>.„/ ♦ ■-.' r. ^>v:.v '(■;'. K >'■ Ty /.-;?,>>'.'; ,t'' V \-' 0^ X :tf ,1 .*^\. . "^ '' <• \ --^ aN i^ xO '°^. d- , -0^ ^b ' ^ ., ,->>• 'A i " "/ .^'' ^^. ■0' N ,^^ % -^^s*^ .'X" 0, K-* .<^ x^^-^^ .#• .^" ■^^. >t>^ <> bo ,0 o ••'-v\^. ..,%•■■■• ,/-•■*- .^ 0^ ''^, %^^' x^^'^ C^^ LECTURES ON actRicultural chemistry, DELIVERED BEFORE THE SENIOR CLASS UNIVERSITY OF GEORGIA, BY JOHN LeCONTE, M. D., Professor of Natural Philosopiy acd Chemistry. PUBLISHED BY REQUEST OF THE CLASS. ATHENS, GA. PRINTED BY CHRISTY to LAMPKi:^. 1847. 6^ CORRESPONDENCE. Franklin College, Oct. 23d, 1847. Sir — ^We have been appointed a committee by the Senior Class to tender you their sincere thanks for the politeness and respect you have on all occa- sions manifested towards them, and also to solicit for publication copies of vour Lectures on Agricultural Chemistry, read before them on the evenings of the 21 St and 22d instant. Ardently desiring that you ■will comply -with our request, ^ve return you the highest esteem of the Class and the warmest regard of Your humble servants, W. D. WILLIAMS, 1 J. M. TILLEY, I ^ .,, F. R. TARVER, ^ ^ommuiee. Dr. Jxo. LeConte. B. A. THORNTON, Athens, Oct. 25th, 1847. Gentlemen — -In reply to your communication of the 23d instant, in behalf of the Senior Class, I beg that you would return to the members of the Class my warmest acknowledgments for the uniform respect and atten- tion they have shown me, and for the very flattering manner in which they have seen fit to express themselves. Under the circumstances, I feel bound to place the Lectures referred to at the disposal of the Class ; although the)' contain nothing that is new, or that is not accessible to those who ba7'2 kept pace with the advancement of this department of Science. With sentiments of the highest esteem, I remain yours, very truly, To Messrs. JOHN LeCONTE,' W. D. WlLLLVMS, ] J. M. TiLLEV, ." ^ F.R.Tauver, \Commttlee.- B. A. Tuorkton. J r 5 LECTURE L The most careless observer cannot fail to reco2:nIze in the world around him, many evident distinctions between living beings and inanimate objects. Perhaps the most ap- parent and permanent of these distinctions is based rather upon a comparison of their mode of existence, than upon any examination of their intimate structure. The ceaseless tendency to change, manifested in the life of the tbrmer, stands in yet more obvious contrast with the unaltering stahility of the latter. The snow-capped mountain rears its summit to the clouds, unaffected by the lapse of the ages which have rolled by since its first elevation — a monument of Nature's power ; and the giant edifices erected by the hand of man on the plains of Egj'pt, bear to remote poster- ity the attestation of the former grandeur of a nation now sunk in poverty and insignificance. And what, compared With the permanence of these, is the duration of any struc- ture subject to the conditions of vitality ? 'V.o be born, to grow, to arrive at maturity, to decline, to flic, to decav-, is the sum of the history of every being that lives, from man in the pomp of roN^aliy or the pride of philosophy, to the gay and thoughtless insect that glitters for a few liours in the sunbeam and is seen no more ; from the staleh^ oak, the monarch of the forest through successive centuries, to the humble fungus which shoots forth and withers in a day. And \'et, amidst the constant change and succession of in- dividuals, we observe the form and character first impressed upon each race by the Creator of all, uninterruptedly trans- milted from parent to offspring through periods of indeli- nite duration. " One generation passelh away" — but " an- other Cometh" — like it in structure, functions, habits, food, instincts, passions, and the limit of its existence. The mis- letoe flourishes on the oak of the English forests, just as when made an, object of superstitious veneration in the hal- lowed groves of the Druids. The l>ee builds her comb with the same uiwarying regularity, and stores it with the snme materials now, as wheti her beautiful works attracted the notice of the poets and philosophers of classic ages. And man, however modified by education, however various his degree of civilization, however elevated his condition of mental-and moral refinement, is yet born the same helpless dependent being, with the same dormant faculties of body and mind, as the first offspring of our original parents. In the ever-varying conditions of the animated world, (hen, a very superficial glance will display to us a certain degree of regularity and arrangement ; and the more atten- tively we investigate the relations which its changes present, the more stable and definite is the assurance we obtain, that they are all harmonized and controlled by fixed laws, which are but simplified expressions of those conditions of action which the Creator has imposed upon organized no less than inorganic matter. To arrive at a knowledge of these laws, and, having attained them, to trace their appli- cation to all the countless variety of phenomena presented by the myriads of living beings whose beautiful forms peo- ple this globe, is the object of the science of Ph3^siology — the science of life — using that term in its most extended sense. Only ^ port of this immense field of investigation appropri- ately