GIFT OF 
 A. S. HALLIDIE ESQ, 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 TO THE 
 
 STUDY OF NATURE; 
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE 
 
 ATTRIBUTES OF THE ALMIGHTY, 
 
 AS DISPLAYED IN THE CREATION. 
 
 BY 
 
 J. STEVENSON BUSHNAN, M.D. F.L.S, 
 
 OP* THE 
 
 UFI7I.HSITT 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, 
 GREEN, AND LONGMAN. 
 
 MDCCCXXXIV. 
 
<6> 
 
 (3. 
 
 s 
 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE unspeakable importance of the study of 
 Nature, when properly directed, and the almost 
 unlimited extent of the phenomena which it 
 embraces, as well as of the enquiries to which 
 these phenomena give rise, and of the illustra- 
 tions by which they are explained, seem to ren- 
 der any apology for the publication of the follow- 
 ing pages altogether unnecessary. 
 
 It is true that the Author only follows in the 
 track of others ; but it will scarcely be alleged, 
 that a field so wide is already preoccupied, or 
 that the number of labourers is too great. He 
 assumes not the character of a rival, desirous to 
 supplant ; but of an humble coadjutor, willing 
 to lend his feeble efforts to so good a cause, 
 happy if he shall, in any degree, contribute to 
 kindle or to foster, in the ingenuous mind, a de- 
 sire to become better acquainted with the won- 
 ders of creation ; and, in these wonders, to read 
 more clearly the perfections of the great Creator. 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 The particular task which he has assigned to 
 himself is, that of presenting the most familiar 
 appearances, under the aspect of facts which 
 solicit attention, and amply repay investiga- 
 tion ; that he may show how entirely within the 
 reach of every man are those studies which en- 
 large the sphere of useful knowledge, while they 
 aiford the most interesting employment to the 
 understanding, and improve the heart. 
 
 It did not, therefore, accord with his plan to 
 confine himself to the consideration of any one 
 department of Nature ; or to be fastidious as to 
 the scientific arrangement of the various subjects 
 which came under his review. These subjects 
 are treated rather in the form of distinct and 
 independent Essays, than as different steps in 
 one unbroken argument ; and yet, he shall have 
 but ill accomplished his object, should not the 
 whole of his investigations, various and desul- 
 tory as they may appear, be found to bear on 
 one great conclusion, and that the most impor- 
 tant to which unassisted reason can come, 
 namely, that the hand of a wise and intelligent 
 Creator is every where visible, demanding the 
 reverence and adoration of his rational crea- 
 tures. Nor shall he have less failed in his aim 
 should he leave the mind satisfied with this dis- 
 covery, or unprepared to seek, in rewalcd reli- 
 
PREEACE. Vll 
 
 gion, an answer to those mysterious questions, 
 which Nature anxiously proposes, but cannot , 
 solve. 
 
 In conclusion, the Author has to remark, that 
 he is indebted for much of the substance of the 
 Chapters on Zoology, and the Adaptations in 
 the formation of Animals to their appointed 
 modes of life, to Notes, taken while attending 
 the Lectures on Physiology, of Dr. Fletcher of 
 Edinburgh. It must at all times afford him 
 pleasure to acknowledge the benefits he received 
 from that gentleman's instructions, and the co- 
 louring which they have given to his own opi- 
 nions and practice. 
 
 DUMFRIES, 1834. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE LOVE AND STUDY OF NATURE. 
 
 IT is not less instructive than it is interesting 
 to examine the formation, and functions, and 
 histories of animate and inanimate bodies, and 
 to trace out their various relations to each other; 
 and to whatever branch of this study we apply 
 our minds, in the spirit of candid enquiry, we 
 cannot fail to discover adaptations, so wise, so 
 beneficent, and sometimes so surprising, that it is 
 impossible to resist the evidence of a Divine hand, 
 or to withhold the tribute of the profoundest 
 veneration. 
 
 Among these adaptations, that of external 
 nature to the powers of the human mind, has 
 lately been treated with much eloquence and 
 felicity by a deservedly celebrated author ; but I 
 do not remember that, in his varied illustrations, 
 he has noticed that beneficent provision in the 
 moral and intellectual constitution of our race 
 which affords them a relish for the very enquiry 
 he has so successfully prosecuted, in one of its 
 most important departments. 
 
 It is not easy, however, to turn our attention 
 to this subject, without being struck with admi-^ 
 
 B 
 
ration at the wisdom which it unfolds. Man is 
 destined to be long conversant with external 
 objects ; it is, therefore, of essential importance 
 that these objects should be calculated to please 
 his taste and to interest his affections. Were it 
 otherwise, he might still indeed be stimulated to 
 exertion by the cravings of hunger ; but he would 
 be deprived of all that is generous in his motives 
 and elegant in his employments. His mind 
 would be cold, morose, and intensely selfish ; 
 and, through the whole period of his history, he 
 would be doomed to remain a worthless and 
 brutal savage. 
 
 To save us from this degradation, we are en- 
 dowed with various feelings and propensities, 
 which receive an ennobling gratification from 
 the sensible objects with which we are sur- 
 rounded. 
 
 In childhood it very early appears that there 
 is a peculiar pleasure resulting from the mere 
 exercise of the different senses. The mother, as 
 she fondles her infant offspring, traces the first 
 dawn of intelligence, not merely in the eagerness 
 with which he seeks the delicious food that na- 
 ture has provided for him, but in the eye which 
 courts the cheerful light of heaven, and the ear 
 which delights in harmonious sounds and tones 
 of kindness, and the hand which gladly seizes 
 the bauble which affection offers. Nor is this 
 simple and primary source of enjoyment less 
 distinctly indicated in the innocent smile which 
 plays upon his little cheek, as objects flit before 
 
3 
 
 him, or the chuckle of transport with which he 
 replies to the fond arts of parental endearment. 
 
 But other faculties of a still less equivocal 
 nature are quickly developed. Curiosity, and a 
 desire of possessing, are among the first propen- 
 sities which strongly move the infant mind ; and 
 these, while they prove the powerful hold that 
 external nature takes of the young affections, 
 appear evidently to be implanted as the means 
 of calling the mental and bodily powers into 
 vigorous action, and of preparing the tender 
 child, by a salutary discipline, for the sterner 
 employments of manhood. 
 
 It is edifying to observe how these two prin- 
 ciples operate in producing this salutary result. 
 The love of possessing extends the eager arm, 
 and teaches the hand tenaciously to grasp, and 
 the eye to guide it surely and directly ; while 
 curiosity employs all the senses, assisted by the 
 judgment, in a minute and unwearied examina- 
 tion of the objects possessed, until their various 
 sensible qualities are ascertained and treasured 
 among the stores of memory. Hence, along 
 with the first rude ideas of property, a fund of 
 useful information is acquired, always accumu- 
 lating and becoming more important ; and as 
 infancy passes into boyhood, and boyhood into 
 youth, imagination, gaining strength, lends its 
 enchanting power to give intensity to the mental 
 energy, and shedding over every new discovery 
 the warmth of its colouring, kindles and fosters 
 the Love of Nature in the susceptible heart. 
 
To all this may be added another faculty, 
 which without attempting accurately to analize 
 it, may be described as that which affords to the 
 mind the perception of natural beauty and gran- 
 deur. This fine emotion, which is distinguished 
 by the name of Taste, on whatever ultimate 
 principles it may depend, is, doubtless, the chief 
 source of the pleasure arising from the contem- 
 plation of natural appearances. We perceive 
 objects lovely in themselves, or lovely in their 
 combinations, and our hearts warm with a veiy 
 peculiar and elevating enjoyment ; we perceive 
 objects sublime from their vastness, or magnifi- 
 cent from combined splendour and greatness, 
 and immediately within us sentiments arise of 
 wonder and astonishment, or of awe and vene- 
 ration. Who can find words to express the 
 delight he has experienced from contemplating 
 the beauties of a summer landscape, when the 
 shades of evening were falling sweetly and tran- 
 quilly around ; or the sublimity of the starry 
 heavens, when the darkness of a winter night 
 gave depth to the etherial blue of the firmament, 
 and brilliancy to the innumerable worlds which 
 gemmed that boundless canopy ? 
 
 The Love of Nature, then, is a complex feel- 
 ing, arising from different qualities of the mind, 
 mysteriously combined, and with which external 
 objects have been made to harmonize, so as to 
 call them into powerful exercise, and cause them 
 to be a source of exquisite and varied enjoy- 
 ment ; and it is useful to trace the adaptations 
 
by which this beneficent system has been con- 
 structed. 
 
 It is easy to conceive a world whose appear- 
 ances and various relations would offend our 
 taste, and be altogether discordant with our feel- 
 ings, as well as unsuitable to our powers and 
 faculties ; nor is it possible to doubt that the 
 disgust or apathy arising from this unhappy con- 
 trariety, if it did not lead to utter extermination, 
 would at least deeply affect the character, and 
 entail misery on the lot of humanity. 
 
 It is, therefore, no insignificant proof of an 
 intelligent and bountiful Creator, that there 
 should exist so harmonious an agreement be- 
 tween mind and matter, that the powers of the 
 one should be so wonderfully adapted to the 
 aspect and qualities of the other, and that the 
 happy combinations which are thus effected 
 should be productive of such high and rational 
 enjoyment. 
 
 It must not be forgotten, however, that al- 
 though such suitableness between the mental 
 powers and the phenomena of the external world 
 actually exists, it partakes of the imperfection 
 inherent in all sublunary things. The fall of 
 man, which has so deeply affected the character, 
 the condition and the mutual relations of the 
 moral and physical worlds, has thrown a mystery 
 over them, which mere human philosophy at- 
 tempts in vain to penetrate. 
 
 We can readily form an idea of a state of 
 things corresponding, far nearer, to our notions 
 
6 
 
 of perfection, than is to be found in the earth we 
 inhabit. It were easy for our imaginations to 
 portray a world in which love, and peace, and 
 joy should universally prevail; in which the 
 passions of intelligent beings, nicely balanced, 
 should yield without an effort to the guidance of 
 reason and duty ; in which the mental powers 
 should be accurate, penetrating, and unbiassed; 
 and in which external nature, harmonising with 
 this perfection of the moral and intellectual 
 powers, should be always serene, beautiful and 
 exhuberant blessing the ear with sounds of 
 sweetest melody, charming the eye with sights 
 of uncloying beauty, exhaling the most delicious 
 perfumes, and filling all the senses with endless 
 delight. In such a world the perfections of the 
 great Creator would be openly displayed, and 
 the whole relations of rnind arid matter would, 
 almost intuitively, exhibit the evidence of wise 
 and beneficent design. 
 
 Such was Paradise ; but such is not the pre- 
 sent state of our world. A fearful blight has 
 passed over the face of nature, and marks of 
 imperfection and disorder every where perplex 
 the enquiring mind. In the intellectual world 
 there are error and ignorance, fatuity and folly ; 
 in the moral world there are passions, preju- 
 dices, selfishness, wars, cruelties and innume- 
 rable crimes ; and in external nature the air, 
 the earth and the sea teem with agents of appa- 
 rent evil ; whirlwinds and tempests, mildew 
 and drought, with famine arid pestilence in their 
 
train, carry desolation abroad while decay arid 
 death fill the world with mourning. 
 
 Before we can safely interrogate nature, there- 
 fore, there is a previous question of unspeakable 
 difficulty to be settled ; namely, what is the end 
 that Providence has in view in the present mys- 
 terious order of things ? Perfection is not here. 
 Happiness is not here. What then ? The an- 
 swer, in one word, is, "A school of discipline to 
 train mortal man for immortality ; " arid that 
 answer cannot readily be extorted from nature 
 it is only to be clearly read in the book of Reve- 
 lation. 
 
 We have thus obtained a principle, which 
 opens a new view of the various relations of 
 mind and matter, and renders the investigation, 
 though not free from difficulties, at all events in 
 some of its bearings, within the grasp of human 
 intellect. The adaptations which we now look 
 for are of a lower kind ; they are not perfect, but 
 apposite not absolute, but relative. We expect 
 a system which may train weak and erring crea- 
 tures, by various gradations, to excellence, and 
 may fit them, by the combined operation of 
 moral and physical means, for a higher state of 
 existence ; embracing evil, but overruling it for 
 good; employing pain, disappointment, calamity, 
 and even death itself; but converting them into 
 instruments of happiness and immortality. 
 
 Such a system is necessarily more obscure 
 and more complicated than that which excludes 
 the agency of evil ; and, on tracing its operation, 
 
8 
 
 the half informed mind can scarcely avoid being 
 occasionally involved in difficulty, and harrassed 
 with doubts ; but when rightly understood, it af- 
 fords the most surprising and beautiful displays 
 of an all-pervading goodness and wisdom. It 
 may be impossible for unassisted reason to un- 
 derstand why evil should be permitted to exist 
 in any form, under the administration of a Cre- 
 ator and Governor of infinite perfection ; but 
 that it does exist is undeniable. Adopting, 
 therefore, the fact, and resting its histoiy on 
 the declarations of revelation, where the only 
 satisfactory explanations of it are afforded, what 
 remains for the philosopher is to exhibit the 
 amazing contrivances which Divine wisdom has 
 adopted for mitigating inherent defects, and con- 
 verting them into blessings. 
 
 We have thus seen that the love of external 
 nature is a principle, for wise and evident rea- 
 sons, implanted within us ; and, looking abroad, 
 over the vast and various nations that inhabit the 
 different regions of the globe, we find that men 
 of all ages, wherever they be placed, and by 
 whatever government they are ruled, loving and 
 venerating external nature. If we revert to the 
 bright and golden ages of antiquity, man pre- 
 sents himself to our view as surveying, with the 
 delight and wonder of a curious child, the scenes 
 by which he is surrounded the stern and soli- 
 tary mountain the lonely and untrodden wil- 
 derness the foaming cataract and the desolate 
 shores of ocean ; as astonished and overwhelmed 
 
9 
 
 with awe at the cloudy majesty of the tempest, 
 or the bright glories of the noon-day sun ; as 
 listening to the voice of the thunder, or to the 
 rolling of the distant torrent, descending from 
 the lofty mountain's side ; and, as falling down 
 in lowly admiration of the Ruler of the earth, 
 the sea and sky. Full of the Love of Nature, and 
 absorbed in the contemplation of the beauties and 
 wonders which, in every variety of aspect she un- 
 folds to his view, he yields to the guidance of his 
 imagination ; on every side he beholds a God, 
 he hears his voice in the thunder, and sees his 
 red right arm made bare in the lightening. 
 
 Turning to the immortal land of the Greeks, 
 we behold in their beautiful, and varied, and 
 highly imaginative mythology, the intensity of 
 the love and admiration of external nature which 
 they possessed. They embodied, in delightful 
 allegories, the loftiest conceptions of the universe 
 and the origin of things, exalting them as objects 
 of awe and of the admiration. Night, arid dark- 
 ness, and old chaos, and heaven, and earth, and 
 all the powers and elements of nature, they per- 
 sonified in their mystical imaginings, giving to 
 
 " many an airy nothing 
 A local habitation and a name." 
 
 Their numerous divinities, and all that was 
 grandest, and holiest, and dearest in their reli- 
 gion arose from nature. In Jupiter was embo- 
 died forth the majesty of the heavens; in Neptune 
 the alternate storm and tranquillity of the sea ; 
 
10 
 
 and in Pluto the darkness and horror of imagi- 
 nary eternal gloom. Inanimate nature, too, was 
 represented by a fanciful, but most beautiful 
 mythology. What classical reader has not been 
 charmed with such grotesque and fanciful beings 
 as Pan, and Pomona, and Flora, and Vertumnus, 
 all creatures of imagination, sweetly breathing of 
 their fresh and flowery domains ? Or, who that 
 ever tasted the pure waters of ancient poesy,, and 
 imbibed the peculiar feelings and joys of the 
 olden Grecian times, has not beheld, in fancied 
 vision, the wild nymphs of the mountains, or the 
 Dryads and Fauns sporting amidst the sylvan 
 scenery of the untrodden grove, or the Naiads 
 pouring from their urns the limped fountains, or 
 the Neraids moving along the ocean, where Tri- 
 ton blows his hollow-sounding shell, and Proteus 
 drives his herd to pasture on the waves ? But 
 looking upon the moral world, wherever it is 
 presented to our view, we find the Love of Na- 
 ture universally manifested, and equally exerting 
 its power, in the breast of the untutored savage 
 and refined European. In the North American 
 Indians, a passion for nature is a predominate 
 feature ; and to say that any intelligent peasant, 
 
 " Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, 
 To meet the sun upon the upland lawn," 
 
 beheld his rising with indifference, and all the 
 beauties of the morning scenery, unconscious of 
 delight, were to do great injustice to his charac- 
 ter. It is evident, therefore, that we are fitted, 
 
11 
 
 by our mental constitution, for the study of those 
 wonders which a Divine hand has every where 
 scattered in such profusion around us ; and surely 
 no one will be found who thinks that such an 
 adaptation has been afforded us without a point, 
 an end, a meaning, or a destination ; on the 
 contrary, all must acknowledge that the study 
 and contemplation of nature, while it tends to 
 gratify a laudable curiosity, and to fill the mind 
 with a rational delight, is calculated, in no trifling 
 degree, to improve the understanding, and to 
 give scope and vigour to all the powers of the 
 mind. 
 
 In the mere gratification of our taste for the 
 study of nature, viewed in its various phases and 
 arrangements, there is not only enjoyment, but 
 the means of mental cultivation. Taste has been 
 sometimes considered as nothing but the appli- 
 cation to external nature of that faculty, which, 
 in morals, enables us to distinguish between right 
 and wrong the beautiful, in objects of sense, 
 being supposed to be perceived by the same ope- 
 ration of the mind, which distinguishes what is 
 proper and becoming in the intercourse of soci- 
 ety ; but without adopting this opinion, we may 
 confidently assert, that, from the exercise of the 
 former, a salutary effect upon the character re- 
 sults, somewhat analogous to that which arises 
 from the exercise of the latter. 
 
 The man who has been accustomed to cherish 
 a Love of Nature, and eagerly to pursue her steps, 
 wherever they are to be traced, acquires a habit 
 
of sober contemplation, or of lofty thinking, 
 which gives a firmer tone to his mind, and ele- 
 vates him above the sordid views and low vices 
 of the vulgar herd with whom he is surrounded. 
 The employments which the necessities of our 
 nature originate, when perverted by an undue 
 indulgence, and a corrupting intercourse with 
 our fellows, into incentives to cupidity, selfish- 
 ness and cunning, as well as the mean pleasures 
 to which such vicious propensities give rise, seem 
 uncongenial to the mind which seeks for gratifi- 
 cation in so grand and elevated a field. There 
 is assuredly something ennobling in the cultiva- 
 tion of those feelings which lead us to traverse 
 the undulating valley, or to linger in the sylvan 
 glade, when the plastic hand of Spring clothes 
 the fields and woods in the softest green, and 
 " the time of the singing of birds is come ;" and 
 when glowing Summer sheds her profusion of 
 flowers and perfumes ; and when Autumn waves 
 her golden harvest, and tinges the trees with her 
 russet fingers ; and when Winter spreads over 
 expiring vegetation his snowy winding-sheet, and 
 howls through the desolated forest ; or which 
 lead us to seek the grandeur of the lofty moun- 
 tain, the craggy steep, and the foaming cataract ; 
 or which induce us to indulge in the sublime 
 enjoyment arising from the war of elements, 
 when the tempest-tost ocean mingles with the 
 sky, and thunder rends the welkin, and lighten- 
 ings dart their livid fires from pole to pole. 
 Such a temperament has been sometimes sup- 
 
13 
 
 posed to be the exclusive prerogative o 
 ^irid although the trath of this opinion cannot be 
 admitted, it must be owned that the susceptibility 
 of the poetic mind cherishes most ardently a 
 feeling which the beneficent Creator has deeply 
 implanted in every breast. It is impossible, in- 
 deed, not to perceive the justice, as well as the 
 beauty, of the description which the Scottish 
 poet gives of his own youthful admiration of na- 
 tural sublimity and beauty 
 
 " I saw thee seek the sounding shore, 
 Delighted with the dashing roar ; 
 Or when the North his fleecy store 
 
 Drove through the sky, 
 I saw grim Nature's visage hoar 
 
 Struck thy young eye. 
 
 " Or when the deep green mantled earth 
 Warm cherished every flowret's birth, 
 And joy and music pouring forth 
 
 In every grove, 
 I saw thee eye the general mirth 
 
 With boundless love. 
 
 " When ripened fields, and azure skies 
 Called forth the reapers' rustling noise, 
 I saw thee leave their evening joys, 
 
 And lonely stalk 
 To vent thy bosom's swelling rise 
 
 In pensive walk." 
 
 These sentiments, although more strongly felt 
 by the poet, and more vividly embodied in his 
 glowing lines, draw a sympathetic response from 
 every heart which has not been debased and 
 brutifted by counteracting influences ; and it is 
 
14 
 
 not easy, I would think, to be conversant with 
 such objects, and to derive from them the plea- 
 sures they are capable of affording, without re- 
 tiring from the exercise not only a wiser, but a 
 better man. 
 
 The Love of Nature is implanted, not merely 
 for the purpose of humanizing, but of instructing 
 the mind ; and he who should content himself 
 with the simple but exquisite enjoyment arising 
 from the faculty of Taste, would but partially 
 and feebly pursue the path pointed out by the 
 propensities which the God of nature has be- 
 stowed upon him. 
 
 But it is not the mere superficial view of na- 
 tural appearances which is calculated to engage 
 our attention and interest our hearts. The more 
 eagerly we penetrate into the hidden recesses of 
 nature, and the more importunately we question 
 her, the more astonishing are the discoveries she 
 lays open, and the more readily does she afford 
 a glimpse of the deeper and richer treasures, 
 which lie still beyond our reach, and which far- 
 ther progress, and more devoted assiduity may 
 yet enable us to attain. 
 
 The youthful eye, when it first begins to take 
 a survey of external nature, imagines that it sees 
 and comprehends every thing around it ; but, as 
 it gazes, new scenes arise, new combinations 
 appear, new properties are elicited, wonder on 
 wonder fill the admiring view, till at last it is felt 
 that he who sees farthest, and penetrates deepest, 
 only learns that he knows nothing. The mind 
 
15 
 
 is thus at once overwhelmed ; and the child of 
 mortality, perceiving that all is dim and myste- 
 rious here below, longs to burst his prison-house 
 and to expatiate in those higher regions, where 
 he shall be able to look through the surface to 
 the essence ; and in the immediate presence of 
 his Creator, " to see even as He is seen, and to 
 know even as He is known." 
 
 There is no department of natural science 
 which does not amply repay the enquirer for all 
 the zeal and diligence he can bestow upon it, 
 provided only he begin the study in a right spirit, 
 and prosecute it with a candid and an humble 
 mind. Whatever be the subject to which he 
 directs his attention whether the earth or the 
 skies whether the great laws of nature, as ex- 
 hibited in the vast universe, or their minute 
 combinations and relations, in reference to ob- 
 jects with which he is daily familiar whether 
 the mighty masses of inanimate substances, or 
 the properties of organized matter and beings 
 in every instance the superficial view to which 
 he was accustomed quickly disappears, and he 
 is introduced, as it were, into a new world, in 
 which he traces more distinctly, at eveiy turn, 
 the footsteps of an intelligent and omniscient 
 Creator ; and while his mind is enlightened by 
 new knowledge, his reasoning faculties are 
 strengthened, his views are enlarged, and his 
 moral perceptions become more acute and ac- 
 curate. 
 
 Take, for example, the starry heavens. The 
 
16 
 
 uninstructed regard the tiny lights which twinkle 
 there, as so many lamps, suspended from the 
 azure vault to enlighten and cheer their earthly 
 abode. And, so far as their knowledge extends, 
 they think truly. But he who studies nature, 
 learns that this beneficent provision, so far from 
 being the sole object of Divine intelligence, is 
 one of the least astonishing of those wonders of 
 power, and of wisdom, and of goodness, which 
 astronomy displays. He finds himself placed in 
 a world which, instead of being the centre of the 
 universe, and the largest and the most important 
 of the objects around him, is but an insignificant 
 planet, revolving round a small, and, compara- 
 tively, inconsiderable star; whilst in every 
 sparkling diamond of the sky he beholds a new 
 sun, the source of light and heat to new worlds 
 such as his own , and even these, numerous and 
 glorious as they are, he is taught to consider, 
 when compared to the created universe, but as a 
 small group a single nebula, amongst the count- 
 less myriad^ of nebulae which exist in the im- 
 mensity of space. 
 
 What an astonishing view is this, and how re- 
 dolent of moral instruction to the well regulated 
 mind ! If the shepherd king of Israel, in the 
 contemplation of the wonders which sight reveals 
 to the unassisted eye, was, even with his imper- 
 fect light, overwhelmed with admiration, and 
 awed into humility, how unspeakably more deep 
 and powerful ought to be the inward sentiment 
 which forces the exclamation from the inmost 
 
17 
 
 soul of the modern Astronomer, " Lord, what is 
 man that thou art so mindful of him, or the son 
 of man that thou visitest him 1" 
 
 For another example, take the discoveries of 
 the microscope. In the objects presented to our 
 unaided sight, it was always easy to observe as- 
 tonishing displays of a minute and most benefi- 
 cent attention to the preservation and happiness 
 of living creatures ; but it was not until the in- 
 vention of the microscope that the extent of that 
 providential care was known or even suspected. 
 
 The savage may be able to trace a regular 
 succession of living beings, from the mite, whose 
 voluntary motions are just discernible by the 
 naked eye, up to man, whose more perfect bodily 
 frame, and nobler mental powers point him out, 
 as beyond all question the lord of the earth ; 
 and he may even discover some portion of the 
 curious analogy, which the philosopher has found 
 grounds for believing to exist, among all tribes of 
 animated nature, within the compass of his vision. 
 But, in the microscope, science has presented us 
 with an instrument which has opened to our 
 view a new series of living creatures, to which 
 the mite is as an elephant ; and in whose organ- 
 ization arid instincts, new, and not less admirable 
 indications of creative wisdom are afforded. 
 
 The discoveries which have been thus unfold- 
 ed, are indeed scarcely less calculated to stimu- 
 late our curiosity, and excite our admiration than 
 those of the telescope. With the assistance of 
 these instruments we find the sphere of our 
 
 D 
 
18 
 
 knowledge almost indefinitely increased in two 
 opposite directions ; and, while by the one we 
 are enabled to trace in the infinite expanse thou- 
 sands of new systems, crowded with unknown 
 worlds, and bright with the glories of Omnipo- 
 tence, by the other we acquire power to perceive 
 the Creator of a universe, minutely busy among 
 the worlds of living creatures, to which he has 
 given birth on a blade of grass, or in a drop of 
 water. 
 
 Dr Chalmers, to whom I have already alluded, 
 has, with an eloquence peculiarly his own, drawn 
 from the discoveries of the microscope, an irre- 
 sistible argument to rebut the specious sophistries 
 of the infidel ; who, from the immensity of cre- 
 ated nature, would infer, that so insignificant a 
 being as man is below the compassionate notice 
 of the Creator. There is indeed something un- 
 speakably satisfactory in the view this highly gifted 
 divine lias taken ; and, if at any time our faith is 
 ready to give way, before the infinite majesty of 
 Him who speaks systems into existence or an- 
 nihilation, we have only to look at the millions 
 of microscopic nations, that we may behold His 
 infinite condescension, and be reassured. 
 
 I do not say that among the perversities of our 
 fallen nature there are not to be found counter- 
 acting influences, capable of preventing the lesson 
 from being learnt, which the wonders of the ex- 
 ternal world are intended to teach, and even 
 capable of converting the naturally useful opera- 
 tions of such high instruction, into means of eviL 
 
19 
 
 It is but too true that such an employment may 
 only serve to influence the pride of the self- 
 sufficient, and minister to the rashness of the 
 presumptions ; but then it must not be forgotten 
 that such unhappy effects can only be produced 
 in minds previously led astray by prejudice, dis- 
 torted by passion, or corrupted by vice ; and 
 when the importance of preoccupying the mind 
 with right views is considered, the almost total 
 neglect of this department of instruction, in our 
 common systems of education, cannot be too 
 strongly condemned. It is indeed surprising that 
 so obvious a method of opening the youthful 
 mind, and imbuing it with useful knowledge, 
 should not be eagerly seized by the judicious 
 instructor. 
 
 In making this remark, I have no intention of 
 reflecting upon the laborious exertions by which 
 the languages and the literature of the classic ages 
 are inculcated ; but it is impossible to refrain 
 from observing, that if these accomplishments 
 are only to be obtained by repressing the Love of 
 Nature, inherent in the breast of ingenuous youth, 
 and by deadening the generous curiosity of that 
 early age to become acquainted with the mys- 
 terious world in which Providence has placed us, 
 the price which is paid is by far too dear. 
 
 It is doubtless owing to the injudicious train- 
 ing of the years of boyhood that so many are to 
 be found, who, notwithstanding the innate ten- 
 dencies of the human mind, and the wise adap- 
 tations, and kindly invitations and allurements of 
 
20 
 
 nature, arc found as they advance to manhood, 
 to hecome more blind to the beauty and grandeur 
 impressed on the objects around them, and less 
 alive to the treasures of knowledge arid mental 
 enjoyment, as well as to the proofs of wise arid 
 beneficent design with which creation teems. 
 There must be some radical defect in the disci- 
 pline by which the youthful mind is cultivated, 
 when the mental eye, as it expands, only sees the 
 hand of its Creator more dimly, and the very 
 faculties which were intended to enable him to 
 view His works, and to receive an exalted enjoy- 
 ment in the contemplation of His perfections, be- 
 come more contracted and obtuse, as the means 
 of exercising them become more abundant. 
 
 We should pity the man whom we should 
 discover wandering blind arid insensible in a 
 splendid museum, amidst the exquisite produc- 
 tions of art ; but much more, most assuredly, 
 is he to be cornrnisserated, who, with his eyes 
 open, walks unmoved amidst the wonders of the 
 universe, and casts a " brute unconscious gaze" 
 upon scenes which reflect the glories of the Eter- 
 nal, and from which the highest created intelli- 
 gences receive edification and delight. 
 
 In following out the views I have laid down 
 in the preceding pages, and aiming more at use- 
 fulness than originality, I shall endeavour to 
 embody, in easy and unsystematic essays, such 
 popular views of nature as may lead the mind, 
 without any laborious effort, up to nature's God, 
 
and, enlarging the understanding, may elevate 
 the affections while they improve the heart. 
 
 Such a study, I am aware, if prosecuted in all 
 its bearings, leads to deep and abstruse investi- 
 gations, unsuitable to the habits of the great mass 
 of readers, and not to be engaged in with advan- 
 tage but by men of literary and philosophical 
 minds. A Bacon, a Newton, and a La Place, 
 appear only at long intervals, to illuminate suc- 
 cessive ages ; and the humble task of even fol- 
 lowing in the arduous path which these, and such 
 wonderful men, have opened up, is not within 
 the range of ordinary pursuits, or within the 
 reach of ordinary minds. But if the rich ore of 
 nature lies deep, there are, nevertheless, dia- 
 monds and pearls to be found near the surface ; 
 and over the whole face of the earth are scattered 
 stores of loveliness, which even a common eye 
 can delight to contemplate, and flowers of sur- 
 passing fragrance and beauty, which even a com- 
 mon hand can pluck. 
 
 Above all, there are footsteps of a Creator so 
 palpable, that he who runs may read them ; and 
 such an exercise is the noblest and most satis- 
 factory in which the human mind can engage. 
 There is indeed something unspeakably grand 
 arid affecting in the belief which this study con- 
 firms, if it does not originate, that the Almighty 
 framer of innumerable worlds He who called 
 all things from nothing into existence by the 
 word of his power, and still sustains them in 
 beauty, and order, and harmony, by the wisdom 
 
of his Providence condescends to notice and to 
 bless the meanest object in his universe ; that 
 the same hand which guides the sun in his daily 
 journey through the sky, and " wheels the rolling 
 spheres" as they cheer the silence of night, gives 
 life and enjoyment to the microscopic insect, 
 and breathes softly on the opening blossom, and 
 spreads the green carpet beneath our feet, and 
 gives grace and sweet odour to the modest 
 flowers which springs to adorn it. 
 
 With regard to the Study of Nature, I would 
 shortly observe how necessary and important it 
 is to acquire an extensive store of facts ; for, 
 without them generalizations and theories be- 
 come " mere philosophical webs, woven by in- 
 genuity, the device of which is beautiful, but 
 the fabric too frail to endure the touch." Let us 
 stop but a moment, and behold as it flows, and 
 contemplate in its wonderful, and almost im- 
 measurable extent, with feelings of the most pro- 
 found veneration, the sacred stream of science. 
 Behold it flowing, at first a small and scarcely 
 noted rivulet, gently and silently gliding through 
 shady and retired glens, and receiving in its 
 progress many as humble and insignificant a rill, 
 till the whole united forms a mighty river, foam- 
 ing onward in the grandeur of its course, and 
 fertilizing the regions through which it passes ; 
 and, like that river must be the student of nature 
 despising not the humblest fact that presents 
 itself to his observation ; though, as the little rill, 
 it may be useless in itself, arid alone derive its 
 
value from forming a part of the stream where- 
 with it is afterwards to he united. 
 
 In the following pages, I neither desire, nor 
 shall I attempt to make the reader a profound 
 Naturalist ; it shall simply he my province to 
 endeavour to lay before him the leading truths 
 of nature, to lead him to their contemplation, 
 and ahove all, to induce him to seek out know- 
 ledge for its own sake, for such alone must be 
 the motive that actuates him who would success- 
 fully devote himself to mental improvement. 
 " Learning/' says Campbell, in his address to the 
 Glasgow students, " is a proud mistress ; she 
 will not be courted for our hopes of worldly 
 power, or for our ambition to be allied to her 
 family, or for the pride of showing her in public, 
 without the passion and devotion which we must 
 bear to her sacred self. It springs from our in- 
 terest in this magnificent and mysterious creation, 
 from our curiosity with regard to truth, and even 
 from our fondness for the airy colourings of fic- 
 tion. The blessings it confers, too, are no where 
 disputed ; for all agree that knowledge is power, 
 and that man is what he knows" 
 
24, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ZOOLOGY. 
 
 DIFFERENCES BETWEEN INORGANIC AND ORGANIC 
 
 MATTER NATURE OF LIFE ANALOGIES IN THE 
 
 STRUCTURE OF MAN AND OTHER ANIMALS RE- 
 LATIONS OF THE FUNCTIONS TO EACH OTHER. 
 
 THE general division of Matter is into inorganic 
 and organic, the former including all mineral 
 substances the latter all vegetables and animals. 
 Both are formed probably by the combination of 
 more or fewer of the same primary or elementary 
 principles ; but the characters of the resulting 
 compounds, and the properties which each dis- 
 play, are essentially different. 
 
 Thus inorganic matters are of unlimited extent, 
 and are not bounded each by its proper envelope ; 
 whereas, such as are organic are comprised with- 
 in definite limits, and have, for the most part, 
 each its own distinct coat. The form and pro- 
 portions of the former are, in like manner, gene- 
 rally indeterminate, or, if otherwise, as is the 
 case with crystals, they are bounded by flat sur- 
 faces and right lines ; while the latter have al- 
 ways more or less definite forms and proportions, 
 
the boundaries of which present in general con- 
 vex or concave surfaces, describing curved or 
 undulating lines. Again, the association of the 
 several parts of which any component inorganic 
 substance is composed, is, as it were, accidental 
 and arbitrary, so that it may be described as des- 
 titute of individuality, no one part being con- 
 ducive to the perfection of the whole ; whereas, 
 in an organic substance, the association of the 
 several parts is fixed and definite, and each, be- 
 ing more or less essential to the integrity of the 
 whole, contributes thus to its individuality. " The 
 reason" says the celebrated philosopher Kant, 
 " of the existence of each part of an inorganized 
 being is to be found in itself, while, in organized 
 beings, the reason of the existence of each part 
 resides in the whole ;" and this individuality of 
 the latter is the more pronounced, that is to 
 say, they are less susceptible of division without 
 injury, the more complicated is their structure, 
 or, in other words, the more concentrated their 
 several organs have become. Lastly, the texture 
 of inorganic substances, composed as they are, 
 chiefly or entirely of solid particles, is more or 
 less hard or rigid ; while that of organic sub- 
 stances, which consist of a large proportion of 
 fluid particles pervading their solids, is, on the 
 contrary, soft and flexible. With respect to the 
 ultimate structure of organic substances on 
 which their texture depends, this, as far as it 
 can be ascertained by the unassisted senses, 
 consists essentially of a spongy substance, called 
 
 E 
 
26 
 
 cellular tissue, forming extremely minute cavi- 
 ties, in which fluids are contained. It is dis- 
 posed in layers which intersect each other in 
 every possible direction ; and, interwoven as it 
 is with various other incidental textures, consti- 
 tutes what is called the tissues in general, 
 these combine and form organs organs com- 
 bine, and constitute, with the fluids, the entire 
 substance. But both the tissues and fluids of 
 organic bodies are said to be found, under a mi- 
 croscope of high powers, to consist of certain 
 globules of a definite form and size, so that it is 
 in fact of these that such bodies appear to be ac- 
 tually composed. These globules are represented 
 as found both in vegetables and in animals, and, 
 as well in the most rude as in the most perfect 
 species of each. The algee and fungi among the 
 former, and the infusoria and polypi among the 
 latter, are described as equally containing them, 
 both in their fluid and solid parts ; and in the 
 higher species of both plants and animals, they 
 are said to be still more perceptible. Of the 
 former, they are described as existing, not only 
 in the solid tissues, but in the proper sap, and in 
 the fecula, resin, albumen, colouring matter and 
 other substances formed from it ; and, of the 
 latter, not only in the cellular, nervous, mucous, 
 serous, fibrous, and muscular tissues, but also in 
 the blood, lymph, chyle, pancreatic fluid, milk, 
 saliva, fat, and other secreted substances. These 
 globules, then, may perhaps be regarded as the 
 final molecules of which organic bodies are com- 
 
27 
 
 posed ; and they are certainly quite distinct from 
 any thing to be found in such as are inorganic. 
 
 But if the structure and physical characters of 
 inorganic and organic substances are thus dis- 
 similar, a still greater difference is observable in 
 the actions of each, and in their relations to the 
 external world. Thus the motions of inorganic 
 substances, and of their integrant particles, are 
 subject to certain chemical and mechanical laws 
 alone, which, as uniform in their operation, may 
 be easily determined by experiment ; whereas, 
 the motions of such as are organic, and of their 
 integrant particles the reciprocal conversion of 
 the one into the other the interchange of their 
 particles with those of other substances, &c are 
 regulated by laws quite distinct from such as are 
 simply chemical and mechanical, laws appa- 
 rently much less uniform in their operation, and 
 certainly much less easily ascertained, and less 
 confidently to be calculated upon. It is in the 
 sum of these and other similar motions, that 
 life consists ; which is, accordingly, the distinc- 
 tive attribute of organic matter, vegetable as well 
 as animal. The peculiar phenomena of life, or 
 those motions which take place in organic mat- 
 ters, and to which such as are inorganic present 
 nothing similar, are principally those by which 
 they effect, for a time, incessant changes in their 
 own composition, exerting, at the same time, a 
 reciprocal action with the substances of the ex- 
 ternal world ; those by which they resist, for a 
 time, the deleterious action of external agents ; 
 
28 
 
 those by which they perpetuate their species ; 
 and those by which they are at length overtaken 
 by death, and reduced to the state again of mere 
 mineral matter. 
 
 With respect to the first series of actions, all 
 organic substances possess the power of taking 
 from the external world certain solid arid liquid 
 matters, which they assimilate to their own na- 
 ture, and thus repair the waste which they are 
 continually undergoing ; and it is to this renewal 
 of their blood from without that digestion is in- 
 strumental. Further, they have the power of 
 effecting a motion of this blood between the in- 
 terstices of their solid parts, constituting the 
 function of circulation ; the ultimate object of 
 which is, the continual conversion of a portion 
 of this blood into the several tissues and secreted 
 fluids, and reciprocally the continual reconver- 
 sion of these tissues, as well as of such of the 
 fluids which are not evacuated from the body, 
 into blood, in which motions consist the func- 
 tions respectively of nutrition and secretion, and 
 of absorption. Lastly, they have the power of 
 taking from the external world certain aeriform, 
 as well as solid and liquid substances, while they 
 give off others, for the purification of their blood, 
 vitiated as it is by the processes just mentioned ; 
 tind it is to this interchange that respiration con- 
 duces. 
 
 These continual revolutions are so character- 
 istic of organized beings, that by some life is 
 described as essentially consisting in them : " La 
 
29 
 
 vie," says Cuvier, " est done un tourbillon, plus 
 ou moins rapide plus ou moins complique,"- 
 but nothing similar is met with in minerals. 
 These increase merely by the accidental addition 
 of new particles to the original mass ; they dis- 
 play no motion of fluids along solids no mole- 
 cular interchanges of the two nor have they any 
 action with the external world, except such as is 
 strictly either chemical or mechanical. 
 
 In the second place, organic substances are 
 capable, so long as the changes just alluded to 
 are going on, of resisting and modifying the action 
 of heat and cold, of moisture, and of chemical 
 agents in general, to a most remarkable degree ; 
 arid this property of self-preservation is in them 
 so striking, as to have been regarded, from a very 
 early period, to be the most essential attribute of 
 life. It is well known that plants in general 
 are commonly above the temperature of the sur- 
 rounding medium, if that be low, and inferior to 
 it, if it be high nay, that some of them vegetate 
 in perfection in water, the temperature of which 
 is sufficient to have boiled them, had they been 
 deprived of life, and this property of resisting 
 cold and heat is still more remarkable in animals. 
 The living egg is generally above the temperature 
 of the atmosphere, and it is frozen with great 
 difficulty ; arid the power possessed by the higher 
 classes of animals, and particularly by man, of 
 preserving a more or less uniform temperature, 
 under extremes of cold and heat, is almost un- 
 limited. In very cold climates, the thermometer 
 
30 
 
 not un frequently sinks to 50 or 55 degrees below 
 zero, while in very hot ones it is sometimes 120 
 or 125 degrees above it making a difference of 
 170 or 180 degrees ; and still the temperature of 
 the human body remains almost unchanged ; 
 and with respect to artificial heat, it has been 
 proved that man can bear with impunity, for a 
 considerable time, a degree of heat which would 
 have roasted him in a few minutes had life been 
 extinct. So also the combination with heat of 
 moisture, so prompt in effecting the decomposi- 
 tion of vegetable and animal substances, when 
 life has deserted them, is quite inert in this re- 
 spect while life continues ; and the same is the 
 case with certain chemical agents, commonly 
 reckoned among the most active, with respect to 
 inorganic substances, but which are quite impo- 
 tent with respect to such as are organic. Of this 
 nature is the substance called the gastric juice, 
 contained in the stomach of animals ; which has 
 no effect upon any thing living, but rapidly acts 
 upon almost any vegetable or animal substances, 
 once divested of life. Thus seeds are uninjured 
 in their passage through the stomach and intes- 
 tines of animals, so long as they retain their life ; 
 worms and other animals are capable of living, 
 for an indefinite time, in the stomach as well as 
 in the intestines ; and a living leech, if acciden- 
 tally swallowed, is never acted upon till life is 
 extinct, when it is rapidly digested, like any other 
 animal matter ; nay, the coats of the stomach 
 itself are not unfrequeritly found to have been 
 
corroded after death, by the same fluid, which is 
 essential, during life, to its natural and healthy 
 function. Now, inorganic substances, on the 
 contrary, are acted on by heat, or the abstraction 
 of it, by moisture and by chemical agents in ge- 
 neral, in a uniform manner, and to a uniform 
 degree ; while over organic bodies they exercise 
 no controlling influence whatever. 
 
 Again, it seems to be a universal law, that liv- 
 ing beings alone can give origin to other living 
 beings, either by a partial division of themselves, 
 or by a peculiar process called generation ; 
 whereas the origin of inorganic substances is al- 
 ways quite independent of any pre-existing sub- 
 stance of a similar kind. 
 
 Finally, the actions of organic substances hav- 
 ing attained their acme of intensity, gradually 
 decay, and at length, from causes which are 
 inherent in each individual, cease altogether, 
 when the substance becomes at once amenable 
 to the operations of merely chemical and me- 
 chanical agents. Such is not the case, however, 
 with inorganic substances, which maintain the 
 same state unalterably, and for any length of 
 time, provided no external agents are brought to 
 operate upon them. 
 
 Such, then, are the principal distinctions be- 
 tween inorganic and organic substances, with 
 respect both to their structure and motions, and 
 such the principal phenomena which living beings 
 display. The question then arises, Do these 
 
32 
 
 distinctions depend upon the possession by the 
 latter of any substantial principle of action, of 
 which the former are destitute ; or do they de- 
 pend merely upon some peculiarities in the pro- 
 perties of those matters, of which inorganic and 
 organic substances are respectively composed ? 
 
 The term life has been commonly used with 
 the utmost vagueness, and any attempt to explain 
 its nature has been in general regarded hopeless 
 in the extreme. The authors who have written 
 on the nature of life may be arranged into two 
 great classes the one comprehending those who 
 consider it a subtle substance a real arid dis- 
 tinct agent attached to certain forms of matter, 
 and the cause of the remarkable phenomena 
 which these display ; the other comprehending 
 those who regard it as merely a certain mode of 
 being, consisting in these associated phenomena, 
 and the result of certain combinations of matter 
 placed under peculiar circumstances. 
 
