of Hercules; together
with all the nearer stars it forms a cluster
in the heavens, which appears to our eyes as
the Milky Way ; while outside our star cluster.
again are innumerable others, which far trans-
cend, alike in magnitude, in grandeur, and
in distance, the feeble powers of our finite
imagination.

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