belongs to the chemist. " The object of organic chem- istry is to discover the chemical conditions which are essen- tial to the life and perfect development of animals and vegetables, and, generally, to investigate all those processes of organic nature which are due to the operation of chemi- cal laws." — Licbig. I propose, on this occasion, to take a rapid and cursory survey of a few of the discoveries which chemistry has fur- nished within the last 6 or 8 years, viewed in their re- lation to agriculture. During the last few months, you have learnt liiat, all the material substances m nature con- sist of one or more of 55 or 60 elementary bodies. This is sufficiently surprising, j^et it is, if possible, still more re- markable that nearly the entire mass of every vegetable and animal substance may be resolved into one or more o^four only of these simple substances. I say nearlij the entire mass, because inorganic matters do enter into the constitu- ents of both animals and vegetables, and are essential to iheir perfect development; but they constitute but a com- paratively small portion of their bulk. When a portion of animal or vegetable matter is burned, it either entirely dis- appears or leaves behind it only a small quantity of ashes. JNow all that disappears in this process, generally consists of 4 elementary bodies, viz: carbon, oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen. To the agriculturist, therefore, an acquain- tance with these 4 constituent parts of all that lives and grows on the face of the globe, is absolutely indispensable. It is impossible for him to comprehend the laws by which the operations ol nature in the vegetable kingdom are con- ducted, or the reason ot the processes he himself adopts in order to facilitate or to modify these operations, without this previous knowledge of the nature ot the elements — the raw materials as it were, out of which all the products of vegetable growth are elaborated. — Johistoii's Lectures on Agricultural Che)nistr)j. Presuming that you have a sufficient general acquain- tance with these organic elements, we will pass on imme- diately to the subject of Agriculture. Agriculture is both a science and an art. The knowl- edge of all the conditions of the life of vegetables, the ori- gin of their elements, and the sources of their nourishment, forms its scientific basisr From this knowledge we derive certain rules for the exercise of the art, the principles upon which the mechanical operations of farming depend, the usefulness or necessity of these for preparing the soil to support the growth of plants, and for removing every ob- noxious influ(3nce. No experience, drawn from the exer- cise of the art, can be opposed to true scientific principles, because the latter should include all the results of practical operatiotis, and are in some instances solely derived there- from. Theory must correspond with experience, because it is nothing more than a reduction of a series of phenomena to their last causes. A field in which is cultivated the same plant for several successive years, becomes barren for that plant in a period varying with the nature of the soil : in one field it will be in 3, in another in 7, in a third in 20, in a fourth in 100 years. One field bears wheat, and no peas ; another beans and turnips, but no tobacco; a third gives a plentiful crop of turnips, but will not bear clover. Whatis the reason that a field loses its fertility for one plant, the same \vhich at first flourished there? Whatis the reason one kind of plant succeeds in a field where another fails? These questions belong to science. What means are neces- sary to preserve to a field its fertility for one and the same plant? What to render one field fertile for two, for three, for all plants ? These last questions are put by art, but they cannot be answered by art. If a farmer, without the guidance of just scientific principles, is trying experiments to render a field fertile for a plant which it otherwise will not bear, his prospect ot success is very small. Thousands of farmers try such experhnents in various directions, the result of which is a mass of practical experience forming a method of cultivation which accomplishes the desired end for certain places; but the same method does not succeed — it indeed ceases to be applicable to a 2d or 3d place in the immediate neighborhood. How large a capital, and how much power, are wasted in these experiments! Very different, and far more secure, is the path indicated by sci^ ence ; it exposes us to no danger of failing, but, on the con- trary, it furnishes us with every guarantee of success. If the cause of failure, of barrenness in the soil for one or two plants, has been discovered, means to remedy it may read- ily be found. — Liebig's Letters. The most exact observations prove that the method of cultivation must vary with the geological condition of the subsoil. In basalt, porph}^-}'', sandstone, limestone, etc., are certain elements indispensable to the growth of plants, and the presence of which renders them fertile. This fully explains the difference in the necessary methods of culture for different places ; since it is obvious that the essential elements of the soil must vary with the varieties of compo- sition of the rocks, from the