 This subject may perhaps be beyond the legi- 
 timate bounds of philosophical enquiry, and at 
 all events it is not necessary for my present pur- 
 pose to enter into a speculation so dark, and 
 possibly so dangerous. A distinctive attribute of 
 life, at least as displayed by the higher order of 
 living beings, is thought ; and it is difficult, if not 
 impossible, to conceive that this can be, either 
 directly or indirectly a property of matter : and 
 if we are thus compelled to assign to the higher 
 attributes of life, an essence distinct from that of 
 matter, we appear hardly justified in assuming 
 
33 
 
 that its lower attributes are independent of a 
 similar principle of action ; but we know nothing 
 of the essence either of matter or mind ; all we 
 know is, that each exhibits phenomena totally dis- 
 tinct from the other, and possessing, so far as we 
 can perceive, nothing in common. The one is 
 extended, figured, divisible hard or soft solid 
 or fluid the other does not display any of these 
 qualities, but feels, and thinks, and reasons. 
 That the mental phenomena do not exist in this 
 sublunary state, except in connection with or- 
 ganized bodies is undeniable ; but were we to go 
 farther, and attempt to penetrate into the nature 
 of that connection, we should soon find ourselves 
 involved in speculations beyond the reach of the 
 human faculties. Were we inclined, for exam- 
 ple, to assume that mind is a mere result of ma- 
 terial organization, we might find many plausi- 
 bilities by which the theory could be maintained, 
 arising from the peculiar developements of the 
 one, as connected with the greater or less degree 
 of perfection exhibited by the other, and there is 
 assuredly something attractive in the views which 
 might thus be opened up to us j but we must not 
 forget that there is something within us which is 
 to survive our organic structure, and that the 
 one infinite Mind from which the universe pro- 
 ceeds, cannot, without absurdity, be supposed to 
 be inherent in a material frame ; and here I 
 am contented to stop, with the humble confes- 
 sion, that " such knowledge is too wonderful for 
 me it is high, I cannot attain unto it." 
 
It is enough for us to know that in the materi- 
 al world there are adaptations which connect it in 
 the most wonderful manner with the mental, and 
 that in no respect is this so strikingly exhibited 
 as in the organization of living bodies. This 
 adaptation, on whatever laws it may depend, is 
 an undoubted and a most interesting proof of 
 the wisdom and goodness of the great Author of 
 Nature. Had the case been in any instance re- 
 versed had the imperfect organization of an 
 oyster or a worm, for instance, been connected 
 with mental faculties and aspirations, such as 
 those which belong to man, how miserable would 
 be the condition of that being, and what an argu- 
 ment might have been founded on it against the 
 existence of an intelligent and beneficent first 
 Cause. But it does appear no slight indication 
 of a Divine hand, that the relation between the 
 properties of organized bodies and their living 
 faculties should be so intimate and so uniform 
 that is, that the lowest state of the one should be 
 so constantly associated in animal life with the 
 lowest state of the other, while the more perfect 
 developement of organization is always attended 
 with such a proportional developement of the 
 living power as to originate, and plausibly to 
 support, a theory formed on the assumption that 
 the one is the necessary result of the other. 
 The gradation of organized substances is indeed 
 one of the most beautiful and delightful mani- 
 festations of the order arid harmony which sub- 
 sist in the relations of earthly things. By what 
 

 35 
 
 insensible steps do we pass from mineral sub- 
 stances to the lowest tribes of vegetables and 
 animals, and from these again to the highest 
 tribes of both, till, following the latter in the 
 ascending scale, we arrive at immortal man ! 
 Thus, among vegetables, how gradual is the as- 
 cent through the humble acotyledonous plants 
 the algse, fungi, lichens, hepaticse and musci to 
 the filices and other monocotyledonous orders, 
 and through these again, to the dicotyledonous, 
 till we reach the most stately of these ; and, 
 among animals, how imperceptible is our pro- 
 gress through the invertebral animals the zo- 
 ophytes, worms and insects, on the one hand, 
 and the vertebral animals the fishes, reptiles, 
 birds and mammalia, on the other, till we fin- 
 ish with the most exalted example of animated 
 nature ! 
 
 " Each moss, 
 
 Each shell, each crawling insect holds a rank, 
 Important in the plan of Him who framed 
 This scale of beings holds a rank, which lost 
 Would break the chain, and leave behind a gap 
 Which Nature's self would rue." 
 
 It is undoubtedly a pleasant and instructive 
 task to follow these relations, and to trace the 
 manner in which they act and react on each 
 other, and there does not appear to be any good 
 reason why they may not be considered in the 
 light of cause and effect, in the only truly philo- 
 sophical sense of these terms implying an uni- 
 form and invariable sequence. But I do trust 
 
36 
 
 my readers will never forget that, in the employ, 
 ment of such language, a reference ought con- 
 stantly to be understood to a primary designing 
 Cause that eternal Being who has not only at 
 first impressed laws on nature which indicate his 
 infinite perfection ; but, of whom it may in every 
 instance be truly said, that these laws are no 
 other than the modes in which his Divine power 
 is exercised. 
 
 A distinguishing mark of an organic substance, 
 in as far as its structure is concerned, is, as the 
 name implies, the possession of certain organs^ 
 each of which is more or less essential, as I have 
 already remarked, to the welfare of the whole ; 
 and an equally distinguishing mark of the same 
 substance, as far as regards its motions, is the 
 performance by these organs, each of its own 
 proper function, in the sum of which the life of 
 the being appears to consist ; it seems proper, 
 therefore, before dismissing the subject of life 
 and living beings, to say a few words first of these 
 organs at least as they present themselves in 
 animals in their general relations to each other ; 
 and afterwards of the functions performed, and 
 the general co-operation of each to the perfection 
 of all. It is not my intention to allude, in this 
 place, to the admirable adaptation in every ani- 
 mal, of the structure of each of its organs to the 
 functions which this is destined to perform, since 
 this beautiful subject will be found considered at 
 spine length in another part of this work at 
 
37 
 
 present my object is to compare, not organs with 
 functions, but first organs with organs, in order 
 to trace the analogies, as well between the dif- 
 ferent organs of each animal, as between the 
 corresponding organs of different animals ; and 
 subsequently functions with functions, in order 
 to trace their mutual dependence on each other. 
 I have elsewhere remarked that it is by a 
 union of more or fewer of the tissues, composing 
 an organized being, that its several organs are 
 formed ; and the power by which this union of 
 the tissues, or organization, is effected, has been 
 long known by such various names as Vis Plas- 
 tica, Nisus Formativus, &c. So far, however, 
 giving a name to this power is equivalent only 
 to admitting its existence, and tells us nothing 
 whatever, either of its nature, or the laws by 
 which it operates. It is, in the language of Ham- 
 let, merely " words, words, words !" but some 
 modern Physiologists have endeavoured to push 
 the matter beyond mere words, and to discover 
 and demonstrate some definite laws, by which 
 organic elements, or tissues, are combined to 
 form organs many of which may be essentially 
 the same in their organic structure, however 
 various their form and functions in the same 
 way as the particles of crystals are combined to 
 form salts, several of which have one common 
 primary character, however different their aspect 
 and properties. This idea seems to have originat- 
 ed in so far at least as it is a modern one in 
 Germany, and has been prosecuted principally 
 
88 
 
 in that country, and in France. It seems to 
 have been entertained first with respect to the 
 several bones comprising the skeleton of the 
 vertebral animals. It was observed that all the 
 essential parts comprising a vertebra, or one of 
 the bones of the spine its body, processes and 
 canals were to be found in the posterior bone 
 of the skull, that the same presented themselves 
 again in the bones forming the central parts of 
 the skull, and a third time in those of which its 
 anterior part was composed ; the skull, therefore, 
 was considered to consist essentially of three 
 vertebrae, however dissimilar it might be in its 
 general aspect. And it is only in man and the 
 higher tribes of animals that even this dissimi- 
 larity is striking : -in the lowest family of fishes 
 the vertebrae and bones of the skull are, not only 
 essentially, but very obviously analogous to each 
 other; and the transition from these through 
 reptiles, birds, and quadrupeds, up to man, is, 
 with respect to these bones, so gradual, that 
 any analogy which we admit in the first case 
 must be extended to the last also. There was 
 thus then a kind of unity of organic structure 
 established between parts at first view very dif- 
 ferent from each other ; and the same idea of a 
 unity of organization was subsequently extended 
 to all the other bones, the prototype, as it were, 
 of every one in the body being met with in either 
 a vertebra or a rib. Thus the bones comprising 
 the upper jaw were discovered to be nothing 
 more than the transverse processes of some of 
 
., 5 39 
 
 the vertebrae of the spine, while the lower jaw 
 was represented as merely a repetition of a rib. 
 So also were the collar-bone and the blade-bone, 
 on the one hand, and the several bones compos- 
 ing the pelvis, on the other. Again, the bones 
 of the upper limbs were found to be formed on 
 the same model as those of the upper jaw, and 
 to be analagous therefore to transverse processes 
 of vertebrae ; while those of the lower limbs were 
 described as cast in the same moulds as the 
 lower jaw, and analagous therefore to a rib. All 
 this is apparently very far fetched, and almost 
 ludicrous, when we look at man alone ; but 
 it is feasible enough in its application to some of 
 the lower tribes of animals, the rise from which 
 to man is so gradual, that each step is almost 
 imperceptible. Now, if these analogies be ad- 
 mitted, it is obvious that, in the process of or- 
 ganization, the granules, of which the osseous 
 tissue consists, must coalesce so as to form, in 
 every case, kinds of nuclei, of which there are 
 but few primary forms, however various may be 
 those of the bones built upon them. Nor has 
 this doctrine been confined to the bones, it 
 has been extended to all the soft parts of the 
 body. The organs, soft as well as hard, on one 
 side of the bodies of all animals, with very few 
 exceptions, are certainly repetitions of those on 
 the other : there must be some fixed laws to 
 determine this obvious instance of unity of or- 
 ganization ; and the same laws are presumed to 
 be in operation in numerous other instances, 
 
 G 
 
40 
 
 which, as less obvious, have attracted less general 
 attention. Accordingly, by the observations, or, 
 as it may perhaps be thought, by the ingenuity 
 of some recent Naturalists, an analogy, more or 
 less strict, has been detected between several soft 
 organs, which have at first view no manner of 
 resemblance, but which, nevertheless, are pre- 
 sumed to be only rough copies of each other, 
 both being formed, as it were, upon the same 
 nucleus, and differing only in certain almost 
 accidental particulars. In this view of the mat- 
 ter almost every organ in the upper part of the 
 body is presumed to have its fellow among those 
 of the lower, and almost every organ on the an- 
 terior part, its fellow among those of the posterior. 
 Undoubtedly there may be something, at first 
 view, very forced and fanciful in these specula- 
 tions ; and the science of unity of organization, 
 if there really be matter for any such science 
 that is to say, if there really exist any discover- 
 able laws which regulate the formation of these 
 organs is, it must be acknowledged, still in its 
 infancy. That there must exist such laws is 
 unquestionable the only question is, whether 
 they are such as philosophy can find out ; and 
 perhaps we have no more right to deny at pre- 
 sent that it may do so, than we should have had 
 some few years ago to deny that the definite pro- 
 portions, in which elementary bodies unite che- 
 mically to form compounds, could ever be ascer- 
 tained. The atomic doctrine in chemistry was, 
 only a very short time since, in as little repute 
 
41 
 
 with the generality of mankind as the science of 
 unity of organic structure is at present; and 
 what has not the former doctrine, assiduously 
 prosecuted, done for chemistry ? It has con- 
 verted it, from a vague and unsatisfactory state- 
 ment of isolated facts, into a certain, a consistent, 
 and a determinate science ; and why may we 
 not hope, that the prosecution of the study in 
 question may do as much for anatomy, and teach 
 us not to be satisfied with knowing merely what 
 is the structure of each organ, unless we can 
 explain also why it has that structure, and why 
 it could not, consistently with certain established 
 laws, have had any other ? 
 
 " All nature is but art unknown to thee ; 
 
 All chance, direction which thou canst not see." 
 
 It is only, however, as I have already observed, 
 when we take a full survey of the whole of ani- 
 mated nature, and observe the strict analogies 
 between certain organs in each of the various 
 tribes of animals, as we rise progressively in the 
 scale of creation to man, that we are struck with 
 the analogies which these same organs, as oc- 
 curing in the human body, also offer. No two 
 things, for instance, seem to be more unlike than 
 one of the vertebrse and the posterior bone of 
 the skull in the human skeleton ; but in some 
 fishes they are nearly entirely the same, and the 
 gradations in both, from a fish to man, are al- 
 most insensible. So also the similarity between 
 the ribs and either the lower jaw, on the one 
 
hand, or the collar-bone and blade-bone, or the 
 bones of the pelvis, on the other, is very obscure 
 in man, but very obvious in many of the lower 
 animals, as fishes and birds ; and, that between 
 the lower jaw and legs, which in man is ex- 
 ceedingly difficult to be detected, is perfectly ob- 
 vious in some invertebral animals, as the cray- 
 fish. Let us pause, then, before we deny that the 
 reputed analogies, which have been pointed out 
 between the several organs of the human body, 
 have any existence ; or, that the science which 
 investigates the laws which regulate these analo- 
 gies, is susceptible of any useful application. 
 
 But such analogy such unity of organiza- 
 tion is much more striking, when we come to 
 compare certain organs of one animal with the 
 corresponding organs of another ; the conviction 
 being now almost forced upon us, that the vis 
 plastica really operates according to certain fixed 
 rules, from which it does not, in any case, recede. 
 One of the best examples of this kind of analogy 
 is that which subsists in a certain class of organs, 
 as found in two individuals of the same species, 
 but of different sexes an analogy which seems to 
 have been noticed first by Aristotle, and to have 
 impressed upon him the first idea, which was 
 ever entertained, of a general unity of organic 
 structure. I am unwilling to prosecute this 
 subject at present ; but I may be permitted to 
 observe, before leaving it, that, in the embryo of 
 most animals, the organs above alluded to are 
 almost entirely the same, whichever is to be its 
 
. 43 
 
 future sex, and that at every period of life, there 
 is not, in either, any organ which is not obvious- 
 ly repeated in the other however apparently 
 useless it may be in one of them as if nature, 
 in conformity to a certain law, could not avoid 
 constructing both after the same model. And, 
 with respect to the analogies between certain 
 organs of the human body and the correspond- 
 ing orgaiis of the inferior tribes of animals, these 
 are so obvious, when we compare, for example, 
 the arm of a- man with the fore-leg of a quadru- 
 ped, the wing of a bird, the anterior extremity 
 of a reptile, or the thoracic fin of a fish in all 
 their parts, soft as well as hard that nobody 
 can refuse to assent to them. So far, a degree 
 of unity of organization is, and must be, uni- 
 versally admitted ; and, if we take almost any 
 other organ of man and the superior animals, it 
 would not be difficult to trace its prototype in 
 some corresponding organ in the very lowest 
 tribes. Thus man and quadrupeds birds and 
 reptiles have lungs but no gills ; while fishes, 
 on the contrary, have gills but no lungs : but all 
 the former had, at an early period of their de- 
 velopement, gills and no lungs ; and the lungs, 
 which even man at length acquires, are easily 
 traced through the fleshy lungs of birds, and 
 the membranous lungs of reptiles of serpents 
 in particular to the air-bladder of fishes, as 
 their prototype. Again, the mammalia and 
 birds have a double heart, and but few large 
 blood vessels immediately connected with it ; 
 
44 
 
 while reptiles and fishes, on the contrary, have a 
 single heart, with which numerous large arched 
 vessels are directly continuous ; but man himself 
 and, a fortiori, quadrupeds and birds had at 
 one stage of developement, as single a heart, 
 and as many arched vessels connected with it, 
 as the most insignificant reptile or fish, which 
 still furnishes them with their model. Further, 
 man has a highly complicated brain, while the 
 lower animals, on the contrary, have a brain 
 more and more simple, the farther they are from 
 the perfection of his organization ; but the 
 nucleus, as it were, of the brain of man and of 
 that of a fish, is still found to have been cast in 
 the same mould. What then is man, with his 
 fins, and his gills, and his air-bladder, his single 
 heart and branchial arches, and his undeveloped 
 brain, but a kind of fish better appointed in- 
 deed but still truly and fundamentally, as far 
 as the essential structure of his organs is con- 
 cerned, a kind of fish nay, what is a fish, in all 
 probability, but a better appointed zoophyte so 
 that man, proud man, has, in the distinctness 
 and splendour of his organization, really nothing 
 but what a polype has in confusion and obscuri- 
 ty ! The invisible germs of all animals are per- 
 haps essentially the same ; and even the visible 
 embryos of the most opposite tribes are often 
 quite indistinguishable from each other. The 
 foundation stones of all, if we may so express it, 
 are of the self-same number and form ; and upon 
 each of these is reared a superstructure, always 
 
4,5 
 
 of the same character, but higher or lower, ac- 
 cording to the rank which each individual heing 
 is to hold in the scale of creation. To each has 
 the Creator said, " Thus far shalt thou go, and 
 no farther." Of some the progress has been very 
 soon arrested ; to others a greater advancement 
 has been allowed ; while, in man, to so tower- 
 ing a height has he been permitted to proceed, 
 that he is tempted to deny his affinity with the 
 others, and to lose sight of the humble beginnings 
 on which all equally rest. But why should man, 
 in his arrogance, claim to himself a nature and 
 essential organization different from those of 
 even the lowest animated being ? The same 
 Divine hand, which has permitted him to build 
 so much higher than they upon the same foun- 
 dation, might have permitted perhaps has per- 
 mitted other beings to proceed infinitely farther 
 still ; so that to them, man is far, far more in- 
 significant and contemptible, than to him is the 
 veriest worm that crawls. May this view tend 
 to inspire us at once with humility and gratitude 
 with humility, in reflecting on the grovelling 
 nature to which we are so intimately allied ; and 
 with gratitude, in contemplating as well the com- 
 parative superiority which we have been allowed 
 to attain, even in this state of our existence, as 
 the Divine promise, which has in mercy been 
 extended to us, of a more exalted and better con- 
 dition in the world to come. 
 
 It remains still to say a few words concerning 
 
46 
 
 the several functions performed by organized be- 
 ings, and of the relations in which these stand 
 to each other. I have already alluded, while 
 speaking of the characteristic actions of ani- 
 mals, to those by which they renew their blood, 
 by assimilating to their own nature solid and 
 liquid substances received from without ; those 
 by which they circulate this blood ; those by 
 which they deposite from the blood the various 
 tissues and secreted fluids, in proportion as they 
 have been removed ; those by which they receive 
 again into the blood such tissues and fluids as 
 have become useless ; those by which they purify 
 the blood, as it becomes deteriorated in these 
 processes, by the reciprocal expulsion from it, 
 and reception into it, of certain aeriform mat- 
 ters ; and lastly, those by which they renew their 
 species. These include, as I remarked, the func- 
 tions of digestion, circulation, nutrition and se- 
 cretion, absorption, respiration and generation. 
 
 A function may be defined to be the proper 
 action of a living organ, or set of living organs, 
 conducive to some definite end in the animal 
 economy. It is therefore quite distinct from a 
 property, such as that of excitability, or a power ; 
 such as those which call excitability into action ; 
 since it signifies such properties and powers in 
 mutual co-operation. Every action of every in- 
 dividual organ of the animal body is its function, 
 and the due performance of this is the only end 
 of its existence ; but the functions, collectively 
 
47 
 
 considered, are commonly classified according to 
 the particular end to which more or fewer of 
 these actions are subservient, since they would 
 otherwise be altogether innumerable, and the 
 consideration of them would involve a series of 
 useless repetitions, and present an inextricable 
 chaos, without beginning or end. In this view, 
 therefore, we include, under the head of the 
 function of digestion, all the actions of the seve- 
 ral parts of the intestinal canal and its append- 
 ages, which are instrumental to the assimilation 
 of the food ; under that of the function of circu- 
 lation, all the actions of the heart, blood vessels, 
 and other parts, which are subservient to the 
 propulsion of the blood ; and, under that of the 
 function of respiration, all the actions of the 
 chest and its contents, which minister to the con- 
 version of venous into arterial blood, and many 
 other important ends. It is obvious, therefore, 
 that the number of the functions admitted into 
 any treatise on physiology is almost entirely ar- 
 bitrary each of those just mentioned including 
 perhaps twenty distinct functions of twenty dif- 
 ferent parts ; any one of which might have been 
 selected, if we had been so pleased, and treated 
 of as a separate function. But, if the enumera- 
 tion of the several functions be so indefinite, 
 their arrangement is hardly less so ; and accord- 
 ingly, not only very different heads of functions, 
 but very different arrangements of these heads 
 are to be met with in different authors. By the 
 Father of Medicine the sum of the functions of 
 
 H 
 
48 
 
 the living body were aptly compared to a circle, 
 in describing which we may begin at any point, 
 and set off in any direction we choose ; and there 
 is certainly no point at which we can begin, but 
 it requires a great deal of previous knowledge to 
 render it at all intelligible, and none which can 
 be in any degree exhausted, without involving 
 more or less, the consideration of almost every 
 other function of the body. One leading ground 
 of distinction, however, between the functions 
 is, that while some of them require only excita- 
 bility in general to be called into action, and are 
 carried on without the consciousness of the indi- 
 vidual, and not only independently of the will, 
 but even against the will, others require some 
 new properties superadded to general excitability, 
 such as sensibility and susceptibility of thought, 
 and are not only attended with consciousness, 
 but subject, in a great measure, to the control of 
 the will. The former of these have been called 
 collectively the organic functions, since they are 
 common, under some modification or other, to 
 all forms of organized beings vegetable as well 
 as animal and include all those to which I have 
 already alluded ; the latter have been called ani- 
 mal functions, since they have been presumed to 
 be characteristic of animals, and include sensa- 
 tion, thought, and voluntary motion. 
 
 Such then, is the ordinary general arrange- 
 ment of the functions of animals, founded on 
 presumed differences in their essential conditions, 
 the former class requiring, for their display, only 
 
49 
 
 a general property common to all living matter, 
 the latter, some specific properties in addition ; 
 but there is another, and perhaps a better foun- 
 dation for such an arrangement, in certain ge- 
 neral ends to which more or fewer of the several 
 functions independently of the individual end 
 to which each is subservient conjointly con- 
 duce. These general ends are three ; the ulti- 
 mate object of every function being either to 
 preserve the individual in a state of life and 
 health, to perpetuate its species, or to maintain 
 its relation with the external world ; and in this 
 view of the matter the functions have been ar- 
 ranged into the nutritive, the reproductive arid 
 the relative. Of these, the first head includes 
 digestion, circulation, nutrition and secretion, 
 absorption and respiration, all of which extend 
 no further than the individual, and have no 
 ulterior end; the second includes generation 
 alone, and is exercised for the sake, not of the 
 individual, but of the race ; and the third in- 
 cludes sensation, thought and voluntary motion, 
 and furnishes us with the only means which we 
 have of maintaining an intercourse with each 
 other, with nature, and with nature's God. It 
 will be observed that this arrangement does not 
 differ very materially from the preceeding in 
 fact, it leads to the same order of succession in 
 classifying the functions, but, as founded on less 
 questionable principles, and leading to a more 
 precise nomenclature, it appears to be infinitely 
 preferable to it. Further, it is the one best 
 
50 
 
 adapted continually to inculcate upon the mind 
 the main purposes of our existence, as living and 
 rational creatures ; and to lead us to observe, 
 while investigating the phenomena of each func- 
 tion, the admirable adaptation of the means to 
 the object, not only individual, but general, for 
 which this function was appointed, and to which, 
 in common with others, it conduces, as subser- 
 vient, directly or indirectly, to the great end of 
 our being. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 RELATIONS BETWEEN EXTERNAL NATURE AND THE 
 PHYSICAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 
 
 IN the examination of nature in her details, we 
 shall find innumerable instances of the adapta- 
 tions of means to ends, in matters so small, and 
 for purposes, minute indeed, but of such vital 
 importance, as are calculated to draw forth our 
 highest wonder and admiration ; but without at 
 this time entering on these, I shall content my- 
 self with making a few observations on the more 
 general adaptations of the external world to the 
 constitution of man the central point, as it 
 were, of corporeal existence, to which all others 
 are subordinate. 
 
 And, first, the size of the objects around him 
 is calculated to harmonize with the medium size 
 of man. Had his body been much less than the 
 average size, or considerably larger, both ex- 
 tremes would have been equally unfitting for the 
 due exercise of the physical faculties. 
 
 We have many fables of giants of prodigious 
 strength and altitude, but supposing such to exist, 
 it is highly probable that their bulk and weight, 
 in relation to our present laws of gravity, would 
 render them perfectly unwieldy and helpless. 
 
No part of the natural history of man has been 
 so disgraced by hyperbolical exaggeration as this 
 no authenticated instance being on record of a 
 man higher than eight or nine feet ; and, even 
 among the numerous instances of this kind, most 
 seem to have been the effects of disease ; in- 
 deed it is a general observation that very large 
 men are seldom distinguished by force or extent 
 of mental power. The size and dimensions of 
 the human figure, notwithstanding the fables of 
 antiquity, appear to have been much the same 
 in all ages of the world. That giants did for- 
 merly exist, is said by some to be proved by the 
 testimony of the Bible the book of truth the 
 holy word of God. But by the Hebrew words 
 nephilim, gibborum, enachim, rephayim, emim 
 and zumzuzim, which occur in Genesis, and 
 which in all versions have been rendered by the 
 term "giants," are probably meant in general, 
 persons of great knowledge, strength and courage, 
 and also wicked, savage and cruel men these 
 words having no relation to men of gigantic sta- 
 ture. 
 
 Og, king of Bashan, and Goliath, who is said 
 in the Book of Samuel to have been six cubits and 
 a palm high, have also been brought forward on 
 this subject. But the latter text may be easily 
 explained ; for it has been calculated that six 
 cubits and a palm is equal to about nine of our 
 feet. If that be the case, by deducting the height 
 of the helmet which Goliath wore, we shall find 
 him to have been about eight feet high, and con- 
 
53 
 
 sequently not surpassing in height some men in 
 modern days. I moreover may observe, that 
 some writers, upon other calculations, assign to 
 Goliath but seven feet. 
 
 With regard to Og, the passage which con- 
 cerns him is still less conclusive ; indeed the text 
 merely says that the dimensions of Og's bed were 
 nine cubits long and four wide ; and we know 
 that one of the greatest proofs of riches, and a 
 necessary concomitant of pomp and parade 
 among the Orientals, was a large and magnifi- 
 cently ornamented bed, without any relation to 
 the size of him who occupied it. 
 
 With respect to profane authority also, it was 
 the custom of the ancients to exhibit in the same 
 sculpture in bass relief, men of very different 
 dimensions making kings and conquerors gi- 
 gantic, while their subjects and vassals were re- 
 presented as only a fourth or fifth part of their 
 size. This must have given origin, among them, 
 to the fables of giants and pigmies ; while a be- 
 lief in such tales has been supported by the dis- 
 covery of gigantic bones, which, through ignor- 
 ance, have been received as human remains. 
 Such bones are now, however, well known not 
 to have belonged to man, but to extinct species 
 of animals, of the elephant and other allied kinds, 
 or whales ; thus, it is not long since the bones 
 of the fore fin of a whale were publicly shewn as 
 those of a giant's hand. 
 
 The same explanation applies to those pre- 
 tended skeletons of giants of twelve, twenty, and 
 
54 
 
 thirty cubits high, mentioned by Philostratus and 
 other ancient writers ; as, for example, the ske- 
 leton of forty-six cubits, which, according to 
 Pliny, was found in the cavity of a mountain in 
 Crete, upon its overthrow by an earthquake ; the 
 skeleton, sixty cubits high, which Strabo says was 
 found near Tangis in Mauritania, and supposed 
 to be that of Antaeus ; the skeleton of Asterias, 
 son of Anastes ten cubits ; and also that of Or- 
 estes, seven cubits, dug up by special command 
 of the oracle. 
 
 Against all these alleged proofs, however, of 
 the existence in former times of giants, it is suf- 
 ficient shortly to observe, that the Egyptian 
 mummies of three thousand years' standing, ex- 
 hibit no difference in stature from men of the 
 present day ; that most of the ancient sarcophagi 
 which have been preserved, are of the ordinary 
 size of modern coffins ; and, that we read that 
 the Emperor Augustus was considered by the 
 Romans as a person of middle stature, and his 
 height is recorded to have been five feet nine 
 inches of our measure. 
 
 The testimony also of some modern authors on 
 this subject is altogether vague and unworthy of 
 credit. Demaillet speaks of a giant whose hand 
 was four feet long ; and a celebrated traveller 
 tells us that the guards at the gates of the city of 
 Pekin are fifteen feet in height ! but a being of 
 this height, and muscular in proportion,, would 
 require a world of density different from ours be- 
 fore his strength could be available, and it is very 
 

 doubtful whether such a bulk is, under an; 
 cumstances, compatible with the agility, the de- 
 licacy of touch, and various other physical pro- 
 perties of man. 
 
 But suppose such a being as is here spoken of 
 to exist, and all things around to remain as at 
 present, how helpless and pitiable a mortal he 
 would be ! The tallest trees would be to him 
 but as shrubs ; the grass and herbs as microsco- 
 pic plants ; the few bullocks in a country would 
 scarcely suffice him for a season ; and, all other 
 animals of less size would be to him insignifi- 
 cant. 
 
 Suppose, on the other hand, man was of pigmy 
 stature a few inches only in height, how limited 
 would be his efforts ; how narrowed and circum- 
 cribed would even the greatest intellects be with 
 such deficient physical powers. A small brook 
 would be to him an impassable barrier ; rivers 
 and seas would interrupt for ever the tide of 
 commerce and the spread of knowledge ; wild 
 beasts would be dreaded as the greatest terrors ; 
 and, in every insignificant animal he would find 
 a formidable foe. 
 
 That dwarfs occasionally exist there is no 
 doubt ; but their existence is always to be re- 
 garded as a monstrosity. Such was the case 
 with the celebrated Jeffrey Hudson, the dwarf of 
 the Queen of Charles the First, who, when an 
 adult, was only eighteen inches high, and was 
 served up to table in a cold pie ! as also with 
 the dwarf named Lolkes, who was exhibited at 
 
 i 
 
56 
 
 Astley's Amphitheatre at London in 1790, and 
 whose height did not exceed twenty-seven inches. 
 But it is needless to proceed farther with this 
 subject ; the average size of man has probably 
 been in all ages, and in all countries, nearly the 
 same as at present ; and it is to this size of man 
 that the size of all the objects which surround 
 him seems to be best adapted. The admirable 
 fable of Gulliver at Lilliput, where he was a 
 giant, and at Brobdignag, where he was a pig- 
 my, beautifully illustrates the inconvenience and 
 dangers which would have encompassed man on 
 all sides, had his relative size been different from 
 what it is. 
 
 Then, as to the other circumstances of exter- 
 nal nature ; what is there even of her humblest 
 arrangements that we could omit or modify ? 
 The air which surrounds us is, in its chemical pro- 
 perties, precisely that which is adapted to sup- 
 port respiration ; and, in its mechanical proper- 
 ties, precisely that which is calculated, by its 
 pressure, to preserve the body in health and 
 vigour. If, instead of the two principles called 
 oxygen and nitrogen in certain definite propor- 
 tions, it had consisted of any other ingredients, 
 or even of these two in any other proportions, 
 death would in a short time have ensued had 
 the oxygen been in excess, from the stimulus 
 which it imparts being so violent as to produce 
 inflammation ; and, had the nitrogen been super- 
 abundant, from the inadequate supply of that 
 principle, on which the purification of the blood 
 
57 
 
 essentially depends. Again, had the density of 
 the air heen much greater or less than it is, the 
 energies of man would have been, on the one 
 hand, oppressed by it, as by an unnatural load, 
 and on the other, insufficiently sustained by it, 
 as by a defective support. We all feel more or 
 less of these effects on every sudden change in 
 the barometrical pressure, and, still more remark- 
 ably, on either descending below the water in a 
 diving-bell, when the air becomes preternatural- 
 ly dense, or ascending into the atmosphere in 
 an air-balloon, when it becomes preternaturally 
 rare ; and had either of these states been per- 
 manent, its effects on the human economy must 
 have been most prejudicial. Among other things, 
 the senses of both smell and hearing, both which 
 depend for their perfection on a medium density 
 of the air, would have been either insupportably 
 intense or defective. Further, with regard to 
 light the first of created things, and the crea- 
 tion of which is described in the most sublime 
 passages of written language this is precisely 
 such as is adapted, when reflected from the ob- 
 jects which surround us, to afford the proper 
 stimulus to the organ of vision ; and, even the 
 colours of the most common objects are those 
 which are most refreshing to the sense of sight. 
 The blue sky which surrounds us, could we, 
 with advantage, change in colour ? This colour, 
 which is owing to the thin watery vapours float- 
 ing in the atmosphere, and reflecting peculiar 
 rays of lights the blue and the violet, might 
 
58 
 
 appear at first sight as a matter of chance the 
 mere cast of a die. But suppose any other had 
 been reflected a bright yellow or dazzling white 
 a glaring red a fearful copper colour ; or, sup- 
 pose no reflection had taken place at all, but a 
 black dome had surrounded the whole earth, and 
 light had only become manifest when the eye re- 
 ceived it directly from the sun how uncomfort- 
 able such arrangements would have been for the 
 vision of man ! Of all the hues we could ima- 
 gine, is there any to surpass that mild and soft 
 etherial tint, harmonizing with all around us, 
 and on which the eye, fatigued with more bril- 
 liant and dazzling objects, turns for relief and 
 repose ? 
 
 It is the same with the green livery of the 
 earth. A single fiat of the Creator might have 
 made plants and herbs reflect any of the other 
 colours ; but what other colours could we sub- 
 stitute in preference ? It is remarkable, that 
 even in the art of the painter,, blue is a transpa- 
 rent colour, and green an opaque ; both are sub- 
 dued colours, but green would not have suited 
 the sky ; and blue, even if we could divest our- 
 selves of all previous associations, would have 
 been a cold and dismal garb for the groves and 
 plains. 
 
 Next, with respect to the succession of the 
 seasons ; some theorists, fancying they could have 
 produced a better arrangement of things, have 
 objected to the obliquity of the earth's axis, in 
 relation to the plane of its orbit round the sun. 
 
59 
 
 They have supposed that, if the axis had been 
 perpendicular to the plane of the orbit, and the 
 seasons had been thus uniform over all the earth, 
 the disagreeable vicissitudes of temperature to 
 which we are now exposed would have been 
 prevented. But this obliquity serves important 
 ends ; it tends to diffuse the influence of the 
 sun's rays over a larger portion of the globe than 
 could have taken place by any other arrange- 
 ment, and in this way extends, in a considerable 
 degree, the habitable surface of the earth. Had 
 the earth's axis been perpendicular, our climate 
 in Britain never could have been warmer than 
 the weather is at the vernal equinox. 
 
 It is true, a much less degree of external heat 
 than this might have answered fully the purpose 
 of sustaining the natural temperature of man ; 
 for, by a beautiful provision of nature, he is ca- 
 pable of maintaining the heat of his body at very 
 nearly the natural standard, under the most in- 
 tense extremes of either cold or heat as at 
 Hudson's Bay, where the thermometer sometimes 
 sinks to 50 degrees below zero, and at Poridi- 
 cherry, where it sometimes rises to 115 degrees 
 above it. But we must remember that, though 
 man is thus a native of every climate, every other 
 form of organized being vegetable as well as 
 animal has its own particular habitat, and re- 
 quires a certain definite temperature to bring it 
 to perfection ; and, as these are essential to the 
 well-being of man, had the particular succession 
 of seasons in which each of them thrives been 
 
60 
 
 altered, his comforts would have been abridged, 
 if, indeed, his existence had not been impossible. 
 
 But even the vicissitudes of the seasons have 
 their charm, independently of their utility. There 
 is a pleasing variety in the succession of spring, 
 and summer, and autumn, and winter, exciting 
 and keeping alive the perceptions of enjoyment 
 in the beauties of nature, which a dull and uni- 
 form course, even of the finest weather, would 
 ultimately fail to produce. It is highly probable, 
 too, that the change of temperature continually 
 taking place, influences the currents of the at- 
 mosphere, and tends to accumulate and diffuse 
 the necessary moisture over every region. 
 
 I must not omit to notice, in connection with 
 the subject of external heat, that the dark colour 
 of the skin of man, in the countries where this is 
 considerable, seems to be for the beneficent pur- 
 pose of tempering its effects on his constitution. 
 At first view it would appear that a dark skin 
 would rather increase than diminish these effects, 
 since dark colours absorb heat more readily than 
 light ones ; but we must remember that, though 
 the extreme of heat is sometimes greater, as I 
 have just observed, in these countries, than the 
 heat of the human body, the average heat is 
 generally considerably less, and dark colours, if 
 they absorb heat, so they also radiate heat bet- 
 ter than light ones ; more heat is thus, under 
 ordinary circumstances, given off from the body, 
 owing to the darkness of its complexion, than is 
 received into it. The average heat at Calcutta, 
 
61 
 
 for example, is only about 76 degrees, while that 
 of the human body is 98 degrees ; and, as heat 
 always tends towards an equilibrium, it is obvious 
 that, as its general course, in this place, is from 
 the body to the atmosphere, such a surface as 
 favours its radiation will be a means of keeping 
 the body comfortably cool. 
 
 And what, too, do we not owe to the irregula- 
 rities of the earth's surface, the lofty mountains 
 and the sloping vallies ? Imagine the sameness, 
 and the dullness, and the want of interest that 
 would have accompanied a still and level flat, 
 had it existed in place of the beautiful undulat- 
 ing valley, the abrupt and rocky precipice, the 
 extended plain, the distant and majestic moun- 
 tain. Had such a disposition been the case, 
 whence would have come our constant and in- 
 dispensible supply of spring water ? The little 
 rain that fell would speedily have found its way 
 back to its mother ocean, leaving us little better 
 off than the wanderer among the arid deserts of 
 Arabia, unprovided for, and perishing from thirst 
 and want of almost every kind. All the springs 
 and wells in the world consist merely of rain 
 water which has sunk into the bowels of the 
 earth, again appearing, or gradually escaping, at 
 lower places ; and it is to the irregularity of the 
 mountains, and to the porous and rocky caverns 
 of the earth, that we are indebted for the faci- 
 lity with which water passes upwards and down- 
 wards through their various curvatures and levels. 
 After wandering long, and filtering through soils 
 
62 
 
 calculated to remove its impurities, it flows from 
 out some aperture, a grateful and necessary gift 
 to man, and, perhaps, gives rise to, or unites 
 with other streams to form one grand majestic 
 river, contributing with a liberal hand to spread 
 along its course the beauty and fertility which 
 adorn the surface of the earth. 
 
 Again, the proportionate abundance of veget- 
 able and animal productions, respectively in hot 
 and cold climates, is further in conformity with 
 the necessities and comforts of man, as inhabit- 
 ing such districts. It is well known that man 
 thrives best in hot countries, on a great propor- 
 tion of vegetable food ; and here, accordingly, 
 fruits and herbs of every description abound ; 
 whereas, in cold countries, the body requires 
 more substantial and stimulating aliment, and it 
 is here that flocks and herds are more prolific. 
 Further, in the relative bulk of animals in re- 
 spect to man, we find another wise provision in 
 the adaptation of nature. Had animals been 
 much larger, they would also have been more 
 unmanageable, and had they been smaller, they 
 would have proved but of little use ; and here 
 some curious speculations might present them- 
 selves, were we to consider the prodigious size of 
 many of the aritidiluvian animals, the remains of 
 which have been preserved in the earth's strata. 
 These seem to -have been formed, and to have 
 inhabited the earth before man had yet multi- 
 plied to people it ; because, in the first place, 
 among all these remains of animals no human 
 
63 
 
 bones have been found ; and, secondly, did there 
 exist in the present day so many species of huge 
 animals of carnivorous propensities, that power 
 and command which the human race holds over 
 the inferior creation might be disputed. 
 
 It is curious that skeletons of the hyaena, the 
 hippopotamus, the rhinoceros, and the elephant, 
 have been frequently discovered in Britain and 
 in most parts of Europe, in countries and cli- 
 mates where no animals of these kinds were ever 
 known in a living state, and in which the known 
 species, inhabitants of the torrid zone, would be 
 speedily destroyed ; demonstrating that particu- 
 lar animals have existed in countries where they 
 are now unknown ; and, moreover, that certain 
 animals have also lived on the earth's surface, 
 belonging to species, and even to genera, entire- 
 ly new to us. Of this description is the celebra- 
 ted mammoth, a huge monster somewhat similar 
 to the elephant, but specifically distinguishable 
 both from that of Asia and Africa, discovered 
 enveloped in an ice-berg in Siberia, in 1799. 
 The whole animal, as described by Mr. Adams in 
 1806, was in perfect preservation, with the flesh, 
 skin, and long black hair, with which, unlike the 
 elephants of tropical climates, it was covered. A 
 very singular skeleton of an animal, now quite 
 unknown to exist, was lately found in Germany, 
 and another very extraordinary one, and of an 
 immense size, was not long since dug from the 
 alluvial soil of Buenos Ayres. It is almost ap- 
 palling to contemplate the fearful convulsions 
 
 K 
 
64 
 
 that must have taken place to annihilate so many 
 species, but it is thus we see, that even the most 
 tremendous catastrophes of our planet may have 
 been active agents for bringing about the most 
 important results. 
 
 In every thing, then, in the relative size of 
 the objects which surround us ; in the character 
 of our atmosphere ; in the degree of light which 
 pervades it, and, even in the prevailing colour of 
 the most familiar objects ; in the harmonious suc- 
 cession of the seasons, and the degree of heat to 
 which we are exposed ; in the supply every where 
 of the most appropriate kinds of aliment; in the 
 inequalities of the earth's surface, and, even in 
 the obliteration of beings which would have been 
 prejudicial to man has the great Creator con- 
 sulted the comfort and happiness of the human 
 species ; leaving nothing wanting to fill up our 
 measure of gratitude to Him, who has so far 
 exalted us above the other works of His hands. 
 
65 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 STRUCTURE OF ANIMALS AS ADAPTED TO THEIR 
 MODES OF LIFE* 
 
 Organs of Mastication, Digestion, Circulation 
 of the Blood, and Respiration. 
 
 I HAVE already shortly alluded to some of the dif- 
 ferences in the functions which animals perform ; 
 and, I now proceed, in this and the following 
 chapter, to endeavour to show how admirably 
 the several organs, engaged in the performance 
 of these functions, are respectively adapted to 
 the end in view. In a sketch of this nature, it is 
 manifestly impossible to do more than call atten- 
 tion to a few of the most prominent features of 
 the subject ; but, from even one or two instances 
 of obvious design, we may draw inferences as 
 certain of the wisdom and the goodness of the 
 great Creator, as from thousands ; and hundreds 
 of thousands would be inadequate to impress us, 
 with more than a faint idea, of the stupendous 
 extent to which this wisdom and this goodness 
 are displayed in the animal creation. 
 
 In pointing out a few of the different relations 
 of the structure and functions of animals to their 
 
66 
 
 appointed modes of life, I shall begin with the 
 zoophytes and worms of Linnaeus, and then pro- 
 ceed, in order, through insects, fishes, reptiles, 
 birds and mammiferous animals ; making a few 
 remarks, first, on the organs of each adapted to 
 taking and chewing their food, and to digestion, 
 the circulation of the blood, and respiration ; 
 afterwards passing on to those by which the 
 several functions of smelling, seeing, hearing, 
 tasting and touching are performed, and by 
 which they are enabled to move from place to 
 place. 
 
 In the simplest orders of animals, food is taken 
 by mere imbibition, or suction, without any dis- 
 tinct organ specifically adapted to the purpose. 
 They absorb their nutriment, sometimes without 
 any evident aperture, and sometimes by several 
 such apertures ; and not unfrequently the intes- 
 tinal canal if it may be so called of many 
 individuals communicate together, so as to con- 
 stitute, in fact, but a single animal. Such ani- 
 mals are really so closely allied, both in their 
 appearance and functions, to vegetables, that the 
 line of demarcation between them is not easily 
 defined ; and, fixed as they are, like plants to 
 the soil, or other matters from which they imme- 
 diately and constantly derive their nourishment, 
 any other organs but those of mere imbibition, 
 would have been superfluous to them. But all 
 animals that are unattached to the substances 
 from which they derive their aliment, arid arc 
 
67 
 
 continually changing their situation, must pos- 
 sess distinct organs for seizing and preparing 
 this aliment ; and, hence the necessity in these, 
 more or less constantly, for lips, in some one or 
 other of their numerous modifications ; for cer- 
 tain glands, placed about the mouth, to furnish 
 a fluid by which the dry alimentary matters are 
 lubricated ; for a tongue, or some analogous or- 
 gan ; and, lastly, for jaws and teeth, by which 
 such matters, when hard, are broken down, and 
 reduced to a condition for swallowing. In quite 
 the lowest orders, however, even of these, the 
 mouth and stomach are almost one continuous 
 cavity, the parts of which are indistinguishable 
 from each other ; but, as we advance a little in 
 the scale, the parts become sufficiently obvious, 
 and the office of each is clearly defined. Thus, 
 among the Testacea, the snail has a very perfectly 
 formed mouth, and, in front of it, regular lips, 
 reflected so as to form a small canal within the 
 mouth ; while, in the wared whelk, the lips are 
 elongated into a proboscis, adapted for suction, 
 and capable of being retracted at the pleasure of 
 the animal. Among the Mollusca, the cuttle has 
 a circular fleshy lip, embracing a kind of beak, 
 like that of a parrot ; and the leech one fleshy 
 lip, the orifice of which is triangular, and fur- 
 nished with sharp edges falsely called teeth by 
 which it is enabled to penetrate the skin of ani- 
 mals, preparatory to sucking their blood : its 
 method of sucking is by dilating a large fleshy 
 pouch, called a pharynx, at the back part of the 
 
68 
 
 mouth, and thus forming a vacuum. Proper 
 glands also, called salivary, for furnishing a lu- 
 bricating fluid, are found in some of these, as 
 the snail and cuttle, the latter of which has two 
 distinct pairs, but they are not met with in the 
 leech, for an obvious reason. With respect to 
 the tongue, in the greater number of the lower 
 tribes of animals, its place is supplied by palpi, or 
 tentacula, placed around their mouth ; but some, 
 as the snail and the wared whelk, have this or- 
 gan very distinct the first on the floor of its 
 mouth, and the second within its proboscis and 
 in both it is beset with prickles or hooks, appa- 
 rently for retaining the food ; the cuttle also has 
 a tongue of a cartilaginous consistence, and with 
 very little motion. A kind of horny upper jaw, 
 likewise, with several teeth, is met with in the 
 snail, while, in the cuttle, the place of both seems 
 to be supplied by the horny beak already spoken 
 of. The most perfectly formed jaw met with in 
 this tribe of animals, is that of the sea-urchin, in 
 which it constitutes a strong, bony frame-work, 
 commonly known by the name of Aristotle's Lan- 
 tern, surrounding the mouth, and consisting of 
 five pieces, each containing a tooth, which is 
 moved by muscles. Some of this tribe of ani- 
 mals have distinct teeth, without any proper 
 jaws, as the star-fish and sea-anemone, in which 
 they beset the orifice of the mouth, and the sea- 
 mouse, where they are placed on the proboscis. 
 
 Of the apterous insects, the cray-fish has a 
 
69 
 
 triangular mouth, as well as the leech, with a pro- 
 jecting fleshy upper lip, but no lower one ; and 
 somewhat similar are these parts in the spider. 
 In the scorpion, on the contrary, and in insects 
 in general, it is a long process of the lower lip 
 which is usually called the tongue. In the buzz- 
 fly, hornet-fly, gnat, mosquito, house-fly, &c., as 
 well as in dipterous insects in general, the lips, 
 like those of the wared whelk, are prolonged 
 into a proboscis, containing a sucking-tube or 
 tongue, and sometimes several penetrating points 
 in addition. Insects are without proper salivary 
 glands ; but, somewhat analogous to these al- 
 though for a very different purpose are the 
 venom-bags of several tribes, as the centipede 
 and the spider ; in the latter of which there is 
 placed upon the bag a hollow tooth, which, press- 
 ing upon the bag in the act of penetrating their 
 prey, at once forces out a portion of the venom, 
 and conducts it into the wound. All kinds of 
 spiders appear to feed on animals alone, as upon 
 other insects and very small birds, as the hum- 
 ming bird ; and hence the advantage to them 
 of this apparatus. The story of the bite of one 
 kind of spider the tarantula producing in man 
 a kind of St. Vitus' dance, which is curable only 
 by music, is probably fabulous-; but, that it occa- 
 sions sometimes a very severe inflammation of 
 the skin, is abundantly certain; and that of the 
 centipede is not unfrequently fatal. It is upon 
 precisely the same principle that many plants, 
 as the common stinging-nettle, produce their 
 
70 
 
 troublesome effects when applied to the human 
 skin ; and the deadly venom of the rattle-snake, 
 or cobra-da-capello, is collected arid introduced 
 into a wound in a similar manner. In the cray- 
 fish, and insects in general, the place of a tongue 
 is supplied by the tentacula which surround the 
 mouth, what is commonly called their tongue, be- 
 ing only, as I have before remarked, a prolonga- 
 tion of the lower lip. In those insects, however, 
 the lips of which are prolonged in the form of a 
 proboscis, the tongue is a kind of sucking tube, 
 contained within it ; while in the bee, the tongue 
 is rolled into a sucking cylinder, within the 
 elongated jaws. The structure of the jaws is in 
 some insects very perfect, particularly in the cray- 
 fish, in which they are divided into two mandi- 
 bles, analogous to grinding teeth, and six pairs of 
 proper jaws, moving from side to side, and not 
 upwards and downwards, as in most other ani- 
 mals. Similar, in this respect, to the cray-fish is 
 the scorpion and the spider ; while the beetle is 
 intermediate, as it were, between these and the 
 more perfect insects, which feed chiefly on juices, 
 and take their food by suction. The larvae of 
 insects in general, however, or these animals in 
 their rudimental state, are commonly furnished 
 with very powerful jaws. 
 
 Of the vertebral animals, the lips of some 
 fishes, as the sturgeon and the lamprey, are very 
 similar to those of some worms ; and their suck- 
 ing power is so great, that the lamprey may be 
 
71 
 
 raised out of the water with a stone of ten or 
 twelve pounds weight attached to them. Sali- 
 vary glands appear to be altogether wanting in 
 fishes, their office being abundantly supplied by 
 the element in which these animals live ; and 
 some of them, as the flying-fish and the gar-pike, 
 have no tongue ; while others, as the common 
 pike, a most voracious animal, the perch and the 
 conger eel, have this organ extremely large. It 
 seems in general but little adapted to tasting, 
 being generally in fishes, as in the cuttle, of a car- 
 tilaginous consistence, as well as covered fre- 
 quently with prickles, which have now assumed 
 the appearance of regular teeth ; it is supported 
 on an osseous circle, a part of the branchial, or 
 respiratory apparatus. The lower jaw, which 
 alone in most fishes is moveable, consists, gener- 
 ally, of two lateral portions, only partially united 
 together at the part corresponding to the chin ; 
 but in the lamprey it is consolidated into an im- 
 moveable ring, supporting the singular funnel- 
 shaped lip already spoken of. In some fishes, 
 as in the carp, the upper jaw is moveable as well 
 as the lower ; and when this is the case, there is 
 a proper elastic ligament for raising, and a proper 
 muscle for depressing it : the mouth is thus kept 
 constantly open without any effort, whereas an 
 effort is required for closing it ; and how beauti- 
 fully this structure is adapted to animals living 
 in an element which furnishes them, for the 
 most part spontaneously, with their prey, must 
 be sufficiently apparent. The teeth of most 
 
72 
 
 fishes are formed rather in the soft parts of the 
 mouth, than in the jaws ; but those of the rays 
 and sharks agree with those of higher classes of 
 animals in being formed in the jaws alone, 
 which are furnished with several rows of them. 
 They are in these animals of a triangular shape ; 
 but in the majority of fishes, more or less hook- 
 ed ; and in all they are calculated rather for 
 lacerating and holding, than for chewing their 
 food a structure well adapted to the kind of 
 food on which they subsist, and to the nature of 
 their digestive process. 
 
 The lips of reptiles have nothing remarkable 
 in their structure ; and the frogs and turtles, for 
 the same reason as fishes, are destitute of sali- 
 vary glands. Many serpents, however, as the 
 rattle-snake, and the cobra-da-capello, arid some 
 kinds of boa, have glands somewhat analogous to 
 them, for the secretion of their venom, situated 
 behind and below the orbits of their eyes, and 
 compressed by proper muscles, so as to squeeze 
 the venom through the hollow tusks which are 
 placed in front of the upper jaw, and serve as 
 ducts for the glands in question. A similar struc- 
 ture, as we have seen, is met with in some venom- 
 ous insects, as the spider. With respect to the 
 tongue of reptiles, it is short, and fixed to the floor 
 of the mouth in frogs, salamanders and tortoises ; 
 while in serpents, on the contrary, it is exceed- 
 ingly long and moveable, being enclosed, when 
 retracted, in a proper sheath formed by the re- 
 flected membrane of the mouth ; in most reptiles 
 
73 
 
 , the tongue is cloven at its extremity. The 
 tongue of the chameleon, among lizards, is enor- 
 mously long, of a cylindrical form, and suscepti- 
 ble of a kind of vermiform motion ; and it is by 
 this organ principally that the animal supplies 
 itself with aliment, the insects on which it feeds 
 becoming gradually collected on the long slimy 
 tongue, as it hangs out of the mouth, and fur- 
 nishing a full repast on the mere retraction of 
 this organ. From this circumstance, in conjunc- 
 tion, probably, with the fact, that the chameleon 
 can, by inflating its lungs, distend its body to an 
 extraordinary degree, has originated the fable of 
 its living on air. The jaws of reptiles, in gene- 
 ral, are similar to those of most fishes; and in 
 the venomous serpents, the upper jaw, like that 
 of the carp, is moveable as well as the lower, 
 apparently for the purpose of enabling the fangs 
 to act with greater certainty. The teeth of rep- 
 tiles also agree, for the most part, with those of 
 fishes, being commonly pointed and hooked, and 
 adapted, less for chewing, than for lacerating and 
 retaining their food. All serpents have two rows 
 of these in their palate ; and, besides these, the 
 harmless serpents have two rows in each jaw, 
 while the venomous have only one row in the 
 upper jaw, in addition to the two long fangs al- 
 ready spoken of; this circumstance furnishes 
 one important means of distinguishing them 
 Tortoises are destitute of proper teeth, their 
 place being supplied by a rough horny plate, 
 with which the jaws are covered, and which is 
 
74 
 
 calculated for grinding, but not for lacerating 
 their food. In every respect, then, the structure 
 of these parts in reptiles is adapted to the parti- 
 cular habits of each tribe, and might almost have 
 been anticipated, from a knowledge of these 
 habits. 
 
 We come next to birds. This class of animals 
 has neither lips nor teeth, the place of both be- 
 ing supplied by their horny bill, which, in some 
 kinds, as the goose, duck, falcon, &c. is furnished 
 with little tooth-like projections, for the purpose 
 of assisting its actions. The salivary glands are 
 much larger in the herbivorous than in the car- 
 nivarous birds ; the food on which the former 
 subsist requiring, apparently, more lubrication. 
 The tongue of birds is of various characters j 
 being in some, as the humming-bird, which takes 
 its food by suction, tube-shaped, like that of the 
 bee ; in others, as the woodpecker, which trans- 
 fixes its prey by this organ, cylindrical, like that 
 of the chameleon ; and in others, as the parrot, 
 who uses the tongue only in the ordinary way, 
 flat, like that of most mammiferous animals. Its 
 consistence is sometimes cartilaginous, like that 
 of fishes ; and sometimes fleshy, like that of 
 frogs. In the rapacious birds, it is often, like 
 that of serpents, cloven ; and in thrushes and 
 starlings it is fringed at the point ; it is very ge- 
 nerally furnished with prickles, and in the tou- 
 can, it is even beset with feathers. The jaws of 
 birds offer nothing remarkable, except that the 
 
75 
 
 upper jaw, as well as the lower, is very com- 
 monly moveable, like that of the carp and the 
 venomous serpents. 
 
 The lips of quadrupeds are, for the most part, 
 less fleshy and prominent than those of man ; 
 and, in many of them, the upper lip has a fissure 
 extending to the nose. As in birds, so also in 
 quadrupeds, the herbivorous have larger salivary 
 glands than the carnivorous ; but these organs 
 are quite wanting in the Cetacea, which, living 
 constantly in water, have no more need of them 
 than fishes, in which also, as we have already 
 seen, they are wanting. The tongue of the ce- 
 taceous tribes, likewise, is more like that of fishes 
 than quadrupeds, being almost of a cartilaginous 
 consistence ; whereas, that of the latter is in ge- 
 neral soft and fleshy. It is usually flat ; but in 
 some, as the ant-eater, long and cylindrical, and 
 thus well adapted to collecting the insects on 
 which the animal subsists, almost in the same 
 way as that of the chameleon. Some quadrupeds, 
 as the cameleopard, use their tongue in the man- 
 ner of a hand, in bringing down the young 
 branches of trees, in cleaning out their nostrils, 
 and so forth ; and in these it is susceptible of a 
 very great variety of motions. In the dromedary, 
 and, still more remarkably, in the seal, the tongue 
 is slightly cloven : it is fringed in the opossum, 
 and, in most of the Feree, beset with prickles, 
 and sometimes even, as in one kind of bat, with 
 scales. What is called the worm of the tongue 
 in many carnivorous quadrupeds, particularly the 
 
76 
 
 dog, is nothing more than a long elastic ligament 
 under the tongue, corresponding to the lingual 
 cartilage of some of the inferior classes. 
 
 The most remarkable feature in the lower jaw 
 of quadrupeds is, the different character of the 
 moveable joint in the herbivorous and carnivo- 
 rous ; in the former of which it is calculated to 
 admit of motion chiefly from side to side, and in 
 the latter, chiefly upwards and downwards ; of 
 the muscles which move it also, those which act 
 in the lateral direction are strongest in the her- 
 biverous quadrupeds, while those which act 
 in the perpendicular direction are strongest in 
 the carnivorous. If we observe the motions of 
 the lower jaw, respectively in a sheep and in a 
 dog, while engaged in chewing their food, we 
 shall at once perceive these differences ; and 
 a knowledge of the anatomy of each directly 
 displays to us how admirably the structure of 
 the several parts is adapted to produce, on the 
 one hand the grinding, and on the other, the 
 crunching motion, which a herbivorous arid 
 carnivorous animal respectively requires. The 
 general form of the lower jaw, likewise, dif- 
 fers very materially in the two ; being much 
 more elongated generally in the former than in 
 the latter, to admit of the insertion of the nu- 
 merous broad flat teeth which this grinding pro- 
 cess demands. If the lower jaw of herbivorous 
 and carnivorous quadrupeds differ so much from 
 each other, the differences in the teeth of each 
 are still more remarkable, arid still more iridica- 
 
77 
 
 live of design in their peculiar formation. Thus, 
 while the front teeth of the former have uniform- 
 ly broad cutting edges, which, meeting like the 
 blades of a pair of pincers, are precisely adapted 
 to nipping off the herbs on which they feed, the 
 back teeth are, as I have just observed, equally 
 adapted to grinding these herbs, and reducing 
 them to a pulp, the copious flow of saliva in the 
 mean time contributing to the same end. In 
 carnivorous quadrupeds, on the contrary, both 
 the front and back teeth are more or less point- 
 ed ; and, while they are obviously incompetent 
 either to bite off blades of grass or other herbs 
 on which the graminivorous tribes subsist, or to 
 grind them to a pulp if bitten off, are excellently 
 calculated, the former to seize, and the latter, to 
 rend and tear the flesh of other animals, which, 
 being in general already more moist than herbs, 
 requires a less copious admixture of saliva to re- 
 duce it to the requisite consistence. 
 
 We come next to the principal organs, which 
 are subservient to the digestion of the food in 
 the several tribes of animals. 
 
 By this process, the crude alimentary matters 
 taken by the mouth, which are, in their original 
 state, quite unfit to be received into the blood- 
 vessels, undergo important changes, and are 
 adapted to be converted ultimately into blood. 
 The simplest form of digestive organs in animals, 
 appears to be that by which alimentary matters, 
 having been absorbed by the surface, undergo 
 
78 
 
 the requisite changes equally in every point of 
 the body, no specific apparatus being appropri- 
 ated to the purpose. Such is the case with most 
 of the zoophytes ; and it is very remarkable, 
 that many of those which present a purse-like 
 appearance may be turned inside-out, without 
 making any material difference in their powers 
 of effecting these changes. They may be repre- 
 sented, if we please, as all stomach, or as having 
 no stomach at all ; for we may call the whole body 
 stomach, if we will, but we must at the same 
 time allow that they have no stomach, properly 
 so called. Such an animal has been defined by 
 Cuvier, a sentient self-moving sac, capable of 
 digesting food. As we ascend, however, in the 
 scale of animals, a specific organ becomes appro- 
 priated to every different function ; and hence 
 the necessity, in all but the very lowest classes, 
 of a gullet for swallowing the food ; of a stomach 
 for retaining it, till it has undergone the first step 
 of those changes to which it is to be subjected ; 
 of an intestinal canal for perfecting those changes, 
 and for transmitting it so changed to the circu- 
 lating vessels ; and of a liver, and some other 
 similar organs, for assisting, more or less essen- 
 tially, in these operations. The simplest modifi- 
 cation of a distinct digestive apparatus is to be 
 met with, among the zoophytes, in the wheel- 
 animal, in which there is a distinct membranous 
 sac for the reception of the aliment ; and a simi- 
 lar structure occurs in some kinds of sponge, in 
 the sea-blubber, and in the sea-anemone. ' In the 
 
79 
 
 sea-blubber, for example, there is, on the lower 
 surface of the body, a simple aperture or mouth, 
 leading by four passages into the same number 
 of sacs or stomachs, which are not so much 
 formed by a distinct membrane, as scooped out 
 of the gelatinous substance of the body ; they 
 are, nevertheless, capable of digesting the small 
 prickly fishes on which these animals subsist, as 
 well as other substances apparently easily capable 
 of resisting their action. But a more perfect 
 modification of digestive apparatus is most com- 
 mon, not only in the higher classes of animals, 
 but even in worms and insects. Thus, among 
 the Crustacea, the sea-urchin has the gullet, sto- 
 mach and intestinal canal quite distinct from 
 each other ; and this is still more obvious in 
 some of the Testacea, as in one kind of snail, in 
 which there is found besides a very large liver, 
 a proper membrane, enclosing all these parts, as 
 in the higher classes of animals, and called peri- 
 toneum. The same is the case, among the mol- 
 luscous animals, in the cuttle, in which the gullet 
 expands into a kind of craw or crop, similar to 
 what is met with in some birds, and the stomach 
 also is firm and fleshy like a gizzard. A similar 
 crop and gizzard also are met with in some other 
 animals of this tribe, as in the earth worm, in 
 which the latter is often found to contain little 
 pieces of earthy matter, which the animal seems 
 to swallow as some kinds of birds are known 
 to do for the purpose of assisting the attrition 
 of the food. In so far they perform the office of 
 
 M 
 
teeth ; and it is a beautiful illustration of the 
 various means by which nature sometimes at- 
 tains the same end, that to some similar animals, 
 as the great marine worm, she has given actual 
 teeth, situated in both the stomach and gullet, for 
 this purpose. The stomach of the cuttle is fur- 
 nished also with a spiral-shaped appendage, into 
 which the bile is discharged from the liver. What 
 is called the ink of the cuttle, generally, but erro- 
 neously, supposed to be the bile of the animal, 
 arid the chief ingredient, probably, in the com- 
 mon paint called Indian or China ink, is the 
 product of a little pouch in the course of the in- 
 testinal canal, and of use in staining the water, 
 and thus concealing the animal, when about to 
 be preyed upon without any means of defence. 
 With how obvious a design here, has nature 
 compensated to the cuttle for the want of those 
 prickles with which she has defended the surface 
 of the sea-urchin ! 
 
 The digestive apparatus of the leech is re- 
 markable, principally, for a strong fleshy pharynx, 
 or bag immediately behind the mouth, which, as 
 I have already said, is its chief instrument in 
 sucking the blood of other animals, and the long 
 and capacious stomach, which is divided into se- 
 veral large cells, communicating with each other 
 by oval apertures. It is through these that the 
 blood is forced back again, when the voracious 
 creature is made to regorge its disgusting meal. 
 
 In insects, the structure of the digestive appa- 
 ratus is in general still more perfect than in the 
 
81 
 
 preceding class. In the cray-fish the gullet is 
 very short, expanding almost immediately into a 
 large membranous stomach, which is situated 
 above the liver, and distinguished by being sup- 
 ported externally by a very peculiar bony frame- 
 work, consisting of five pieces, and by contain- 
 ing internally, three large and two small teeth, 
 surrounding the orifice which leads to the intes- 
 tines. These parts are regenerated, like the 
 shell of the animal, every year ; and it is about 
 the period of this regeneration that certain round, 
 earthy matters, used in medicine under the im- 
 proper name of crab's eyes, are also met with in 
 the stomach, their use being probably to co-ope- 
 rate with the teeth, at this period, in grinding 
 the food. Similar teeth are met with also in 
 the stomachs, or rather gizzards, of some kinds 
 of grasshopper and beetle. The scorpion has a 
 short gullet, and a long cylindrical stomach, 
 which receives, at its lower part, the biliary ves- 
 sels ; while, near the lower part of the intestinal 
 canal, is situated its venom-bag, in a depression 
 in the last segment of the body ; on this is fixed 
 the horny sting, an aperture in the point of 
 which gives exit to the poison, in the same man- 
 ner as the perforated teeth of the spider and other 
 animals, the bite of which is poisonous, conduct 
 their venom. In the bee, the gullet and stomach 
 are each very short and straight, but the former 
 is dilated into a kind of crop, in which, appa- 
 rently, the honey is prepared, and from which it 
 
as 
 
 is afterwards ejected into the honey-comb ; while 
 in the latter is formed the wax, which, exuding 
 through the rings on the fore part of the body, 
 becomes collected in a depression on the thighs ; 
 the venom apparatus is analogous, both in its 
 situation and structure, to that of the scorpion. 
 In other insects, the several parts of the diges- 
 tive apparatus are little more than a repetition of 
 these ; but I must not omit to remark that, all 
 these parts are, in general, smaller and less com- 
 plicated in the carnivorous than in the herbivor- 
 ous tribes, apparently from the matters on which 
 the former subsist being already animalyzed, arid 
 requiring, therefore, less preparation before they 
 are received into the blood. It is worthy of at- 
 tention also, that, while the insect is in a state 
 of larva or caterpillar, the stomach is much larger 
 than it is afterwards, most probably because a 
 greater supply of nourishment is now required 
 for its full development. In this state, accord- 
 ingly, they are very voracious, and their digestion 
 is proportionally quick ; it having been com- 
 puted that they sometimes devour and digest no 
 less than three times their own weight of aliment 
 in four and twenty hours ! On the other hand, 
 during the subsequent metamorphoses which the 
 animal undergoes, no food is taken ; but nature 
 has beautifully provided against any necessity 
 for this, by causing insects to become very fat, 
 as observed by Malpighi, on the approach of 
 these changes, so that this fat being absorbed 
 
83 
 
 into the blood while these are going on, serves 
 all the purposes of a supply of alimentary mat- 
 ters from without. 
 
 Let us proceed, next, to the vertebral animals. 
 In many fishes the gullet is enormously wide ; 
 and in some it is furnished, like the tongue, and 
 some other parts of the mouth, with regular 
 teeth. In the myxine there are numerous open- 
 ings from the gullet into the respiratory bags, 
 which lie on each side of it ; and, in the greater 
 number of fishes, this canal opens into the air- 
 bladder, a long narrow sac running down the 
 body, close to the spine, and serving the purpose 
 chiefly of enabling the animal to rise in the wa- 
 ter, which it effects by inflating, at will, this sac 
 with air. In some fishes, as in the sea-devil, the 
 stomach is divided by a transverse constriction 
 into two portions ; but these divisions are still 
 more remarkable in the shark, in which the right 
 portion of the stomach is almost entirely distinct 
 from the left, and assumes nearly the form of an 
 intestine. In most fishes, the stomach is of that 
 kind called membranous ; but in a few, as the 
 trout and mullet, it is of a fleshy, and almost 
 cartilaginous consistence, like the gizzards of 
 fowls, and so hard as to break the shells of those 
 animals on which these fishes subsist. The in- 
 testinal canal of fishes is distinguished principally 
 by the spiral or serpentine direction of the nu- 
 merous plaits into which the internal membrane 
 of it is folded ; and which are believed, by de- 
 taining the alimentary matters in their passage 
 
onwards, to enable fishes to endure, without in- 
 convenience, the long abstinence to which they 
 are sometimes subjected. The perch, according 
 to Sir Everard Home, takes food only once a 
 fortnight. The liver is in general very large in 
 fishes ; but many of them, as the perch, the lam- 
 prey and the lump, have no gall-bladder, or dis- 
 tinct receptacle of bile, before it is carried from 
 the liver to the intestines. The whole intestinal 
 canal is, in general, much shorter in fishes than 
 in other animals, being sometimes not longer 
 than their body ; whereas, in most reptiles, ex- 
 cept serpents, in birds and in quadrupeds, it is 
 from three to thirty times that length a provi- 
 sion unnecessary in fishes, perhaps from the mat- 
 ters on which they for the most part subsist being 
 already almost of the same nature as their own 
 bodies, and, therefore, requiring comparatively 
 little preparation. 
 
 The gullet of some reptiles, as serpents, is 
 equally wide, and even wider than that of fishes, 
 this organ and the stomach being frequently al- 
 most of the same calibre, and together perform- 
 ing apparently one common function that of 
 digestion, whereas, in most other animals, the 
 gullet is merely the passage for transmitting the 
 alimentary matters to the receptacle in which 
 they are to undergo that change. It is well 
 known that most serpents, after having bruised 
 their prey, and smeared the surface with their 
 saliva, devour the carcass whole ; and the cele- 
 brated naturalist Spallanzani, not unfrequently 
 
8,5 
 
 found one end of a frog, for example, perfectly 
 digested in the stomach and gullet of a serpent, 
 while the other, still living, was hanging from its 
 jaws ! In some reptiles, as the eft, the gullet is 
 furnished with a crop or craw. The stomach of 
 some reptiles, as the turtle, is, like that of the 
 shark, divided into distinct right and left por- 
 tions ; while others, as the crocodile, have a kind 
 of gizzard, like that of the trout and mullet. 
 The liver is very large in most reptiles, as well as 
 fishes ; and what is remarkable, all reptiles have 
 a gall-bladder. We meet with in them also, for 
 the first time as we ascend the scale of animals, 
 a proper pancreas, or sweet bread ; the place of 
 this organ having been supplied, in most fishes, 
 by a heap of blind tubes opening upon some part 
 or other of the intestinal canal. The use of this 
 organ is to supply a peculiar fluid, something like 
 saliva, which co-operates with the bile, coming 
 from the liver, in effecting the necessary changes 
 in the alimentary matters. The whole alimen- 
 tary canal is in some reptiles, as serpents, re- 
 markably short, like that of fishes ; while frogs, 
 turtles arid lizards, have it in general of the same 
 relative length as most birds and quadrupeds. 
 
 The craw or crop is more remarkable in the 
 gullet of the gallinaceous birds, than in that of 
 any other animal ; arid in the pigeon there is 
 besides, on each side of this passage, a spherical 
 bag, capable of being distended with air, which 
 gives the animal the appearance called pouting. 
 It is in this class of animals also that that form 
 
86 
 
 of stomach called a gizzard assumes its most 
 characteristic appearance, consisting, as it does, 
 of four distinct muscles a large hemispherical 
 pair at the sides, and a small pair at the extre- 
 mity of the cavity. It is of an almost cartilagi- 
 nous consistence, serving the animal for a kind 
 of teeth ; and such is its hardness and power of 
 resistance of injury, that it has been found cap- 
 able of breaking lancets and bending needles, 
 which have been introduced into it, without 
 itself undergoing the least injury. It appears 
 also, that birds with this kind of stomach, are 
 accustomed to increase its powers of attrition 
 as I have already noticed of the earth-worm by 
 swallowing small peebles, without which the di- 
 gestive process would be imperfect ; and it has 
 been presumed that this kind of stomach has 
 been given to herbivorous birds, in preference 
 to the plurality of stomachs which herbivorous 
 quadrupeds possess, because, while their diges- 
 tive process is not less difficult, such a plurality 
 would have been incompatible with the lightness 
 requisite for flying. Carnivorous birds have, on 
 the contrary, membranous stomachs, like car- 
 nivorous animals in general. The fluids formed 
 in the gullet and stomach of birds are, in general, 
 more copious than in those of other animals ; 
 and some birds, as the Java swallow, actually 
 construct their nests of the viscid substance 
 which, at certain seasons of the year, they pass 
 from these passages ! These nests, in appear- 
 ance something like saucers made of isinglass, 
 
87 
 
 are a well known luxury at the tables of eastern 
 epicures, and are not unfrequently imported into 
 Britain, and used in flavouring soups, and dress- 
 ed dishes. Among birds, the liver is the smallest 
 in the accipitrine, and the largest in the diving 
 and wading species ; in some of which, as the 
 goose, it is sometimes artificially enlarged for the 
 purposes of luxury, a practice which originated 
 with the ancient Romans who used to gloat 
 over the 
 
 " Magno jecur ansere majus" 
 
 in the true style of epicurism and is still pre- 
 pared and used on the Continent, particularly in 
 the composition of the celebrated Strasburg pies. 
 The gall-bladder is wanting in many birds, as 
 the parrot, ostrich, peacock, guinea-fowl, dove, 
 pigeon, &c., whence, perhaps, has originated the 
 epithet pigeon-livered, as applied to poltroons, 
 who are represented as 
 
 " Wanting gall to make oppression bitter." 
 
 The gullet of quadrupeds, in general, presents 
 nothing very remarkable. The stomach is in 
 many species, as the hare and rabbit, divided by a 
 transverse constriction into two cavities ; while 
 in others, as the kangaroo, it is drawn tight in 
 several places, so as to give it a sinuated appear- 
 ance. In the rat, the stomach is protruded into 
 several distinct pouches, and similar pouches are 
 attached to the left portion of the stomach of the 
 
 N 
 
88 
 
 elephant, peccari, hippopotamus, sloth, and seve- 
 ral other quadrupeds. From these the transition 
 is easy to those in which there is a plurality of 
 stomachs, as the porcupine, which has three, 
 and most of the ruminating quadrupeds, which 
 have two, three, or four, distinguished when 
 there are four by the names of paunch, (ventri- 
 culus), bonnet, (reticulum)> many-plies, (oma- 
 sum), and caille, (obomasum). When the food 
 is swallowed for the first time, it passes directly 
 from the gullet into the paunch, where it under- 
 goes some necessary changes, and it is then 
 transmitted to the bonnet, to be mixed with the 
 fluids of that cavity. This process is going on 
 during the time the animal is grazing, when, 
 from the incessant occupation of nipping off the 
 grass, it has not leisure to chew it sufficiently. 
 Upon its afterwards reposing itself, however, the 
 half chewed aliment is brought again, in succes- 
 sive little balls, from the bonnet into the mouth, 
 where it is now subjected to a perfect mastica- 
 tion ; and, when again swallowed, it passes di- 
 rectly to the many-plies, thence, after some time, 
 to the caille, and ultimately to the intestines. 
 How beautifully is this structure adapted to the 
 habits of the animal, and how strictly analogous 
 is this second chewing to the action of the giz- 
 zards of the gallinaceous birds ! But, perhaps, 
 a still more striking example of the adaptation 
 of the structure of animals to their habits is pre- 
 sented in the camel. In this animal, the paunch 
 has two deep cellular appendages, and the bon- 
 
89 
 
 net, or second stomach, has its internal mem- 
 brane hollowed into numerous deep cells, all 
 apparently serving as reservoirs of aliment, to be 
 used only as occasion may require ; while the 
 third stomach is alone appropriated to the im- 
 mediate necessities of the body. Between the 
 end of the gullet, then, and the orifice of this 
 third stomach, extends, through the two first, a 
 long muscle, capable of drawing up the third 
 stomach, so as to receive the alimentary matters 
 directly from the gullet, when the immediate 
 wants of the animal are to be supplied ; but, 
 when the food and drink taken are meant to be 
 used only in its long journeys through the desarts, 
 this muscle is relaxed, and the alimentary mat- 
 ters thus received into the two first stomachs, 
 are transmitted onward by these, only at the ne- 
 cessary intervals. Among quadrupeds, the sto- 
 mach is most muscular in the ant-eater and ar- 
 madillo, and least so in the purely carnivorous, as 
 the lion and tiger. In a very great number also, 
 the gall-bladder is wanting, as in the sloth, rat, 
 horse, camel, goat, deer, elephant,- &c. The 
 relative length of the intestinal tube is usually 
 greater in herbivorous than in carnivorous quad- 
 rupeds, but not always, that of the sloth, for ex- 
 ample, being scarcely equal in length to its body, 
 while that of the seal is almost thirty times 
 longer. I must not leave the digestive organs of 
 quadrupeds without observing, that, when these 
 are no longer put in requisition, as in the case 
 of those that hibernate, as it is called, or sleep 
 
90 
 
 away all the winter months of the year, nature 
 has, as in the case of insects while undergoing 
 their metamorphoses, provided against any in- 
 convenience from this cause, by causing them to 
 get very fat on the approach of winter, so that 
 they subsist, during the period of their hiberna- 
 tion, on their own fat, which is gradually absorbed 
 into their blood. 
 
 The next subject of consideration is the circu- 
 lating organs, or those by which the blood, thus 
 at intervals renewed, is carried to every part of 
 the body. In the simplest orders of animals 
 these organs of course do not exist ; since, hav- 
 ing no proper digestive organs, but assimilat- 
 ing the crude alimentary matters received by 
 imbibition, equally in every part of the body, 
 there can be no occasion for any system of vessels 
 to carry these matters from one part to another. 
 In the greater number of zoophytes, accordingly, 
 proper blood-vessels are wanting, because they 
 are destitute of a stomach and intestines ; but as 
 soon as these are met with, in the ascending 
 scale of creation, they are found to be accompa- 
 nied by proper vessels, for conveying the matters 
 thus prepared throughout the rest of the system. 
 We may thus, if we please, regard the circulating 
 organs as a kind of appendage to those appropri- 
 ated to digestion ; and, indeed, the first rudiment 
 of a vascular system, in animals, presents rather 
 the appearance of elongated intestines than of 
 proper blood-vessels. Such is the case in the 
 
91 
 
 sea-blubber, in which certain vessels radiate from 
 the stomach directly to the circumference of the 
 body, where they open into a circular tube ; but 
 of the ultimate distribution of the fluids so car- 
 ried we are entirely ignorant. In all probability 
 these vessels collectively partake of the nature, 
 not only of intestines, but at once of veins or ab- 
 sorbing vessels and of arteries ; the former of 
 which, in the higher classes of animals, serve to 
 convey the blood to the centre of the circulation, 
 and the latter to carry it to every part of the 
 body. These two systems of vessels are for the 
 first time quite distinct, as well from each other, 
 as from the intestinal canal, in the earth-worm, 
 in which one large vessel, apparently the chief 
 artery of the body, runs along the back from the 
 head to the tail, and two others, which seem to 
 be veins, and one of which traverses in its pas- 
 sage the respiratory organs, along the lower part 
 of the body again from the tail to the head, the 
 two sets of vessels being connected together, 
 about the neck of the animal, by several half- 
 hoops, which meeting, encircle the. beginning of 
 the intestinal canal. Hitherto there is no heart, 
 properly so called ; but the half-hoops just men- 
 tioned, being not entirely tubular, but composed 
 of strings of little rounded hollow bodies, which 
 appear to be capable of contracting, and thus 
 propelling their contents onwards, have been pre- 
 sumed to consist, as it were, of a series of little 
 hearts, all conjointly performing the office of one 
 great one. A distinct heart, however, as well as 
 
arteries and veins, is met with in many of the 
 Testacea, as the snail ; and, among the Mollusca, 
 the cuttle appears to have no fewer than three 
 distinct hearts. In the former, the heart is situ- 
 ated immediately behind the respiratory organ, 
 from which it directly receives its blood, and 
 propels it by the main artery of the body to every 
 part, whence it returns by the chief veins to the 
 respiratory organ, and thence again to the heart. 
 In the latter, while one of the three hearts, like that 
 of the snail, receives the blood from the respira- 
 tory organs, and transmits it in a similar manner 
 by the arteries and veins, the other two are situ- 
 ated at the extremities of the two chief veins, and 
 serve to propel it through the respiratory organs 
 preparatory to its again arriving at the first heart. 
 In insects in general, the progress towards per- 
 fection of the vascular system appears to be re- 
 trograde, but it is so in furtherance of an essen- 
 tial purpose in their economy that of rendering 
 them light, and therefore capable of flying. Ac- 
 cordingly, in the majority of these animals, the 
 nutritive matters appear to be taken up by a kind 
 of imbibition from their intestinal canal, and to 
 become accumulated in one large blood-vessel, 
 which runs along the back from head to tail, and 
 from which no other vessels, except in some few 
 insects, as the spiders, can be observed to arise, 
 for the purpose of carrying the blood to the seve- 
 ral parts of the body. We must suppose, there- 
 fore, that, as it is received by imbibition, so it is 
 transmitted for the purposes of nourishment, by 
 
93 
 
 a kind of exudation ; while, in the mean time, 
 numerous air-tubes, beginning from the surface 
 of the body, are ramified over this single dorsal 
 vessel, and serve to keep its contents in the re- 
 quisite state of purity. In other animals, as we 
 have seen, the blood is carried at intervals to the 
 air, or other medium by which it is purified : 
 in most insects, on the contrary, the air is car- 
 ried to the blood, and how conducive this must 
 be to the end just alluded to, must be sufficiently 
 obvious. The dorsal vessel, with the air-tubes 
 distributed upon it, may be distinctly seen with a 
 microscope, and even observed to pulsate, in the 
 bee, the silk worm, and numerous other perfect 
 insects ; while in many of these animals in the 
 state of larvae, there is, according to Carus, 
 a circulation of the blood more corresponding 
 to that of other animals, the blood-vessels be- 
 coming obliterated only in proportion as they 
 would have been inconvenient. And, according- 
 ly, in many of the Apterous insects there is the 
 usual complement of arteries and veins, and even 
 a proper heart placed between the two. In the 
 cray-fish, for example, the heart is situated im- 
 mediately below the dorsal shield, being distinctly 
 seen to pulsate when this is removed, and sends 
 off several arteries both forwards and backwards ; 
 and in the soldier's crab the heart has a similar 
 situation, and gives off its vessels in a similar 
 manner. 
 
 Of the vertebral animals, the heart is single in 
 fishes arid reptiles, as it is in the two preceding 
 
94 
 
 classes of animals, and double in birds and mam* 
 miferous animals alone ; that is to say, it is, in 
 the two former, appropriated either directly to 
 the body in general, and only indirectly to the 
 respiratory organs, or directly to the respiratory 
 organs, and only indirectly to the body in gene- 
 ral ; while, in the two latter, one compartment 
 of it is appropriated directly to the body in gene- 
 ral, and the other equally directly to the organs 
 of respiration. The heart of fishes is situated 
 between their gills, or respiratory organs, and 
 therefore in most fishes, close to the head. It is 
 in general very small in proportion to the size of 
 the body, not exceeding, upon an average, 1 -550th 
 part of the weight of the animal ; whereas, in 
 reptiles it is upon an average 1 -250th ; in mam- 
 miferous animals 1 -150th ; and in birds, not less 
 than l-85th of this weight. These differences 
 are precisely such as the less or greater energy 
 of the circulating powers in each of these tribes 
 requires. The heart of fishes does not, like that 
 of most of the animals of which we have hitherto 
 been speaking, receive its blood from the respira- 
 tory organ, and send it directly into the arteries 
 of the rest of the body ; but it receives its blood 
 from the large veins coming up on the lower part 
 of the body, and directly transmits it by vessels, 
 called the branchial arches, to the gills, whence 
 it is conveyed by other vessels the union of 
 which, along the back of the animal, constitutes 
 the main artery of the body to all the rest of 
 the system. The single heart of fishes is accord- 
 
95 
 
 ingly commonly said to be a pulmonary heart, in 
 contradistinction to that of reptiles, which is 
 called a systematic one ; and it is evident that 
 the circulation of the blood in these animals 
 must be at once stopped by preventing the action 
 of their gills, since it is through these organs 
 alone that the blood transmitted by the heart can 
 reach the several parts of the body. 
 
 Among reptiles, the frog has its heart situated 
 immediately below its breast-bone ; and it re- 
 ceives its blood from the large veins of the body, 
 in the same manner as that of fishes. It does 
 not, however, like that of fishes, transmit this 
 blood directly through the respiratory organs, 
 and thence indirectly to the rest of the system, 
 but at once, by the large arteries leading to the 
 body in general, of which the arteries leading to 
 the lungs are only branches ; while correspond- 
 ing veins, returning from the lungs, terminate in 
 the large veins of the body in general, already in 
 their course to the heart. It hence follows, that 
 the course of the blood through the respiratory 
 organs is not, in these animals, as it is in fishes, 
 essential to its course through the rest of the 
 system ; since, while in the latter, the vessels of 
 the gills constitute one portion of the great circle 
 in which the blood moves, in the former, those 
 of the lungs constitute only segments of smaller 
 circles, attached to this great one, but not form- 
 ing any part of it. It was the intention of nature 
 that fishes should constantly inhabit the waters, 
 in which their gills play freely and constantly, 
 
96 
 
 and the circulation of their blood is therefore 
 uninterrupted ; but reptiles were destined to live 
 at one time in the air, and at another in the 
 water, and it became necessary, therefore, to give 
 them a circulating apparatus, which could per- 
 form its office equally well, whether the animal 
 was respiring, as it does while in the air, or had 
 for a time ceased to respire, as is the case when 
 it is beneath the water. Some of the higher or- 
 ders of reptiles, as the tortoise and the alligator, 
 make an approach to the double heart of birds 
 and quadrupeds, that is to say, while it is in 
 structure still more or less a single heart, it is in 
 function at least so long as the respiratory or- 
 gans are in action almost a double one ; the 
 right side of it receiving principally the impure 
 blood from the large veins of the body, and send- 
 ing it through the lungs, while the left side re- 
 ceives chiefly the purified blood from the lungs, 
 and transmits it by the main artery to the rest of 
 the system. This, however, is the case only 
 when respiration continues unobstructed ; since, 
 upon the animal's descending below the water, 
 both sides of the heart co-o^brate more or less in 
 receiving the blood from the body in general, and 
 in transmitting it again to the body, the right 
 side, which, under other circumstances, trans- 
 mits it principally to the lungs, now sending it, in 
 common with the left, to the body in general ; and 
 the left side, which, under other circumstances, 
 receives it chiefly from the lungs, now receiving 
 it, in common with the right, from the large veins 
 
97 
 
 of the body. The greater perfection of the orga- 
 nization of these tribes seems to have required 
 that the blood should be in general, more deci- 
 dedly of two kinds arterial and venous than 
 was necessary in those of a lower grade ; while, 
 at the same time, their amphibious habits did not 
 allow of the distinctly double heart which is pro- 
 per to birds and mammiferous animals, the re- 
 spiration of which is not liable to be in the same 
 way impeded. 
 
 In birds, for the first time, we meet with a 
 heart double, as well in structure, as in function ; 
 the right compartment of it being constantly and 
 exclusively pulmonary, and the left equally con- 
 stantly and exclusively systematic ; and though 
 these two compartments are united into one 
 heart, and placed on one side of the body, they 
 would have performed their distinct offices per- 
 haps equally well, had they been quite separate 
 from each other, and placed one on one side of 
 the body, and the other on the other. The right 
 cavity of the heart of birds gets its blood, like the 
 single heart of fishes, from the large veins of the 
 body, and transmits it through the respiratory 
 organ ; whence, on its return, it passes, not, as 
 in fishes, directly into the large artery in the 
 course of the spine, but first into the left cavity 
 of the heart, by which it is propelled, as by the 
 heart of the frog, into the artery in question, to 
 be at length returned to the right cavity by the 
 large veins. In this course the blood is directed 
 as it is also through the heart and large vessels 
 
98 
 
 of fishes and reptiles, but in a less remarkable 
 manner by valves of a most complicated and cu- 
 rious structure, one separating the upper from the 
 lower portion of each cavity of the heart, and one 
 again at the origin of each of the large vessels, 
 going, the one to the lungs, and the other to the 
 body in general. Of these valves it is sufficient 
 to say, in this place, that, while they admit the 
 free passage of the blood in the course which the 
 purposes of the circulation require, they effectu- 
 ally prevent one drop from passing in an oppo- 
 site direction ; and that the structure of these 
 valves alone is sufficient to carry ample evidence 
 to the minds of all but the voluntary blind, of a 
 directing hand, infinite alike in wisdom and in 
 power. The coats of the arteries in birds are 
 thicker and stronger than in other classes of ani- 
 mals, corresponding to the greater energy of the 
 heart. 
 
 The heart of mammiferous animals receives and 
 transmits its blood almost entirely upon the same 
 plan as that of birds ; and is provided with valves of 
 a similar structure, and for the same purpose. The 
 arteries going to the brain of grazing quadrupeds 
 present the peculiarity of being subdivided, and 
 again collected into trunks, before penetrating 
 that organ ; for the obvious purpose of diminish- 
 ing the impulse of the current of blood towards 
 the brain, in those animals in which, from their 
 holding their heads so continually downwards, 
 this impulse is greater than natural. The same 
 peculiarity is observable in the arteries going to 
 
99 
 
 the members of the sloth, lory, and other tardi- 
 grade animals, as they are called, the slow pace 
 of which renders a supply of blood with the usual 
 impulse unnecessary. With respect to the veins, 
 also, there is a peculiarity in the large trunks of 
 this system in the seal, sea-otter and other diving 
 quadrupeds, which merits attention, as display- 
 ing a beautiful example of adaptation in the 
 structure of organs to the habits of the animal in 
 which they are found. From what has been said 
 under the head of the circulation of fishes, it will 
 be obvious that that of quadrupeds must be im- 
 mediately stopped when the lungs cease to act ; 
 since the passage of the blood from the right side 
 of the heart to the left can take place only through 
 these organs. When, therefore, an animal of 
 this description is under water, the blood has a 
 tendency to accumulate in the lungs, which can 
 no longer transmit it forwards, and would rapid- 
 ly produce suffocation, if it were not, by some 
 means or other, kept from them. Now, nature 
 has given to the animals just mentioned, as well 
 as to others habitually exposed to the same impe- 
 diment of the respiratory process, a large pouch 
 in the course of their chief vein, in which the 
 blood, hurrying towards the right cavity of the 
 heart and the lungs, becomes collected during 
 the suspended action of the latter ; and suffoca- 
 tion is thus obviated, till, on the ascent of the 
 animal again to the surface of the water, the 
 blood freely repasses through its natural channels. 
 