disintegration of which they originated. Wheat, corn, clover, turnips, for example, each require certain elements from the soil ; they w-ill not flourish where the appropriate elements are absent. Science teaches what elements are essential to every species ot plant by an analysis of their ashes. If, therefore, a soil is found wanting in any of those elements, we discover at once the cause of its barrenness, and its removal may now be readily accomplished. The empiric attributes all his suc- cess to the mechanical operations of agriculture ; he expe- riences and recognises their value, without inquiring what are the causes of their utilit}', their mode of action : yet this scientific knowledge is of the highest importance for regu- lating the application of power and the expenditure of cap- ital — for insuring its economical expenditure and the pre- vention of waste. Can it be imagined, that the mere passing of the ploughshare or the harrow through the soil— the mere contact of iron — canimpart fertility miraculously ? Nobody perhaps, seriously entertains such an opinion. Nevertheless, the modus operandi of these mechanical operations is by no means generally understood. The fact is quite certain, that careful ploughing exerts the most favorable influence : the surface is thus mechanically divided, changed, increased, and renovated ; but the ploughing is only auxiliary to the end sought. In the effects of time, in what in Agriculture are technically called fallows — the repose of the fields — we recognise by science certain chemical actions, which are continually exercised by the elements of the atmosphere upon the whole surface of the globe. By the action of its oxygen and its carbonic acid, aided by water, rain, changes of temperature, etc., certain elementary constituents of rocks, or of their ruins, which form the soil capable of cul- tivation, are rendered soluble in water, and consequently become separable from all their insoluble parts. These chemical actions, poetically denominated the "tooth of time," destroy all the works of man, and gradually reduce the hardest rocks to the condition of dust. By their influ- ence the necessary elements of the soil become fitted for assimilation by plants ; and it is precisely the end which is obtained by the mechanical operations of farming. They accelerate the decomposition of the soil, in order to provide a new generation of plants with the necessary elements in a condition favorable to their assimilation. It is obvious thai the rapidity of the decomposition of a solid body must increase with the extension of its surface; the more points of contact we offer in a given time to the external chemical agent, the more rapid will be its action. The chemist, in order to prepare a mineral for analysis, to decompose it, or to increase the solubility of its elements, proceeds in the same way that the farmer deals with his fields — he spares no labor in order to reduce it to the finest powder ; he sep- arates the impalpable from coarser parts by washing, and repeats his mechanical bruising and trituration, being as- sured his whole process will fail if he is inattentive to this essential and preliminary part of it. — Liehig's Letters. Having spoken of some of the general principles, let me now direct your attention to some of those particulars which' will more forcibly exhibit the connection between chemistry and agriculture, and demonstrate the impossibility of per- fecting the important art of rearing food for man and ani- mals without considerable knowledge of our science. It has already been remarked, that the great mass of organic matter consists of only ybnr elementary bodies, viz : carbon^ dxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen. An important question naturally arises, namely : from what source do plants de- rive these elements? And first, of carhon. I presume it will be conceded that carbon is incapable of entering di- rectly, in its solid slate, into the circulation of plants ; since 8 solid substances of every kind are unfit for being taken up by the organs of plants. Carbon, therefore, must enter ei- ther in the gaseous or liquid form, but from what source must it be derived ? There are but two sources from which it can be obtained — the soil in which the plant grows — and the air by which its stem and leaves are surrounded. In the soil much vegetable matter is often present, and the farmer adds vegetable manure in large quantities with the view of providing food for his intended crop. Are plants really fed by the vegetable manure that is added to it? This question has an important practical bearing. Let us, therefore, submitit an examination. 1st. We have the most conclusive and satisfactory geolog- ical evidence, that there was a time when no vegetable matter existed in the soil which overspread the earth's sur- face. The first plants must have grown without the aid of either animal or vegetable matter — that is, they must have been nouiished from the air. 2d. It is known that certain marly soils, raised from a great depth beneath the surfiice, and containing no veg- etable matter, will yet, without manure, yield luxuriant crops. Islands upheaved from the bottom of the ocean by subaqueous volcanic action, soon become clothed with veg- etation. The carbon in such cases must also have been derived from the air. 3d. You know that some plants grow and increase in size when suspended in the air, and without being in coniact with the soil. You know, also, that many plants — bulbous flower-roots for example — will grow and flourish in pure water only, provided they are open to the access of the at- mospheric air. Seeds also will germinate, and when daily watered, will rise into plants, though sown in substances that contain no trace of vegetable matter. These facts have been established experimentally by. MM. DeSaussure and Boussin2:ault. The source of carbon in these cases cannot be doubled. 