100 
 
 The last subject which is to occupy us at pre-. 
 sent, is the respiratory organs, or those by which 
 the blood, received into its vessels from the ali- 
 mentary canal, is, during its subsequent circula- 
 tion through the body, kept in a state of requi- 
 site purity. This is in all cases effected by bring- 
 ing it, at intervals, into contiguity either with 
 atmospheric air alone, or with water containing- 
 this air diffused through it ; when, such is the 
 mutual action of the blood and the air upon each 
 other, that the former is purified, and passes in 
 general from a dingy purple to a bright scarlet 
 colour, while the latter is, in the same degree, 
 rendered impure, and after a time becomes ina- 
 dequate to support either respiration or combus- 
 tion. In the simplest forms of animals, most of 
 the zoophytes, for example, respiration seems to 
 be what is called by St. Hilaire, interstitial, that 
 is to say, to go on in every point of their bodies 
 equally ; the best glasses having failed in detect- 
 ing any specific apparatus for the purpose, al- 
 though it is known that they do respire, by the 
 changes which the air, left for a certain time in 
 contact with their bodies, is found to have un- 
 dergone. In some of these, however, as the 
 branched polype and sea-feather, as well as some 
 testaceous and mollusous animals, as the sea- 
 urchin, star-fish, sea-anemone, &c., the arms, 
 tentacula or animal blossoms, which they respec- 
 tively put forth, are, in all probability, like the 
 leaves of plants, more particularly adapted to re- 
 spiration ; although no specific pores for this 
 
101 
 
 purpose, like those in leaves, have hitherto been 
 detected in them. Perhaps the simplest form in 
 which a distinct respiratory apparatus displays 
 itself in animals, is that of gills, such as are met 
 with in most of the aquatic mollusca, as the 
 fresh-water mussel and the cuttle. In the former 
 of these are three pairs of gills, one about the 
 mouth, and two running down on the sides of 
 the body the one exterior and the other inte- 
 rior. They lie within what is called the cloak of 
 the animal, a thin membrane with a fissure at its 
 posterior part to admit the water, charged with 
 air, to the surface of the gills ; and this water, 
 after having performed its office in purifying the 
 blood which circulates through the gills, is 
 squeezed out again by the closing of the shell. 
 The cuttle has one pair only of leaf-shaped fring- 
 ed gills, lying also within its cloak, to the inner 
 surface of which they are tied down by ligaments, 
 and by an opening in which the water is admit- 
 ted ; while it is afterwards squeezed out by the 
 contractions of this cloak the cuttle having no 
 investing shell which is accordingly thick and 
 fleshy for the purpose. Another form of respi- 
 ratory apparatus is met with in the terrestrial 
 mollusca, which respire air and not water. This 
 in the common garden snail occurs in the form 
 of a bag placed immediately opposite to the up- 
 per part of the shell, and opening at the aperture 
 of the shell, towards the right side ; the ingress 
 and egress of the air being regulated by a proper 
 muscle which surrounds the opening. The vivi- 
 
102 
 
 parous snail, on the contrary, which is an aqua- 
 tic animal, and in which this respiratory bag 
 would be useless, is furnished instead of it with re* 
 gular gills. Lastly, in some animals of this class, 
 the respiratory apparatus consists of a series of 
 small blind tubes, running along the body, on the 
 surface of which they open, and apparently 
 adapted equally well to the respiration of water 
 and air ; since they are found, among the aqua- 
 tic animals, in the leech, and, among the terres- 
 trial, in the earth-worm. These tubes are tra- 
 versed, as I have already remarked when speak- 
 ing of the circulation of the blood in the earth- 
 worm, by one or two veins which return the 
 blood to the chief artery ; but as the course of 
 the other vein is quite independent of these tubes, 
 it is easy to understand why the circulation is 
 not immediately stopped in these animals, by 
 a stoppage of respiration. In the snail and 
 cuttle, on the contrary, any impediment to the 
 action of the respiratory organs, immediately 
 stops the circulation of their blood, the heart re- 
 ceiving its blood exclusively from these organs, 
 preparatory to sending it through the body in 
 general. 
 
 The respiratory apparatus of insects is very 
 similar to that of worms, in so far at least as it 
 consists of either gills, respiratory bags or tubes j 
 although the two latter are in general much 
 more complicated in their structure, and diffused 
 more or less throughout the whole body of the 
 animal. As an example of an insect breathing 
 
103 
 
 by gills we may take the cray-fish, in which the 
 gills are situated on the sides of the animal at the 
 base of the feet, and separated from the other in- 
 ternal organs by a horny plate, consisting of dis- 
 tinct pieces, something like the parts of the chest 
 in the higher tribes of animals : it is furnished 
 also with two other horny pieces attached to the 
 jaws, by means of which the water, already viti- 
 ated by the contact of the gills, is expelled from 
 their surface. The bee again presents an ex- 
 ample of insects which breathe by respiratory 
 bags, of which it has two, opening on the surface 
 of the body by two holes stigmata, as they are 
 called and giving rise to several branched tubes. 
 On the other hand, the respiratory apparatus of 
 the grub of this insect, as indeed of most others, 
 is exclusively tubular; and these tubes have a 
 very different distribution from that which they 
 present in the perfect insect. The same is the 
 case with the caterpillar of the silk worm ; but 
 even in the perfect animal, in this instance, the 
 respiratory apparatus is tubular alone. Of these 
 tubes one large one runs along each side of the 
 body, and gives off, opposite to each of the nu- 
 merous openings upon the surface, two sets of 
 branches, one to the lower part of the body, and 
 the other to the upper, in such a manner that 
 the former branches go chiefly to the muscles 
 moving the feet, and the latter to the dorsal 
 blood-vessel, and to the several entrails, which 
 in insects are always situated near their back. 
 The stigmata, or orifices of the respiratory tubes, 
 
104 
 
 in the caterpillar of this insect are furnished 
 with a kind of lips, which open or close them at 
 pleasure ; and it is probable, by a similar appa- 
 ratus, that all terrestrial insects regulate the in- 
 gress and egress of the air employed in respira- 
 tion. But some terrestrial insects are capable 
 of respiring even under water ; and the means 
 by which they do this is extremely curious. In 
 general they carry down with them a consider- 
 able portion of air in the interstices of the hairs 
 with which their bodies are covered, and which, 
 continually exuding an oily fluid, prevents the 
 water from coming in contact with it : they 
 breathe, therefore, under these circumstances, 
 in a kind of natural diving-bell. In some in- 
 sects, however, as the water-scorpion, the air- 
 tubes instead of this contrivance are provided 
 with long processes extending from the posterior 
 part of the body, the extremities of which being 
 always above the water, furnish them with a 
 constant supply of fresh air. They are, in fact, 
 a kind of water-serpent, or cetaceous animal, in 
 this respect ; the bulk of their bodies being un- 
 der water, while their spiracles, or the holes 
 through which they breathe, are above it. I 
 have elsewhere mentioned that, in all insects 
 which fly, it seems to have been the object of 
 nature to carry rather the air to the blood, than 
 the blood to the air ; and how excellently adapt- 
 ed to this purpose is the tubular and ramified 
 structure of their respiratory apparatus, must be 
 sufficiently evident. 
 
105 
 
 Fishes in general, like the aquatic mollusca, 
 breathe by gills, which consist commonly of 
 four lobes or plates, on each side, of a red co- 
 lour, floating loose in the water at their fringed 
 extremity, but by the other attached to semi- 
 circles of cartilage or bone. These, which are 
 called the thoracic ribs of the animal, are placed 
 on the sides of the upper part of the gullet, and 
 supported by the same bone which supports the 
 tongue, being connected to each other by layers 
 of muscle, by which the gills are kept in con- 
 tinual motion. The water reaches them by the 
 mouth, through four clefts on each side ; and hav- 
 ing passed over the gills, is squeezed out by the 
 descent of the gill-flap, or moveable lid by which 
 the external portion of each gill is covered. The 
 collective surface presented by these fringed 
 lobes, or the part where the blood of the animal 
 comes into contiguity with the water which is to 
 purify it, is enormous so much so, that it has 
 been computed to be, in a fish of the size of a 
 skate, not less than between four and five hun- 
 dred square feet ; and, as all these parts have to 
 be kept in motion in so dense a medium as 
 water, nature has given to fishes extremely large 
 nerves and strong muscles for the purpose. It 
 is not however always by gills, properly so call- 
 ed, that fishes breathe ; some of them, for in- 
 stance the myxine and lamprey, using a different 
 kind of apparatus in respiration. In these ani- 
 mals there are placed on each side of the gullet 
 several small tubes, leading to little vescicles 
 
106 
 
 situated on the inside of the thoracic ribs : into 
 these the water passes from the gullet, and is 
 afterwards forced out again, in the myxine, by 
 one common tube leading again to the gullet, 
 but in the lamprey, by an equal number of open- 
 ings on the sides of the neck. Perhaps also the 
 air-bladder, of which I have already spoken, is, 
 in those fishes that have one, a second respira- 
 tory organ ; but its chief use is probably that of 
 enabling the animal to rise at pleasure in the 
 water. 
 
 The respiration of reptiles, though more simi- 
 lar to that of birds and mammiferous animals, 
 still differs from it in some remarkable particu- 
 lars. The former are indeed furnished, like the 
 two latter, with a kind of lungs ; but, unlike 
 them, they have membranous, and not fleshy 
 lungs, that is to say, the cells which they contain 
 are so much larger, as to give them a membra- 
 ous and not a fleshy appearance nay, in many 
 reptiles, the lungs consist of one membranous 
 bag very similar to the air-bladder of fishes. 
 These lungs, or bags, are situated in the abdo- 
 men for reptiles having no diaphragm or mid- 
 riff, have no chest properly so called and are 
 loose arid floating among the entrails ; and they 
 receive their supply of air in general, not, as in 
 birds and mammiferous animals, in consequence 
 of the formation of a vacuum around them, but by 
 a process very similar to that of swallowing. In 
 this process the broad lingual bone is first drawn 
 down by its proper muscles, and the air of the 
 
107 
 
 mouth being thus rarified, a fresh supply enters 
 by the nostrils, which are furnished with a valve, 
 by which its subsequent escape is prevented. 
 The lingual bone is then forcibly raised by the 
 large pendulous muscles of the jaws ; and the 
 air, having no other passage, is necessarily forced 
 into the lungs. Hence reptiles, unlike the high- 
 er classes of animals, can still continue to breathe 
 if their bodies are cut open, because they do not 
 require a vacuum round their lungs, but not if 
 their jaws are held apart, since the air, which 
 should have entered the lungs, is in this case 
 forced out by the mouth. The air, thus received, 
 is subservient to the purification of the blood in 
 the usual manner j but it is not so immediately 
 vitiated as air received into fleshy lungs, owing 
 to the larger size of the cells, which do not im- 
 mediately allow the whole of it to come into con- 
 tact with their sides. This is one reason why 
 reptiles can sustain an impediment to their respi- 
 ration for a much longer time than birds and 
 mammiferous animals ; but another, and a much 
 better reason is to be found in the distribution of 
 their blood-vessels, those going to the lungs, as I 
 have before explained, not forming a necessary 
 part of the general circulating system, but con- 
 stituting, as it were, only an appendage to it, 
 which may for a time cease to transmit blood 
 without inconvenience. In both these respects, 
 however, we cannot but discern the hand of a 
 ruling Providence, adapting the structure of ani- 
 mals to the habits which are to characterize 
 
108 
 
 them. A fish was destined to be always in the 
 water, and a bird or quadruped always in the air ; 
 and hence the structure of their respiratory, as 
 well as circulating system, is such as to incapaci- 
 tate them each for the other element ; but a rep- 
 tile was intended to be sometimes in the one, 
 and sometimes in the other, and both systems 
 are accordingly so constructed as to allow of this. 
 Further, some serpents, the hydrus bicolor, for 
 example, are enabled to continue under water for 
 an indefinite time by a provision similar to that 
 which I have already described, as found in the 
 water-scorpion among insects, being capable of 
 bringing the upper part of their wind-pipe al- 
 most to a line with the point of their lower jaw, 
 so that they can breathe, although scarcely any 
 portion of them is out of the water. 
 
 Before quitting reptiles, it is proper to observe, 
 that there are individuals of this class, for in- 
 stance, the proteus and siren, which, with re- 
 spect to their respiratoiy organs, may be consi- 
 dered as composed of fishes and reptiles, being 
 furnished at once with gills and lungs ; or per- 
 haps, with more propriety, as fishes, with a more 
 developed air-bladder. The tadpole, a larva of 
 the frog, during its metamorphosis presents a 
 somewhat similar structure, the gills only gra- 
 dually disappearing, in proportion as the lungs 
 become developed. 
 
 In birds, the lungs instead of being membran- 
 ous are fleshy, and instead of being loose and 
 floating, as in reptiles, are tightly bound down to 
 
109 
 
 the spine. As, among invertebral animals, insects 
 in general, so, among vertebral, birds have the most 
 perfect respiratory apparatus ; although perhaps 
 the real lungs of birds, or those organs in which 
 the blood is purified, are not relatively larger 
 than those of mammiferous animals. It is peculiar 
 to the former, however, to have their lining arid 
 and investing membranes prolonged from various 
 parts of their surface in the form of tubes, which, 
 expanding into bags, envelope almost all the en- 
 trails, so as to keep them constantly surrounded 
 with air ; and similar prolongations, extending 
 also from their back part into the cavity of the 
 bones, serve to inflate these in the same manner. 
 The chief object of this peculiarity appears to be 
 that of giving lightness to the animal, and thus 
 of enabling it to support itself in the air ; and 
 the same object is fulfilled in insects, as we have 
 already seen, in a manner very analogous. But 
 do we ever meet with this general diffusion of 
 air through the bodies of animals not designed 
 for flying in worms, fishes, reptiles or mammi- 
 ferous animals as should at least sometimes 
 have happened, had a blind chance, and not an 
 omniscient Providence presided over their struc- 
 ture ? Another thing remarkable in the respira- 
 tory apparatus of birds, is the provision made by 
 nature, for the necessity which some of the wa- 
 ding and diving kinds are under, of remaining 
 with their heads for a long time under water. 
 She has not given them tubes opening upon the 
 atmosphere, as in some water insects, nor large 
 
no 
 
 cellular reservoirs of air, as in reptiles in gene- 
 ral ; but, she has made their windpipe of an im- 
 mense length, and laid it in folds behind their 
 breast-bone, so that sinking their heads into the 
 water with this full of pure air, they can support 
 respiration for a long time upon its contents 
 alone. This structure is beautifully seen in the 
 male crane. The ribs of birds, by the motions 
 of which the common cavity of the chest and ab- 
 domen for they, like reptiles, are destitute of a 
 midriff is expanded, and air drawn into the 
 lungs, and, through the lungs, into almost the 
 whole body, are unprovided with elastic carti- 
 lages, such as are met with in mammiferous 
 animals ; but they have, instead of them, perfect 
 joints about midway between the spine and 
 breast-bone, by which, when bent, the general 
 cavity is constricted, and, when straightened, it 
 is dilated, the breast-bone either approaching or 
 receding from the spine, according to the angle 
 which these joints form. 
 
 In the" mammalia, as well as in birds, the 
 lungs are fleshy, and each is, in like manner, 
 bound down to the spine ; there are, however, 
 no longer any external orifices, by which air is 
 transmitted thence to other parts of the body. In 
 the cetaceous mammalia, however, or those that 
 live in water, the lungs are commonly continued 
 for some space down the spine, so as to remind 
 us of the air-bladder of fishes. In these tribes 
 also the nostrils, in which the wind-pipe termi- 
 nates, open, not near the mouth their usual 
 
ill 
 
 situation but at the top of their heads ; so that 
 the spiracles or air-holes continue above water, 
 when all the rest of the animal is below it, and in 
 this way, like the prolonged tubes in some water- 
 insects, and the elevated wind-pipe in some water- 
 serpents, keep up respiration. Further, many of 
 these tribes, as the spermaceti whale, have large 
 cavities in their skulls filled with liquid fat > 
 which, being lighter than water, enables them, 
 without any effort, to keep a part of their heads 
 constantly above the surface. When these ani- 
 mals descend entirely into the water, the entrance 
 of this fluid into their lungs is prevented by a 
 valve, with which the spiracles are furnished, and 
 which, while it prohibits the ingress of water, 
 allows of the free egress of that received by the 
 mouth ; and it is in this way that these remark- 
 able fountains are formed which characterize the 
 animals in question. They cannot, however, 
 continue long under water ; and it is from the 
 necessity which they are under of rising fre- 
 quently to the surface for fresh air, that we are 
 enabled to capture them. Mammiferous animals, 
 like birds, inspire by enlarging the cavity in which 
 the lungs are contained ; but this, in the former, 
 is the chest alone, which is now for the first 
 time, separated from the abdomen by a proper 
 midriff. This organ is, moreover, in them a 
 principal part of the respiratory apparatus ; for, 
 while the chest is rendered broader and deeper 
 owing to the projection forwards of the breast- 
 bone by the motion of the elastic ribs, it is ren- 
 
dered longer also, by the descent of the arched 
 midriff. What they gain in this way, however, 
 is less considerable, than what they lose by the 
 smaller scope of action in their ribs, than in 
 those in birds ; so that, after all, birds have, of 
 all vertebral animals, the most extensive respira- 
 tory, as well as the most energetic circulating 
 apparatus. 
 
 
113 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 FUNCTIONS OF ANIMALS AS ADAPTED TO THEIR 
 MODES OF LIFE. 
 
 Smell, Sight, Hearing, Taste, Touch and 
 Loco-motion. 
 
 IN the preceding chapter I endeavoured to dis- 
 play some of the admirable adaptations of the 
 structure of organs in the various classes of ani- 
 mals, to the functions they are destined to per- 
 form : the possession of which is less distinctive 
 of the animal kingdom, than those of which I 
 have now to speak ; since vegetables, as well as 
 animals, imbibe and digest their aliment, move 
 their fluids, and bring these in turn into conti- 
 guity with the air by which they are purified : 
 they do not, however, display equally evident 
 marks of sensation and voluntary motion ; and 
 these are accordingly generally set down as the 
 characteristic functions of animals. It would not 
 perhaps be difficult to shew that this distinction 
 is less decided than is commonly imagined that 
 many vegetables do, in fact, both feel and move 
 in the same manner as animals but whether 
 they do or do not, it will still be admitted that 
 
* i 
 
 114 
 
 the indications of these functions are much less 
 manifest in the former than in the latter, which 
 is not the case with those already spoken of ; so 
 that we may still adopt this as a convenient, if not 
 a precise line of demarcation between the two. 
 I shall accordingly devote the present chapter to 
 a short description of the several organs, by 
 which, in different animals, the functions of 
 smell, sight, hearing, taste, touch and loco-mo- 
 tion, are respectively performed. 
 
 In quite the lowest orders of animals the or- 
 gan, if any, specifically appropriated to smell is 
 in general very obscure, although some of them 
 in which this is the case the cuttle for example 
 display this function very remarkably. It is, 
 perhaps, in most of them, merely a modification 
 of touch, and performed equally by every part of 
 the surface of the body. In the snail the seat of 
 smell has been commonly considered to be their 
 short feelers ; but apparently without any good 
 reason. 
 
 Insects in general smell very acutely ; and in 
 them the seat of this function has been at different 
 times supposed to be their stigmata, or air-holes, 
 their palpi, or commonly reputed organs of taste, 
 and their antennae, or organs of touch in gene- 
 ral. In the cray-fish, which is one of the few in- 
 sects that have a sufficiently obvious olfactory 
 nerve, it is manifestly their smaller antennae, at 
 the root of which the nasal cavities are situated. 
 In this animal, however, as well as in all aquatic 
 animals, smell is rather a modification of taste 
 
115 
 
 than a distinct function, the vehicle of the im- 
 pression being, not air, but water. 
 
 Such is the case, of course, in all fishes in 
 which the nasal cavities are situated, in general, 
 on the sides of the snout ; and are lined by a 
 plaited membrane, for the distribution of the pro- 
 per nerve. These cavities have, however, no 
 internal opening, so that there can be no perfect 
 current of the fluid through them ; but the dis- 
 tance at which some fishes scent their prey is 
 nevertheless immense. 
 
 In reptiles, the nasal cavities have both an in- 
 ternal and external opening ; the former being, 
 in frogs, turtles and serpents, in the palate, but 
 in lizards, in some of which, as the crocodile, 
 they are exceedingly long, in the pharynx, or mus- 
 cular bag at the back part of the mouth. Most 
 reptiles also, have a kind of moveable lid at the 
 aperture of their nasal cavities, by which they 
 close them when under water ; this medium be- 
 ing apparently but ill adapted, in them, to the 
 function of smell. The proper vehicle of the 
 impression in reptiles, as well as in birds and 
 mammiferous animals, is air ; and this the for- 
 mer draw through their nasal cavities during in- 
 spiration, effected, as I have already explained, 
 by depressing their lingual bone, and thus en- 
 larging the cavity of the mouth. 
 
 In birds, the nasal cavities are in general very 
 large, their external aperture being in the upper 
 mandible, and their internal in the pharynx. The 
 olfactory nerve is very large in carnivorous birds, 
 
116 
 
 arid its great size, together with the great length 
 of the nasal cavities, serves to explain the im- 
 mense distance at which some of them the vul- 
 ture for example are known to scent can-ion : 
 it is said to be capable of doing this over the 
 whole breadth of the Mediterranean ! 
 
 The nasal cavities of mammiferous animals 
 run in general horizontally ; but, in the cetace- 
 ous tribes, as I have already said, their inclina- 
 tion is perpendicular, the outer opening being at 
 the top of their heads. Many animals of this 
 kind, as the porpoise, the whale and the narwal, 
 are generally regarded as destitute of smell, since 
 they have no proper olfactory nerve ; and cer- 
 tainly the hard and dry lining of their nostrils, 
 like that of the proboscis of the elephant, is ap- 
 parently very little adapted to this sensation. 
 The projecting bones, by which the nasal cavities 
 are, in most animals, more or less divided, are, 
 in quadrupeds, extremely complicated, being, in 
 most herbivorous species both variously convolu- 
 ted, and pierced sometimes like lattice work ; 
 and, in most carnivorous, lamellated like the 
 leaves of a book a structure calculated, by in- 
 creasing the surface, together with the great 
 length in general of their snout, and the large 
 size of their olfactory nerves, immensely to in- 
 crease the acuteness of their smell. The " intel- 
 lectual noses," as they are called by Lord Byron, 
 of dogs are proverbial ; and the distance from 
 which many other quadrupeds, particularly such 
 as are carnivorous, are sometimes attracted by 
 
117 
 
 the smell is wonderful white bears for example, 
 being found to come swimming to the Greenland 
 ships, when a whale is cutting up, from all quar- 
 ters, and far out of sight. Some quadrupeds, as 
 the hog, the peccari and the tapir, have a re- 
 markable power of moving the extremity of their 
 snout ; but this is probably less for the purpose 
 of smell, than for that of burrowing, &c., their 
 snout being to them, as its proboscis is to the ele- 
 phant, a kind of hand. 
 
 With respect to sight, it is equally doubtful as 
 with respect to smell, whether there be any spe- 
 cific organ for this function in quite the lowest 
 tribes of animals ; although some of them, as the 
 armed polype, the sea-feather and some coral- 
 lines certainly do see, or at least are capable of 
 distinguishing light from darkness, the former 
 being always found to move towards the light, 
 and the two latter from it. It is, however, pro- 
 bably by a kind of touch that they do this, rather 
 than by sight, properly so called ; and of this the 
 numerous papillae on the surface of the body may 
 be presumed to be the chief instruments ; so also 
 the first appearance of distinct organs of vision 
 is that of stemmata, as they are called, or small 
 knobs, more or fewer, projecting from the sur- 
 face of the body, as is the case in the leech ; and 
 what are regarded as the eyes of the snail are 
 little more than similar knobs, placed at the ex- 
 tremity of their long feelers, and capable of being 
 retracted by the muscles of the latter, into which 
 
118 
 
 they descend, as into the inverted fingers of a 
 glove. Organs of this kind may serve, indeed, 
 to distinguish between light and darkness ; but 
 it is impossible that they can convey any im- 
 pression of distinct images of objects, since they 
 have not the conditions necessary to produce 
 such refractions of the rays of light as are essen- 
 tial to this end. Among the few animals of this 
 description, which are provided with proper eyes, 
 is the cuttle, in which those organs are very 
 large and prominent. They consist essentially 
 of a dense opake globular membrane the sclero- 
 tic coat filled with a transparent fluid, envelo- 
 ping a small lens, and smeared on its concave 
 side with a black pigment, the use of which is to 
 absorb the superfluous rays of light, and immedi- 
 ately under which lies the retina or expansion of 
 the optic nerve. This membrane is perforated 
 anteriorly by a kidney-shaped pupil, through 
 which the rays of light are transmitted to the re- 
 tina ; and over the whole is extended a second 
 membrane, so folded on itself, as to constitute 
 a kind of eyelids. 
 
 Similar to the stemmata of some worms are 
 what are called the simple eyes of insects ; and 
 such alone are found in the spider and scorpion : 
 they seem to be organs rather of touch than of 
 sight, although they have been presumed by 
 Blumenbach to serve to distinguish near objects. 
 Very different from these are the so called com- 
 pound eyes of insects, such as are met with, with- 
 out any rimple eyes, in the beetle and butterfly ; 
 
119 
 
 while others, as the bee, have both. They are 
 for the most part extremely large ; varying, how- 
 ever, between about one-sixtieth and one-fourth 
 part of the weight of the whole body. Their 
 structure is eminently beautiful ; consisting, as 
 they do, not of coats and humours, but princi- 
 pally of a series of pyramids of nervous substance 
 connected together, the apices being on the bul- 
 bous extremity of the optic nerve, and the bases, 
 invested each by a thick transparent membrane 
 of a hexagonal shape, at the circumference of the 
 eye. This membrane, presenting thus nume- 
 rous facets, which look in every direction, is 
 called the cornea, and seems to be in insects 
 the only instrument of refraction, the images of 
 objects being most probably impressed, by this 
 means, directly on the base of each pyramid, 
 which is thus a kind of distinct eye. They have 
 no lens and no pupil, or rather the whole sur- 
 face of the cornea is one large pupil, there being 
 no opake coats to render a proper pupil neces- 
 sary ; and they are destitute both of eye-lids, and 
 of muscles to move the eye, the numerous direc- 
 tions of the facets of the cornea rendering the 
 latter superfluous. How strikingly different is 
 this description of eye which characterises in- 
 sects which fly, and require therefore an ample 
 field of vision, from the simple eye found in the 
 grovelling kinds, which either do not see, strictly 
 speaking, at all, or certainly only quite contiguous 
 objects ! Further, in insects which fly by night, 
 like the moth, there is, in place of the black pig- 
 
 R 
 
120 
 
 merit lately mentioned as found in the outtle, a 
 substance of a resplendent green or silvery co- 
 lour, serving not to absorb, but to reflect the 
 rays of light ; and thus enabling them to see by 
 a much more obscure light than would otherwise 
 have been necessary. 
 
 Among vertebral animals, fishes have an eye 
 somewhat similar to that of the cuttle ; consist- 
 ing essentially of a spheroidal sclerotic coat, con- 
 taining the chief humour of the eye, a lens which, 
 as in the cuttle, is almost globular, and a retina, 
 which is often plaited, as it were, into numerous 
 folds, arranged like the meridian lines on a globe. 
 They have, however, in addition, a proper cornea 
 like insects, presenting, not indeed numerous fa- 
 cets, but one uniformly convex surface, although 
 the convexity is very slight ; and they have further, 
 what insects have not, a perfectly formed iris, or 
 circular curtain, placed before the lens, in which, 
 and not as in the cuttle in the sclerotic coat, the 
 pupil is situated. The rays of light accordingly 
 traverse, in these animals, first the transparent 
 cornea, and afterwards in order the anterior por- 
 tion of the humours of the eye, the pupil, the 
 lens, and the posterior portion of these humours ; 
 by all which, except the pupil, they are more or 
 less refracted, till they are at length brought to a 
 focus on the retina. The chief peculiarity in the 
 eyes of fishes, as contrasted with those of the su- 
 perior tribes of animals, is the comparative flat- 
 ness of their cornea, and convexity of their lens ; 
 it appearing to have been the object of nature to 
 
121 
 
 effect the necessary refraction of the rays in them 
 principally by the latter ; the iris, moreover, in 
 fishes, is almost entirely motionless, so that the 
 size of their pupil is always nearly the same. In 
 general they are destitute also of proper eye-lids ; 
 the eye-ball moving behind the common integu- 
 ments to which it is attached by very relaxed 
 cellular tissue as behind a piece of thin glass or 
 horn. In some few fishes, however, as the suri- 
 fish, Cuvier has found a regular circular eyelid, 
 the opening in which is contracted by a sphinc- 
 ter, arid expanded by five radiating muscles. 
 The direction of the eye- balls is usually out- 
 wards ; but in some few fishes, as the star-gazer, 
 it is upwards ; and in the plaice, flounder, dab, 
 halibut, turbot, &c., the eyes are placed both on 
 one side of the body an isolated instance, ac- 
 cording to Blumenbach, of a want of uniformity 
 in the two sides. The object, however, of such 
 an arrangement in this instance is obvious, for 
 as these animals, destitute as they are of an air- 
 bladder, are destined to continue always with 
 one side in the mud at the bottom of the water, 
 an eye on this side would have been superfluous 
 to them. The most singular situation of the eye- 
 ball, however, is that of the Surinam sprat, the 
 orbit extending in this fish, so far above the head, 
 that the eye, as the animal swims near the sur- 
 face, is partly in and partly out of the water ; 
 arid all its parts correspond with this strange 
 structure, the pupil being partially divided into 
 an upper and a lower portion, and the lens con- 
 
sistirig of two globes, an upper and a lower one, 
 attached together. It appears that the superior 
 part of the eye is, like that of terrestrial animals, 
 adapted to refract rays transmitted hy air, and 
 the inferior part, like that of aquatic animals, 
 those transmitted by water ; and that the refrac- 
 ting power of the several parts of the eye is ac- 
 cordingly much less above than below. It remains 
 only to remark, that in some fishes, as the skate 
 and shark, there is, as in insects that fly by night, 
 a resplendent substance at the bottom of the eye- 
 ball, instead of the black pigment which is usu- 
 ally found there ; its use being rather to increase 
 than diminish the number of rays which fall 
 upon it. 
 
 The eyes of reptiles in general do not differ 
 materially from those of fishes, except that they 
 appear to possess the power, of which those of 
 fishes are destitute, of adapting themselves to 
 refract rays as transmitted either by air or by 
 water. I have already hinted when speaking of 
 the singular eye of the Surinam sprat, that the 
 refracting power required is different in these 
 two cases, as any one may satisfy himself by at- 
 tempting to distinguish minute objects placed 
 in water, with his head likewise immersed in 
 this fluid. The reason that he cannot do this 
 is because, though there is a sufficient differ- 
 ence between the density of the humours of 
 his eye and that of the air, to bring the rays 
 transmitted by the latter to a focus on the re- 
 tina, there is not a sufficient difference between 
 
123 
 
 the density of these humours and that of wa- 
 ter, to do the same by rays transmitted by this 
 fluid, so that such rays are not brought to a 
 focus sufficiently soon. Hence, divers in some 
 places, are in the habit, when they descend into 
 the water, of using extremely convex glasses, in 
 shape almost like the lens of fishes, and turning 
 their eyes by this means, as it were, into those 
 of an aquatic animal. But how do reptiles ma- 
 nage this ? Not by using spectacles, nor by in- 
 creasing the density of their humours ; but by 
 increasing the distance between the cornea and 
 retina which they effect by compressing the 
 globe of the eye by proper muscles given to them 
 for that purpose so that the rays which, from 
 the defective refracting powers of their humours, 
 would have otherwise formed a focus beyond the 
 retina, now form a focus upon it. When again 
 in the air they relax these muscles, and the reti- 
 na again approaching the cornea, still receives 
 the focus of the rays, which, as passing now 
 through air, are sufficiently refracted for the pur- 
 pose. Whether we regard then the heart and 
 blood-vessels, the respiratory organs, or those of 
 the senses, in these tribes, we trace equally dis- 
 tinctly the main object which nature had in view 
 in their construction. The motions of the iris 
 in reptiles now for the first time perceptible 
 are still extremely languid, and the form of the 
 pupil is very various, being rhomb-shaped in the 
 frog, vertically oval in the crocodile, &c., but this 
 probably makes no difference in the phenomena 
 
144 
 
 of vision. With respect to eye-iids, all rep- 
 tiles are furnished more or less perfectly with 
 these, except serpents, which, in being destitute 
 of proper eye-lids, resemble most fishes. The 
 direction of the eye-ball is, as in most fishes, 
 commonly outwards ; but in the crocodile it is, 
 as in the star-gazer, a little upwards as well as 
 outwards, obviously for the purpose of enabling 
 the animal to see its land prey, as it floats lei- 
 surely just beneath the surface of the water. 
 Reptiles have also all of them, again excepting 
 serpents, another organ which all fishes want 
 namely, a lacrymal gland, the secretion from 
 which serves to bedew the anterior part of the eye 
 with moisture, and thus to facilitate the motions 
 of the eye-lids. Such an organ would evidently 
 have been quite superfluous in fishes, which are 
 always under water ; but it is particularly neces- 
 sary in amphibious animals, which, when on 
 land, must furnish from their own resources a 
 fluid so abundantly supplied to them when in 
 the water, from without. This gland is accor- 
 dingly of immense size in turtles ; arid the allu- 
 sion to crocodile's tears, as flowing easily arid 
 copiously, is familiar to every body. 
 
 The eyes of birds are remarkable principally, 
 like the compound eyes of insects, for their great 
 size, the use of this being in both the same that 
 of enabling them, when on the wing, to see ob- 
 jects at a great distance. With respect to the 
 cornea and lens, they are directly opposed to 
 those of fishes ; since, while the cornea is com- 
 
paratively flat, and the lens almost globular in 
 fishes, in birds the cornea is remarkably promi- 
 nent, and the lens has very little convexity. The 
 motions of the iris in most birds are extremely 
 rapid, and in some apparently voluntary. The 
 pupil is in some, as the dove and the goose, 
 transversely oval, while it is vertically oval in 
 others, as the owl : generally speaking, indeed, 
 it has the former shape in herbivorous animals, 
 whether birds or quadrupeds, and the latter in 
 carnivorous. All birds have proper eye-lids, the 
 lower of which alone is moveable ; and they 
 have, in addition, another membrane called 
 membrana nictitans, which is merely a moveable 
 fold of the external membrane of the eye-ball : it 
 is not quite proper to birds being found also in 
 some fishes and reptiles but it is most remark- 
 able in them. With very few exceptions the 
 owl among others the direction of the eye-balls 
 is, in birds, outwards. Such birds also, as well 
 as insects and fishes, as go in search of their 
 prey by night, like the owl, have a shining sub- 
 stance at the bottom of the eye-ball, for the pur- 
 pose already alluded to. In some birds with 
 piercing sight, as the falcon and crane, the flat- 
 tened optic nerve has one of its surfaces folded 
 into numerous plaits, bearing the same relation to 
 to the other as the leaves bear to the back of a 
 book ; and the extent of surface thus gained may 
 be easily imagined. 
 
 Among the mammiferous animals, the cetace- 
 ous tribes, as we should expect from their habits, 
 
126 
 
 have eyes very similar to those of fishes ; the 
 cornea being comparatively very flat ; and the 
 lens almost globular, while they are destitute of 
 proper eye-lids a kind of membrana nictitans 
 alone supplying their place and of a lacrymal 
 gland. In the other tribes the comparative con- 
 vexity of the cornea and lens is intermediate be- 
 tween that of these organs respectively in fishes 
 and birds ; while the motions of the iris are the 
 mean, as it were, of those of reptiles and birds : 
 in some quadrupeds, morever, as the cat, they 
 seem to be in some degree voluntary. The form 
 of the pupil is transversely oval in the pecora 
 and solidungula, and vertically oval in the Ferae ; 
 consistently with what I have already remarked 
 upon this subject. The direction of the eye-balls 
 is in most mammiferous animals outwards ; in 
 the ape however, baboon, monkey, and some 
 few others, it is, as in man, directly forwards : 
 further, in some quadrupeds, as the camel-leo- 
 pard, the eye-ball, though naturally directed out- 
 words, may be turned so far backwards as to 
 enable the animal to see distinctly behind it. 
 Like the nocturnal animals, also, of other 
 tribes, quadrupeds which prowl by night, such 
 as the lion, lynx, cat, bat, &c., have the struc- 
 ture which I have already more than once de- 
 scribed, as calculated to enable them to dis- 
 tinguish objects in comparative darkness. On 
 the other hand, where the habits of the animal 
 are such as to exclude it altogether from the 
 light, as no structure of the eye could have com- 
 
pensated for the want of this essential condition 
 of sight, nature has denied them a visual ap- 
 paratus altogether as in the case of the mole, 
 which has no optic nerve, and an eye so small, 
 that its existence has been doubted. 
 
 We come next to the function of hearing. In 
 the very lowest tribes of animals it appears that 
 this function, like those of smell and sight, is 
 merely a more delicate kind of touch, and per- 
 formed equally by the whole surface of the body. 
 The greater number of animals of this descrip- 
 tion have no obvious auditory apparatus, the 
 cuttle being among the few exceptions, and fur- 
 nishing, perhaps, the best example of an ear in its 
 rudimental state. In this animal it consists mere- 
 ly of a membranous bag filled with liquid, si- 
 tuated in a tubercle of the cartilaginous ring 
 which surrounds the gullet, and surrounded on 
 all sides by cartilage. Upon the outer surface of 
 this bag is distributed the auditory nerve ; while, 
 within the liquid which it contains, are some 
 little pieces of earthy matter, presumed to be 
 necessary to render the vibrations of the liquid, 
 on which sound depends, sufficiently forcible to 
 make the requisite impression on the nerve. 
 
 In the greater number of insects, also, the au- 
 ditory apparatus is very obscure ; although it is 
 certain that they do hear, and even very acutely. 
 The immediate seat of the function has been pre- 
 sumed to be the membrane which connects their 
 antennae with the head but spiders hear which 
 
128 
 
 have no antennae, and grass-hoppers after these 
 have been removed. In all likelihood, it is in the 
 majority of insects merely a variety of touch, 
 and common, therefore, to the greater part of the 
 surface. In such insects as present any appear- 
 ance of a distinct auditory apparatus, as the cray- 
 fish, it is very similar in its structure to that of 
 the cuttle ; consisting, in like manner, of a bag 
 filled with liquid situated, in this instance, in a 
 bony cylinder at the root of the larger antennae 
 an auditory nerve expanded upon it, and some 
 pieces of earthy matter in the liquid which it con- 
 tains. In the cray-fish, however, unlike the cut- 
 tle, the bag in question is not surrounded on all 
 sides by the hard mass which contains it, but is, 
 near the surface of the body, in contact with a 
 thin membrane the first approach to the exter- 
 nal parts of the auditory apparatus, as met with 
 in the higher tribes of animals. 
 
 Nor is the auditory apparatus of most fishes 
 much less simple than that of the invertebral 
 animals. The membranous bag, however, above 
 spoken of, is connected in general with three 
 semicircular canals, of a similar structure, and 
 furnishing more space for the distribution of the 
 auditory nerve ; and the earthy pieces, within 
 the liquid contained in this bag, have begun to 
 assume the appearance of regular bones. Still, 
 in most fishes all these parts are buried within 
 the skull, and send no process to the surface ; 
 in some of the cartilaginous tribes alone this bag- 
 being prolonged to the upper and back part of 
 
129 
 
 head, where the blind termination of it is covered 
 by the common integuments of the body. One 
 fish alone the Lepidoleprus Trachyrynchus 
 presents any appearance of a canal, proceeding 
 from the surface to meet the internal parts, as in 
 all animals above the rank of reptiles. But the 
 extreme simplicity of the auditory apparatus in 
 fishes and other aquatic animals, is precisely what 
 we should have looked for in beings destined to 
 hear through the medium of water ; the vibra- 
 tions of which, being so much more powerful 
 than those of air, would render the complicated 
 apparatus, requisite in terrestrial animals, in 
 them superfluous. 
 
 Accordingly, it is in reptiles that we meet with, 
 for the first time, more or less constantly, not in- 
 deed a canal leading from the side of the head 
 towards the ear which none of them have but 
 one leading from the back of the pharynx, to 
 form a cavity, interior to which all the parts al- 
 ready described are situated. This cavity is 
 called the tympanum, and contains more or fewer 
 distinct bones, moved by proper muscles, and 
 serving to increase the impulse derived from the 
 vibrations of the air, and to convey it to the in- 
 ternal parts, which now take the name of laby- 
 rinth. Some additions, also, are now made to 
 this ; for, besides the three semicircular canals, 
 already described as branching from the common 
 bag in one direction, there is now a second series 
 of canals, of a very complicated structure, called 
 cochlea, branching in another, and affording, of 
 
130 
 
 course, still further space for the expansion of 
 the auditory nerve. It is true these parts are not 
 common to all reptiles ; serpents, for instance, 
 having no tympanum although they have a 
 small bone, analogous to those which, in other 
 reptiles, are situated in this cavity, but which, in 
 serpents, is lost in the muscles of the jaws and 
 none but some of the highest orders of lizards, as 
 the crocodile, having a cochlea. The last named 
 animal, moreover, makes the first approach to 
 the well known appendage to the ear, technically 
 called the pinna ; being furnished with a kind of 
 external flap, with which it closes the auditory 
 apparatus at pleasure. It is in this way proba- 
 bly that the animal excludes too intense sounds 
 when under water ; but it appears that the greater 
 number of amphibious animals are capable of 
 adapting their auditory apparatus, at least parti- 
 ally, to the medium in which they are, by putting 
 all the parts upon the stretch, by means of the 
 muscles already spoken of, when in the air, so as 
 to qualify them to receive slighter impressions, 
 and by throwing them all into a state of relaxa- 
 tion when under water, so as to prevent them 
 from being stunned by more powerful ones. 
 
 In birds at length we meet with constantly a 
 short canal, leading from the side of the head, 
 and meeting that coming from the pharynx, in 
 the tympanum. They have but one bone in this 
 cavity ; and the general structure of the parts of 
 their labyrinth is very similar to that of the higher 
 orders of reptiles. Birds in general want a pro- 
 
131 
 
 per pinna, its place being commonly supplied by 
 a small tuft of feathers : the owl, however, has 
 something very similar to this part as found in 
 mammiferous animals. 
 
 The auditory apparatus of the mammalia is in 
 general little more than a greater developernent 
 of the same parts as are found in birds. The 
 bones within their tympannm are from two to 
 six in number ; and all have a pinna except the 
 cetaceous tribes in which it would have been 
 superfluous, from the vibrations of water be- 
 ing too strong to require to be collected by this 
 means and some others, which either dwell 
 much in the water, as the shrew, or burrow un- 
 der ground, as the mole, in which, for an obvious 
 reason, it is still less called for. The shrew, 
 however, is provided with a kind of flap, like 
 that of the crocodile, the principal use of which 
 seems to be, so far from increasing the intensity 
 of the impression, to diminish it when the ani- 
 mal is under water. The great size of the pin- 
 na in some quadrupeds, and the frequency and 
 rapidity with which they move it in any direc- 
 tion, are familiar to every body; and may well 
 account, in conjunction with the complicated 
 and delicate structure of the internal parts of 
 the ear, for the extremely acute hearing which 
 they enjoy, and which is so necessary, in many 
 instances, to their security. Hence, a frequent 
 and rapid motion of the ears is, in all animals, 
 with justice regarded as indicative of a timid 
 disposition. 
 
With respect to taste, I have very little to say 
 in this place, having already described the organs 
 chiefly instrumental to this function, when speak- 
 ing of those by which food is received and trans- 
 mitted to the stomach. Whatever we may think 
 of the three sensations already spoken of, taste 
 is certainly, not only in the lower, but in all 
 tribes of animals, merely a more delicate kind 
 of touch; and is situated for the most part, not 
 exclusively in the tongue, palate or any other 
 individual organ, but in the whole interior of 
 the mouth. 
 
 Although, therefore, in many animals, as the 
 snail, cuttle and fishes in general, as well as in some 
 individuals of the superior classes, the tongue is 
 hard and cartilaginous, and apparently very little 
 adapted to this function : nay, although it is, as 
 in the flying-fish and gar-pike, altogether wanting, 
 we have no reason to believe that they are desti- 
 tute of taste ; and the same thing may be said of 
 the numerous animals in which the tongue is co- 
 vered, more or less perfectly with prickles, or 
 even with feathers, like the toucan, or scales like 
 one kind of bat, which must in a great measure 
 obviate the contact with it of sapid substances. 
 The immediate instrument of taste seems to be 
 certain pointed projections, called papillae, with 
 which the whole membrane lining the mouth is 
 more or less abundantly furnished ; and that or- 
 gan will be of course in all animals the principal 
 seat of this function, on which these papillae are 
 most copious. In the greater number of animals 
 
133 
 
 it is unquestionably the tongue, which is, in some, 
 as the bee and humming-bird, rolled into a suck- 
 ing tube, and an organ, therefore, not only of 
 taste, but of imbibition ; and, accordingly, when 
 the lips take the same form, as in the wared 
 whelk, and various kinds of fly, we may presume 
 they are an organ, not only of imbibition, but of 
 taste. Acuteness of taste seems to be much pro- 
 moted by a copious flow of saliva, by which the 
 sapid particles are dissolved ; and it may be pre- 
 sumed, therefore, that it is much greater in the 
 herbivorous, than in the carnivorous birds and 
 quadrupeds, as indeed the necessity which the 
 former are under, but from which the latter are 
 exempt, of distinguishing wholesome from delete- 
 rious herbs, would seem to require. Carnivorous 
 animals, on the other hand, are directed to their 
 food principally by the smell ; and how much 
 they excel those which are herbivorous in this 
 function has been already noticed. 
 
 The organ of touch the most general of the 
 sensations, and of which all the rest are perhaps 
 only varieties is, collectively speaking, the whole 
 surface of the bodies of animals ; although it is, 
 in each, much more delicate in certain parts of 
 this surface than in others, owing to the greater 
 number of papillae with which they are furnished, 
 and which are generally the immediate instru- 
 ment, as well of touch as of taste. The common 
 integuments of the bodies of animals in general 
 consist principally of the scarf-skin or cuticle, a 
 
134 
 
 substance immediately below this called corpus 
 mucosum, of which the nails and hairs are merely 
 modifications, and the true skin or cutis, the 
 seat of the papillae in question ; and there are few 
 animals, even of the lowest tribes, which have 
 not all these envelopes in one form or another. 
 In the armed polype indeed, the sea-blubber, the 
 slug, the earth-worm, and many similar animals, 
 the cuticle takes the form of mere mucilage ; 
 while in the corallines, on the other hand, it as- 
 sumes that of a calcareous mass, by which their 
 bodies are invested. In others again, it is the 
 corpus mucosum which gives them their earthy 
 covering, a proper cuticle being found exterior 
 to it, as in the sea-urchin, the star-fish, and all the 
 testaceous tribes : the sharp prickles, also, on the 
 shell of the sea-urchin, as well as the hairs of the 
 earth-worm, and numerous other animals of this 
 tribe, are merely modifications of the same sub- 
 stance, A proper cutis seems indeed to be want- 
 ing in the corallines, as well as in some other 
 animals of quite the lowest orders ; but in the 
 testaceous tribes, as the oyster, the cloak is pro- 
 bably a modification of this part, and it is accor- 
 dingly upon this, or some corresponding organ, 
 that the tentacula, or immediate instruments of 
 touch, are commonly met with. The perspira- 
 tion from the surface seems to bear the same 
 relation to touch as the saliva bears to taste ; 
 and there are, therefore, few animals which do 
 not perspire in one form or another. In some 
 of these tribes, as the sea-blubber, the perspired 
 
135 
 
 matter is said to be luminous ; and it is to this 
 cause that the sparkling appearance of the sea 
 by night in some places has been attributed. 
 
 In insects, the cuticle is always membranous ; 
 while it is the corpus mucosum which constitutes 
 their horny or calcareous sheaths, and forms, 
 also, in some, as spiders, flies, gnats, bees and 
 butterflies, the fine hairs, feathers or scales, with 
 which they are in certain parts invested. The 
 proper cutis again is below this, constituting, in 
 the lobster, for example, its membranous pellicle. 
 This part is, however, so completely defended, 
 for the most part, from the contact of external 
 substances, that to most insects are given in ad- 
 dition antennae, palpi, cirrhi, &c. called, in gene- 
 ral, feelers, situated commonly about the mouth, 
 and the chief seat, in them, of the function of 
 touch. 
 
 The cuticle is membranous also in fishes, and 
 immediately invests their scales, as well as the 
 bristles of the stickleback, the tubercles of the 
 sturgeon, &c., all which are formed by the cor- 
 pus mucosum. Under this is the cutis ; but it 
 is often so well defended from external impres- 
 sions, that to many of these animals, as well as 
 to insects in general, nature has given cirrhi, or 
 other analogous organs, as an immediate instru- 
 ment of touch. 
 
 In reptiles the cuticle is either membranous, 
 or, as in the frog, consists merely of mucilage, 
 as it does in many worms already noticed. The 
 corpus mucosum in these animals, assumes the 
 
 T 
 
136 
 
 form either of a soft viscid substance as in frogs, 
 of a horny shield as in tortoises, or of scales as 
 in serpents and most lizards : some of the latter, 
 however, as the crocodile and alligator, have it 
 again in the form of hard plates, like the shields 
 of tortoises. It is of the corpus mucosum also, 
 that the claws of such reptiles as have them are 
 constituted. The proper cutis is situated under 
 this ; and as the papillae of this organ are most 
 numerous about the soles of the feet, we must 
 conceive that it is in this part principally that 
 the touch of reptiles is resident. 
 
 The perspiration of reptiles is in general very 
 copious ; that of the salamander, for example, 
 being so much so, as to extinguish flame, and 
 thus to have given rise to the fable of its being 
 capable of living in the fire. In some, as the 
 toad, the perspired matter is of a poisonous qua- 
 lity ; and in one kind of lizard it is so acrid as to 
 blister the fingers. 
 
 In birds, the cuticle is again membranous ; 
 while the corpus mucosum assumes the form 
 upon the mandibles, of a bill ; upon the body in 
 general, of feathers ; upon the legs, of scales ; and 
 at the extremity of the toes, of claws. Under this 
 is the cutis, which, abounding in papillee, most in 
 general, below the bill, particularly in the swan, 
 goose and duck, may be presumed to render this 
 organ the most sensible of external impressions. 
 
 In mammiferous animals, the membranous cu- 
 ticle covers a corpus mucosum, generally of a 
 soft viscid consistence, but in some few animals 
 
137 
 
 of this class, as the rhinoceros, armadillo, scaly 
 ant-eater, c., assuming the form of hard plates, 
 like those of the crocodile and alligator. It is of 
 the corpus mucosum, also, that are constituted, 
 in some few, as the duck-billed animal, a perfect 
 bill; and, in the greater number, the hair, fur, wool, 
 bristles, quills, &c., with some one or other of 
 which their bodies are covered ; as well as the 
 horns, claws, hoofs, &c., with which many of 
 them are furnished. The cutis, lying under this, 
 is, in all, the organ of touch ; which is most acute 
 in the duck-billed animal, upon the bill ; in the 
 carnivorous tribes, at the root of the whiskers ; in 
 those with moveable snouts, as the mole, hog and 
 elephant, upon this organ ; in the bat, upon the 
 membrane between their fingers, commonly cal- 
 led their wings ; and in most of the Glires, as the 
 squirrel, as well as in apes and other animals of 
 this description, at the tips of the fingers ; since 
 it is in these organs respectively that the papillae 
 are most abundant. It is unnecessary to point 
 out how admirably this corresponds with the ha- 
 bits of each of these animals : and the delicacy 
 of touch which some of them enjoy in the organs 
 in question is wonderful an elephant, for exam- 
 ple, being able to distinguish by the tip of its 
 trunk, between the most minute objects, and a 
 bat being capable, though deprived of the use of 
 its eyes and ears, to direct its rapid flight through 
 the most intricate places, the touch alone of its 
 membranous wings sufficiently apprising it of the 
 
138 
 
 contiguity of objects, and thus enabling it to 
 avoid them. 
 
 The last subject for consideration at present is 
 Loco-motion, or the function by which animals 
 are enabled to shift from place to place. A very 
 great number of quite the lowest orders of ani- 
 mals, as the zoophytes and corallines, remain in 
 general permanently fixed to the substances to 
 which they are found attached, like plants to the 
 soil ; and even some which shift their place, like 
 the sea-blubber, seem to do so, not actively, but 
 by the motions of the waves in which they live. 
 The great majority, however, even of these tribes 
 employ various means of progression, and each 
 presents something interesting in its manner of 
 effecting this. The motions of the snail are fa- 
 miliar to every body. They are effected by that 
 part of the animal called its foot ; which is no- 
 thing more than numerous muscular fibres of a 
 jelly-like consistence, and quite colourless, as in 
 all invertebral animals, situated on the lower sur- 
 face of the strong membrane in which all the en- 
 trails are contained, and attached, also, to the 
 shell, so that the foot can be either protruded or 
 retracted at pleasure. Its progression is by a 
 vermicular motion ; and it attaches itself to the 
 surface along which it glides, partly by forming 
 a vacuum with the sole of the foot, in the man- 
 ner of a sucker, and partly by a viscid mucilage 
 secreted by the part. The loco-motion of the 
 
139 
 
 mussel, as well as of other bivalve mollusca, is ef- 
 fected in a similar manner, the animal protruding 
 the foot beyond the shell, and crawling along 
 upon it ; and it is furnished, also, with the same 
 kind of adhesive mucilage, for the purpose, not 
 only of steadying its steps during motion, but 
 also, as drawn out into threads under the name 
 of byssus, of preventing it, when at rest, from 
 being washed away from the rocks to which it 
 attaches itself by the tides. The motions of the 
 shell, in these animals, are perhaps instrumental, 
 as I have already observed, rather to respiration 
 than to loco-motion ; although, according to 
 Home, the oyster is capable of projecting itself 
 to a considerable distance, by suddenly closing 
 its shell. This is effected by one strong muscle 
 near the hinge. Of the other animals of this 
 class, some, like the cuttle, move by a kind of 
 arms, attached to their head ; others, like the 
 glaucus, by their gills or fins ; and others, lastly, 
 like the sea-mouse, by a kind of rudimentary 
 legs. The arms of the cuttle eight or ten in 
 number, according to the species are provided 
 with numerous tubercular suckers, by which the 
 animal attaches itself at pleasure ; but they are 
 capable of acting at times with so much force, as 
 to enable it to spring to some height out of the 
 water. The gills of the glaucus again act mere- 
 ly in the capacity of oars ; as do the hairs or 
 bristles which invest the whole body of the sea- 
 mouse, each of which, being set in motion by 
 proper muscles, constitutes, as it were, a rude 
 
140 
 
 prototype of a proper leg ; they have no joints, 
 however a total want of which, in all animals 
 of this class, constitutes one of their most cha- 
 racteristic distinctions. 
 
 The motions of insects are much more perfect 
 than those of any of the preceding animals, and 
 perhaps also of any others. In the centipede, 
 indeed, the legs are not much more perfect than 
 the bristles of the sea-mouse ; but in the cray- 
 fish, scorpion, spider, &c., they are very highly 
 organized, and moved by regular muscles, aris- 
 ing from the calcareous or horny covering of the 
 animal, which is accordingly often represented 
 as its skeleton. This reputed skeleton, however, 
 is, as I have already shown, only a modification 
 of the corpus mucosum. All winged insects 
 have six legs of this description, two attached to 
 their corslet, and four to their thorax ; and many 
 of them have, either in the course of their legs, 
 or at their extremity, numerous suckers, by which 
 they form a vacuum every time the legs come in 
 contact with any surface ; and it is in this way 
 that flies are enabled to crawl upon a perpendi- 
 cular plane, however smooth a mirror, for ex- 
 ample or even to walk along the ceiling of a 
 room, being thus held up by the pressure of the 
 atmosphere. It is, of course, unnecessary to 
 say, that, under the exhausted receiver of an 
 air-pump, they remain always on the floor of the 
 instrument. The structure of these suckers is 
 strikingly beautiful, considering their excessive 
 minuteness thev are best seen in a kind of 
 
141 
 
 beetle, a kind of bug, and the common blue- 
 bottle. The power with which some insects move 
 their legs is perfectly stupendous the grasshop- 
 er, for instance, being capable of leaping many 
 hundred times its own length, and the flea, of 
 carrying a weight eighty or a hundred times 
 heavier than itself. The strength of a strong 
 man, on the contrary, has been computed by 
 M. Desaguliers rarely to exceed four hundred 
 pounds, or less than three times and a half his 
 own weight ; while that of a weak man is not 
 above one hundred and twenty-five pounds, or 
 less than his own weight. But the most re- 
 markable organs of loco -motion in insects is 
 their wings, which now, for the first time, show 
 themselves in the scale of animals : of these, 
 however, it is sufficient to say, at present, that 
 they are moved by muscles of immense power, 
 and that the velocity with which they are moved, 
 is at least as remarkable as the force. The advan- 
 tage to winged insects of the numerous air-tubes 
 with which their whole bodies are intersected, 
 has been already insisted upon ; and serves beau- 
 tifully to illustrate the harmony of design which 
 characterises their whole economy. 
 
 Most fishes effect loco-motion principally by 
 their fins ; and of these they employ chiefly the pec- 
 toral and ventral pairs, which are strictly analo- 
 gous to the upper and lower extremities of the 
 superior tribes of animals, while the dorsal, cau- 
 dal, arid anal fins are, as it were, a kind of su- 
 pernumerary organs. The two first named pairs 
 
142 
 
 are attached respectively to a kind of shoulder- 
 bone and hip-bone ; and they are all moved by 
 very strong muscles, which take a lamellar struc- 
 ture, but are still in general colourless those, 
 however, about the head of the salmon are of a 
 red colour, and all those of the lamprey of a dark 
 grey. Some tribes effect their progression by 
 the motions, not of a fin, but of the spine for 
 example, the lamprey which has neither pecto- 
 ral nor ventral fins, and which seems to move in 
 its natural element, the mud, entirely by the la- 
 teral flexion of its spine, which it at first draws in- 
 to an S-like curve, and then shoots forwards the 
 anterior portion. The same is th6 case, also, 
 with the eel, when it creeps on land. Others 
 again, as most of the flat fishes, which, like the 
 lamprey, have neither pectoral nor ventral fins, 
 use their tails principally in making progress in 
 the water. The bodies of fishes are of very 
 nearly the same specific gravity as the water in 
 which they live, owing to the great quantity of 
 fat which most of them contain ; so that little 
 effort is required to keep them at any given 
 height, and their descent or ascent in the water 
 is comparatively easy, the latter being further 
 promoted by the faculty they possess, and to 
 which I have elsewhere alluded, of filling their 
 air-bladder at pleasure with air. When they at- 
 tach themselves to rocks, it is by means of suck- 
 ers like those of the cuttle ; and when they leap 
 from the surface of the water, it is by the sudden 
 and forcible extension of their bodies after a strong 
 
143 
 
 flexion, the elasticity of the water giving them 
 thus the force of a projectile. Some fishes, lastly, 
 as the flying kinds, are capable of using their long 
 fins in the air, almost in the manner of the wings 
 of birds, while some birds, on the other hand, 
 dive and swim under the water almost as well as 
 fishes ; and a most beautiful sight is thus some- 
 times presented to mariners, of whole flocks of 
 these two classes of animals alternately exchang- 
 ing, as it were, their natural elements, the one 
 with the other. 
 
 Reptiles in general make progress on land 
 either exclusively by crawling, as tortoises and 
 most lizards, or by either crawling or leaping as 
 frogs ; and the manner in which some of them, 
 as lizards, are enabled to move up a perpendicular 
 surface is still by a species of suction, the soles of 
 their feet being provided with a series of soft plaits, 
 which being drawn up at pleasure, produce the 
 requisite vacuum. The muscles of these animals 
 are, in general, of a redder colour than those of 
 fishes ; but they are, for the most part, still with- 
 out tendons. Some reptiles again, as serpents, 
 advance, like eels on land, chiefly by the motions 
 of their spine ; but they assist them by those of 
 their ribs which are, in them, organs rather of 
 loco-motion than of respiration being at inter-, 
 vals raised, or advanced like legs, and the rest of 
 the body afterwards drawn towards them. Some 
 lizards also, as the salamander, seem to advance 
 at least as much by the motions of their spine, 
 as by those of their legs ; while others, as the fly- 
 
 u 
 
144 
 
 ing lizard, use their ribs as organs of progression, 
 not, however, like serpents, in the manner of 
 legs, but in the manner of wings. The flying li- 
 zard is, however, a very harmless little being, 
 and quite unworthy to have given origin to the 
 dreadful stories of fiery dragons so common in 
 nursery books. In the water, most reptiles use 
 their legs almost in the same way as fishes in ge- 
 neral do their fins ; and some of them, as turtles, 
 keep themselves afloat by a collection of air be- 
 low their dorsal shield. The motions of a frog 
 in the water, furnish a very good lesson to man 
 of the manner in which he should use his limbs 
 in a similar situation. 
 
 We have seen that fishes in general move but 
 in the water, but that some are capable of ad- 
 vancing either on land or in the air ; and, that 
 reptiles in general move equally well either in 
 the water or on land, but that some of them also 
 are capable of flying ; and the same is the case 
 with birds. When on land, their progression is 
 effected by either walking or hopping on their 
 posterior extremities only, birds alone being the 
 only proper bipeds among the lower animals ; 
 and they are enabled to keep themselves erect 
 without effort, since their centre of gravity cor- 
 responds to the region where the anterior extre- 
 mities are attached, owing, in most birds, to the 
 legs being directed forwards, and the toes more 
 elongated, but, in some, as the penguin and the 
 puffin, to the trunk of the body being placed al- 
 most vertically. The manner also in which they 
 
145 
 
 support themselves while asleep upon a perch, 
 furnishes a beautiful example of adaptation of 
 the most simple means to a necessary end ; the 
 whole mechanism consists in making the mus- 
 cles which close the claws, pass in such a man- 
 ner over the joints of the knee and heel, that 
 upon the mere bending of their joints, they are 
 put upon the stretch without even the conscious- 
 ness of the animal. The muscles of birds are of 
 a redder colour and firmer consistence than those 
 of any other animals, and they are furnished in 
 general with very strong tendons, which, as age 
 advances, are very liable, particularly in the aqua- 
 tic and gallinaceous birds, to become converted 
 into bone. Birds are enabled to float in water 
 owing to their specific gravity being in general 
 less than that of this fluid, and hence they dis- 
 place only as much of it as is equal to their own 
 weight, according to the well known hydrostati- 
 cal law j and they move along its surface by the 
 action of their webbed feet, the swan appearing 
 to use its wings, in addition, almost in the man- 
 ner of sails. But the characteristic organ of lo- 
 co-motion in birds, as in insects, is their wings, 
 corresponding in their more essential parts, as 
 well with the pectoral fins of fishes, as with the 
 fore legs of reptiles and quadrupeds, and the arms 
 of man. The motions of these are effected by a 
 mass of muscles weighing more than all the rest 
 of the muscular system of the animal put toge- 
 ther, and arising from a breast-bone of a larger 
 size than is to be met with in any other class of ani- 
 
146 
 
 mals : the immense power thus acquired being 
 no more than is necessary to enable them at once 
 to support themselves in the air, and to move 
 through it with such astonishing velocity. The 
 former they effect by continually renewing the 
 column of air below them and which must be 
 displaced, in order to allow of their falling to the 
 ground more rapidly than this displacement 
 can take place, and the latter by using their 
 wings in the manner of oars, while the tail, at 
 the same time, serves them for a rudder ; and 
 so powerful is the impulse acquired in this way, 
 that they not unfrequently travel at the rate of 
 sixty or one hundred miles in an hour, or over 
 a distance equal to that between the capitals of 
 Scotland and England, in the same time that an 
 ordinary stage-coach takes to travel about thirty 
 miles. The advantage to birds, as well as to in- 
 sects, of the great quantity of air which prevades 
 their bodies even their bones has been already 
 pointed out ; and this obvious subserviency of 
 one part of their structure to the rest, irresist- 
 ably inculcates the truth that one Master-hand 
 has regulated the whole. 
 
 The loco-motion of mammiferous animals need 
 not detain us long. The cetaceous tribes alone 
 move constantly in the water ; and this they ef- 
 fect almost in the same manner as fishes, taking 
 care, however, to keep the summit of the head 
 which is often loaded with a kind of fat for this 
 purpose always above the surface, in order not 
 to interfere with respiration. It is from the 
 
147 
 
 comparative facility with which quadrupeds keep 
 their heads above water, that they in general 
 swim better than man ; the legs in them being 
 the heaviest part, while in man the head is so. 
 Very few quadrupeds are capable of moving 
 through the air the bat, the flying squirrel, and 
 some species of lemar being among these ; and 
 this they effect, not like the flying fishes and 
 birds, by their anterior extremities alone, nor 
 like the flying lizard, by their ribs, but by wing- 
 like membranes extended between their anterior 
 and posterior extremities, the motions of both 
 which are requisite to call them into action. 
 Quadrupeds, in general, use their upper limbs 
 only in conjunction with their lower in the act 
 of progression, but some few, as squirrels, apes, 
 &c., use them also, in the same manner as we 
 use our arms ; and when such is the case, they 
 are furnished, like man, with a collar-bone, which 
 they are in general destitute of; the two bones 
 of their fore arm, also, are moveable upon each 
 other ; whereas they are otherwise consolidated 
 together. In standing, they use in general all 
 the four legs ; and, as the centre of gravity is 
 thus preserved without any effort, they easily 
 sleep in this posture ; some few, however, as the 
 kangaroo, the jerboa, &c., rest on the hinder legs 
 alone; the centre of gravity falling, in them, 
 almost perpendicularly : but such are accus- 
 tomed to use their strong tails almost like a third 
 leg, not only in steadying themselves, but in 
 assisting them in leaping. The chief muscles 
 
148 
 
 going from the trunk of the body to the limbs of 
 quadrupeds, are inserted so low down the limb, 
 as almost to conceal the parts which correspond 
 respectively to that part of the arm of man which 
 is above the elbow, and to the thigh ; and this low 
 insertion of the muscles, giving them thus the 
 advantage of so much longer a lever, readily ac- 
 counts for the much greater power with which 
 they act. Their manner of performing on a flat 
 surface the walk, the amble, the trot and the 
 gallop, needs not to be particularly described. 
 In climbing, some few, like the walruss, seem to 
 attach themselves, like lizards, by forming a va- 
 cuum with the soles of their feet ; but the majo- 
 rity use their claws for this purpose, arid these 
 in some tribes, for example sloths and ant-eaters, 
 are so long, that they are almost incapable of 
 walking on a horizontal plane. In conclusion, 
 I may observe that, so nicely and admirably are 
 ah 1 the organs of loco-motion in quadrupeds 
 adapted to each other, that an anatomist, from 
 the inspection of any one bone out of the two or 
 three hundred which compose the skeleton, is 
 enabled to infer the general form and relations 
 of all the rest, as well as of the ligaments which 
 connect, and the muscles which move them. 
 Nor is this all : for, so intimately does the struc- 
 ture of this shell, as it were, of the body corres- 
 pond with that of the internal parts, that, from 
 this one bone he may almost give a description 
 of every organ of the animal of its propensities, 
 , and of its habits ! Can this correspondence be 
 
149 
 
 the work of a blind chance ? or does it imply a 
 unity of design, an extent of benevolence, and a 
 vastness of power, indicative of a ruling Provi- 
 dence the great Architect alike of the star of 
 the firmament, and of the mite which plays in 
 the sunbeam whose hand is traced equally in 
 the immensities of magnitude and of minuteness 
 the Almighty Father of the universe, and of 
 every thing which astounds and delights us in its 
 construction ? 
 
150 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE REVOLUTION OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 THE wisdom, and power, and beneficence of an 
 Almighty Creator, is in nothing more discernible 
 among His lower works, than in the revolution 
 of the seasons. In these the heavens and the 
 earth operate on each other ; " the rolling year" 
 is full of God : in its course, all His attributes 
 are called into operation, in so far as they re- 
 gard us, His dependent creatures ; and, while 
 the awakening spring sends forth the snow-drop 
 and the crocus to speak of His benignity and 
 love, the snows, and the rains, and the hurri- 
 canes of winter, remind us of the vengeance 
 which has been threatened against sin, and the 
 power of his avenging arm ! 
 
 I have already, in speaking of the adaptations 
 of the external world to our wants and necessi- 
 ties, alluded to the harmonious succession of the 
 seasons ; and now, as I intend the following ob- 
 servations to be more of a popular than a scien- 
 tific kind, my mention of the influences which 
 regulate them, will be merely such as are neces- 
 sary for a bare comprehension of the subject. 
 Suffice it, therefore, to say, that the motion of 
 
151 
 
 the sun round the earth is performed in an orbit, 
 the plane of which being extended to the heavens, 
 traces among the constellations of the fixed stars, 
 a great circle of the sphere called the ecliptic, 
 and which is inclined to the equator. The oppo- 
 site points at which these circles intersect each 
 other are called the equinoctial points. The 
 points of the ecliptic most remote from the equa- 
 tor are called the solsticial points. When the 
 earth is in one of these points, the apparent place 
 of the sun is in the opposite one ; it being evi- 
 dent, that the apparent path of the sun will be 
 the same as that which is really traced by the 
 earth, and that they will always be in opposite 
 positions to each other. 
 
 By the solsticial and equinoctial points, the 
 ecliptic is divided into four equal parts ; and the 
 intervals of time employed by the sun to describe 
 them constitutes the four seasons. In our lati- 
 tudes, spring is the period occupied by the sun 
 in passing from the equinoctial point, which it 
 meets in ascending, called the vernal equinox 
 to the northern solsticial point called the summer 
 soltice. Summer is the designation of the period 
 which it takes in passing from the summer sol- 
 tice to the autumnal equinox, or point of the 
 equator it touches in descending. Its passage 
 from that point to the winter soltice constitutes 
 autumn, arid from thence to the vernal equinox 
 is winter. 
 
 It might naturally have been supposed, since 
 the sun's apparent path in the heavens is the 
 
great circle of a sphere, and since this circle is 
 equally divided into four parts, by the four points, 
 which I have just mentioned as determining the 
 seasons, that the four seasons should have been 
 equal in duration. Centuries, however, before 
 the Christian era, it had been discovered that 
 this was not the case, a circumstance which it 
 would be difficult to have presupposed, seeing 
 that the circumference of a circle is, by the very 
 nature of the curve, similarly situated in every 
 part, with respect to the centre. The fact is, 
 that the summer months are about eight days 
 longer than the winter ones, and an investigation 
 of these apparent phenomena ultimately led to 
 the figure of the earth's orbit, which is now well 
 known to be an ellipse a curve, which possesses 
 a variety of curious properties, and which being 
 formed by a certain intersection of a cone, has 
 been called a conic section. Thus it is that the 
 eliptic circle, being the perspective representa- 
 tion of the ellipse on the concave surface of the 
 heavens, must of course exhibit all the irregula- 
 rities of the original, and we thus see the reason 
 of the seasons being unequal in duration. In 
 considering the effects of the apparent motion of 
 the sun, it is usual to designate the nearest ap- 
 proach of the earth as perigee, and its farthest 
 distance as apogee ; and from what I have just 
 said, it is evident that the summer and winter 
 months can never be equally divided, but in the 
 particular case of the coincidence of the solar 
 perigee, with one or other of the equinoxes. 
 
153 
 
 Such are the only principles, which I think it 
 at all necessary for my present purpose to allude 
 to, regarding the general nature and effect of the 
 motion of the earth in its eliptic orbit, as consti- 
 tuting the revolution of the seasons. It is more 
 consonant to my plan, by an examination of the 
 changes on the earth's surface, to shew the wis- 
 dom, power and beneficence of the Creator, and 
 thus from the contemplation of nature to lead 
 the thoughts up to nature's God. 
 
 When we regard the vegetables and animals 
 distributed over the earth's surface, we find that 
 each species is particularly destined to a certain 
 kind of climate, be that arctic, temperate or tor- 
 rid. In that we find it in its greatest perfection 
 in others, which differ from it, in a degenerate 
 form, and in some, absent and totally unknown. 
 It is curious, however, to observe, that since 
 elevation above the sea produces nearly the same 
 effect on climate, as distance from the equator, 
 that the mountains of the torrid zone being co- 
 vered with eternal snow, are capable of produ- 
 cing, at different points of elevation, almost all 
 the plants of all the different regions. From the 
 greater heat and humidity between the tropics, 
 nature is there more varied, vigorous and luxu- 
 riant ; and, gradually as we recede from this 
 zone, the plants diminish in number, size and 
 beauty, till, on the shores and islands of the arc- 
 tic sea, they either entirely disappear amid the 
 wilderness of frost and desolation, or are reduced 
 to a few stunted shrubs arid mosses, which scarce- 
 
154 
 
 ly do more than indicate the vitality of the earth's 
 surface. Man, whom God created as its master, 
 is, as I have before observed, the only organized 
 being which exists in all regions where it is pos- 
 sible for life to derive nutriment, including the 
 fish of the sea, the fowls of the air, the animals 
 which roam in the wood and field, or the vege- 
 tables and fruits which luxuriate in its various 
 regions. Indeed, so widely is man diffused, that 
 Spitzbergen and Nova Zembla in the north, 
 with the Falkland islands, New South Shetland, 
 Kergueland's Land, and a few other tracts in 
 the Southern Ocean, are the only extensive 
 countries w r hich are not known to possess inha- 
 bitants. That climate and situation modify the 
 character of animated beings is not to be denied, 
 but none have either raised the brutes to the dig- 
 nity of rational intelligence, or enabled them to 
 dispute with man the claim to rank as the lord 
 of the creation. Man is far from being the slave 
 of climate or the seasons ; and, " it is only in 
 the apprehension of ignorance and inexperience," 
 as Professor Gillespie eloquently observes, " that 
 his condition, however remotely or approximate- 
 ly situated with regard to the sun, appears whol- 
 ly miserable : for whilst the inferior animals de- 
 generate, or perish under a protracted or distant 
 removal from their native clime arid soil, man 
 alone is found, and is, by an arrangement of Di- 
 vine wisdom, fitted and framed, not only to live, 
 but to enjoy life every where. And thus, as there 
 is not a latitude which does not manifest to its 
 
inhabitants the Wisdom and benevolence of Hii 
 who hath made these admirable adjustments; 
 there is not a variety of seasons, even under th< 
 same climate, which, whether from 'the light 
 breaking forth as the morning,' or from ' the 
 pavilions of darkness,' accords not with this 
 tone of universal gratulation." 
 
 Although in our climate February most fre- 
 quently presents a wild and wintry aspect, yet it 
 may be regarded in milder seasons as the decided 
 commencement of that spring which is about to 
 renovate nature. It is now that the woodlark 
 renews its note, and the thrush retunes his throat 
 to melody. The rook revisits its breeding tree, 
 and makes choice of its nest for the approaching 
 summer. Towards its end the fruit buds com- 
 mence swelling on the trees. The lauristinus 
 has not yet lost its early blossoms, and the china- 
 rose in full beauty betrays not its transplantation 
 from an eastern climate. But what was indi- 
 cated in February, becomes in March reality. 
 Its visible heralds appear with their tabards of 
 many colours. The snowdrop, the crocus and 
 the primrose, are succeeded by the hyacinth and 
 the tulip, shewing above the ground the vesture 
 which is to surround their many-tinted blossoms. 
 Every tree and shrub speak of the renovation of 
 nature, and to the observant eye the hand of 
 Omnipresence is visible in the clearing sky the 
 lengthened day the more genial sun the open- 
 ing bud the expanding leaf the bloom which 
 
156 
 
 is in itself beauty and the blossom which pro- 
 mises fruit. 
 
 As March advances, so doth the train of Flora 
 increase ; the earlier flowers are succeeded by the 
 daffodil, the yellow auriculas, the coltsfoot with its 
 pink, its golden and its silvery stars, the cowslip 
 with its rose-coloured blossoms, and, if Favonius 
 invites, the violet which poets sing and all eyes 
 love. The hyacinth stately and rich, and the 
 narcissus delicately languid put on their blossoms, 
 and on the garden wall the peach and nectarine 
 vie with them in beauty. In the meadow, the 
 ash puts forth her grey buds, and the catkins of 
 the hazel and the willow tell that the life within 
 is no longer dormant. The hawthorn greens all 
 over with fresh young leaflets, and the daisy of 
 the field shews itself in that modest beauty, which 
 has drawn strains that can never die from the 
 poetic pens of Chaucer, Wordsworth, Burns, 
 Delta and Montgomery. 
 
 It is now also that the trouts begin to rise in 
 the stream, and the water-fly may be seen skim- 
 ming along the surface of the secluded pool. On 
 fine and warm days the brimstone-winged butter- 
 fly issues from the wood to enjoy the noon-day 
 sunshine ; the ewe drops its lamb ; the sparrow 
 builds its nest ; and in the twilight, when Hes- 
 perus glimmers over the southern hill, the bat 
 comes forth on restless wing to spend an hour in 
 dalliance with evening, till scared to his ivy-bed 
 by the deepening shadows of the night. 
 
157 
 
 Anon Spring deepens into Summer ; the sun 
 ascends higher in the heaven ; the day lengthens 
 and the heat strengthens ; nature is robed in lux- 
 uriance of verdure ; the storm-vexed ocean sleeps 
 like a lake ; the air murmurs with exulting in- 
 sects ; and, bush and brake, as " hymning their 
 great God," send forth the voice of melody. 
 
 But as June melts into July, the music of the 
 groves makes a pause, or is left almost to the 
 wren and a few tiny companions, the yellow- 
 hammer being among the last of the minstrels 
 which forsakes the twig to take to its nest, 
 where now lie its eggs, figured with irregular 
 scratches, as if artificially marked with a pen. 
 
 Even in this successive nidification of the sing- 
 ing birds, the wonderful regulations of Supreme 
 wisdom are visible. Not only is provision made 
 for the continuance of the harmony which enli- 
 vens glen and grove, the sunny glade and the 
 gloomy forest, but a certainty is given of the pa- 
 rent birds procuring food adapted for their young. 
 Thus the yellow-hammer, which I may adduce 
 in illustration, takes so late to the building of its 
 nest, because its young are nourished principally 
 on those seeds which nature profusely affords at 
 this period, and not earlier ; while the rook, ac- 
 tuated by a similar instinct, hatches in April, 
 when the turning up of the soil affords abundance 
 of grubs and worms, which could not be found 
 at a later season, and when this source fails, the 
 common chafer affords a long supply. The black- 
 birds and thrushes breed early ifor the same rea- 
 
158 
 
 son. It is only the fool, who hath said in his 
 heart, " there is no God," who can mistake this 
 guiding and guardian instinct for mere chance. 
 
 To paint a summer day were a work of super- 
 erogation its glories are embalmed in every 
 heart capable of feeling, and who possesses one, 
 which has not expanded as the eye surveyed fields 
 laden with grain yellowing to the harvest trees 
 bending with fruits, whose perfume filled the 
 glowing air flower-beds like the rainbow in their 
 hues the bright blue sky and its golden clouds 
 shewing in bold relief the wooded hills and, 
 over all, the mighty sun, like the visible eye of 
 God, shedding life, and lustre, and happiness over 
 the broad bosom of creation ! And when after- 
 noon hath melted into evening, and from behind 
 the western hill the purpling glories of the day- 
 light fade, hue after hue, typifying in a grand and 
 mighty scale the changes witnessed in the dying 
 dolphin's back, what meditative heart does not 
 throb in accordance with the lines of the poet ? 
 
 The evening star illumines the blue south, 
 Twinkling in loveliness. U ! holy star, 
 Thou bright dispenser of the twilight dews, 
 Thou herald of night's glowing galaxy, 
 And harbinger of social bliss ! how oft, 
 Amid the twilights of departed years, 
 Resting beside the river's mirror clear, 
 On trunk of mossy oak, with eyes upturned 
 To thee in admiration have I sate 
 Dreaming sweet dreams, till earth-born turbulence 
 Was all forgot ; and thinking that in thee, 
 Far from the rudeness of this jarring world, 
 There must be realms of quiet happiness. 
 
 DELTA. 
 
159 
 
 When chaos existed in its great original win- 
 ter, God said " let there be lights in the firma- 
 ment of heaven, to divide the day from the night ; 
 and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and 
 for days, and years." Then the first spring 
 advanced over the desolation of matter, and the 
 earth was warmed into life by the beams of the 
 genial sun. Divine goodness walked forth un- 
 veiled ; the bare soil became pasture ; the snow- 
 drop, and the crocus, and the primrose, and all the 
 earlier flowers put forth their blossoms in succes- 
 sion to the light of morning ; the fig tree and 
 the vine gave promise of fruitfulness ; birds and 
 insects filled the wide air with their songs and 
 murmurs ; arid the face of creation under the 
 sun, and the west wind, and the floating cloud, 
 and the refreshing dew, put on an aspect of ge- 
 neral cheerfulness. Earth, air, and water were 
 peopled with inhabitants, their faculties and their 
 duration established by a fixed law, and nature 
 proceeded in her annual round of growth and 
 increase, and maturity and decay. When re- 
 garding this season, well may we exclaim with 
 Alison " if there is an instinct which leads us 
 now into the scenery of nature, it is not only to 
 amuse us with a transitory pleasure, but to teach 
 us just and exalted conceptions of Him that 
 made us. In no hours of existence are the traces 
 of His love so powerfully marked upon na- 
 ture, as in the present. It is in a peculiar man- 
 ner the season of happiness. The vegetable 
 world is bursting into life, and waving its hues, 
 
 Y 
 
160 
 
 and spreading its fragrance around the habita- 
 tions of man. ' The desert,' even, ' and the so- 
 litary places are glad, and the wilderness springs 
 and blossoms as the rose/ The animal world is 
 marked by still deeper characters of happiness. 
 Myriads of seen, and far greater myriads of un- 
 seen beings, are now rising from every element 
 into life, and enjoying their new-born existence, 
 and hailing with inarticulate voice the Power 
 that gave them birth. The late desert of exist- 
 ence is now filling with animation, and every 
 element around us is pregnant with life and pro- 
 digal of joy. Is there a time in which we can 
 better learn the goodness of the universal God ? 
 Is it not wise in us to go abroad into nature, and 
 to associate His name with every thing that at 
 this season delights the eye and gratifies the 
 heart ? And is there any image under which it 
 is so useful for us to figure Him who inhabiteth 
 eternity, as under that of the Father of the crea- 
 tion ; as having called every thing into existence 
 for His pleasure ; in communicating happiness ; 
 and as, in these moments, listening with placid 
 ear, to every articulate voice that speaks grati- 
 tude, and to every inarticulate voice that testifies 
 
 joy." 
 
 Of all the vicissitudes of the year, none is 
 more tranquilly magnificent than the moonlight 
 of autumn. With what a deep delight the lover 
 of nature, resting on the brow of a green hill, be- 
 holds the broad silver moon emerging from the 
 sea, to reign over the night, and shedding over 
 
161 
 
 the forests and the fields, slumbering in their 
 luxuriance, a glory which is enchantment. The 
 blackbird has sung his requiem to departed day, 
 and all the air is still, as if our world of turmoil 
 were one of repose. The stream winds like a 
 thread of silver through the vale ; and if, haply, 
 a rural church-yard be near, with its spire like a 
 finger pointing to heaven, and its mossy tomb- 
 stones, and its venerable yew, the soul is solem- 
 nized and softened ; the vanities and the little- 
 ness of our daily pursuits appear in their true 
 light ; and man's immortal destiny seems almost 
 evident without the aid of revelation, from the 
 very magnificence of the earthly habitation which 
 God has created for his abode. 
 
 All poets downward from Homer to Coleridge 
 and Wilson, have hymned the praises of the 
 moon : its pervading influence has by none been 
 so sweetly figured as by Keats : 
 
 " Oh moon ! old boughs lisp forth a holier din 
 The while they feel thy airy fellowship ; 
 Thou dost bless every where, with silver lip 
 Kissing dead things to life. The sleeping kine 
 Couched in thy brightness dream of fields divine ; 
 Innumerable mountains rise, and rise 
 Ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes ; 
 And yet thy benediction passeth not 
 One obscure hiding-place, one little spot 
 Where pleasure may be sent ; the nestled wren 
 Has thy fair face within its tranquil ken, 
 And from beneath a sheltering leaf 
 Takes glimpses of thee." 
 
 But if nature's tranquil magnificence be so 
 imposing in the moonlight of autumn, not less 
 
162 
 
 striking is the tempestuous array of the thunder- 
 storm at that season. The clouds congregate ; 
 the sun withdraws his beams ; the winds retire 
 into their chambers ; the waters put on an inky 
 hue ; the birds hush their songs in the woodlands ; 
 the flocks bleat as if in dismay in the meadows ; 
 and, on the mountain side, the lowing of the cat- 
 tle is wild and desolate. Anon a transient breeze 
 stirs the grass, and the leaves quiver for a mo- 
 ment as if convulsedly ; and now, a few big drops 
 of rain patter amid the boughs, heralding the 
 lightning, which is the parent of thunder. How 
 sublime that peal which echoes and re-echoes 
 through the immensity of space, proclaiming the 
 power of the Almighty, and portending to man 
 the breaker of his commandments how limitless 
 may be the vengeance, which his disobedience is 
 incurring ! the hills look dark in the distance ; 
 the ocean rolls in mountain-billows to the shore ; 
 the clouds open their windows, and pour down 
 rain and hail upon the earth ; till, having spent 
 its wrath, the tempest passes over, arid again 
 the glad sun, darting a beam through the rent 
 battalia of the clouds, calls forth the rainbow to 
 span the east, and to proclaim to man, that the 
 anger of God will not only not abide always, but 
 that he has only to repent, that he may be for- 
 given ! 
 
 When the sickle has levelled the aureate ripe- 
 ness of the fields ; when the orchard has shed its 
 mellow fruits ; when the garden flowers fade ; 
 and when the forest trees wear a varied livery, 
 
163 
 
 the wild cry of the partridge is heard at eventide, 
 and the shortening day, and the declining sun, 
 proclaim that the reign of winter is at hand. 
 How pleasing at this season is the twinkling of 
 the evening star ! how melancholy are the medi- 
 tations of him, who walks abroad to meditate, 
 like Isaac, at eventide ! 
 
 Oh fading bowers ! 
 
 Oh shortening days and nights of dreary length ! 
 How emblematic of the fate of man 
 Are ye, and of his fast declining strength, 
 His chequered lot, frail life, and fleeting span ! 
 Thousands have fall'n since joyous spring began 
 Its smiling course, say, shall the next be ours ? 
 
 Now at morn and eve, if the weather be clear, 
 the earth is covered with hoar-frost. Vegetation 
 is every where passing rapidly into decay. The 
 oak, the beech and the hornbeam yet partially 
 retain their leaves, while those of almost all the 
 other trees are shrivelled by the blast, or have 
 returned to their parent earth. It is now that 
 the evergreen trees, the firs, and the pines, and 
 the hollies, which the splendid summer foliage 
 had thrown into shade, remain to claim our at- 
 tention and regard. And how coldly, serenely 
 beautiful it is as the shades of night clear away 
 before the uprise of the faint low sun, and the 
 robin hopping on the window-sill comes with its 
 sweet voice to solicit crumbs, to gaze abroad and 
 behold the earth enveloped in a winding-sheet of 
 snow, while the traveller passes by with sound- 
 less feet, and the eaves are armed with crystal- 
 
164 
 
 line icicles. Turn to the lake, and lo ! the wi- 
 zard frost hath enchanted the water, on whose 
 surface the young are loud at their pastime the 
 waves are chained in their flow, and the cataract 
 hangs over the rock in suspended beauty, re- 
 flecting back the red light of the eastern sun. 
 
 Yes ! if spring in its budding leaf, and open- 
 ing flower, and favonian breeze, indicates the 
 Omnipresent kindness of the Creator, and sum- 
 mer and autumn attest the prodigality of His 
 bounteous love, nature seated on her throne of 
 storms preaches to us of His power amid the de- 
 solation of winter, and calls on us, in the march 
 of the whirlwind and the roar of the angry flood, 
 to abstract our thoughts from the passing things 
 of earth, and form an acquaintance with the dark 
 and lonesome grave ! 
 
 In the preceding remarks on a few of the ex- 
 ternal aspects of the seasons, I have but skirted 
 the outlines of a voluminous and invitfrig subject, 
 the numerous subdivisions of which would each 
 require a much longer chapter for itself, arid af- 
 ford curious and abundant matter for the illus- 
 tration of that wisdom which regulates alike the 
 great and little things of the universe. 
 