4th. When lands are impoverished, they are laid down to grass, and the longer they lie undisturbed the richer in vegetable matter does the soil become. When broken up, a black fertile mould is found where little trace of organic matter had previously existed. Tlie same observation ap- plies to lands long under wood. The vegetable matter in- creases, the soil im^Troves, and cleared and ploughed it yields abundant crops of corn. Do grasses and trees de- rive their carbon from the soil ? Then, how, by their 9 growth, Jo they increase the quantity of carbonaceous mat- ter which the soil contains? It is obs'ious ihat, taken as a whole, they must draw from the air not only as much as is contained in their own substance, but an excess also, which ihey impart to the soil. 5th. But on this point, the rapid growth of peat may be considered as absolutely conclusive. A tree falls across a little running stream, dams up the water, and produces a marshy spot. Rushes and reeds spring up, mosses take root and grow. Year after year new shoots are sent forth and the old plants die. Vegetable matter accumulates; a bog, and finally a thick bed of peat is formed. Whence have these plants derived their carbon? The quantity ■originally contained in the soil is, after a lapse of years, increased J.O,()UO fold. Has deatl matter the power of re- producing itself? \ou will answer at once, that all these plants must have grown at the expense of the air, must have lived on th« carbon it was capable of affording them, and as the}'' died must have left this carbon in a state unfit to nourish the succeeding races. This reasoning appears unobjectionable, and, from the entire group of facts, we seem justified in concluding that plants ever}" where, and under all circumstances, derive the whole of their carbon from the atmosphere. — Johnston. I shall not pause to point out the limitation of this infe- rence — that under certain circumstances the soil docs not ■cooperate with the air in furnishing this eletnent ; it is suHi- cient for our purpose to have established the fact, that plants derive tlie greater ■portion of their carbon from the at- mosphere. Various experiments and observations prove conclusively, that this carbon enters plants in the form of carbonic acid. You are aware that this gas is an invariable ■constituent of the atmosphere; thus vegetables are fur- wished with an inexhaustible supply of this element. The source of the oxygen and the hydrogen of plants is less doubtful, and will r^ijuire less illuslration than that •of carbon. Water is a well-known conjpound of these two ■elements. In the form of aqueous vapor, this compoimd -pervades the atmosphere, and plays among the leaves of plants, wliile in the liquid state, it is diffused through the soil, and is unceasingly absorbed by the roots of all living vegetables. Hydrogen is also contained in ammotfia, and oxygen enters into the composition of carbonic acid, be- sides heiuix a larue constituent of the air itself. From these 10 atmospheric source55, it is obvious that an ample supply ai oxygen and hydrogen is afforded to plants. Finally, it has been abundantly shown by Liebig, Du- mas, Boussingault, and others, that the remaining element^ nitrogen, is likewise furnished from the atmosphere in the forms of ammonia and nitric acid. Hence it follows, that the atmosphere contains all the elements which form the great mass of organic structures, and that too, in a form fit- ted for the assimilation of vegetables. But if the atmos- phere furnishes every thing essential to organization, why, it may be reasonably asked, is so much attention paid to the preparation of the soil and to manuring? Is the agri- cultural experience of all ages and of all countries to be at once re!Jccted, or are we to modify our views? We here" touch upon a point which is of vast importance to the prac- tical agriculturist. It has been previously hinted, that, in addition ioihejmtr organic elements which form the bulk of vegetables, there are certain inorganic substances, which, although existing in small quantities, play a most important part in their economy. It cannot be doubted that the inorganic constit- uents contained in the ashes are really essential parts of the substance of plants-'^that they cannot live a healthy life or perfect all their parts without them— and that it is the duly of the husbandman to supply them when they are wanting in the soil. In the vast aerial ocean which envel- opes our planet, the beneficent Creator has furnished an in- exhaustible supply of the rnio materials which are required for the development of organized structures; but unless the proper machinery and tools are