 Innumerable, indeed, and irresistible are the 
 arguments, which from a survey of the seasons 
 alone, must take hold of every thinking mind, in 
 attestation of the existence of an All-wise and 
 Omnipresent Creator. When we regard the in- 
 ternal functions of plants, we find a complete 
 cycle, which corresponds exactly to the duration 
 
165 
 
 of the year. Spring is required for the ascent of 
 the sap in the fruit trees ; summer and autumn 
 ripen their produce ; and the cold of winter is 
 necessary for hardening the shoots, which have 
 been produced hy the heat of the sun. " If the 
 wheat-ear," says an eloquent writer, " were to 
 remain exposed to the sun of a six month's sum- 
 mer, the grain would be reduced to chaff. If it 
 were green during a spring of similar length, it 
 would never come to maturity. Either our ve- 
 getables are suited to our year, or our year to 
 them. In either case we see a law of mutual 
 adaptation, which demonstrates the necessity of 
 previous design." The invariable regularity with 
 which the earth performs its annual revolution is 
 demonstrative of Divine love ; for, were not this 
 the case, seed-time and harvest would fall into 
 confusion, and all our calculations of time, and 
 our dependence for direction from celestial phe- 
 nomena would be vain and abortive. So would 
 it be with the alternation of day and night, were 
 the duration of these not immutably fixed also ; 
 the vegetable kingdom even would be convulsed ; 
 the marigold, which as Shakspeare says, 
 
 " Goes to bed with the sun, 
 And with him rises weeping," 
 
 the hawkweed, the day-lily, and the dandelion 
 and others, from which Linnaeus attempted to 
 construct a natural clock, from their opening 
 and closing at certain hours, would have all their 
 
166 
 
 wonderful mechanism destroyed, did the sun rise 
 and set at uncertain intervals. So would it be 
 with man. A period of sleep once in the twenty- 
 four hours is necessary to restore the bodily en- 
 ergies, which have been exhausted by a day's 
 activity ; and unless his corporeal frame were 
 quite altered from what we now know it to be, 
 the recurrence of night only three times in the 
 week, instead of once in the twenty-four hours, 
 would not only diminish the duration of life in- 
 stead of extending it, but be a drag on his acti- 
 vity, instead of propelling it to exertion. 
 
 Finally, then, the revolution of the seasons is 
 an inexhaustible theme for praise, if we regard 
 the goodness of God, and of wonder, if we con- 
 template the stupendous machinery which is in 
 constant and unerring operation for its govern- 
 ment and regulation. Well has it been said by 
 the royal lyrist of Jerusalem, that " day unto day 
 uttereth speech, and night unto night teacheth 
 wisdom." Taken individually, each of the sea- 
 sons has its peculiar delights. When the storm 
 of winter beats against the pane, the social circle 
 feel more intensely the comforts of the domestic 
 hearth, and the student poring over his books, 
 finds it the most genial time for holding com- 
 munication with the recorded thoughts of by- 
 past ages ; and few minds are so destitute of 
 sensibility as not to expand with grateful emo- 
 tion, as earth spreads forth the exhaustless vari- 
 ety of spring. In the luxuriance of summer the 
 
167 
 
 beneficence of the Supreme Being is every where 
 visible, and the autumn 
 
 " Spreads a liberal feast for all that live." 
 
 But while all on earth is passing and perishing, 
 God remains the same ; and on all he hath im- 
 pressed the signet of mutability and change, to 
 tell man that his home here, also, is but a tran- 
 sient abode ; while, at the same time, the regular 
 laws which govern the universe, may shew him 
 that there is behind all an Essence unchangeable 
 and unchanged, without beginning of days or 
 end of years. 
 
 
168 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DISTRIBUTION AND MIGRATION OF ANIMALS. 
 
 THE distribution of animals over the globe is a 
 curious subject, and one involving many difficul- 
 ties, which philosophers have not the means of 
 fully elucidating. In each of the different regions 
 of the earth, there are not only plants, but also 
 different animals, which appear to be natural, as 
 it were, to the soil. In many instances, these 
 differences involve whole families of animals, 
 which are confined to certain districts ; but in 
 the majority of cases, they extend only to certain 
 species, each of which has its own particular 
 habitat. Nor is this peculiarity confined to one 
 particular class of animals, but extends equally 
 throughout all the divisions of quadrupeds, birds, 
 reptiles, fishes and insects. Man alone, of all 
 animals, is the inhabitant of every region of the 
 earth which has hitherto been explored. With 
 respect to quadrupeds, some, as the lion, ele- 
 phant, camel, hippopotamus, tiger, panther, leo- 
 pard, hyaena, giraffe, &c., are found only in hot 
 climates ; while the Avhite bear, the seal, and 
 many others, are met with only in the colder re- 
 gions near the poles. Of birds, also, the cocka- 
 
169 
 
 toos, parrots, birds of paradise, humming birds, 
 and other splendid varieties, are proper to the 
 torrid regions ; while the eagle, the eider-duck, 
 the albatross, and numerous other tribes, are 
 confined to districts more or less cold. The 
 majority of reptiles again, and other cold-blood- 
 ed animals are met with only or chiefly in hot 
 climates ; and it is of these, accordingly, that the 
 deadly rattle-snake and cobra -de-capello, and 
 the formidable crocodile and alligator, are inha- 
 bitants. In like manner many of the most re- 
 markable fishes, as the flying-fish, the electrical 
 fish, &c., occur only in tropical waters ; while 
 some few only, as the cod, inhabit the frigid 
 waters of the north. Of insects, lastly, the 
 hordes of splendid butterflies and fire-flies, of 
 mosquitoes and white ants, which inhabit hot 
 districts, are known to every body ; while cold 
 districts, on the contrary, are comparatively des- 
 titute of them. 
 
 But it is not climate alone which produces 
 these differences ; for, of all the animals which 
 I have above enumerated, scarcely any one is 
 the inhabitant indiscriminately of any hot or of 
 any cold climate, but each has its own specific 
 locality, in which alone it arrives at perfection. 
 Nay, many districts appear to have their own 
 peculiar tribes of animals almost independently 
 of the climate, as is particularly the case with 
 regard to America. When America was first 
 discovered, no quadrupeds corresponding to our 
 horses were found there ; neither was our spe- 
 
170 
 
 cies of sheep nor of oxen ; no lions roam over 
 its torrid plains ; nor is the elephant, or camel, or 
 hippopotamus of the old world there a denizen. 
 On the contraiy, we meet with there the zama, 
 the tapir, and numerous other quadrupeds, to 
 which the old world affords nothing similar. In 
 New Holland again, we have the kangaroo, a 
 marsupial animal, but quite different from the 
 American opossum, and that singular anomaly 
 the ornithoryncus, which in structure and habits 
 partakes both of the bird and quadruped. So 
 likewise the birds and insects of the American 
 continent are almost totally distinct from those 
 common to the old world, however well adapted 
 we might suppose those winged creatures, to 
 transport themselves into every clime and re- 
 gion. 
 
 We find further, that islands are in general 
 more thinly inhabited than the continents which 
 they nearly adjourn though in these cases the 
 animals are of the same species, for the most 
 part, as those of the neighbouring mainland. In 
 islands far removed from continents, however, 
 the species of animals are generally distinct and 
 peculiar. Of this circumstance New Holland 
 presents us with numerous examples, as well as 
 Java, Sumatra, and the islands in the Chinese 
 seas. 
 
 Now, the question has been started, has the 
 colonization of the earth proceeded from one 
 central point ; or have there been various such 
 points, from which the numerous tribes of ani- 
 
171 
 
 mals have radiated? and, although we may in 
 all humility re-echo the interrogation " where 
 wast thou when I laid the foundations of the 
 earth ! declare, if thou hast understanding ! " yet 
 revelation teaches us, that all created beings were 
 inhabitants originally of the same district ; and 
 again, that all animals were collected a second 
 time into one spot at the deluge. This, then, we 
 are bound to believe ; but how are these facts 
 reconcilable with those which have been above 
 stated that each tribe of animals requires a pe- 
 culiar temperature, and that each is now a deni- 
 zen of certain districts alone ? In my opinion, 
 they are easily so, if we keep in mind first, that 
 every variety of temperature is procurable by 
 differences in the elevation, under precisely the 
 same latitude ; and, secondly, that there are no 
 assignable limits to the power which animals 
 possess of migrating from one district to another. 
 With respect to the former position, it is very 
 well known, that in Quito, one of the mountains 
 of the Andes, within a space of twenty miles, all 
 the various temperatures of the globe are found. 
 At the base is the torrid zone and the plants and 
 animals of that region ; farther up, is a tempe- 
 rate climate ; and still higher, is the frozen at- 
 mosphere with the soil and products of arctic 
 countries. A similar remark may be made with 
 respect to the Alps ; and so decided are the dif- 
 ferent climates on the declivity of the Peak of 
 Teneriffe, that the whole has been divided into 
 five distinct zones, called respectively accord- 
 
172 
 
 ing to the characteristic vegetable productions of 
 each the region of vines, of laurels, of pines, of 
 brooms, and of grapes. 
 
 Now, if we picture to ourselves the first in- 
 habited district of the earth to have been a long 
 range of elevated continent, surrounded with 
 islands, we can easily understand how all kinds 
 of animals, as well as vegetables, may at one 
 time have lived, and moved, and had their being 
 on almost the same spot ; and, independently of 
 the subsequent migrations of the former, if we 
 call to mind that great changes, whether occur- 
 ing at once or at successive periods, may have 
 broken up and separated this primeval continent, 
 with its accompanying islands, we shall not be 
 at a loss to imagine how a dispersion, and sepa- 
 ration, and a distinct grouping of the animal 
 kingdom may have taken place. But to aid this 
 dispersion of animals, we have in addition their 
 migratory propensities. A great proportion of 
 animated beings have the power of loco -mo- 
 tion ; some, as quadrupeds, as I have shewn in 
 another place, in a considerable degree, and 
 others, as birds, fishes and insects, to an extent 
 which may embrace the whole circuit of the 
 globe. It is true, we cannot ascribe to quadru- 
 peds the power of traversing oceans by their own 
 unassisted resources, in the same manner as the 
 winged tribes are known to do, and thus of colo- 
 nizing the new world from the old, provided the 
 relations between the two had always been the 
 same as at present. But there is every reason 
 
173 
 
 to believe that, such is not the case ; and even 
 though it had been, there is nothing absurd in 
 the supposition, that stragglers may have been 
 occasionally wafted from such parts of the one 
 as were not very remote from the other, in a 
 kind of floating forest, which had been over- 
 thrown by the tempest, and borne by sweeping 
 rivers such as is still the case with the Missis- 
 sippi into the ocean. 
 
 In general, the great exciting cause of migra- 
 tion among animals is the search of food. Thus, 
 among quadrupeds, wild deer move from one 
 part of the country to another in particular sea- 
 sons, as is exemplified in the rein-deer of Lap- 
 land and the northern parts of America, in order 
 that they may procure in perfection the necessaiy 
 supply of their aliment. So also the winged 
 denizens of the air fly from region to region, as 
 the insects on which they subsist are called in 
 succession by the march of the seasons into ex- 
 istence ; and it is with a similar object that the 
 fishes of the ocean perform their long periodical 
 voyages. 
 
 If it is asked, what teaches these animals thus 
 to undertake far journey ings at particular times ; 
 I can only reply by demanding in return, what 
 teaches the orb on which we have our being 
 to revolve around the sun as a centre? what 
 teaches the heart of animals to pulsate, or the 
 sap to ascend, as regularly as spring returns, into 
 the minute vessels of the oak of the forest ? It 
 is to us inexplicable, otherwise than by referring 
 
174 
 
 it to some particular and inherent law, imposed 
 upon them hy their Creator. One thing, how- 
 ever, is evident, that these journeys are not com- 
 menced or pursued as man would pursue them 
 that they are the result of intuitive impulse, 
 not of thought, reason and deliberation. 
 
 A bird of the migrating kind, even when con- 
 fined for a series of years within the close bar- 
 riers of a cage, has been observed, when the 
 periodical seasons of its natural journey ings has 
 arrived, to become restless and feverish, and to 
 strive with incessant and unwearied efforts to 
 escape from its prison ; whereas, had reason been 
 its privilege, a moment's reflection would have 
 shewn it that its attempts were vain and futile. 
 When we can explain the nature of the impulse 
 which actuates the beaver to construct its hut, 
 the bird to build its nest, and the spider, the 
 silk- worm and the bee, respectively to form their 
 web, their cocoon and their comb and all this 
 as easily and faultlessly the first time of under- 
 taking it, as at any subsequent period we may 
 attempt an explanation of that which prompts 
 animals, under certain conditions, to migrate ; 
 but until we can do the former, I apprehend we 
 must be content to acquiesce in the latter as an 
 ultimate fact. 
 
 But granting this impulse, many have been 
 so astonished at the prodigious journies of mi- 
 grating birds, as almost to doubt whether any 
 such be really performed. These sceptics have 
 had recourse to the idea that swallows, for ex- 
 
175 
 
 ample, either dived below the water, or burrowed 
 in the earth, and that woodcocks and rails con- 
 cealed themselves in holes at the periods when 
 they were supposed to migrate. But if we re- 
 flect upon the swiftness of these birds, propelling 
 them at the rate of fifty to one hundred miles in 
 an hour if we consider that they take advan- 
 tage of favourable winds that they skirt in their 
 flight the borders of land and rest occasionally 
 their tired wings, the space travelled over by them 
 will not appear so vast and impracticable. Be- 
 sides, few migratory animals undertake, in the 
 present day, very long journeys ; we have no in- 
 terchange, at present, of American and European 
 birds by this process, and seldom any of those 
 peculiar to remote islands. 
 
 With respect, lastly, to fishes and insects, the 
 migrations of many of these animals are hardly 
 less remarkable than those of birds, and abun- 
 dantly adequate to explain their general disper- 
 sion over the globe, even without admitting 
 which is, nevertheless, doubtless the case that 
 all tribes of these, and many other animals, are 
 liable to be conveyed, in either their perfect or 
 their embryo state, by migratory birds, from one 
 district to another. And, indeed, the journey- 
 ings of insects and fishes are not, at least in the 
 present day, very stupendous. Locusts confine 
 their migrations within comparatively limited 
 bounds ; and although some kinds of fish, as the 
 herring, traverse a vast space of a northern sea, 
 
176 
 
 it is doubtful whether they ever extend into the 
 southern hemisphere. 
 
 How limited, then, are the journey ings of even 
 the most buoyant and the fleetest of creatures, 
 compared to the roamings of man over every 
 region of the habitable globe! Nevertheless, they 
 may have been quite sufficient, in conjunction 
 with the other causes already assigned, to effect 
 the distribution of animals from a single spot, 
 and a single pair of each species, over the whole 
 earth ; and to fix each particular species in the 
 locality and temperature best suited to its habits 
 and nature. The opposite opinion, that a suc- 
 cessive creation of animals has occurred, and 
 may still be going on, is as contrary to well esta- 
 blished facts as to revelation. Tribes of animals 
 which once existed may have become extinct ; 
 but there is no reason to believe that any new 
 tribes ever start up ; on the contrary, nature, 
 amid all her diversities of tribes, approaching 
 and blending into each other by almost imper- 
 ceptible shades, is ever careful to prevent a mul- 
 tiplication of species. Thus, animals in a state 
 of nature keep distinct the lion never mates 
 with the tigress, or the elephant with the rhino- 
 ceros ; the smallest wren is faithful to the partner 
 of its own kind, and the insignificant insect selects 
 its fellow for a mate ; and though occasionally, 
 from unnatural connections, some kinds of mixed 
 monsters are produced, they are happily, by a 
 beneficent law of nature, incapable of propaga- 
 
177 
 
 ting their disgusting race. Had it been other- 
 wise, the earth would have soon swarmed with 
 beings more shapeless and revolting than any 
 fabled of Circe or the loathed Sycorax ; and 
 neither grace, nor beauty, nor fitness, nor pro- 
 portion would have characterised, as they do, the 
 works of God. 
 
178 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE CULTIVATION AND ACCLIMATION OF PLANTS. 
 
 I DO not intend to enter, in this place, upon a 
 lengthened introduction to the study of botany ; 
 I prefer rather to point out a few of its funda- 
 mental truths ; and, by endeavouring to call the 
 attention to the sweets this pursuit scatters so 
 abundantly upon those who follow it, to induce 
 the reader to learn from other writers the prin- 
 ciples upon which this interesting study is found- 
 ed. It has been asserted, that botany consumes 
 time without affording a sufficient recompense. 
 That such, however, is not the case, is evident 
 from its intimate connection with the sciences 
 of dietetics, pharmacy, &c. ; and surely whatever 
 adds to our knowledge, or to our pleasures ; what- 
 ever has a tendency to call forth our better sen- 
 timents, or to elevate our minds to the contem- 
 plation of the Deity, through the medium of His 
 works, is deserving the attention arid the study 
 of mankind. No pursuit is more congenial to 
 the human mind than the study of nature ; and 
 no one can pursue this most engaging of all her 
 
179 
 
 walks, gaze upon the beauty arid the simplicity 
 of the forms displayed, the delicacy and the 
 splendour of the colours, and feast upon the 
 sweetness of the perfume, without feeling an awe 
 and admiration of that Omnipotent source from 
 whence these pleasures are derived. The study 
 of the vegetable kingdom leads the botanist to 
 spots most richly decked with nature's beauties ; 
 to view her stores unrolled, and converse with 
 her charms; to him the heath-clad moor, the 
 lofty mountain and the wild morass, are not the 
 dreary barren wastes they seem to others ; there 
 undisturbed but by the flitting bird, or hum of 
 insect sporting in the noon-tide air, he finds food 
 for contemplation, replete with entertainment and 
 instruction. What is a more perfect emblem of 
 purity than a mountain plant, the flowers of 
 which blushing unseen and glistening with the 
 morning dew, shiver in the breeze ; and does it 
 not forcibly impress upon our minds, that the 
 same hand which reared this lonely plant des- 
 tined, perhaps, to perish unobserved, yet so per- 
 fect in all its parts, and evincing such consum- 
 mate skill, that the same watchful power which 
 hath been exerted for it, cannot be forgetful 
 of man ? Sentiments such as these, excited in 
 the breast of Mungo Park by the sight of a humble 
 flower in the middle of the desert, changed his 
 melancholy forebodings respecting the fate await- 
 ing him, into a cheerful pious dependance upon 
 that all-powerful arm, which in the dreary waste, 
 far from the abodes of man, had raised arid pro- 
 
180 
 
 tected with a Father's care, that lonely flower. 
 Behold, too, the simple wall-flower ! 
 
 Cheerful 'midst Desolation's sadness thou 
 
 Fair flower, art wont to grace the mouldering pile, 
 And brightly bloom o'er Ruin, like a smile 
 
 Reposing calm on Age's furrowed brow. 
 Sweet monitor ! an emblem sure I see 
 Of virtue, and of virtue's power in thee. 
 
 For though thou cheerest the dull ruin's gloom, 
 Still when thou'rt found upon the gay parterre, 
 There art thou sweetest fairest of the fair ; 
 
 So virtue, while it robs of dread the tomb, 
 
 Shines in the crown that youth and beauty wear, 
 Brightest of all the gems that glitter there. 
 
 And also view the passion-flower how delicate 
 and how fair! A plant of matchless elegance, 
 it surely is a meet emblem of that we hold most 
 dear : 
 
 Its tender shoots, fostered with care, extend 
 
 Far in festooned luxuriance, 
 Its drooping flowers, too, blend, 
 
 Sweet mixture ! modesty and loveliness ; .& 
 But more when closely viewed, this flower appears 
 To bear the sacred mark of sacred tears, 
 
 Adding to the plant's beauty holiness ! 
 
 How like this flower can woman be ; so fair ! 
 
 So beautiful ! too delicate her mind 
 Would seem, the world's rude with'ring frosts to bear 
 
 Without some guardian's help, round whom to bind 
 
 Its tendrils in pure trusting confidence. 
 When rightly trained her blossoms bloom, they shine 
 In more than beauty's lustre ; they combine 
 
 With earthly charms, celestial innocence, 
 Breathing of sacred things ; yet, like that flower, alone 
 To those who view her near, her holiness is known. 
 
 Still after all, perchance, it is but very childish- 
 
181 
 
 ness that would weave fancies with flowers, and 
 borrow from their hues a colour for our thoughts ; 
 but if it be, it surely is a weakness at which phi- 
 losophy would rather smile than frown. Lord 
 Bacon says, that the study of botany, and the 
 pleasures to be found in the garden, " are the 
 greatest refreshment to the spirits of man ;" and, 
 perhaps, it was among his shady walks, or in 
 rambling over hills and meadows, that he felt his 
 mind purified from its grosser and more worldly 
 affections, perhaps it was there he forgot that 
 love of power and of place that made him though 
 " the greatest," yet "the meanest of mankind." 
 Sir Isaac Newton was ardently attached to this 
 pursuit. Pope was a celebrated gardener, and 
 often mentions the delight he felt in flowers ; 
 and Lord Peterborough, after all his victories in 
 Spain, did not forget his rustic enjoyments. 
 Addison says, in the Spectator, " I look upon 
 the pleasures which we take in a garden as one 
 of the most innocent delights of human life. A 
 garden was the habitation of our first parents 
 before their fall. It is naturally apt to fill the 
 mind with calmness and tranquillity, and to lay 
 all its turbulent passions at rest. It gives us a 
 great insight into the contrivance and wisdom of 
 Providence, and suggests innumerable subjects 
 for meditation. I cannot but think the very 
 complacency and satisfaction which a man takes 
 in these works of nature, to be a laudable, if^not 
 a virtuous habit of mind." Though all have not 
 a garden to retire to, still all possess the fields ; 
 
182 
 
 and in the words of Bigland, " the earth is but 
 an immense garden, laid out and planted by the 
 hand of the Deity ; the lofty mountains and the 
 waving forests are its terraces and its groves, and 
 fertile fields and flowery meadows form its beau- 
 tiful parterres." 
 
 The endless variety and diversity of form, and 
 colour, and structure displayed in the vegetable 
 kingdom, are evidently intended to excite the 
 attention of man : and well would it be for him 
 if he oftener followed that natural inclination 
 that innate principle implanted within him, but 
 blunted and made obtuse by more worldly con- 
 siderations which would lead him to the con- 
 templation of the works of creation. 
 
 As I before stated, I have no intention at pre- 
 sent to enter upon the first principles of botany 
 so many popular and cheap treatises on the 
 subject are to be met with, that it would be use- 
 less here to do so : all that I propose undertak- 
 ing at present is, to draw the attention of the 
 reader to the effects of culture upon plants, and 
 to point out to him how clearly an acquaintance 
 with the vegetable kingdom, shows that the curse 
 of an angry and justly offended God, pronounced 
 in the beginning of the world, has been hitherto 
 incessantly executed. In the third chapter of 
 Genesis we find " cursed is the ground for thy 
 sake ; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days 
 of thy life : thorns also and thistles shall it bring 
 forth to thee." It must have struck the most 
 unobserving beholder, that, although the earth 
 
183 
 
 brings forth most abundantly thorns, thistles, and 
 every other noxious weed, without the slightest 
 care of man, yet such is not the case with those 
 plants upon which we depend for our very ex- 
 istence ; and that its strength arid powers are 
 even exhausted by a few crops of the latter, and 
 which it soon fails to produce. The same is ap- 
 parent with our fruit trees ; if left to themselves, 
 their very fruitfulness will destroy them ; they 
 throw up such innumerable shoots that light and 
 air become excluded, and the tree dies, or at 
 least decays for want of proper nourishment. 
 
 I cannot conceive a more satisfactory proof of 
 the truth of the inspired nature of the scriptures, 
 than the evident fulfilment, in these our days, of 
 sentences pronounced against sinful man thou- 
 sands of years anterior to them ; and where can 
 we find a more convincing fact than the one now 
 before us ; or where more palpably perceive the 
 ancient curse of God actively prevailing against 
 us ? It was decreed that man "in the sweat of his 
 face should eat bread ; " and where, let me ask, 
 without it will the earth yield her increase ? I will 
 not enter upon any argument concerning what 
 would have been the state of the earth in relation 
 to her productions, had not this curse been pro- 
 nounced ; suffice it for us to know, that the curse 
 has prevailed, seeking not to intrude our poor 
 and insignificant ideas upon the nature of things 
 hidden from us. We know that in most plants, 
 from the lowly weed to the towering and majes- 
 tic tree, comparatively few of the seeds produced 
 
 2 B 
 
184 
 
 ever ripen, or take on that state necessary for 
 germination or for food ; there seems to be some 
 power of nature which prevents plants from put- 
 ting forth all the fruits contained in them some 
 great, Almighty influence which checks them in 
 their growth, and prevents their progress to per- 
 fect developement. To the unbeliever this fact 
 is inexplicable, and it must remain obscure to 
 all who see not in it the never forgetful hand 
 of God. It is only by the labour of man that 
 the earth will produce her fruits ; and it is only 
 by his incessant toil that she will yield her 
 strength, and bring forth so abundantly as to 
 supply our wants and necessities. How inces- 
 santly does the agriculturist till his ground ! how 
 constantly must he drive his plough and enrich 
 the soil with foreign substances, which should he 
 neglect to do, what is the result? Does it not 
 return to the state in which by Adam's sin it was 
 reduced, and bring forth nought but thorns and 
 thistles ? 
 
 The amazing fertility of all species of the 
 thistle renders them proper instruments for the 
 fulfilment of this curse against mankind. There 
 is one species which bears about one hundred 
 heads, each containing from three to four hun- 
 dred seeds. Suppose we say that this thistle 
 produces eighty heads, and that each contains 
 only three hundred seeds, the first crop from 
 these would amount to twenty-four thousand. 
 Let these be sown, and the crop produced from 
 them will be five hundred aud seventy-six mil- 
 
185 
 
 lions. Sow these, and their produce will be 
 thirteen billions, eight hundred and twenty-four 
 thousand millions ; and a single crop from these 
 (which is only the third year's growth), would 
 amount to three hundred and thirty-one thou- 
 sand^ seven hundred and seventy-six billions ; 
 while the fourth year's progeny would be more 
 than sufficient to stock not only the surface of 
 the whole globe, but of all the planets in the 
 solar system, so that no other plant could possi- 
 bly grow, allowing but the space of one square 
 foot for each thistle ! 
 
 The histories of some of our most useful and 
 profitable vegetable productions serve abundant- 
 ly to establish the fact, that it is by the sweat of 
 his brow alone that man has succeeded in bring- 
 ing them to their present state. The effects of 
 cultivation are indeed wonderful ; its acts upon 
 plants, by bringing forth the powers inherent in 
 them ; there is no cause so constantly and so 
 powerfully operating in bringing them to perfec- 
 tion, and there is none, the influence of which is 
 so multiplied, and so considerable in relieving 
 them from the curse pronounced against them 
 for our sin. Culture changes the very nature 
 and habits of plants ; not only are the organs in- 
 creased in beauty and in size, but by its agency 
 they are even altered ; plants, which in their na- 
 tural condition are biennial, are by cultivation 
 reduced to annuals, from the increased rapidity 
 with which they are hurried on, in the perform- 
 ance of their several functions. The reverse of 
 
186 
 
 this position also holds true ; for, if we produce 
 a delay in the period at which annual plants 
 flower, with many we succeed in converting 
 them into biennials. Wheat will furnish us with 
 a familiar example. In its natural state it is 
 but an annual plant, pushing from the seed in 
 spring, flowering in summer, ripening its grain 
 in autumn, and dying with the approach of win- 
 ter, the whole period of its existence scarcely 
 exceeding six months. 
 
 From the mode in which it is generally culti- 
 vated, however, its life is often protracted to 
 twelve, sometimes to thirteen months, being fre- 
 quently sown in September and not reaped until 
 the October of the following year. Numerous 
 other individuals are improved in their natural 
 qualities by cultivation. All the varieties of the 
 apple, for example, owe their origin to the sour 
 arid unpalatable crab, which no one would now 
 recognize in the flavour and beauty of our choice 
 specimens. Cultivation has multiplied the va- 
 rieties of the pear almost to infinity, and pro- 
 duced them all from one worthless species. The 
 peach, in its wild state, in Media, is poisonous ; 
 but cultivated in the plains of Ispahan and Egypt, 
 it becomes one of the most delicious of fruits. 
 But in few plants are the effects of cultivation 
 more apparent than in the Brassica tribe. How- 
 ever extravagant it may appear, all the varieties 
 of red and white cabbage, savoys, brussels-sprouts, 
 winter greens, cauliflowers arid broccolis, have 
 sprung from one poor arid insignificant-looking 
 
187 
 
 weed the brassica oleracea, common in many 
 parts of the kingdom. The grape and the fig 
 are not indigenous to France, but by cultivation 
 have become naturalized there ; in like manner, 
 the orange in Italy, and the cherry among us. 
 
 But no example can better demonstrate the 
 extraordinary power of the efforts of man in 
 overcoming, by the effects of culture, the pecu- 
 liar habits in which individuals of the vegetable 
 kingdom have naturally been placed, and habitu- 
 ating them to other circumstance, than the Sibe- 
 rian crab. This tree, when first introduced into 
 Britain from Siberia, put forth its leaves and 
 flowers at the first indication of the approach 
 of spring. While other trees yet wore the garb 
 of winter, this was gaily decked in all the beau- 
 ties of May. In its native country the interval 
 between winter and summer is but short ; there 
 is scarcely any spring, and that at once bursts 
 forth into a glorious summer. There it had not 
 been accustomed to the second winter so com- 
 mon with us, or to the sudden checks vegetation 
 so frequently receives during our deceitful spring ; 
 and it broke from a state of torpor and inactivity 
 with the earliest retreat of winter. The conse- 
 quences were such as might have been anticipa- 
 ted, with the first frost it received a check its 
 shoots, unable to withstand the shock, perished. 
 But now view this tree, so ornamental to our 
 gardens and our shrubberies ; by cultivation 
 the results of the labour of man its habits have 
 
188 
 
 been changed ; it does not so hastily put confi- 
 dence in our treacherous spring ; and, advancing 
 more cautiously, escapes destruction. 
 
 An instance somewhat analogous, illustrative 
 of the consequences of the labour of man, and 
 shewing how great may be its results, is detailed 
 by Sir Joseph Banks, who thought that many 
 plants might, by cultivation, become inured to a 
 climate, soil and situation, foreign to their ori- 
 ginal habits : and certainly many circumstances, 
 received as truths by the generality of horticul- 
 turists and vegetable physiologists, seem to war- 
 rant our acceptance of his theory. 
 
 " In the year 1791," says Sir Joseph, in the 
 first volume of the Transactions of the London 
 Horticultural Society, " some seeds of the ziza- 
 nia aquatica were procured from Canada, and 
 sown in a pond at Spring-grove, near Hounslow ; 
 they grew and produced strong plants which 
 ripened their seeds. These seeds vegetated in 
 the succeeding spring ; but the plants they pro- 
 duced were weak, slender, not half so tall as 
 those of the first generation, and grew in the 
 shallowest water only ; the seeds of these plants 
 produced others the next year, sensibly stronger 
 than their parents of the second year. In this 
 manner the plants proceeded, springing up every 
 year from the seeds of the preceding one, every 
 year becoming visibly stronger and larger, and 
 rising from deeper parts of the pond, till the last 
 year, 1804, when several of the plants were six 
 
189 
 
 feet in height, and the whole pond was in eveiy 
 part covered with them as thick as wheat grows 
 on a well managed soil." 
 
 "Here," adds Sir Joseph, "we have an ex- 
 periment which proves, that an annual plant, 
 scarcely able to endure the ungenial summer of 
 England, has become, in fourteen generations, as 
 strong and as vigorous as our indigenous plants, 
 and as perfect, in all its parts, as in its native 
 climate ;" and certainly it is unquestionable that 
 it is to the influence of culture, in varying and 
 improving the natural qualities of vegetables, that 
 we owe many of the luxuries of the table and 
 dessert, nay, man could scarcely have been 
 civilized but for this power of culture over the 
 vegetable kingdom. The present state of society 
 depends for its existence on the production of 
 grain ; but grain in its natural state is not worth 
 producing. Wheat, before it has been subjected 
 to the influence of cultivation, is an insignificant 
 and worthless seed ; yet to this same seed, when 
 improved by culture, and to others as trifling, 
 when subjected to the same process, do we owe 
 all the comforts of civilized life. Culture has on 
 the brute creation analogous effects ; the colour, 
 shape, size, flavour and very habits of plants, 
 are altered by cultivation, and precisely the same 
 effects are produced upon animals. Man him- 
 self varies in colour, size and habit, according to 
 the circumstances in which he is placed ; and, 
 indeed, it seems a law throughout the whole ani- 
 mate creation, that each individual shall become 
 
190 
 
 habituated to such circumstances. But the most 
 extraordinary effect of cultivation, and the one 
 to which we owe most of our flowers and fruits, 
 is the change it produces on the natural habits 
 of plants ; delicate exotics may be made to grow 
 in the open air in this country ; vegetables truly 
 aquatic may be made to grow in dry ground, and 
 plants may be habituated to circumstances of a 
 very different description from those to which 
 they were accustomed in a state of nature. 
 
 Much difference of opinion, it is true, has ex- 
 isted as to the positive truth of the foregoing 
 statement, but daily experience points out the 
 important consequences of cultivation in this re- 
 spect ; and as there can be little doubt that many 
 reputedly conservatory and hot-house plants are, 
 in reality, quite able to bear the severity of our 
 climate, it becomes a question of much import- 
 ance what will, and what will not, prosper in it, 
 not only as involving a most interesting subject, 
 but as the solution of this question may greatly 
 tend to increase our agricultural wealth. And, 
 indeed, when we reflect that climate itself is 
 not stationary, but that cultivation is every day 
 considerably improving it, it is by no means uto- 
 pian to suppose we shall in time be possessed of 
 many of the choicest productions of tropical 
 countries. 
 
 It would certainly be a matter of moment 
 nay, one of the greatest importance, to discover 
 that, although the original plant first imported to 
 a colder climate is unable to resist its severity, 
 
191 
 
 yet its seeds produce hardier plants, and these 
 again still more so, till individuals are obtained 
 perfectly naturalized and acclimated ; and it is 
 very certain that numerous plants that were 
 formerly cultivated in the hot-house and conser- 
 vatory, are now found capable of withstanding 
 our severest frosts, thriving and bearing fruit in 
 the open air. " Thus we see," says Dr. M'Cul- 
 loch, " everywhere flourishing ift the borders, 
 the most luxuriant plants of heliotrope, fuchsia, 
 verbena triphylla, geraniums and numerous 
 others, replacing the wretched starved speci- 
 mens formerly nursed with the greatest anxiety 
 in the green-houses." Whether this be owing 
 to their having gradually become capable of 
 bearing our climate, or to their having been 
 from their first introduction into the country, 
 able to do so, is still a matter of doubt and un- 
 certainty. Much may be said, and many facts 
 produced, on both sides of the question. Per- 
 haps we are too apt to judge of the hardiness of 
 plants, and their capability of bearing the seve- 
 rity of our climate, from the nature of that from 
 which they come ; and thus seldom thinking of 
 giving them a trial, many individuals which no 
 one would have planted but in a very high tem- 
 perature, have only accidentally been discovered 
 to be perfectly able to flourish in the open air ; 
 and because others, on being removed from the 
 house, have perished, it was immediately sup- 
 posed that they could not vegetate but in a 
 warmer atmosphere. But even the common 
 
roses which are kept in our dining and drawing 
 rooms, being thus rendered more susceptible of 
 cold, often perish on their sudden exposure to 
 it ; whereas, had they been gradually habituated 
 to its impression, they would, without injury, 
 have borne it. Phenomena analogous to these, 
 are constantly observed in the animal kingdom ; 
 and, therefore, we should not be discouraged, nor 
 relinquish our attempts, should we fail in our 
 early endeavours to acclimate plants. 
 
 It has been recommended, that plants to be 
 tried should be put out in the beginning of 
 summer, turned out of the pots into poor and 
 very dry soil, and sheltered from the east and 
 north winds. From the hot-house, they should 
 be removed to the green-house, then to the open 
 frame, and finally to the border, covered up the 
 first winter, and even the second, should it not 
 prove mild. 
 
 In general, plants bear to be removed from 
 cold to heat better than from heat to cold ; hence, 
 a greater proportion of the natives of this coun- 
 try thrive in the south of Europe, than can bear 
 transportation thence to us. This facility of 
 emigration is by no means universal ; nor in 
 every case, where it is practicable, is it accom- 
 plished without difficulty and inconvenience. 
 There are many plants which will not bear a 
 warmer climate : thus, wheat and barley will not 
 grow within the Tropics, while, with numerous 
 individuals, the contrary is the case, they will 
 bear a removal to a colder climate, where the 
 
193 
 
 frosts of winter are often accompanied with 
 snow, which shelters the plant from the incle- 
 mency of the atmosphere until the return of 
 spring; and thus many trees and plants may be 
 acclimated by planting them among natural cop- 
 pice, where they are, in a great measure, pro- 
 tected from the weather. Every one on enter- 
 ing a wood in winter, must have been struck 
 with the difference of the temperature from that 
 of the open field, and may have seen there seve- 
 ral plants, such as the cowslip, violet and snow- 
 drop, in full flower, while, in the neighbouring 
 gardens, their leaves have scarcely made their 
 appearance. It is well known that many rare 
 plants, which had disappeared with the cutting 
 down of a wood, have re-appeared when it has 
 again grown up. " One reason why the Ameri- 
 can plants grow so luxuriantly at Forithill Abbey," 
 says a writer in the Gardener's Magazine, " is, 
 that they were introduced among native under- 
 wood, interspersed among bushes of hazel, dog- 
 wood, &c., and sheltered by firs, oaks and other 
 timber trees." A shrubbery is, therefore, to be 
 considered as the best place for acclimating exo- 
 tics, whether trees or herbs, and more especially 
 if the soil be dry, and the shrubs chiefly decidu- 
 ous ; for it should not be forgotten, that many 
 believe that a coppice wood of evergreens is 
 always colder than one of deciduous bushes, 
 owing to the leaves presenting a greater surface 
 for evaporation. Groves of evergreen trees, on 
 the other hand, especially of the pine and fir tribe, 
 
194 
 
 present a wanner climate beneath them than 
 groves of deciduous trees ; because the former, 
 from the closer texture of their exterior surface, 
 reflect back more completely the heat radiated 
 from the ground below. The more any plant is 
 shaded in winter, the less danger it will be in of 
 suffering from frost. For, when a plant, or water, 
 is so situated as to be overtopped by trees, the 
 radiation of caloric is in a great measure checked; 
 and thus in such situations, we may often observe 
 water unfrozen, arid plants unhurt by the cold, 
 and many retaining their leaves, when others of 
 the same species, at a short distance, but un- 
 shaded, lose their leaves and suifer considerably. 
 Mr. John Street, the gardener at Beil, who 
 has succeeded in acclimating numerous plants, 
 states, in the Transactions of the London Horti- 
 cultural Society, that he has found poor, dry arid 
 shallow soils and declivities, to be best adapted 
 for preserving plants through the winter season. 
 The quicker the superabundant fluid passes away 
 from the roots the better. From every observa- 
 tion, it appears that those plants which have the 
 least sap in winter, or the sap of which is of a 
 resinous or oily nature, suffer least from cold. 
 It would be foreign to my purpose to enter into 
 a discussion of the cause of this, or of the theories 
 that have been built upon it ; suffice it at present 
 to say, that it has been supposed that the prin- 
 cipal cause of the destruction of tender plants in 
 winter, is owing to the vessels being burst by the 
 freezing of the sap. In choosing plants, there- 
 
195 
 
 fore, for our experiments, we should attend to 
 their organization : annuals bear exposure better 
 than perennials ; and those abounding in sap, 
 having a spongy porous wood and much pith, 
 succeed with difficulty. It seems advantageous 
 that the plants to be tried should be deprived of 
 moisture as much as possible. Mr. Street found, 
 that, when planted above drains, several reputed 
 green-house species have flourished most luxuri- 
 antly. Plants do not suffer from frost in dry 
 situations, nearly so much as they do in moist, 
 or when an excess of rain is followed by a severe 
 frost. The reason is evident, in moist situa- 
 tions, part only of the moisture is evaporated 
 during the day, the rest remaining to be converted 
 into ice by the cold of the ensuing night. This 
 icy covering increases the cold, till the vital prin- 
 ciple, and resistance given by the formation of 
 the bark to the entrance of cold, are overcome ; 
 the sap is frozen, and the vessels burst by the 
 expansive force of freezing. 
 
 Plants, in a warm climate, perspire more than 
 in a cold one ; so that in the one they require 
 much, and in the other little moisture. The in- 
 habitants of a hot-house must be abundantly 
 supplied with water to replace the constant eva- 
 poration that is going on ; but, on being trans- 
 planted to a colder climate, they should have a 
 drier soil ; and, when from a colder to a warmer, 
 a moister one, than in their native station. 
 
 It has hitherto been regarded almost an axiom, 
 that no plant produced by cuttings ever becomes 
 
196 
 
 hardier than the parent tree, through whatever 
 succession of progeny thus formed. Dr. M'Cul- 
 loch doubts the truth of this assertion, and Mr. 
 Street has found that " plants obtained from 
 cuttings are hardier than seedlings ; the roots of 
 the former seem to possess more ability to resist 
 severe weather ;" his experience is very con- 
 siderable, and his opinions merit our attention. 
 Mr. Street always plants cuttings, if they are 
 well rooted, in preference to seedlings. The 
 vine is almost always propagated by cuttings, 
 and but few will assert that grapes are not more 
 frequently ripened in the open air now than 
 formerly. 
 
 I have alluded above to the acclimation of the 
 zizania aquatica, or Canadian rice ; and, upon 
 the same principle, jiumerous productions of 
 other climes are now cultivated in our open 
 fields, and may in time be applied to useful and 
 profitable purposes. The phormium tenax, or 
 New Zealand hemp, now employed for produc- 
 ing the strongest cordage used in the navy, par- 
 ticularly on the New Holland station, has long 
 grown in the open air in the counties of AVater- 
 ford, Cork, Limerick, Louth, Wicklow, and Dub- 
 lin. During a period of thirty years, it has only 
 suffered once or twice in the extremities of the 
 leaves, from the most severe frosts. Six leaves 
 give an ounce of dried fibres, which it is calcu- 
 lated will exceed per acre the produce of either 
 flax or hemp. It may be observed, however, that 
 the separation of these fibres from the matter of 
 
197 
 
 the leaf is not at present well understood. Whe- 
 ther this plant may ever become an object of cul- 
 tivation with us is very doubtful. Two plants, 
 however, have succeeded well near Inverness ; 
 they require no shelter, growing in a very ex- 
 posed situation. The specimens in the Royal 
 Botanic Garden of Edinburgh are very vigorous, 
 but have not flowered. 
 
 The tetragonia expaiisa again, or New Zealand 
 spin age, was introduced from New Zealand by 
 Sir Joseph Banks, in 177^, an d treated as a 
 green-house plant, but has lately been found to 
 grow as freely as the kidney-bean, or nasturtium. 
 As a summer spinage, it is as valuable as the 
 orache, or even more so. Every gardener knows 
 the trouble that attends the frequent sowing of 
 the common spinage throughout the warm sea- 
 son of the year : without that trouble it is im- 
 possible to have it good, arid, without the utmost 
 care, it cannot always be obtained exactly as it is 
 wished, from the rapidity with which the young 
 plants run to seed. The New Zealand spinage, 
 if watered, or raised on a rich soil, grows freely 
 and produces leaves of the greatest succulency 
 during the hottest weather. Anderson, one of 
 its early cultivators, had only nine plants, from 
 which he says, " I have been enabled to send in 
 a gathering for the kitchen every other day since 
 the middle of June, so that I consider a bed, 
 with about twenty plants, quite sufficient to give 
 a daily supply, if required, for a large table." 
 Near Exmouth, this invaluable addition to 
 
198 
 
 our kitchen gardens has become quite a weed : 
 wherever it has once grown, plants rise sponta- 
 neously. 
 
 I need not bring forward more examples of 
 the power of cultivation. The practical advan- 
 tages which it is calculated to insure, it is evi- 
 dent are considerable ; while the moral truths 
 which the study of vegetable physiology may in- 
 culcate upon the well regulated mind, are too 
 apparent to require to be insisted upon. 
 
199 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 GEOLOGY. 
 
 THE modern study of geology, the history of 
 which may be carried back as far as the begin- 
 ning of the sixteenth century, was originally as- 
 sociated with a deep reverence for the inspired 
 writings, which greatly modified the views of 
 enquirers regarding this interesting subject, and 
 which, being unhappily connected with the pre- 
 judices and misconceptions of a dark and super- 
 stitious age, led not unfrequently to the mystifi- 
 cation of the science, and the retardation of its 
 progress. In later times, however, and especi- 
 ally within the last half century, this study has 
 fallen into the hands of men of sceptical minds, 
 who, running into an opposite extreme, have not 
 only rejected the erroneous views respecting 
 scripture which misled former writers, but have 
 boldly renounced all the information derived from 
 this infallible source, and have freely indulged in 
 speculations altogether irreconcilable with the 
 Divine record. Indeed, it would appear, that 
 there has of late been a studious attempt, not 
 
200 
 
 only to disconnect geological discoveries with 
 the truths of revelation, but even to place the 
 former in contrast with the latter, and thus in- 
 sidiously to undermine the great principles of 
 our holy faith. Against this unhappy tendency I 
 must enter my strongest protest. The evidence 
 of revealed religion rests, indeed, on a separate 
 ground altogether, but its foundations are im- 
 moveable, and, whatever it has clearly propound- 
 ed as an article of faith, cannot but be true. Its 
 dicta are facts on which we may securely reason, 
 and which it is as unphilosophical as it is im- 
 pious to reject. In saying this, however, it is 
 not to be understood that we ought to overlook 
 the obvious accommodations in the language of 
 scripture to ordinary forms of speech as when 
 it is said that the sun and the moon stood still; 
 but the account of the creation, and of the flood, 
 contained in the book of Genesis, is of a different 
 kind, and as it cannot be renounced by the be- 
 liever, neither can it be explained away. We may 
 therefore rest assured, that no fact in the appear- 
 ances of nature can really contradict that ac- 
 count ; and it is highly satisfactory to think, that 
 the more deeply the subject is investigated, the 
 more remarkably do the discoveries of geology 
 confirm the Mosaic record, when rightly under- 
 stood, both with regard to time and to circum- 
 stances. 
 
 The real state of the question, however, seems 
 to be but imperfectly appreciated, and it may be 
 proper to say a very few words with the view of 
 
201 
 
 relieving it from the mistakes of bigotry and 
 ignorance on the one hand, and the misrepre- 
 sentations of infidelity on the other. 
 
 In the first place, I must observe that there 
 seems to be nothing in the scriptural account 
 which militates against the supposition, that the 
 materials of which our globe is composed existed 
 long previously to the commencement of the 
 Mosaic creation, or which even contradicts the 
 opinion, that many races of living beings may 
 have preceded that period. The very terms, in- 
 deed, in which the history of this latest creation 
 is introduced, if they do riot positively imply, do, 
 at least, evidently leave room for the hypothesis. 
 " In the beginning God created the heavens 
 and the earth," is the short but emphatic intro- 
 duction to the sublime passage, intimating mere- 
 ly that matter is not eternal and self-existent, 
 but that there was a period in the infinity of 
 duration in which it had a "beginning," and was 
 called out of nothing by the Divine fiat. Then 
 follows a description of the state of the globe, 
 immediately before the plastic hand of the Al- 
 mighty was applied, at the commencement of our 
 creation, to mould it into order and beauty ; 
 " The earth was without form and void ; and dark- 
 ness was upon the face of the deep ;" that is the 
 whole materials of this planet were at that time 
 in a state of chaos. Of what took place during the 
 period, whether long or short, between the first 
 formation of these materials, and their appear- 
 ance in this state of disruption and darkness, we 
 
202 
 
 are riot informed. So far as revelation is con- 
 cerned, the whole previous history of the earth 
 is left a total blank ; but if any indications should 
 appear to human research, leading to a belief in 
 earlier forms of organized existence, the terms 
 in which the revelation is couched, seem pur- 
 posely so expressed as to favour that belief, and 
 leave room for discovery. 
 
 Now, it is here precisely that researches and 
 discoveries have been made. It has been found, 
 that the matter of which the earth is composed 
 bears marks of an antiquity much beyond that of 
 the human race ; and that, while every geologi- 
 cal appearance confirms the truth of the Mosaic 
 history, as regards the period when the organized 
 existences which at present cover the earth re- 
 ceived their origin, there are undeniable proofs 
 of long and successive epochs before that pe- 
 riod, in which plants and flowers, now totally 
 unknown, adorned the face of nature, and rose 
 to luxuriance under warmer suns in which ani- 
 mals of different forms and species roamed the 
 woods arid forests, and in which the ocean rolled 
 its billows, and the finny tribes found food and 
 enjoyment, where now fertile fields wave with 
 grain, and the lofty trees of the forest throw their 
 boughs towards heaven, and man and beast tread 
 the solid ground. 
 
 There are, therefore, two distinct periods of 
 time to which the geologist has to direct his at- 
 tention, that which preceded the Mosaic crea- 
 tion, and that which is subsequent to it arid two 
 
-203 
 
 distinct series of phenomena, corresponding to 
 these periods, each marked with its own peculiar 
 character. In referring to the first of these pe- 
 riods, if we examine the order and stratification 
 of the rocks we shall find various epochs, marked 
 with a sufficient degree of precision, during which 
 changes of the most extensive and important kind 
 have taken place, and fresh deposits have been 
 made, which have changed the aspect, and new 
 modelled the face of the earth. We can even as- 
 sign an order of time, as well as of other relations 
 to these changes. First, in this order, we find 
 granite, and other associated rocks, which have 
 justly been called primitive, because, while they 
 very often do rise above all others, they are seen 
 with surprising uniformity to dip below them all, 
 thus forming the solid foundation on which rests 
 the whole matter constituting the crust of the 
 globe. Next to these is discovered a series of 
 rocks which has been named the transition depo- 
 sit ; because, while rocks of this class certainly 
 rest immediately on the primitive, they have been 
 supposed to form an intermediate step between 
 this and what has acquired the distinctive appel- 
 lation of the secondary formation. Next to the 
 secondary succeeds the tertiary formation, which 
 constitutes the newest of the deposits belonging 
 to the first period of the world, and may be re- 
 ferred to the time immediately preceding the 
 Mosaic creation. 
 
 This tertiary epoch must have ended in a vio- 
 lent catastrophe, occasioning an entire disrup- 
 
0* 
 
 tion of the old state of things, and a complete 
 destruction of organized existences. The ma- 
 terials from which the Mosaic creation was pro- 
 duced were, as scripture informs us, in a state 
 of chaos; "the earth was without form and 
 void ;" and such was the commixture of ele- 
 ments, that light could not penetrate the formless 
 abyss. " Darkness was on the face of the deep." 
 The organic remains, however, which are to be 
 found embedded in the rocks of this first period, 
 prove incontestably that the great Creator had 
 not suffered the materials he had called into be- 
 ing to lie unoccupied. Plants and animals, of 
 various forms and species, all of them differing 
 from those which are now to be found on the 
 earth, have left unequivocal traces of their exist- 
 ence ; and, what is not less worthy of remark, 
 during the countless ages of that primeval pe- 
 riod, it appears that more than one series of 
 organized beings have been created and annihi- 
 lated. 
 
 There is something sublime in this discovery 
 of the hand of Omnipotence busied in communi- 
 cating life and joy to inhabitants of the earth at 
 periods so exceedingly remote, arid so far pre- 
 ceding the very existence of the human race ; 
 and it seems scarcely possible to enter on this 
 field of enquiry without deep feelings of awe and 
 reverence. To penetrate the gloom of chaos, 
 and see the same Eternal Being, who has in this 
 later creation given such unequivocal displays of 
 his perfections in the history of man, manifesting 
 
S05 
 
 the very same perfections among more ancient 
 races of beings, and by His providence governing 
 other worlds, formed of the very same materials, 
 and impressed with the same natural laws, is 
 an employment calculated to fill the imagination 
 and to elevate and enlarge the mind ; and it is 
 deeply to be regretted, that the rash speculations, 
 and contemptible views of human vanity, should 
 ever have mingled with so high and sacred an 
 enquiry. 
 
 It is not, however, my intention, in the pre- 
 sent short sketch, to travel, farther than I have 
 already done, beyond the bounds of the Mosaic 
 creation, for proofs of that profound wisdom of 
 which the world is full, or to engage in a con- 
 troversy with the infidel, as to the nature or 
 extent of the geological indications at which I 
 have glanced. What scripture so unequivocally 
 avers is conceded on all hands that man was 
 the last formed of living beings ; and it is even 
 allowed that the other animals which now exist 
 with him on the surface of the globe, belong 
 entirely to his epoch, and are not to be found 
 in the deposits of an earlier period. These 
 concessions, which the infidel makes with reluc- 
 tance, and not without various -qualifications, I 
 cannot but regard as a triumph to the cause of 
 Christian truth ; and as every day is bringing 
 new facts to light, which are sweeping away the 
 flimsy foundation on which his speculations rest, 
 I confidently anticipate the time when those phe- 
 nomena which, on a superficial view, appear the 
 
206 
 
 most staggering, will be found to unite in con- 
 firming the faith of the doubtful, and giving ad- 
 ditional confidence and satisfaction to those who 
 already believe. 
 
 It will not easily be forgotten how eagerly the 
 infidel has seized on the slightest appearances 
 which seemed to militate against the truth of 
 Divine inspiration, or how often and how sig- 
 nally his most formidable attacks have not only 
 been foiled, but turned against himself. The 
 fate of the Hindoo chronology, by which Bailly 
 and Playfair so exultingly endeavoured to over- 
 throw the chronology of the Bible, and the abor- 
 tive attempts of Brydone, and other writers of his 
 class, to assign an antiquity to the present sur- 
 face of the earth far beyond the catastrophe of 
 the flood, by their plausible but hollow specula- 
 tions on the successive alternations 01 lava and 
 earth in the volcanic regions, might well render 
 the enemies of the sacred record more cautious, 
 if experience could teach them wisdom. 
 
 Among the various testimonies which the re- 
 cent labours of the geologist have borne to the 
 truth of scripture history, there is probably none 
 more remarkable than that which has been de- 
 rived from the researches of Cuvier. That emi- 
 nent philosopher, has demonstrated, from an 
 accurate examination of the present state of the 
 earth's surface, that it is of comparatively recent 
 origin, and cannot have been of a date much 
 earlier than that which Moses has assigned to 
 the deluge. " I conclude," says he, "with M. 
 
207 
 
 M. Deluc and Dolomieu, that if there be any 
 fact well established in geology, it is this, that 
 the surface of our globe has suffered a great and 
 sudden revolution, the period of which cannot 
 be dated farther back than five or six thousand 
 years. This revolution has, on the one hand, 
 ingulphed and caused to disappear the countries 
 formerly inhabited by men, and the animal spe- 
 cies at present best known ; and on the other, 
 has laid bare the bottom of the last ocean, thus 
 converting its channel into the now habitable 
 earth." 
 
 To enter into the scientific induction of par- 
 ticulars by which Cuvier arrives at this conclu- 
 sion, would be inconsistent with my present plan ; 
 and I must content myself with stating, in a few 
 words, the principles on which he proceeded, and 
 some of the leading facts which he has success- 
 fully demonstrated. 
 
 In considering the general aspect of the globe, 
 one of the first things which attract the attention 
 of the geologist, is the existence of great undula- 
 tions and inequalities in its surface, a circum- 
 stance which is entirely inconsistent with the 
 belief of the very remote antiquity of its present 
 condition. There are so many agents constantly 
 at work in breaking down, abrading and remov- 
 ing every thing elevated above the general level, 
 that any series of ages approaching to infinity 
 would certainly crumble to dust the hardest pro- 
 jecting rocks, cause the highest mountains to dis- 
 appear, and reduce the whole earth to a uniform 
 
208 
 
 and cheerless equality. The air decomposes mat- 
 ter subjected to its influence, the storm scatters 
 it, the rain washes it away, the frost rends it asun- 
 der, rivers and overflowing torrents carry it to 
 the valleys and the ocean ; the formation of downs, 
 the fall of forests, and the decay of vegetation, 
 are continually altering the relative depth of 
 the low grounds by their accumulations. Ages 
 on ages might indeed pass away before these 
 agents could produce their extreme effects yet 
 that their action is neither inconsiderable nor 
 very slow, innumerable observations have ren- 
 dered incontestable. Now, these are changes, 
 the average extent of which can, in some degree, 
 be estimated. It is quite possible, for example, 
 to ascertain to what amount the deposits in the 
 bottom of lakes, or at the mouth of rivers, ac- 
 tually accumulate in the course of a year, or 
 series of years, and from the rate of accumula- 
 tion thus acquired, to calculate back to the pe- 
 riod when this accumulation first commenced 
 that is, to the period when the rivers began to 
 flow, and the agents of change first exercised 
 their influence. If many observations of this 
 kind in various quarters of the earth be found 
 nearly to coincide in their results, we are obvi- 
 ously carried back to an epoch at which the pre- 
 sent state of the surface of the earth had its ori- 
 gin ; and if various dissimilar modes of calcu- 
 lation are found to coincide, the proof rises to 
 demonstration. Now, this is in fact the remark- 
 able conclusion to which Baron Cuvier, and 
 
209 
 
 the other philosophers he mentions, have been 
 brought by their researches. They discovered 
 that a great variety of concurrent circumstances, 
 founded on the principle I have now alluded to, 
 fixed them down to a period at which the present 
 surface of the world must have taken its form, 
 agreeing, in no unequivocal manner, with the 
 chronology of the inspired writings, as to the era 
 of the deluge. 
 
 As an instance of the convincing manner in 
 which these geologists reason on the subject, I 
 select the following interesting extract from Cu- 
 vier's Theory of the Earth, which contains only 
 one of many appropriate illustrations. " M. De 
 Praney, a learned member of the Institute, in- 
 spector-general of bridges and roads, has com- 
 municated to me some observations which are 
 of the greatest importance, as explaining those 
 changes that have taken place along the shores 
 of the Adriatic. Having been directed by go- 
 vernment to investigate the remedies that might 
 be applied to the devastations occasioned by the 
 floods of the Po, he ascertained that this river, 
 since the period when it was shut in by dykes, 
 has so greatly raised the level of its bottom, that 
 the surface of its waters is now higher than the 
 roofs of the houses in Ferrara. At the same 
 time, its alluvial depositions have advanced so 
 rapidly into the sea, that by comparing old charts 
 with the present state, the shore is found to have 
 gained more than six thousand fathoms since 
 1604, giving an average of a hundred and sixty 
 
210 
 
 or a hundred and eighty, and in some places two 
 hundred feet yearly. The Adige and the Po are 
 at the present day higher than the whole tract 
 of land that lies between them, and it is only 
 by opening new channels for them in the low 
 grounds, which they have formerly deposited, 
 that the disasters which they now threaten may 
 be averted. 
 
 " The same causes have produced the same 
 effects along the branches of the Rhine and the 
 Meuse ; and thus the richest districts of Holland 
 have continually the frightful view of their rivers 
 held up by embankments, at a height of from 
 twenty to thirty feet above the level of the land." 
 
 By similar observations on the Deltas of the 
 Nile and the Rhone, on the depositions along the 
 shores of the Black Sea, and the Sea of Asoph, as 
 well as in various other places, the Baron comes 
 to the conclusion I have already mentioned, 
 namely, that it can scarcely be more than five 
 thousand years since our continents received 
 their present form. He next proceeds to exam- 
 ine the progress of downs those fearful accu- 
 mulations of drift sand, the growth of peat 
 mosses, and the extent of mountain slips, and 
 finds, as the result of the whole enquiry, that the 
 Mosaic account of the time when the surface of 
 the earth last emerged, is fully confirmed. 
 
 The irrefragable evidence to the truth of the 
 Divine record, which has thus resulted from the 
 discoveries of geology, is a new illustration of 
 the fact, that it is ignorance alone which throws 
 
doubt on so sacred a subject, and that the more 
 accurately nature is investigated, the more clearly 
 will she be found to bear her testimony in favour 
 of revelation. 
 
 That the waters of a universal deluge were 
 actually employed in effecting the changes which 
 took place at the epoch alluded to, the disco- 
 veries of geology also abundantly attest. No- 
 thing can be more distinctly marked than the 
 action of a sudden and violent eruption of water 
 on the face of the existing earth. It is seen on 
 every part of the globe in the deposits, called by 
 geologists diluvium, which every where occur in 
 the table lands and gentle acclivities, and which, 
 by their position, are readily distinguishable from 
 the alluvium deposited by rivers or lakes. In 
 proof of this it may be sufficient to refer to the 
 testimony of Dr. Buckland, who says, " In the 
 whole course of my geological travels from 
 Cornwall to Caithness, from Calais to the Car- 
 pathians, in Ireland or in Italy, I have scarcely 
 ever gone a mile, without finding a perpetual 
 succession of deposits of gravel, sand, or loam, 
 in situations which cannot be referred to the 
 action of modern torrents, rivers or lakes, or 
 any other existing causes. And with respect to 
 the still more striking diluvial phenomenon of 
 drifted masses of rocks, the greater part of the 
 northern hemisphere, from Moscow to the Missis- 
 sipi is described by various geological travellers, 
 as strewed on its hills as well as valleys, with 
 blocks of granite, and other rocks of enormous 
 
magnitude, which have been drifted (mostly in a 
 direction from north to south) a distance some- 
 times of many hundred miles from their native 
 beds, across mountains and valleys, lakes and 
 seas, by force of water, which must have possessed 
 a velocity to which nothing that occurs in the 
 actual state of the globe affords the slighest pa- 
 rallel." 
 
 On a more minute survey of the circumstances 
 to which Buckland thus cursorily alludes, we 
 find still more striking indications of the changes 
 occasioned by the resistless torrent of a univer- 
 sal flood. It is this, as appears by the evidence 
 of various striking phenomena, which has shaped 
 our mountains, and scooped out our valleys ; 
 which has thrown up the remarkable undulations 
 of our less elevated hills of gravel and loam, at 
 the bottom of our mountain ranges ; which has 
 strewed the whole face of the earth with broken 
 fragments of rock, rounded, by detrition, into 
 stones and boulders ; which has cast a fertilizing 
 mould over the surface of our lower grounds ; 
 and which has submerged in the debris of the 
 antediluvian world, those organic remains that 
 bear such unequivocal testimony to the existence 
 of the present races of plants and animals before 
 that great catastrophe, and of the wide spread 
 destruction which attended its progress. 
 
 These hintsand they deserve no higher ap- 
 pellation may serve to disabuse the public mind, 
 by shewing that the study of geology, so far from 
 tending to encourage scepticism and infidelity, 
 
is, when pursued in a right spirit, a powerful 
 auxiliary of revealed religion, throwing, as it 
 does, new light on the events which scripture 
 records, and, by bringing them to the test of ex- 
 isting phenomena, confirming these events, and 
 the chronology with which they are connected. 
 It is true, that the inspiration of scripture is suf- 
 ficiently established, as I have already noticed, 
 by independent evidence of a more unequivocal 
 kind, and the Christian stands in no need of such 
 adventitious aid > but it is assuredly satisfactory 
 to know, that the very weapons which have been 
 so powerfully wielded against our faith, and 
 which have subdued so many minds, or at least 
 strengthened them when already enlisted in the 
 ranks of infidelity, have been wrested out of the 
 hands of the enemy, and are now legitimately 
 employed in a holier cause. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 ORNITHOLOGY. 
 
 AMONG the numerous departments of natural 
 history, none seems more interesting than Orni- 
 thology. True, it has oeen stigmatized as com- 
 municating pleasure only to puerile minds, or 
 womanish fancies, but certainly, contributing as 
 it does, to our pleasures, to our knowledge, to the 
 expansion of our better sentiments both moral 
 and religious it well deserves the attention and 
 the regard that is now so commonly bestowed 
 upon it. When men scoff at any such pursuits 
 as idle and frivolous, we may generally assign 
 their opposition to gross ignorance and overween- 
 ing vanity. Doubtless, persons have different 
 tastes and inclinations in the selection of their 
 studies, it is well, indeed, that such is the case 
 but nothing can be more illiberal or ungene- 
 rous, and certainly nothing more injurious to the 
 best interests of science, than to attempt to throw 
 contempt upon any one of her branches. All the 
 works of nature are replete with interest; and the 
 study of them is well calculated to raise the mind 
 
from them to their beneficent Author. In orni- 
 thology this is peculiarly the case, and in this 
 department of science will be found matter, the 
 knowledge of which is of the greatest utility, not 
 only to the physical wants of man, but to his moral 
 well-being, at least when as he too seldom does 
 he not only sees, but also observes. 
 
 In all other divisions of animated nature, man 
 finds numerous enemies to his existence, and 
 many impediments to his peace and comfort. 
 Among the quadrupeds, there are those that 
 threaten him with instant annihilation ; and the 
 ocean swarms with monsters, over whom man ab- 
 surdly boasts dominion, while he is unable to con- 
 tend either with their voracity or their strength. 
 Nor is the danger less that he encounters from 
 the insect world, the individuals of which, though 
 small, nay, often scarcely visible to the naked 
 eye, yet convey their venom to his blood, and 
 even acquire " a local habitation" in his very 
 flesh, and deprive him of life by the mutiplica- 
 tion of their species, and the irritation caused by 
 their presence. Among plants, also, he frequent- 
 ly finds a bane for which he knows no antidote ; 
 but among the feathered tribe he ever meets 
 with friends. In whatever situation he may be, 
 a bird is never a foe ; its presence indicates to 
 the anxious manner the approach of land, and 
 to the famished traveller, when not too proud to 
 avail himself of the hint, or too lazy to observe 
 the practical lesson it affords, a bird will point out 
 the food of which he may fearlessly partake. The 
 
216 
 
 flesh of none is poisonous, and though perhaps 
 often unpalatable to the epicure, it will yet afford 
 a meal to the starving wanderer ; their plumage 
 assists to keep him warm ; it enriches him, when 
 he exerts himself to collect it, and it adorns him 
 when he requires the external symbols of wealth 
 and of power. 
 
 To whatever division of ornithology we direct 
 our view, we are impressed with feelings of the 
 deepest reverence for the Creator ; whether we 
 regard the egg and its contents, its colour, the 
 chick's egress from the shell, the formation of 
 its feathers, its aerial wanderings, the construc- 
 tion of its nest, its anxious and parental solici- 
 tude : all we see is beautiful and grand, filling 
 the coldest minds with astonishment and admi- 
 ration. 
 
 Eggs are composed of two principal parts, 
 termed, from their colour, the yolk or vitellus, 
 and the white or albumen. The latter does not 
 exist in the ovarium or egg-bag ; there, as we 
 may see in almost every fowl that comes to table, 
 is also a numerous collection of yolks of various 
 sizes. When these are fully developed, they drop, 
 one by one, through a passage termed the ovi- 
 duct into the uterus^ in which the egg is perfectly 
 formed, having collected its albumen or white, 
 and its calcareous shell, and from which it is ul- 
 timately expelled. The very expeditious growth 
 or production of the white of the shell is indeed 
 an extraordinary exertion of nature a very few 
 hours only being sufficient to produce them. The 
 
texture of the shell is admirably calculated for 
 preserving the contained parts, and for retaining 
 the heat that is conveyed to them by incubation. 
 Immediately under the shell is the common mem- 
 brane which lines the whole cavity of the egg, 
 except at its broad end, where there is a small 
 space filled with air. Within this membrane, 
 the white, which is said to be of two kinds, is 
 contained ; and near its centre, in an exquisitely 
 fine membrane, is the yolk, which is spherical, 
 while the white is of the same form as the shell. 
 At each extremity of the yolk, corresponding 
 with the two ends of the egg, is the chalaza, a 
 white firm body consisting of three bead-like glo- 
 bules, and it is at these points that the several 
 membranes are connected, by which means, in 
 whatever position the egg may be placed, its va- 
 rious parts are retained in their proper place. 
 Near the middle of the yolk, is a small, flat cir- 
 cular body, named the cicatricula, in which the 
 rudiments of the future chick are contained ; and 
 from these, in consequence of incubation, or of 
 a certain degree of continued heat of any kind, 
 the bird is ultimately hatched. In this process, 
 the germinal membrane, as it is called, or rudi- 
 mental parts of the chick, is observed to become 
 separated into three layers, from the external of 
 which are formed subsequently the osseous and 
 muscular systems, and the brain, spinal cord and 
 nerves ; while, from the middle and internal lay- 
 ers, are formed respectively the heart and blood- 
 vessels, and the intestinal canal and its append- 
 
218 
 
 ages. The yolk and white of the egg gradually 
 become thinner, supplying the growing chick 
 with nourishment, which, increasing in magni- 
 tude, at length bursts its cell and. comes forth, 
 still retaining in its intestines a portion of the 
 yolk to serve for its support, until its powers are 
 sufficiently vigorous to enable it to digest extra- 
 neous food. 
 
 It is a remarkable fact, that those birds, the 
 nests of which are most uncovered, and the eggs 
 of which are most exposed to the sight of their 
 enemies, lay them of a colour as little different 
 as possible from surrounding objects, so as to 
 deceive the eyes of destructive animals ; whilst, 
 on the contrary, those birds, the eggs of which 
 are of a deep and vivid colour, and consequently 
 very liable to strike the eye, either hide the nests 
 in hollow trees, or elsewhere, or do not quit their 
 eggs except at night, or commence their incuba- 
 tion immediately after laying. It must, more- 
 over, be remarked, that in those species, the nests 
 of which are exposed, if the females alone sit 
 on the eggs, without being relieved by the male, 
 these females have generally a different colour 
 from that of the male, and more in unison with 
 neighbouring objects. 
 
 All providing nature, says Monsieur Gloger, 
 a distinguished German naturalist, and the first 
 observer of this remarkable arrangement, has 
 thus consulted the preservation of the species, 
 the nests of which are altogether exposed, by 
 giving to their eggs a colour incapable of betray- 
 
ing their presence to a distance, whilst she has 
 been able, without inconvenience, to give the most 
 brilliant colours in those circumstances where 
 they are hidden from the sight. 
 
 Pure white, the most treacherous of colours, 
 we find to be the colour of the eggs of birds 
 which build in holes, as the woodpeckers, the 
 king-fishers, the swifts, the dock and water swal- 
 lows, and others ; also of those birds, as the 
 titmice and wrens, which construct their nests 
 with openings so small, that their enemies can- 
 not see into them. Moreover, we find eggs 
 white in birds which do not quit their nests, ex- 
 cept at night, as the owls ; or for a very short 
 time during the day, as the falcons. Finally, 
 this colour is found in those which lay only one 
 or two eggs, and which immediately begin to sit, 
 as the pigeons, &c. 
 
 The clear green or blue colour, is proper to 
 the eggs of many species which build in holes, as 
 the starlings, the fly-catchers, &c. ; it is also 
 common to the eggs of birds, the nests of which 
 are constructed of green moss, or situated in the 
 midst of grass, but always well hidden. Green 
 eggs, too, are found, with many powerful birds, 
 able to defend them, as the herons. 
 
 A faint green colour, approaching to a yellow- 
 ish tint, is observed in the eggs of birds, as the 
 partridges and pheasants, which lay in the grass, 
 without preparing a regular nest. The same 
 colour is remarked in those which cover their 
 
220 
 
 nests when they leave them, as the swans and 
 the ducks.* 
 
 The structure of the feathers of birds is also 
 highly interesting, arid well worthy of considera- 
 tion. If we examine one that has just begun 
 to protrude from the sheath, we find the up- 
 per, or protruded portion, perfectly formed and 
 developed ; whilst, as it passes downwards, it as- 
 sumes an appearance becoming more and more 
 slimy, until the bottom of the sheath is filled with 
 nothing but a mucilaginous substance. " Look," 
 says the amiable Drummond, "at a single feather 
 of the peacock ; consider its shining metallic 
 barbs, its superlatively beautiful eye, and all the 
 wonders it exhibits of irridescent, rich, and 
 changeable hues, according to the angle in which 
 it lies to the light ; that its form, its solidity, its 
 flexibility, its strength, its lightness, arid all its 
 wonders for, in the eye of intelligence, every 
 part of it is a wonder, had their origin in a little 
 mucilage ; and then consider whether in looking 
 on such an object, we should be content with 
 thinking no more about it, than simply that it is 
 a peacock's feather." Yet this is too much the 
 practice ; above us, and below, on the right, arid 
 on the left, in every element, in every situation, 
 the works of an Almighty Power are present, 
 and all abounding in instruction of the highest 
 kind, and yet how slight is the impression which 
 they make upon us, in comparison with that 
 which they are so well calculated to inspire ! 
 
 * Edinburgh Journal of Natural and Geographical Science. 
 
All the parts of animals are suited to their 
 mode of life ; and first, let us examine the feet 
 and claws of birds. Observe how well calculated 
 for securing and tearing their victims, are the 
 strong, and large, and crooked talons of birds of 
 prey ; but they are not all alike, for even among 
 the various eagles, intimately connected as they 
 are with each other, much difference of conform- 
 ation exists, according to the necessity of the 
 case. In the osprey, the principal food of which 
 is fish, we find the foot unlike that of other eagles, 
 for its outer toe turns easily backwards, and what 
 is remarkable, the claw belonging to it is larger 
 than that of the inner toe. Like other eagles, 
 the osprey has four toes, but nature, who never 
 acts without a purport and intent, has thus given 
 it the power to turn back at pleasure, one of its 
 toes in which position it would seem to have 
 two back and two front toes in order that it 
 may the more readily grasp arid secure its slip- 
 pery prey. 
 
 The foot of the cuckoo exhibits the same pe- 
 culiarity, for which no cause has been yet disco- 
 vered. Perhaps it lays its egg upon the ground, 
 and then conveys it in its foot to the nest where 
 it is to be incubated. But why, it may be asked, 
 cannot the cuckoo at once lay its egg in this 
 nest ? why does it first lay it upon the ground, 
 and then, if indeed it does so, convey it to the 
 place it has selected ? But in reply to such que- 
 ries, it has been suggested, that eggs are not laid 
 in a moment, that some time is necessary for the 
 
222 
 
 process of expulsion, and that, did the cuckoo 
 occupy the nest for the requisite period, its origi- 
 nal proprietor might return and expel her from 
 her usurped possession ; while, on the other 
 hand, by laying her egg upon the ground, she 
 can watch a favourable opportunity, and depo- 
 sit it in the nest she has selected for its recep- 
 tion. Birds, again, that climb trees in search of 
 food, as the woodpeckers, have a foot admirably 
 adapted for the purpose, two claws being placed 
 before and two behind, a construction better 
 adapted than any other to enable them to rest 
 upon the trunks and large branches. While 
 speaking of the woodpecker, I must allude to 
 another beautiful adaptation of organization to 
 its mode of life. Although its claws are long 
 and much hooked, we can easily imagine that by 
 continually clinging to a perpendicular trunk, the 
 muscles of its legs will tire and fail. Behold now 
 how nature has provided for this ! the ten quill 
 feathers of the tail are very stiff, and have sharp, 
 naked points ; when, therefore, the legs tire, it 
 bends down its tail, the sharp feathers of which 
 become opposed to the bark of the tree, and the 
 bird is thus enabled, in a great measure, to sup- 
 port itself on its tail, as if upon a seat. The tail 
 of the cormorant is also similarly composed, and 
 is used for a like purpose when the bird sits upon 
 rocks.* 
 
 Another instance of the beautiful adaptation 
 of means to an end, is to be found in some of the 
 
 * Drumrnond's Letters. 
 
waders, especially the herons* and storks which 
 live in the midst of marshes and muddy waters, 
 where they find the food on which they live. 
 Every body may have observed how long they 
 will stand motionless arid in an erect posture ; 
 and many have doubtless wondered at the length 
 of time they can do so. This singular power, so 
 necessary to animals obliged to obtain their prey, 
 more by chance than industry, they owe to a pe- 
 culiar conformation of the articulation of the leg 
 and thigh. The articulating surface of the thigh 
 bone contains, in its centre, a depression, into 
 which is received a projection of the tibia. To 
 enable the animal to bend its leg, that projection 
 must be disengaged from the depression into 
 which it is lodged, and this is resisted by several 
 ligaments which keep the leg extended, in stand- 
 ing and flying, without the assistance of the 
 muscles. But it is only birds of this description 
 which are thus provided ; and all others are 
 obliged to employ muscular action when stand- 
 ing, except during sleep. In no instance has the 
 Almighty provided more organs than are abso- 
 lutely necessary to the well-being of the animal 
 He has created. 
 
 The legs and feet of aquatic birds are wonder- 
 fully formed for accelerating their motion in that 
 element which is their greatest security. The 
 bone of the leg is sharp, and vastly compressed 
 sidewise ; and the toes, when the foot is brought 
 forward, close in behind each other, in such a 
 manner as to expose a very small surface in 
 
 2 G 
 
front, so that in the action of swimming, very 
 little velocity is lost in bringing the leg forward. 
 All these birds are web-footed ; but mark how 
 different is the web in different species, and how 
 each has its foot adapted to its mode of life. 
 The gulls and terns, which seek their food upon 
 the surface of the water, and cannot dive, have 
 the back toe very small, and unconnected with 
 the others ; while in the cormorant, which seeks 
 its prey beneath the water, we find the back toe 
 very long, and connected with the other three ; 
 thus the whole four toes are connected together, 
 a circumstance which tends to give great velo- 
 city to the bird when diving in pursuit of prey. 
 There are also some which swim and dive well, 
 but the toes of which are long and slender, and 
 not furnished with webs or fins, as the water 
 hen and rail ; but these, again, live as much on 
 land as water.* 
 
 Most birds, when sleeping, roost on branches, 
 which they grasp firmly with their claws. Here, 
 too, we find a beautiful provision of nature, ef- 
 fecting the constriction, by which they cling to 
 their support, by the manner in which the ten- 
 dons of the flexing muscles of the feet descend 
 along the legs. These tendons press behind the 
 articulation of the heel, while a muscle which 
 arises from the body, joins them as it passes in 
 front of the knee, so that the bird has but to give 
 way to its weight, and the joints becoming salient 
 on the side along which the tendons run, stretch 
 
 * Drummond's Letters. 
 
225 
 
 and pull them in such a manner as to act upon 
 the feet, and so draw in the claws as to clasp 
 tightly the branch on which the bird is perched. 
 The claws also afford a provision for ensuring 
 cleanliness. Most birds are infested with a spe- 
 cies of louse, which, without the sharp and scrap- 
 ing claws, it were impossible they could dislodge. 
 The middle claw of some species, as the night- 
 jar and herons, are even furnished with a comb- 
 like appendage it being serrated or notched 
 along its inner edge and as this pectinated or 
 comb-like edge is frequently found with small 
 portions of down adhering to its teeth, it is na- 
 tural to suppose, that it is intended as a comb 
 to rid the plumage of the head of vermin, which 
 is the principal, and almost the only part, so in- 
 fested in all birds. Mr Ainsworth, in the second 
 number of the Journal of the Royal Institution, 
 has related several examples of this interesting 
 fact ; and a circumstance in evidence of its truth 
 presented itself last year to my own observation. 
 Attached to my stables is a large paved yard, in 
 which I attempted to keep and to rear poultry ; 
 but although the fowls when first placed there 
 were very healthy and lively, they soon became 
 weakly and sick. Corn would not fatten them, 
 and, indeed, they soon scarcely heeded to run to 
 the hand from which it was thrown. It was long 
 before I could discover the cause of all this, but 
 at last I caught a bird to examine it, and found 
 it literally covered with vermin. The paved yard 
 had blunted and rubbed down the edges of the 
 
claws, and rendered them incapable of removing 
 these parasitical nuisances from their feathers. 
 I sent the birds to the country, where they soon 
 recovered their wonted health. 
 
 Birds are in every respect admirably adapted, 
 by their structure, to the functions they are to 
 perform ; as is beautifully seen in the organiza- 
 tion whence they acquire the power of flying. 
 To enable an animal to support itself, and to 
 make progress in the air, it is necessary, in the 
 first place, that it should be of a specific gravity, 
 not much exceeding that of the atmosphere. 
 Nature has rendered birds very light, a peculi- 
 arity which they owe partly to their very capa- 
 cious lungs, which are capable of great dilatation 
 from the remarkable mobility of the walls of the 
 chest, and partly to the extension of the lungs into 
 the abdomen, by means of membranous sacs, and 
 into the skeleton, by means of canals, so that the 
 whole body distended with air, which is rarified 
 by a considerable degree of heat (being about 
 ten degrees above that of other warm-blooded ani- 
 mals), and clothed in feathers almost as light as 
 air itself requires but a moderate degree of force 
 to support itself in the atmosphere. Expanded 
 wings, moved by very powerful muscles, enable 
 them to strike the air with a power, and to repeat 
 the stroke with a rapidity, of which no other ani- 
 mal is capable ; and thus sustaining their light bo- 
 dies, to cleave the skies with wonderful rapidity. 
 Huinboldt saw the enormous vulture of the Andes, 
 the majestic condor, dart suddenly from the hot- 
 
torn of the deepest vallies to a considerable height 
 above the summit of Chimbaraco, where the ba- 
 rometer must have been lower than ten inches ; 
 and he frequently observed it soaring at an ele- 
 vation six times higher than that of the clouds of 
 our atmosphere. 
 
 The bones of birds, in so far as their air cells 
 are concerned, form two distinct systems, the 
 one being filled with air directly from the lungs, 
 the other immediately from the mouth and nose. 
 To the latter, the bones of the head, to the for- 
 mer, those of the trunk, and of the neck and extre- 
 mities belong. The openings admitting air into 
 the bones, as their connection with the lungs or 
 air-tubes renders necessary, are situated in con- 
 cealed parts, and in the extremities of the bones ; 
 and this circumstance, coupled with their small- 
 ness, makes their discovery so difficult, that in 
 many cases the minutest examination of the sur- 
 face of the bone is necessary to discover their 
 existence. In long bones, the openings of the 
 air cells are generally situated close to either ex- 
 tremity. In bones which exist in pairs, there is 
 commonly only one ; or where several exist, they 
 are so close together, as to be nearly united. 
 Sometimes the opening is oblique, so that a short 
 oblique canal is formed ; at others there is an 
 oblique groove, with a sieve-like base for the en- 
 trance of the air. The edges of the openings are 
 even smooth arid rounded, which gives them a 
 peculiarly regular appearance. Their shape is 
 either circular, oval or elliptical. Their breadth 
 
228 
 
 bears some kind of proportion to the size of the 
 bone, or at least to the extent of the internal 
 cells, so that large birds, and large bones, have 
 much larger openings than small ones. With 
 respect to the internal air cells, great differences 
 exist. It is known that the air bones in young 
 birds are filled with marrow, which becomes gra- 
 dually absorbed, to make room for the admission 
 of air. This gradual expansion of the air cells 
 and absorption of the marrow, can no where be 
 observed so well as in young tame geese, when 
 killed at different periods of the autumn and 
 winter. The limits of the air cells may be clear- 
 ly seen from without, by the transparency of the 
 bones. From week to week the air cells in- 
 crease in size, till, towards the end of the season, 
 the bones become entirely transparent. In all 
 these bones, the marrow disappears first from 
 the vicinity of the opening which admits the air, 
 while it continues longest at the points farthest 
 removed from it. Towards the close of the sum- 
 mer and beginning of autumn, although in exter- 
 nal appearance the young goose resembles the 
 parent, no traces of air cells can be discovered 
 in the bones, the interior of them being then 
 filled with marrow., which does not begin to dis- 
 appear until the fifth or sixth month. Whether 
 birds possess the power of voluntarily letting out 
 the air, so as to render themselves specifically 
 lighter, has not yet been determined. * 
 
 Let us now enquire how birds, endowed with 
 
 * Lancet, 1828. 
 
229 
 
 an organization so favourable to flying, perform 
 that action. A bird, says Richerand, begins by 
 ascending into the air, either by rising at once 
 from the ground, or by allowing himself to fall 
 from a height. If, on the ground, and if his 
 wings are too large to be freely spread, he has 
 difficulty in rising. In that case he goes to an 
 elevated spot, and throws himself from it, that 
 he may have sufficient room to spread his wings, 
 and strike, in the air, the first stroke that is to 
 raise him. The wings expand horizontally, the 
 single bone which forms their upper and princi- 
 pal part, standing off from the body ; they then 
 ascend rapidly, and, as the air resists the sudden 
 effort which tends to depress it, the body of the 
 bird is elevated by a kind of elastic reaction, cor- 
 responding to the leap of man, and to the swim- 
 ming of fishes. The impulse being given, the 
 bird closes his wings and contracts his dimen- 
 sions as much as possible, that the impulse 
 may be almost entirely employed in raising his 
 body, and may not be counteracted by the resist- 
 ance of the air. This resistance of the air, but 
 particularly the weight of the bird, would soon 
 overcome the velocity which has been obtained, 
 and he would drop, if, by again striking the air, 
 he did not again rise. If the bird strike a second 
 time with his wings, before the impulse commu- 
 nicated by the first stroke be over, he rises rapidly, 
 but on the contrary, descends, if this motion be 
 delayed. Again, if he allow himself to fall only 
 to the height whence he began to rise, he may, 
 
230 
 
 by a continuation of equal vibrations, keep at 
 the same height. A bird sometimes ceases al- 
 together to move his wings, closes them against 
 his sides, and falls with a precipitate motion, 
 like any other weighty body. Observe a hawk 
 drop suddenly on a poultry yard ; if, on the point 
 of reaching the ground, he perceive danger, he 
 immediately spreads his wings, and thus saves 
 himself from falling ; he then rises anew, and 
 takes to flight. 
 
 The oblique motion differs from the vertical 
 motion which has just been described, in this, 
 that the bird rises by a series of curves which are 
 more or less extended, as the motion is more 
 horizontal or vertical. In consequence of the 
 peculiar strength of their wings, birds of prey 
 have a very powerful horizontal motion, so that 
 in soaring, the curves which they describe are so 
 slight, that the motion seems quite horizontal. 
 
 Those visionaries who have conceived it pos- 
 sible for man to support himself in the air, by 
 rendering his body specifically lighter, have not 
 considered, that it is impossible to give to the 
 muscles which move the arms a sufficient degree 
 of strength to enable them to move the machines 
 which are adapted to them ; and hence, all who 
 have thus Icarus-like, attempted to fly, have suf- 
 fered for their rashness.* 
 
 The throat-bone of a bird, which furnishes an 
 attachment for the principal muscles moving the 
 wings, presents an area much greater than that 
 
 * Richerand's Physiology. 
 
231 
 
 that of any other bone of the body ; while the 
 muscles attached to it weigh more than all the 
 other muscles of the body put together ! Let us 
 compare with these the sternum and pectoral 
 muscles of man, in relation to the rest of his bones 
 and muscles, and learn to be contented with the 
 functions to which our structure is adapted. 
 
 Turning from this to another function, I have 
 to remark, that many birds have a mode of tri- 
 turating their food, distinct from those employed 
 by most other animals. In the latter, this is ef- 
 fected by the teeth, which birds do not possess ; 
 and, therefore, it was necessary that other means 
 should be provided for them, of tearing and des- 
 troying the texture of their aliment, in order to 
 expose all parts of it to the action of the fluids 
 poured into the stomach, and thus to render it 
 fit to nourish and repair the body. The organ 
 for effecting this purpose is the gizzard, an im- 
 mensely strong hollow muscle, lined with a sub- 
 stance so thick and callous, as not to be hurt even 
 by grinding down glass, and always found to con- 
 tain small stones, or the hardest materials the 
 bird can procure. By the help of these stones, 
 and by means of the hard internal coat of the 
 gizzard, and its muscular force, the food is ef- 
 fectually ground down, and fitted for the offices 
 assigned to it. Spallanzani, arid others, have 
 denied that such is the use of these stones, and 
 have affirmed that they were picked up by mere 
 accident, the animals mistaking them for seeds. 
 This supposition, however, is easily disproved by 
 
 2 n 
 
the well known fact, that birds confined in cages, 
 and having no sand or small stones supplied to 
 them, soon die, and that when examined, their 
 intestinal canal is found with indigested seeds in 
 it ; which, otherwise, is not the case. In order to 
 ascertain the power of the gizzard, Reaumeur 
 gave to a turkey, small tubes of glass five lines in 
 length and four in diameter ; in twenty-four hours 
 these were found to be broken. He substitu- 
 ted tubes of tinned iron for the glass, some of 
 which were indented by the gizzard, and others 
 flattened. Similar tubes placed in a vice requir- 
 ed a force of four hundred and thirty-six pounds 
 and a half to produce the same effects ! 
 
 All birds, however, have not a gizzard. Some, 
 as birds of prey in general, possess a purely mem- 
 branous stomach ; but such are furnished with 
 strong, sharp and crooked bills, for the purpose 
 of tearing their food into small pieces, so as to 
 supersede the necessity of any further trituration. 
 
 But it is far from my intention to enter fully 
 upon the anatomy and physiology of the feather- 
 ed race of beings. In another part of this work 
 I have alluded to some of the beautiful adapta- 
 tions of their structure to the circumstances and 
 destinies they are intended to fulfil ; and the 
 facts detailed in this chapter seem sufficient to 
 illustrate and confirm the proofs there given of 
 the wisdom displayed by the great Creator in 
 this department of the animal world. Nothing 
 can be more worthy of remark than the exhaust- 
 less, arid, if the expression be allowable, the ad- 
 
233 
 
 mirably ingenious contrivances by which every 
 difficulty is obviated, and nature is moulded to 
 the will of its Almighty Author. How many ob- 
 stacles were to be overcome before a heavy body 
 like that of the eagle, to an account of whose 
 noble faculties I shall devote the next chapter, 
 could be rendered buoyant in the air, and made 
 capable of tracking its adventurous course from 
 Alp to Alp, so high above the earth as to be lost 
 to human gaze ! How many conditions were 
 necessary to give safety and enjoyment to the 
 very smallest of the winged tribes, even after the 
 first obstacles were overcome ! Yet how won- 
 derfully simple and efficacious the means by 
 which the whole has been accomplished ! That 
 man is indeed to be pitied, who can turn even a 
 transient glance on such a subject, without being 
 lost in astonishment and adoration. 
 

 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ORNITHOLOGY CONTINUED. THE EAGLE. 
 
 EAGLES are now of great rarity in Britain, the 
 influence of man having almost expelled them 
 from their pristine haunts. It is only in the re- 
 mote solitudes of the Highlands, and in the isles 
 of the north-west coasts, that they occur in some- 
 thing like the proportion which, in the wild state 
 of the eountry,they bore to its other inhabitants. 
 Even there the ingenuity of man has wrought sad 
 havoc among them ; but in the inaccessible parts 
 of the precipitous mountains, and on the awful 
 heights of the maritime cliffs, the eagles of the 
 north still rear their young, and bid defiance to 
 all means of destruction. 
 
 Only two species of eagle have been ascertain- 
 ed to reside in this country, although till of late 
 ornithologists were in the habit of describing 
 four, a circumstance which arose from the dif- 
 ferences in colour which these birds exhibit at 
 different periods of life. These two species are 
 the golden eagle and white- tailed eagle. 
 