supplied, these mate- rials cannot be made to assume an available form. Every plant receives, by means of the water taken up by the I'ootS) certain soluble alkalies, alkaline earths and phos- phates, which are necessary to its organization. If these elements be wanting, its growth is retarded. In fact, the development of the plant is in a direct ratio to the amount of matters which it takes up from the soil. If, therefore, a soil is deficient in these mineral constituents^ required by plants, the)'^ will not flourish, even with an abundant supply of every thing el^e. We have already seen, that the pro- duce of carbon is independent of a supply of carbonaceous manure, but it depends upon the presence of certain ele- ments in the soil which in themselves contain no carbon, together with the c^;istencc of conditions under which their assimilation byj)lanls can be cficctcd. We increase the 11 y>rocluce of our culilvated fields, in carbon, by supplying lime, ashes and marl, substances whicli cannot iurnisli car- bon to the plants, and 3'et it is indisputable, being tounded upon abundant experience, that in these substances we fur- nish to the fields elements which greatly increase the bulk of their produce, and consequently the amount of carbon. If we admit these tacts to be established, we can no longer doubt that a deficient produce of carbon, or in other words, the barrenness of a field does not depend upon carbonic acid, because we are able to increase the produce, to a cer- tain degree, by a supply of substanc^c^'iously existed in the atinosplicrc of our time. How interesting it is to contem- plate the relations, at once wise and beautiful, by which through the operation ot such laws, dead organic matter, intelligent man, and living plants, are all bound together! The dead tree and the fossil coal lie almost useless things in reference to animal and vegetable life — man employs tliem in a thousand ways as ministers to his wants, his •comforts, or his dominion over nature — and in so doing, himself directly, though unconsciously, ministers to the wants of those vegetable races, which seem but to live and grow for his use or sustenance. 2'3' o. I shall make but a few remarks on the third head, viz ;' the production ot" carbonic acid by the natural decay of veg- etable matter, as you will readily perceive that it is in re- ality a slow combustion. The carbon of a buming body unites directly with oxygen and forms carbonic acid. Ire the natural process of decay, however, at the ordinary tem- perature of the atmosphere, vegetable matter is exposed to the action of both air and water; these both co-operate in' inducing and carrying on decomposition, and hence car- bonic acid is not, as in the case of combustion, the chief or immediate result. In the soil the vegetable matter is con- tinually undergoing decay, various substances are pioduced in greater or less quantity, some solid, some liquid, and some gaseous — but all of them are only hastening-— some by one road, so to speak, and some by another — towards that final destination which sooner or later they are all fated to reach ; when, in the form of carbonic acid and water, they shall be in a condition to minister again to the nour- ishment of all plants. It is upon \\\e final result of this nat- ural decay to which all vegetable matter is su-bject-, that the carbonic acid of the atmosphere depends for its largest sup- plies. The rapidity with which organized bodies perish, and become resolved into gaseous compounds, depends partly upon the climate and ])artly on the nature of the sub- stances themselves — but all hurry forward to the same end, and it is with difficulty that we are able for a time to arrest or even retard their steps. It is by this perpetual and ac- tive obedience of all dead matter to one fixed law, that the existing condition of things is maintained. 4. There is still another source of carbon, viz : the natu- ral evolution of carbonic acid in volcanic countries. It is exceedingly difficult, if not absolutely impossible, to esti- mate the quantity of this gas which rises into the air in such circumstances over an extensive tract of country, fractured and broken up by volcanic agency — where the outlets are numerous, and the rate at which the gas escapes very vari- able. That in many localities it must be very great, how- ever, there can be no question. In a single volcanic dis- trict, the annual evolution of carbonic acid from springs and fissures, has been estimated by Bischof at not less than 100,000 tons, containing 27,000 tons of carbon. It is ob- vious, however, that if the Wio/c of the carbon contained in the produce of the general vegetation of the globe be ulti- mately restored to the air — either by the respiration of ani-- mals, by the natural and slow decay of vegetable matter,< 24 ttr b}' the more rapid process of combustion — the constant addition of carbonic acid from volcanoes, and from the com- bustion of fossil coal, should gradually, though slowly, aug- ment the proportion of this gas in the air we breathe; un- less it be perpetual!}'' undergoing a permanent diminution, to at least an equal extent, from the operation of otiier cau- ses. Such compensating causes are doubtless continually Active on the surface of the earth. It is well established that the waters of the ocean absorb a notable amount of carbonic acid, which, so far as we know, is not returned, at least in our time, to the atmosphere. The waters which flow into the sea constantly bear down with them portions of animal and vegetable matter, much of which is perma- nentlv imbedded in the deposite of clay, silt and sand, which are continually in the course of formation. And lastly, in man}'' parts of the world, much vegetable matter accumulates in the form of peat, becomes buried beneath clay and sand, and thus is prevented from undergoing the natural process of decay. It is impossible to say how much carbon is permanently withdrawn from the atmosj)here by these several agencies. There is reason to believe that it is quite as great as the quanlily added to the air by the combustion of coal, and by the evolution of carbonic acid in volcanic districts. — Bischofon Heat of the Globe. The neneral coiiclusions, therelbre, which we seem jusli- fied in drawing in regard to the suppl}^ of carbonic acid to the atmosphere are as follow : 1. That a large portion of the carbonic acid absorbed by plants is imimedintcly and directly restored to the air by the respiration of the animals which feed upon vegetable productions. 2. That a still larger portion is more slowly returned by the gradual reconversion of vegetable substances into car- bonic acid ana water duiing the process of natural decay. 3. That vcarJij all the remainder is given back in the re- sults of ordinary combustion. 4. That a further j^ortion, which has not previously exist- ed in the atmosphere of our time, is conveyed to it by the burning of fossil fuel, and bv llie emission of carbonic acid from cracks and fissures in the surface of the earth ; yet that the (juantily thus added cannot be supposed to exceed that which is constantly and pcrju/inciitli/ separated from the atmosphere by other causes. M;my have thought it to be Somewhat less, and that, consecjuenlly, the carbonic acid is slowly diminishing; we have, however, no satisfactory So evidence either from theory or experiment, that it has un- dergone any appreciable diminuti(in since man has become an occupant otthis planet. — Johnston, op. clt. supra. We have already shown that an immense amount of car- bon is converted into carbonic acid during the processes of animal respiration and artificial combustion. Of course this must be accomplished at the expense of the oxygen of the atmosphere. Chemistry informs us, that as carbonic acid consists of 73 per cent, of oxygen, it must require about 2Q)Q millions of tons of oxygen, to convert the 100 millions of tons of carbon which men and animals are an- nually throwing oft' from their lungs, into carbonic acid. The immense amount withdrawn by combustion is not ta- ken into this calculation. You are, doubtless, ready to ask, whether this enormous abstraction of oxygen does not di- minish the amount of this gas in our atmosphere, and thus render the air unlit for the respiration of man and animals ? A little calculation will place this question in the proper liG;ht. You will recollect that the wei2;ht of the whole at- mosphere is equal to 15 lbs. on every square inch of the surface of the earth: the oxygen in it constitutes 21 per cent of its bulk, or about 2-3 per cent of its weight ; hence it follows that the weight of the oxygen is nearly 3i lbs. on every square inch. The pressure, therefore, npop an acre amounts to 9, SOI tons, and apon a square mile 6,272,040. Estimating the superficial extent of our globe at 197i mil- lions of square miles, it follows that the weight of the whole of the oxygen in the atmosphere is nearly 1,239 billions of tons ! Hence it appears, thai 4^ millions of years would be required for man and animals, abstracting it at the rate of 266 millions of tons per annum, to exhaust all of the oxygen from the air! ! The amount cousumed in combustion has not been taken into this calculation ; but it is obvious, that, exaggerating all the data, not less than 800,000 years would be required for the animals living on the surface of the earth to consume the oxygen entirely. Consequently, if we suppose that an analysis of the air had been made in 1800, and there were no causes in action to replace the oxy- gen abstracted from it during the entire centur}", the ani- mals at the same time all continuing to live, the analyst in 1900 would find the oxygen of the air diminished by goVo^h of its weight; a quantity which is beyond the reach of our most delicate methods of observation, and which, assuredly, would have no influence whatever on the life of animals or plants. In regard to the permanence of the composition of 26 the air, we may sa}' wilh confidence, that the proportion at oxygen is secured ibr many centuries; yet as it is not in- exhaustible, it is interesting to inquire whether Nature has not furnished the means of replacing that which has been abstracted, and thus securing an exact compensation? — ■ You will anticipate me, when I say, that such a compen- sation has been provided, in the peculiar relations of the functions of vegetables and animals, which retains the at- mosphere in a condition of eternal identity of constitution. The growing plants in appropriating the carbonic acid which is emitted by animals, decompose it, and liberate an equal volume of ox3'gcn. It is obvious, therefore, that alt ot the oxygen consumed by animals, is returned to the at- mosphere in the process of eliminating carbon by plants; the 100 millions of tons of carbon annually taken up by vegetables from animals, furnish the air with 266 millions of tons of oxygen — precisely the amount abstracted by an- imals. Animals continually produce carbonic acid, water, am- monia — plants incessantly consume ammonia, water, car- bonic acid. What one class of beings gives to the air, the other takes back from it; so that to take these facts at the loftiest point of view of terrestrial physics, we must say that, as to their truly organic elements, plants and animals spring from the air — are nothyig but condensed air. To enable vegetables to effect the reduction of carbonic acid, water, and ammonia, another agent is brought into action — • it is solar Light. Through her influence, the carbonic acid yields its carbon, the water its hydrogen, and the ammonia its nitrogen. These element* unite, organized matters form, and the earth puts on its rich carpet of verdure. It is a circumstance well worthy of interest, that the green leaves of plants absorb the chemical rays of the sun so completely, as to give no image in the Dagurreolype ; an extraordinary absorption doubtless, but which explains without difficulty the enormous expense of chemical force necessary for the decomposition of a body so stable as car- bonic acid. — Dumas. The light of the sun, in the existing economy of nature, is indeed equally necessary to the health of plants and of animals. The former become pale and sickly, and refuse' to perform their most important chemical functions when excluded from the light. The bloom disappears from the' human cheek, the body wastes away, and the spirit sinks, when the unhappy prisoner is debarred from the sight of 27 the blessed sun. In lils system, too, the presence of light is essential to the performance of those chemical functions on whicli the healthy condition ot the fluids depends. The atmosphere appears to us as containing the primary sub- stances of all organization. In aid of it comes light, and developes the vegetable kingdom — immense producer of or- ganic matter — plants absorb the chemical force which they derive from the sun to decompose carbonic acid, water and ammonia ; as if they realized a reducing apparatus superior to all those with which we are acquainted ; for none of these would decompose carbonic acid in the cold. Next come animals, consumers of matter and producers of heat and force, true apparatus for combustion. We are not stopped by the expression co/d-hloodcd animale, wliich would seem to designate some animals destitute of the properly of producing heat. Iron, which burns vividly in oxygen, produces a heat which no one would deny; but reflection and some science is necessary in order to perceive, that iron which rests slowly in the air disengages quite as much, although its temperature does not sensibly var}'. No one doubts that lighted phosphorus in burning produces agreat quantity of heat. [Jnhindled phosphorus also burns in the air, and yet the heat which it develops in this stale was for a long time disputed. So as to animals, those which are called warm-blooded burn tnuch carbon in a given tiine, and preserve a sensible excess of heat above surrounding bodies ; those which are termed cold-blooded bur i much less carbon, and conse(uientlv retain so slight an excess of heat, that it becomes difficult to observe it. But neverthe- less, reflection shows ms that the most constant character of animal existence resides in this combustion of carbon, and in the development of carbonic acid which is the result ot It. Whether the question be of superior or inferior ani- mals ; whether this carbonic acid be exhaled from the lungs or from the skin, does not signifv' ; it is always the same phenomenon, the same function. It is in animals undoubtedly that organized matter puts on its highest expression. But it is not without sufTering from it that this change is eflected. The brute matter, or- ganized by slow degrees in plants, comes, then, to perform its part in animals, and serves as an instrument for sensa- tion and thought ; then vanquished by this eflbrt and bro- ken, as it were, it returns brute matter to the great reser- voir whence it came. Borrowing from modern sciences an image of sufficient magnitude to bear comparison with 28 these great phenomena, I should Hkcn the existing vegeta- tion — truly a storehouse in whicli animal life is fed — to that other storehouse otcarbon constituted of the ancient depos- its of coal, and which, burnt by the genius of Papin and of Watt, also produces carbonic acid, water, heat, motion — one might almost say life and intelligence. And if we add to this picture, already, Irom its simplicity and its grandeur, so striking, the indisputable function of the solar light, which alone has the power of putting in motion this im- mense apparatus, we shall be struck with the import of these woids of Lavoisier; "Organization, sensation, spon- taneous movement, life, exist only at the surface of the earth, and in places exposed to light. It would seem that the fable of the torcli of Prometheus was the expression of a, philosophic truth which had not escaped the ancients. — -. Without light, nature was without life, and was dead and inanimate: by the gift of light, a beneficent God spread upon the surface of the earth organization, feeling and tl]ought." These words are as true as they are beautiful. If feeling and thought, if the noblest faculties of the' soul and of the intellect, have need, for their manifestation, of a, material covering, to plants is assigned the framing of its., web with the elements which they borrow from the air, and under the influence of the light which the sun, its inexhausr tible source, pours in unceasing floods upon the surface of the globe. And as if, in these great phenomena, all must be connected with causes which appear the most distant from them, we must moreover remark how the ammonia, the nitric acid, from which plants borrow their nitrogen, are themselves partly derived from the action of the great elec- tric sparks which flash forth in stormy clouds, and which — furrowing the air through a vast extent — produce there the nitrate of ammonia which analysis detects in it. Thus, from the craters of those volcanoes whose convulsions so often agitate the crest of the globe, continually escapes carbonic acid, the principal nutriment of plants ; from the atmosphere flashing with lightnings, and from the midst of the tempest itself, there descends upon the earth the other and no less indispensable nutriment of plants, that whence they derive most of their nitrogen, the nitrate of ammonia, contained in the thunder-showers. To sum up, then, we have seen that plants constitute an immense apparatus for reduction, in which is habitually created true organic matters fit for the assimilation of ani- mals. On the other hand, animals constitute an immense 29 apparatus for combustion — reproducing the elements, which are returned into the air and the earth. Thus, it is in the vegetable kingdam that the great laboratory of organic life resides ; there it is that the vegetable and animal matters are formed, and they are produced at the expense of the air and inorganic constituents of the soil. From plants, these matters pass ready-formed into the herbivorous ani- mals, which destroy a portion of them, and accumulate the remainder in their tissues: — From these, they pass unal- tered into the carnivorous animals, who destroy or retain some of them according to their wants. Lastly, during the life of these animals, or after their death, these organic matters, as they are destroyed and resolved into their ulti- ijiate elements, return to the atmosphere and to the earth — the reservoirs whence they proceeded — to be again used in perpetuating the mysterious cycle of organic life on the surface of our planet. It is thus, that the grand " Physio- logical Balance" in organized beings — so eloquently illus- trated by M. Dumias — is maintained : — adaptations, adjust- ments, reciprocal dependence of parts, and conformity of arrangement, appear everywhere pervading both systems; checks and compensations are perpetually in operation, which must maintain the equilibrium between the king- doms of organic nature — ^just as the masses of the planets - — the eccentricities of their orbits — the direction of their motions — and the inclinations of the planes in which they revolve, are all arranged so as, according to the beautiful theorems of Lagrange and Laplace, to preserve the stabili- ty of the solar system, by afhxing limits, maxima and min- ima, between which the irregularities oscillate. To my mind, nothing can exceed the beauty of the con- trivance, the exquisiteness of the adaptation. Equally kind and bountiful, yet provident, is nature in all her operations, and through all her works. Neither skill nor materials are ever wasted ; and yet she ungrudgingly dispenses her favors, apparently without measure — and has subjected dead matter to laws which compel it to minister, and 3'et with a most ready willingness, to the wants and comforts of every living thing. And how unceasingly does she press this her example not only of unbounded goodness, but of universal charit3% on the attention of the man of science. Does the corn spring more freshly when scattered by a Christian hand ? Are the harvests more abundant on a Protestant soil? And does not the sun shine alike, and the dew descend, on the domains of each political party ? So 80 science, from her daily converse with nature, fails not soon^ er or later, to take her hue and color from the perception of this universal love and bounty. Party and sectarian differences dwindle away and disappear from the eyes of him who is daily occupied in the contemplation of the boundless munificence of the great Impartial ; he sees him- self standing in one common relation to his fellow men, and feels himself to be most completely performing his part in life, when he is able in any way or in any measure to con- tribute to the general welfare of all. It is in this sense too that science, humbly tracing the footsteps of the Deity in all his works, and from them deducing his intelligence and his universal goodness — it is in this ser^se, that science is of no sect, and of no party, but is equally the province, and the property, and the friend of all. ^°^.. « . V!. ^"^." ,... ^ .(^^ rO' O N c :^^.> ^ '>. .\ ''^ 0- a^' ^^. ^