 The golden eagle (falco fulvus) called also 
 falco chrymetosj is a beautiful and majestic bird. 
 
In the adult state, the feathers of the head and 
 neck are of a brownish red colour, the other 
 parts of the body being dark brown. The length 
 of the male is about three feet ; that of the fe- 
 male about three and a half. 
 
 At the age of from one to three years, this 
 bird is of a pale brown colour, with the under 
 tail feathers whitish ; but as the bird advances 
 in age, the colours become darker, the white of 
 the tail occupies less space, and indications of 
 bands make their appearance. In this state the 
 golden eagle has been described as a distinct 
 species, under the name of the ring-tail. 
 
 The golden eagle is of rarer occurrence in 
 Scotland than the white-tailed eagle. It feeds 
 chiefly upon live prey, destroying grouse, hares, 
 lambs, and other animals ; but it does not disdain 
 to feast upon carcases of all kinds. It builds 
 in inaccessible places of maritime arid inland 
 cliffs, making an enormous nest of sticks, heath, 
 grass, wool and feathers, which it puts together 
 in a very inartificial manner. Mr. M'Gillivray 
 speaks from personal observation when he says, 
 that it places its nest on a shelf of some vast 
 cliff overhanging the sea, or in a cleft of a rock 
 in the inland solitudes. The diameter of the 
 nest is about five feet, and it consists of sticks, 
 tangles, (stems of the fucus digitatus), heath, 
 and other materials of a like nature, arranged in 
 the same slovenly manner as the straws in a 
 hen's nest, together with grass, wool and feathers. 
 
236 
 
 The central part of the nest is slightly hollow, 
 and about two feet in diameter. In this there 
 are deposited two eggs, about the size of those 
 of the goose, but shorter, and of a yellowish 
 white colour. They do not appear to be left ex- 
 posed at any time, for it seems that the male sits 
 when the female is absent. 
 
 The white-headed or cinereous eagle, (falco 
 albicilla) is a less active bird than the golden 
 eagle, although it is nearly equal to it in size 
 and strength. In the adult state, the cinereous 
 eagle has its plumage of a very pale brown colour, 
 and a tail purely white. Its length varies from 
 two and a half to three feet, but the extent of its 
 wings is sometimes eight feet. 
 
 At the age of from one to three years, this bird 
 is of a dark brown colour, with the appearance of 
 white spots, occasioned by the lower part of each 
 feather being of that colour. The under parts are 
 of a deeper brown, spotted with white. In this 
 state it has been described by authors as the sea 
 eagle, (falco ossifragus^) This species is much 
 more common than the other. It feeds chiefly 
 upon carrion of all kinds, especially fish. It also 
 destroys living animals, as game, lambs and fish. 
 It does not, of course, dive after the fish, but is said 
 to pounce upon them when they come to the sur- 
 face. In the seas of the northern parts of Scot- 
 land eagles might easily live this way, since many 
 fish, as the herring, the dog-fish and cod, frequent- 
 ly swim in vast numbers along the surface of the 
 
237 
 
 water. In the shallow rivulets, also, trout and sal- 
 mon swarm at certain seasons, and might easily be 
 captured. Some years ago, a large salmon was 
 found dead, and an immense eagle drowned be- 
 side it, with the claws of the one stuck into the 
 back of the other, upon the banks of Moffat water. 
 A few days before, a party of young men had 
 started on a Sunday night to spear salmon by 
 the light of a blazing torch ; Moffat water, from 
 its general shallowness, and the nakedness and 
 level character of its banks, offering unwonted 
 facilities for this sport. The parties had scarce- 
 ly begun to search the pools, when they were 
 astonished with some strange noise that came 
 " splash, splash" upon them ; and soon a huge 
 pair of wings appeared, magnified by the uncer- 
 tain light, and accompanied with other startling 
 and unearthly noises. The phenomenon floated 
 past, almost among their feet ; and the young 
 men terrified, and impressed with the idea that 
 an apparition had appeared to warn them of the 
 danger of misspending the Sabbath day, left their 
 sport and returned home. The circumstance 
 was kept a profound secret, until the discovery 
 of the cause of the phenomenon relieved the 
 youths from the fears which it had excited. 
 
 Eagles are very destructive to lambs, but they 
 seldom attempt to carry them off, excepting from 
 an eminence ; for from a flat surface an eagle rises 
 with great difficulty, and not until after repeated 
 flappings of its wings, although in the air it ex- 
 
hibits great facility of motion. Mr. M'Gillivray, 
 upon whose notes in the columns of the Edin- 
 burgh Literary Gazette, I have already largely 
 drawn, says, "Nothing can be more beautiful 
 than the majestic sweep of an eagle while passing 
 along the sides of the mountains in search of 
 prey ;" and both Audubon and Wilson, in their 
 American Ornithologies, have celebrated the 
 flight of many species of this beautiful family. 
 Speaking of the bald eagle, Wilson says, " its 
 flight is both noble and interesting. Sometimes 
 the human eye can just discover him, like a mi- 
 nute speck, moving in slow curvatures along the 
 face of the heavens, as if reconnoitring the earth 
 at that immense distance. Sometimes he glides 
 along in a direct horizontal line, at a vast height, 
 with expanded and unmoving wings, till he grad- 
 ually disappears in the distant blue ether. Seen 
 gliding in easy circles over the high shores and 
 mountainous cliffs that tower above the Hudson 
 and Susquehanna, he attracts the eye of the in- 
 telligent voyager, and adds great interest to the 
 scenery. At the great cataract of Niagara, there 
 rises from the gulf into which the Fall of the 
 Horse- Shoe descends, a stupendous column of 
 smoke or spray, reaching to the heavens, and 
 moving off in large black clouds, according to the 
 direction of the wind, forming a very striking 
 and majestic appearance. The eagles are here 
 seen sailing about, sometimes losing themselves 
 in this thick column, and again reappearing in 
 
another place, with such ease and elegance of 
 motion, as renders the whole truly sublime, 
 
 " High o'er the watery uproar, silent seen, 
 Sailing sedate in majesty serene, 
 Now 'midst the pillar'd spray sublimely lost, 
 And now, emerging, down the rapids tost, 
 Glides the bald eagle, gazing, calm and slow. 
 O'er all the horrors of the scene below ; 
 Intent alone to sate himself with blood, 
 From the torn victims of the raging flood," 
 
 Where eagles. are so numerous as to commit 
 serious ravages among the young lambs, the fol- 
 lowing methods have been used for destroying 
 them : When the nest happens to be in a place, 
 situated in the direction of a perpendicular from 
 the edge of the cliff above, a bundle of dry heath 
 or grass, inclosing a burning peat, is let down 
 into it. In other cases, a person is lowered by 
 means of a rope, which is held above by four or 
 five men, and contrives to destroy the eggs or 
 young, taking a large stick with him, to beat off 
 or intimidate the old eagles. The latter, however, 
 generally keep at a respectful distance ; for, pow- 
 erful as they are, they possess little of the cou- 
 rage which has in all ages been attributed to 
 them ; being, in this respect, much inferior to the 
 domestic cock, the raven, the sea swallow and 
 numerous other birds. Sometimes eagles have 
 their nest in places accessible without a rope; 
 and instances have been known of persons fre- 
 quenting these nests for the purpose of carrying 
 off the prey which the eagles convey to their 
 young. 
 
84Q 
 
 A very common method by which eagles are 
 destroyed is the following : In a place not far 
 from a nest, or a rock on which eagles repose at 
 night, or on the face of a hill which they are fre- 
 quently observed to scour in search of prey, a 
 pit is dug to the depth of a few feet, of sufficient 
 size to admit a man with ease. The pit is then 
 covered over with sticks and turf, the latter not 
 cut from the vicinity, since eagles, like other 
 cowards, are extremely wary and suspicious. A 
 small hole is left at one end of this pit, through 
 which projects the muzzle of a gun, while at the 
 other is left an opening large enough to admit a 
 featherless biped, who, on getting in, pulls after 
 him a bundle of heath to close it. A carcass of 
 a sheep or dog, or fish or fowl, having been pre- 
 viously left without, at the distance of twelve or 
 twenty yards, the lier-in-wait watches patiently 
 for the descent of the eagle, and, the moment he 
 has fairly settled on the bait, fires. In this man- 
 ner multitudes of eagles are every year destroyed 
 in some parts of Scotland. The head, claws 
 and quills, are kept by the shepherds to be pre- 
 sented to the factor at Martinmas or Whitsun- 
 day, for the premium of from half-a-crown to five 
 shillings, which is usually awarded on such occa- 
 sions. 
 
 Not long since, the following regular engage- 
 ment took place between a shepherd and an 
 eagle upon the hills near Moifat : On the farm 
 of Gameshope, the eagle of which I speak had 
 frequently lifted lambs within twenty yards of 
 

 the shepherd, and when the dogs were encou- 
 raged to interfere, beat them off, and even struck 
 them to the ground with his powerful wings, re- 
 tiring a little way, and finishing his repast with 
 the greatest coolness. Success and impunity 
 made him bold as a lion. During the spring, his 
 haunts had been the heights of Fruid and Games- 
 hope, and more especially a spot called Loch- 
 hill, which he began to regard as his own terri- 
 tory, suffering no rival to approach his throne. 
 Repeatedly he disputed the shepherd's right to 
 visit the hill, while looking after the safety of 
 his master's flocks, screaming and flying round 
 him, and sometimes stooping within a yard of 
 lis head, " willing to wound, and yet afraid 
 to strike." This state of things could not be al- 
 lowed to continue ; and accordingly, the shep- 
 herd having collected a quantity of stones, stow- 
 ed them in his plaid, and approached a heathy 
 knoll, white with the skins and bones of slaugh- 
 tered lambs. The eagle met him ; by turns ris- 
 ing and stooping, but never flying away. Mean- 
 while the shepherd assailed him with his missiles, 
 until one stone, "more lucky than the rest," 
 struck, stunned and brought to the ground the 
 feathered freebooter : the dogs now rushed to 
 the melee, and the noble bird was soon over- 
 powered and destroyed. Each wing was four 
 feet long, and the legs nearly as thick as a man's 
 arm. 
 
 But it is riot man alone that the eagle has to 
 fear; for the skua gull (lestri? cataractes) is also 
 
its enemy. To this bird in Shetland, where it is 
 called buncie, is almost entirely trusted by the 
 natives the protection of their lambs from the 
 ravages of the eagle, daring the summer months ; 
 and there, in return for the care they afford, 
 they are always allowed to wander unrestrained 
 over the island, being regarded with great vene- 
 ration and kindness. The skua gull possesses an 
 inveterate dislike to the eagle ; for, no sooner 
 does he emerge from his rocky habitation among 
 the cliffs, than the gulls descend upon him from 
 the tops of the mountains, in bodies of three or 
 four, and never fail to force the eagle to a preci- 
 pitate retreat. 
 
 "I was particularly amused one evening," says 
 Mr. Drosier, in Louden's Magazine of Natural 
 History, for July 1830, "when standing at the 
 foot of the loftiest hill (called by the natives 
 Snuge\ with the following circumstances : An 
 eagle was returning to his eyrie, situated on the 
 face of the western crags, in appearance perfect- 
 ly unconscious of approaching so near to his in- 
 veterate foe, as, in general, the eagle returns to 
 the rocks from the sea, without ever crossing 
 the smallest portion of the island. This time, 
 however, he was making a short cut to it, by 
 crossing an angle of the land. Not a bird was 
 discernible : a solitary skua might, indeed, be 
 occasionally seen, wheeling his circling flight 
 around the summit of the mountain, which was 
 already assuming its misty mantle. As I was 
 intently observing the majestic flight of the eagle, 
 
24.3 
 
 on a* sudden he altered his direction, and des- 
 cended hurriedly, as if in the act of pouncing ; in 
 a moment five or six of the skua passed over my 
 head with an astonishing rapidity ; their wings 
 partly closed and perfectly steady, without the 
 slightest waver or irregularity. They appeared, 
 when cleaving the air, like small fragments of 
 broken rock, torn and tossed by a hurricane 
 from the summit of a towering cliff, until, losing 
 the power that supported them, they fell prone 
 to the sea beneath. The gulls soon came up 
 with him, as their descent was very rapid, arid 
 a desperate engagement ensued. The short bark 
 of the eagle was clearly discernible above the 
 scarcely distinguishable cry of the skua, who 
 never ventured to attack his enemy in front ; 
 but, taking a short circle around him, until his 
 head and tail were in a direct line, the gull made 
 a desperate sweep or stoop, and, striking the 
 eagle on the back, he darted up again almost 
 perpendicular ; when, falling into the rear, he 
 resumed his cowardly attack. Three or four of 
 these birds, thus passing in quick succession, in- 
 variably succeed in harrassing the eagle most un- 
 mercifully. If, however, he turns his head pre- 
 viously to the bird's striking, the gull quickly 
 ascends without touching him. This engage- 
 ment continued some time, the eagle wheeling 
 and turning as quickly as his ponderous wings 
 would allow,, until I lost the combatants in the 
 rocks. As soon as this is the case, the gulls 
 leave, and quietly return to the mountain." 
 
244 
 
 Dumfries and Galloway were once celebrated 
 for the number of eagles within their bounds ; 
 but, at the time I write, I doubt whether a pair 
 is to be found wild and unconfiried in the former 
 county, or more than a dozen in the wide district 
 of Galloway between the Nith and the Mull. 
 The only individuals with which I am acquainted 
 inhabit the lofty hill of Cairnsmuir, where they 
 are protected with the most religious care by the 
 proprietor. It seems to be a law in the economy 
 of nature, that, as civilization and cultivation 
 extend over the soil, the most savage and least 
 gregarious of its inhabitants depart from it 
 Doubtless, when the Almighty decreed that by 
 the sweat of man's brow alone should the earth 
 bring forth her increase, He also decreed that 
 with the progress of industry and labour, the 
 earth should be delivered from those pests, both 
 vegetable and animal, which naturally infest it ; 
 and the geographical distribution of the eagle, 
 and other predatory animals, as well in the new, 
 as in the old world, well illustrates this position. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ICHTHYOLOGY. 
 
 THE emphatic language of Job has declared, 
 that the fishes of the sea shall make known the 
 glory and the greatness of God ; and in few 
 departments of His works does the Providence 
 of the Creator shine forth with more brilliant 
 lustre. He who has peopled the earth and the 
 air with their myriads, has also filled the mighty 
 caverns of the deep with untold numbers of ani- 
 mated beings all fully supplied with an organi- 
 zation admirably adapted to the circumstances 
 in which they are so wonderfully placed. It was 
 not sufficient for Him, that the earth should 
 abound with waters, the various qualities of which 
 might be serviceable to mankind ; it was not 
 sufficient for Him that the vast expanse of ocean 
 should obey certain fixed and immutable laws, 
 and thereby clearly shew that truly it is a God 
 who rules the sea ; He willed that its immeasur- 
 able spaces should be inhabited, and in His good- 
 ness He decreed, that while the beings which 
 sport there should serve as food for man, their 
 structure should tell of the hand that made them. 
 
-246 
 
 The department of natural history on which 
 I am now entering is well calculated to fill the 
 rnind with awe and astonishment, both from its 
 vastness, and the beautiful beings of which it 
 treats. But the subject itself is inexhaustible ; 
 and, having already alluded incidentally to the 
 structure and organs of fishes, in common with 
 those of other tribes of animals, as adapted se- 
 verally to their respective functions, I propose 
 at present merely to present a more particular 
 illustration of the general economy of this class 
 of animals. 
 
 By the generic term Fish, is understood a 
 class of animals living in water, swimming by 
 fins, and having the water directly applied to 
 the gills, through which organs the whole mass 
 of blood circulates. By this definition, it will 
 appear that many animated beings, inhabitants 
 of the waters, are excluded from the class of 
 fishes ; but of these it is not my intention at 
 present to speak. 
 
 The bodies of fishes are, for the most part, 
 narrow, that is to say, they are longer than they 
 are wide, as in the herring and salmon. Some- 
 times they are fiat, as in the sole and skate, and 
 at other times again, almost cylindrical, as in the 
 eel and lamprey. 
 
 In most fishes the mouth projects from the fore 
 part of the head, but in some, as the sturgeon, it is 
 on the lower part of this organ. In some species, 
 as in the carps, the lips are moveable and furnish- 
 ed with a peculiar bone, and in the voracious spe- 
 
247 
 
 cies, as the trout, we find the jaws, palate and 
 tongue supplied with teeth. The upper jaw of 
 the sword fish protrudes considerably beyond the 
 lower, and both jaws of the garpike are consider- 
 ably elongated into sharp points ; while such 
 is the great difference of structure the jaws of 
 others are furnished with long vermiform pro- 
 cesses, called cirrhi, and serving them in the ca- 
 pacity of antennae or feelers. The teeth of fishes 
 are adapted, as I have elsewhere observed, ra- 
 ther for tearing and lacerating, than for chewing 
 their food, and their tongue is of very various 
 character, corresponding to the habits of each ; 
 but they are all alike destitute, for an obvious 
 reason, of salivary glands. 
 
 The intestines of fishes are generally very 
 short, especially those of voracious fishes, which, 
 feeding for the most part carnivorously, very ra- 
 pidly effect the necessary changes in their ali- 
 ment. In many fishes, as in the carp for example, 
 the stomach is not separated from the intestines. 
 The salmon, perch and others, in which, from 
 the nature of their food, it is necessary that it 
 should remain longer in the body to undergo the 
 requisite changes, have their intestines furnished 
 with many vermiform appendages, which appear 
 to secrete a liquid analogous to the pancreatic 
 fluid of the higher classes of animals, and proba- 
 bly of essential use in their digestion. 
 
 In all fishes, the liver is large and the secretion 
 of bile very copious. This fluid finds its way by 
 regular ducts into the intestines, where, meeting 
 
 2 K 
 
248 
 
 with the liquid just alluded to, it assists in the 
 process of digestion and assimilation. Fishes 
 generally bolt their food their gullet being of 
 enormous size and this is accordingly often 
 found in their stomach retaining its natural form, 
 but when touched, quickly dissolving into a jelly. 
 From this circumstance it would appear, that 
 digestion is in them the result of some menstruum 
 capable of dissolving the food, without mastica- 
 tion, as in the mammalia, or trituratiori, as in 
 birds. The lacteal or absorbing vessels of the 
 intestinal canal of fishes are very numerous ; 
 and these, having collected all the nutritious 
 juices from the intestines, unite together into 
 several large ducts, which run upwards along the 
 side and back part of the oesophagus, and pour 
 their contents, to be mingled with the blood, into 
 the subclavian vein. 
 
 The heart of fishes, for the most part, is tri- 
 angular, and generally very small in proportion 
 to the size of the animal. It consists of only 
 one auricle and ventricle ; and from the latter 
 cavity a large vessel is sent which is entirely dis- 
 tributed upon the gills. These latter organs per- 
 form the same office as the lungs in the higher 
 animals affording a means by which the blood 
 is enabled, by coming into contiguity with the 
 air, either on land or in the water, to abstract 
 a portion from it and thereby become fit to per- 
 form the multifarious purposes for which it is 
 destined. They are placed on each side, im- 
 mediately below the neck if, indeed, an ani- 
 
249 
 
 mal, the head of which is so intimately connect- 
 ed with the trunk, can be said to possess such 
 an organ. In scaly fishes they are generally 
 covered by two or three osseous plates, called 
 an operculum, and in others, as in eels, by a 
 simple membrane. In some fishes the gills are, 
 in this manner, entirely concealed, in others they 
 are but partially covered, and again in some they 
 are freely exposed. The gills generally contain, 
 on each side, four cartilaginous or osseous cir- 
 cles attached to small bones united to the pa- 
 late to each of which is fixed a double row 
 of finger-like processes, or rather penniform la- 
 minse, of a red colour, and consisting of termina- 
 tions of the large vessels already mentioned. 
 Here the blood loses its grosser particles, while 
 the oxygen, which has been spent in the course of 
 its circulation through the body, is here supplied 
 from the water, in which the gills freely play. 
 The water passes in at the animal's mouth, which 
 contains several large openings communicating 
 with the gills, over which it spreads, and, when the 
 animal shuts its mouth, escapes at the opercula 
 or gill covers. The water acts not only chemi- 
 cally, but also mechanically upon the gills by 
 separating their laminae to facilitate its access. 
 Without this wise provision, fishes would die as 
 speedily in water as they do in air, as may easily 
 be seen by compressing their gills, and thus pre- 
 venting the necessary access of the oxygenating 
 medium ; while on the other hand, the life of fishes 
 be prolonged in air by artificially keeping the 
 
2,50 
 
 laminae in the state of separation which the water 
 produces. But it is not all aquatic animals that 
 are thus furnished with an apparatus hy which 
 the air contained in the water is subservient to 
 life : cetaceous animals, as those of the whale kind, 
 respire, like men and quadrupeds, by means of 
 lungs ; and, of course, they are obliged at cer- 
 tain intervals to come to the surface, in order to 
 throw out their former air, and to take in a fresh 
 supply. Some fishes, also, as the lamprey and 
 myxine, possess, instead of gills, several small 
 vesicles on each side of their gullet over which 
 the water, entering from the mouth, is again ex- 
 pelled, generally by small apertures on each side 
 of the body. 
 
 With respect to the senses of fishes, there can 
 be no doubt that they enjoy the sense of smell, 
 and that they are acutely sensible of odorous 
 bodies ; so much so, indeed, that the very per- 
 fection of this function is often fatal to them ; for 
 some kinds are so strongly allured by aromas, 
 that by smearing the hand over with them, and 
 immersing it in water, they will often flock to- 
 wards the fingers and may be easily taken. In 
 all fishes, external openings or nostrils are very 
 apparent. They generally constitute, it is true, 
 only blind sacs ; but their inner surface is of 
 considerable extent, and upon their lining mem- 
 brane, a pair of large nerves, analogous in their 
 function to the olfactory nerves of man, are dis- 
 tributed. 
 
 Fishes have in general no eyelids, but in place 
 
of them nature has given to some species a pal- 
 mated process connected with the iris, which the 
 animal has the power of raising or depressing 
 according to circumstances. The humours of 
 the eye are proportionally in greater quantities, 
 or much larger than those of animals living in 
 air. Thus the eye of the cod is very nearly of 
 the same weight, and its axis of the same length 
 as the eye of the ox. The cornea, however, is 
 not so convex as that of land animals, because 
 little or no refraction of light takes place in this 
 membrane in fishes; but then the crystalline lens, 
 on the contrary, is almost spherical, compensat-. 
 ing thus for the comparative flatness of the cor- 
 nea. In all animals the eye is a perfect optical 
 instrument, and admirably adapted to the cir- 
 cumstances in which each species is placed. We 
 know it to be composed of membranes and hu- 
 mours of different densities, so that they may 
 transmit and refract the rays of light with the 
 greatest regularity and exactness. In the eyes 
 of all animated beings, we see the wisdom and 
 beneficence of the Creator. If the animal dwell 
 in the water, the cornea is flat, and the lens 
 spherical ; if on the surface of the earth, we find, 
 on the contrary, the cornea more projecting, and 
 the lens more flat ; and again, if it wing its airy 
 flight above us, its cornea is the most projecting, 
 and its lens the flattest of all. 
 
 That fishes hear also although the fact was 
 for a long time doubted is sufficiently obvious 
 from many circumstances, and among the rest, 
 
from their having been known to obey the call of 
 those by whom they were accustomed to be fed. 
 They have also a sufficiently complicated organ, 
 though concealed in general, in the depth of their 
 skull, for this purpose. 
 
 The taste of fishes is also very acute ; and 
 their touch not less so than that of animals in 
 general. It is astonishing, however, what an ex- 
 treme degree of heat some fishes can bear. " In 
 the thermal springs of Bahia in Brazil, many 
 small fishes were seen swimming in a rivulet 
 which raises the thermometer eleven degrees and 
 a half above the temperature of the air. Sonnerat 
 found fishes existing in a hot spring at the Man- 
 illas at a hundred and fifty-eight degrees Faren- 
 heit ; and Humboldt and Bonpland, in travelling 
 in South America, perceived fishes thrown up 
 alive, and apparently in health, from the bottom 
 of a volcano, in the course of its explosions, 
 along with water and heated vapour that raised 
 the thermometer to two hundred and ten degrees, 
 being but two degrees below the boiling point."* 
 
 The bodies of most fishes are covered with 
 small brilliant plates of a horny nature, called 
 scales ; but in certain kinds these are wanting, 
 as in the turbot, in place of which are found 
 osseous or cartilaginous protuberances in some 
 species, and in others a very smooth skin, with- 
 out scales or rugosities, but covered with a thick 
 gelatinous secretion. It was observed by Steno, 
 in ,the skate, that this slimy matter was poured 
 
 * Jameson s Journal. 
 
out from numerous orifices regularly placed near 
 the surface ; and Dr. Monro has recorded his 
 discovery of a very elegant structure for the pre- 
 paration of this mucus between the skin and 
 muscles. The secretion is so viscid that it is 
 with great difficulty pressed out. There is a 
 species of carp the rex cyprinorum of Linnaeus 
 that seems to hold a middle place between the 
 rough and smooth skinned fish ; the upper part 
 and back is covered with scales, while these are 
 altogether wanting in the lower part and belly. 
 
 The brain of fishes is smaller in relation to 
 their body than in other vertebral animals. It 
 does not exceed in the barbot the seven hun- 
 dredth, in the pike the one thousand three hun- 
 dredth, and in the tunny even the thirty-seven 
 thousandth part of the weight of the body ; but 
 still the nerves going from it are as large in pro- 
 portion to the several organs, as in the other 
 classes. 
 
 Fishes have a firm and compact body, hea- 
 vier than the element in which they exist; and it 
 follows, that they would have sunk and remained 
 at the bottom, had not the Almighty provided an 
 apparatus by which they could rise and swim 
 about at pleasure. " Fishes are adapted," says 
 Richerand, " by their structure, to the element in 
 which they live ; the form of their body bounded, 
 every where, by salient angles, is well calculated 
 to separate the columns of a fluid. A bladder 
 filled with air, which is expelled at pleasure, 
 renders their specific gravity less than that of 
 
254 
 
 water, according to the quantity of its contents." 
 Perhaps one mean of diminishing the specific 
 gravity of the bodies of fishes is the quantity of 
 fat with which they in general abound ; but the 
 principal instrument for effecting this is undoubt- 
 edly their air-bladder. This gives to their back a 
 sufficient degree of lightness to enable it to re- 
 main upward, else this part of the body, which is 
 the heaviest, would draw after it the rest, and 
 the animal, lying on its back, would be incapable 
 of performing any motions of progression, as 
 happens when the bladder is burst or punctured. 
 Hence, too, such fishes as naturally want an air- 
 bladder generally remain in the mud at the bot- 
 tom of the water. Constrictor muscles expel 
 the air which it contains, and force it into the 
 stomach or oesophagus, when the animal wishes 
 to sink ; but this expulsion becomes impractica- 
 ble if the air undergoes considerable expansion 
 from any cause, and resists the compression that 
 is applied to it, as when fishes are contained in 
 a vessel which is placed under the exhausted re- 
 ceiver of an air-pump. Hence, also, during the 
 fry time, fishes, after remaining long on the sur- 
 face of the water, exposed to the heat of the sun, 
 become unable to sink, and are easily caught. 
 But not only was it necessary to supply fishes 
 with the power of sinking to the bottom or float- 
 ing on the surface of the water the means of 
 supporting themselves and of making progress in 
 the water were also to be provided. According- 
 ly their tail, moved by powerful muscles, may be 
 
255 
 
 considered as an oar of great strength, the mo- 
 tions of which impel the fish forwards, while the 
 fins, like so many secondary oars, facilitate and 
 direct its motions. 
 
 The trunk of fishes includes the chest, belly 
 and tail. The chest which is very short, the 
 gills belonging to the head is separated from 
 the belly by a white and shining membrane call- 
 ed the diaphragm ; the belly is the portion of the 
 body placed between the chest and the tail, the 
 latter of which forms the termination of the 
 trunk. In some species the belly is wide and 
 thick, while in others it is narrow and slender ; 
 the back of some is much rounder than of others, 
 but in the greater number it forms an edge more 
 or less acute. The sides are placed between the 
 margins of the belly and back, and in most spe- 
 cies we find a mark, called the lateral line, run- 
 ning throughout their length. 
 
 The fins are named according to the parts to 
 which they are appended : thus we have the dor- 
 sal, the pectoral, the ventral, the anal and the 
 caudal fins. The dorsal fin, situated on the back, 
 is either single, as in the pike ; double, as in the 
 perch ; or triple, as in the cod and haddock ; or 
 it may be altogether wanting. Some species, as 
 the salmon, possess an elongation of this fin, 
 to which the term adipose has been applied 
 The pectoral fins are placed on each side, near 
 the opercula or gill covers.. In some species they 
 are wanting, and others have two on each side. 
 In some species, as the flying fish, they are so 
 
 2 L 
 
56 
 
 considerably elongated, that with their aid, the 
 animal can sustain itself for some time in the 
 air* The ventral fins, as their name denotes, 
 are placed on the lower or under part of the fish. 
 Their situation, however, is not uniform, for we 
 find them either near the mouth, on the chest, or 
 on the belly. Thus we have the jugular es^ of 
 which the haddock is an example, where the 
 ventral fins are placed before the pectoral fins, 
 or under the throat ; the thoracini, as the perch, 
 where they are placed on the breast, immediate- 
 ly under the pectoral fins ; and the abdominales, 
 as the salmon and perch, where they are placed 
 on the belly, behind the pectoral fins. The anal 
 fin is placed between the anus and caudal fin or 
 tail, which is situated at the extremity of the 
 body ; arid which is variously shaped, and serves 
 to form distinctive characters by which fish are 
 divided and arranged in classes, genera and 
 species. 
 
 The fins themselves are formed of skin, stretch- 
 ed or extended on osseous or cartilaginous rays, 
 and united to the body by means of certain pe- 
 culiar bones. The pectoral or ventral fins alone, 
 however, can be said to correspond to the upper 
 and lower extremities of the higher classes of 
 animals. They are acted on by several muscles 
 admirably adapted to the necessities of the ani- 
 mal. Thus we find in the pelagian tribes, which 
 traverse the ocean contending with waves and 
 currents, large and strong fins furnished with 
 powerful muscles ; while those which delight in 
 
2,5? 
 
 quiet shores and fresh waters have but delicate 
 fins, and inconsiderable muscles. The number 
 of the rays is variable, and affords the principal 
 character to distinguish species. The fins and 
 tails furnish the chief organs of motion and pro- 
 gression to fish ; and with their aid they traverse 
 with the greatest rapidity thousands of miles in 
 a season. Large fishes are known to overtake, 
 and play around, with great ease, a ship in full 
 sail ; and it has been calculated that a salmon 
 will glide over eighty-six thousand four hundred 
 feet in an hour, and twenty-four feet in a second, 
 that it will advance more than a degree of the 
 meridian of the earth in a day, and make the 
 tour of the world in a few weeks. 
 
 The fins not only assist the animal in advan- 
 cing, but in rising and sinking, in turning, and 
 even in leaping out of the water. To answer 
 these purposes, the pectoral fins, like oars, serve 
 to push the animal forward ; they likewise ba- 
 lance the head, when it is too large for the body, 
 and prevent it from falling prone to the bottom, 
 as happens to large headed fishes, when their fins 
 are cut off. The ventral fins, which lie flat in 
 the water, in whatever situation the fish may be, 
 serve rather to depress the body, than to assist 
 its progression. The dorsal fin poises the body 
 and preserves the animal's equilibrium, while at 
 the same time it aids its forward motion. The 
 anal fin is designed to maintain the vertical or 
 upright position of the body. Lastly, the tail may 
 be regarded as a rudder, or directing instrument 
 
258 
 
 of motion, to which the fins are only subservient. 
 This is easily ascertained if we put a fish into a 
 large vessel of water. When in a state of repose, 
 it will be seen to spread out all its fins, and to 
 rest near the bottom on the pectoral and ventral ; 
 and, if it fold up either of its pectoral fins, it will 
 incline to the side on which the folding takes 
 place. When it desires to have a retrograde 
 motion, striking with the pectoral fins in a con- 
 trary direction, effectually produces it. If it de- 
 sires to turn, a blow from the tail sends it about; 
 but if the tail strike both ways the motion is pro- 
 gressive. If the dorsal arid ventral fins be cut 
 off, the fish reels to the right arid left, and endea- 
 vours to supply the loss by keeping the rest of 
 its fins in constant motion. If the right pectoral 
 fin be removed, the fish leans to that side ; arid if 
 the ventral fins on the same side be cut away, it 
 entirely loses its equilibrium. When the tail is 
 removed the animal loses all power of motion, 
 and abandons itself to the impulse of the water. 
 Fishes, however, that have the greatest num- 
 ber of fins have not always the swiftest motion. 
 The haddock, with its full set of fins, is very slow 
 and tardy, while the shark, which wants the ven- 
 tral fin, is the swiftest swimmer. Again, not- 
 withstanding their agility arid swiftness, fishes 
 often remain in a state of inactivity and supine- 
 ness, until aroused by the dread of an approach- 
 ing enemy, or the calls of hunger. But it is not 
 only by their swiftness that fishes are enabled to 
 avoid danger and destruction. Another great 
 
259 
 
 means which all bountiful nature has given to 
 fishes of escaping from their enemies, is to be 
 found in the truly wonderful power which many, 
 if not all possess, of changing their colour, and 
 accommodating it to that of the element in which 
 they are seen. This is easily observed in the 
 minnow, stickleback and perch, when kept in 
 a basin of water, particularly, however, in the 
 stickleback, in which the changes of colour are 
 more remarkable than in the minnow and perch, 
 inasmuch as they take place more rapidly. Even 
 in a few minutes, and under the naked eye, the 
 colours may be seen to fade or brighten, accord- 
 ing to the nature of the vessel in which they are 
 placed, " May not these changes of colour in 
 fish," asks Mr. Stark, by whom the observation 
 seems to have been first recorded, " depend much 
 upon the same cause as the changes which take 
 place in the colour of the camelion, and of which 
 no satisfactory account has yet been given ? When 
 crawling on plants, the keenest eye cannot detect 
 its presence, as being different in colour from 
 the exact shade of the leaves." Both exhibit a 
 most unanswerable example of the care of God 
 for the meanest of His creatures, and cannot be 
 for a moment contemplated without an over- 
 powering conviction of His all-provident wisdom 
 and goodness. 
 
 What I have hitherto said of the functions of 
 fishes appertains to those only which are subser- 
 vient to the welfare of the individual: but no 
 less care has been bestowed upon the perpetua- 
 
tion of the species. In comparison with other 
 oviparous animals, the eggs offish are very small ; 
 they are, however, far more numerous, and while 
 they furnish food to many of their own kind 
 even to the individuals from which they sprung, 
 arid to various kinds of fowl, yet still do we find 
 the waters abundantly supplied with inhabitants. 
 " Let the waters bring forth abundantly" said 
 the Lord ; and when we consider the astonish- 
 ing fecundity of a single fish, we shall find how 
 truly the Divine command has been obeyed. Ac- 
 cording to Lewenhoeck, the cod annually spawns 
 upwards of nine millions of eggs contained in a 
 single roe ; the flounder produces above a million ; 
 and the mackarel above five hundred thousand ; 
 a herring of a moderate size will yield at least 
 ten thousand ; a carp of fourteen inches in length 
 contained, according to Petit, two hundred and 
 sixty- two thousand, two hundred and twenty- 
 four ; a perch deposited three hundred and eighty 
 thousand, six hundred and forty ; and a female 
 sturgeon, seven millions and fifty-three thousand, 
 two hundred. 
 
 Most fishes take no care of their offspring, 
 and some even cast their spawn indiscriminately 
 among the waters, and leave them to an uncertain 
 chance. This, however, is not the case with all ; 
 certain species of the genus doras, make a regu- 
 lar nest, in which they lay their eggs in a flat- 
 tened cluster, and cover them over most care- 
 fully. Nor does their care end here, as with 
 most others who cover their spawn, for they re- 
 
261 
 
 main by the side of the nest, till the spawn is 
 hatched, watching it, arid attacking most cou- 
 rageously every assailant. Hence, the negroes 
 frequently take them by putting their hands into 
 the water close to the nest, on agitating which 
 the male springs furiously at them and is thus 
 captured, falling a victim to his paternal solici- 
 tude. Aristotle tells us, also, that a fish named 
 phycis makes a nest like a bird. This was long 
 considered to be fabulous, but M. Olivi has lately 
 found a fish, named gou or gau, (cjobius niyer) 
 which has similar habits. The male, at the 
 period of impregnation, digs a hole in the mud, 
 surrounds it with weeds, forming a nest of it, 
 near which he meets the female, and from which 
 he does not stir, until the eggs that have been 
 deposited in it are hatched. 
 
 Fishes, the bones of which are cartilaginous, 
 are long in acquiring their utmost growth ; but 
 this is sometimes very considerable. The white 
 shark has often been found thirty feet long, and 
 not less than four thousand pounds in weight. 
 Their strength, too, seems proportionate to their 
 size, and many, with one blow of their tail, can 
 shatter a strong boat and sink it. 
 
 Some fishes also live to a great age. The carp 
 which were bred in the ditches of Port-Chartrain, 
 are said by Buffon to have exceeded in age one 
 hundred and fifty years ; and those in the Royal 
 Gardens of Charlottenburg, in Prussia, are re- 
 ported by Bloch to have their heads overgrown 
 with moss. Lodelius alleges, that in some ponds 
 
in Lusatia there are carp about two hundred 
 years old. At Manheim is a skeleton of a pike, 
 nineteen feet in length, and which is said to have 
 weighed, when alive, three hundred arid fifty 
 pounds. It was caught at Kayserlantera in 1497 > 
 and a Greek inscription on a brass ring, inserted 
 in the gills, announces that it had been put into 
 the pond by the Emperor Frederick II., that is 
 to say, two hundred and sixty-seven years before 
 it was taken. Some species, however, are known 
 to have a much shorter existence ; thus, the eel 
 usually lives about fifteen years ; the bream and 
 the tench, from ten to twelve ; while the stickle- 
 back seldom survives two. The comparative 
 simplicity of their structure, the flexibility of 
 their frame, the strength of their digestive powers, 
 and the equal temperature of the element they 
 inhabit, probably contribute to the longevity of 
 fish ; yet with all this they are subject to indis- 
 position and diseases to which they frequently 
 fall victims. The tenacity with which some 
 species adhere to life is remarkable ; it is well 
 known that many, particularly perch, may be 
 frozen, and in this condition transported for 
 miles. It appears that their condition, while 
 in this state, is similar to that of what are called 
 hibernating animals, such as the bat, the dor- 
 mouse, and the marmott, when rendered torpid 
 by the winter's cold a state resembling sleep 
 but differing from it in being far more intense, 
 and in involving a greater number of functions. 
 If, when in this condition, fishes are placed in 
 
263 
 
 water near a fire, they soon begin to exhibit sym- 
 toms of reanimation ; the fins quiver, the gills 
 open, the fish gradually turns itself on its belly* 
 and moves slowly round the vessel, till at length 
 completely revived, it swims briskly about. 
 
 Of all migrating animals, fish make the longest 
 journeys, and, in common with all, are probably 
 actuated in doing so by instinctive feelings excit- 
 ing them thus to seek for food, a comfortable 
 temperature of air, or places adapted for the pro- 
 pagation of their species. 
 
 Fish constitutes a considerable portion of the 
 food of men. This is peculiarly the case among 
 savage nations, and the poor of all countries ; 
 and hence, it becomes a matter of no small im- 
 portance to consider the best modes of preserv- 
 ing a regular supply. Embankments and other 
 works upon rivers have contributed not a little 
 to diminish the number of fish, and thus it has 
 become an object with some to localize them in 
 lakes and ponds, and to introduce new species 
 into the country, these being far more easily ac- 
 climated than either birds, quadrupeds or plants. 
 When fishes are transported from a hot climate, 
 where the waters never freeze, to one where oc- 
 casionally their surface is converted into ice, they 
 avoid the inconveniences of the change by seek- 
 ing the depths of the pools. At certain seasons 
 all climates furnish a temperature sufficient to 
 enable them to breed, a peculiarity which na- 
 ture seems to have denied both to quadrupeds 
 and birds and thus great advantages are offered 
 
 2 M 
 
to those who wish to stock their ponds with the 
 individuals of other climes. In doing so, it is 
 necessary to consider whether the species delight 
 in running or smooth water, and whether they 
 affect a clayey, stony, sandy or muddy soil, or 
 one luxuriant with vegetation. In general, all 
 fresh water fishes delight in lakes that are tra- 
 versed by currents, and have a bottom of various 
 kinds, such as most large sheets of water afford. 
 Ponds or lakes, with high and rocky banks, are 
 not so fit for acclimating new species, as those 
 in which the banks are low and flat ; because 
 they are not so much exposed to the sun, and 
 consequently the temperature of the water is 
 much colder. In preparing a pond for localizing 
 fishes, its bottom and sides are to be provided with 
 wooden boxes or troughs, in which the spawn 
 may be deposited ; and the most favorable time 
 to transport them is, when this process is near at 
 hand. If it is wished to introduce many species, 
 it is as well to give to each kind their own pecu- 
 liar reservoir, adapted to their size and number. 
 After the spawn is deposited, the fishes should 
 be removed by a net from the pond, the boxes 
 are then to be taken up, and the spawn left to 
 be vivified by the heat of the sun. The reason 
 for removing the parent fish at this time is, 
 that their voracious appetite leads them fre- 
 quently to devour their own offspring, and thus 
 considerably to reduce their number. Another, 
 and a simpler mode of stocking a pond is, to 
 procure and put into it, from other waters, the 
 
265 
 
 stones arid plants upon which spawn has been 
 deposited ; and in this way fish may be brought 
 out in a warm room. With some hardy kinds, 
 as eels, bream, carp, &c. it is not necessary to 
 take the same precautions as with the smelt and 
 bleac ; but, with the greatest care, no one will 
 ever localize fish in any pond which is not pre- 
 viously amply supplied with the food on which 
 they feed. Some, as the vendace, live for the 
 most part upon one peculiar animal ; and we 
 can readily account, therefore, for their extreme 
 rarity, and also for the failures which have so 
 often accompanied the attempts to stock a pond 
 with this, as well as many other kinds. Salt 
 water fish can, of course, be preserved in ponds 
 only which communicate with the sea ; and the 
 most perfect, indeed I believe the only one of 
 the kind in Britain, is at Logan, the seat of Col. 
 M'Dowal, in Galloway. This was formed in 
 1800, and consists of an artificial basin o ' salt 
 water, thirty feet deep, by a hundred and sixty 
 in circumference. The area within, is wholly 
 hewn from the solid rock, and communicates 
 with the sea by one of those fissures or natural 
 tunnels, so common on bold and precipitous 
 coasts. It was formed by blasting the rock, and 
 a barrier was erected at its entrance, formed 
 by a pile of large loose stones, so placed that no- 
 thing but water could find egress or ingress. 
 A neat cottage, for the accommodation of the 
 fisherman, is attached to the pond, which is sur- 
 rounded by a high wall, at least three hundred 
 
266 . 
 
 feet in circumference. The labour and expense 
 of this structure must have been considerable, 
 but to two, though very different classes of per- 
 sons, it affords a very rich treat. Here the gour- 
 mand, in the stormiest weather, when no boat 
 dares venture out to sea, finds his appetite sup- 
 plied ; and here, too, the naturalist finds food for 
 his no less insatiate desires, by the opportunities 
 it affords for observing and studying the habits 
 and peculiarities of the briny deep. The pond 
 is excavated eight feet below the level of the sea, 
 and hence there is, when the tide is out, this 
 depth of water in it. During the year 1827, 
 however, the tides were much lower than they 
 had been seen for the previous fifty years, and 
 abandoned the rock which they were never 
 known to have deserted before; the water be- 
 came stagnant, and the fishes sunk to the bot- 
 tom, they refused their food, and died in such 
 numbers before relief arrived in the form of a 
 full spring tide, that the pond was nearly depo- 
 pulated. It is curious to witness the uproar that 
 takes place in the pond the moment the fisher- 
 man makes his appearance with his daily store 
 of limpits and other food for his finny charge. 
 The whole surface seems agitated by some vast 
 internal commotion, as hundreds of fishes rush 
 from all corners to one common point, and 
 greedily contend with each other for the delici- 
 ous mouthful. It is remarkable that they will 
 take nothing but what comes from the sea ; if 
 crumbs of bread be thrown to them, though in- 
 
26? 
 
 stantly darted at and bolted, they are as quickly 
 rejected. The fisherman's duty is very exten- 
 sive : he not only plies the net and heaves the 
 line during two or three days every week to sup- 
 ply food for the prisoners in the pond, but he has 
 to keep up the stock, and to select the finest and 
 fatest in his preserve for his master's table. 
 Sand eels, broken crabs and limpits, form their 
 general fare ; the former are given ra'w, but the 
 latter are boiled to separate them from their 
 shells. When ploughing the deep the fisher- 
 man keeps a tub of water in his Jboat, in which, 
 when not much hurt, he places any individuals 
 he may desire to imprison in the pond ; and 
 soon a great change comes over them, for they 
 grow fat, and rapidly increase in size and deli- 
 cacy a proof that they are not so well supplied 
 when roaming unrestrained among their native 
 deeps and caverns. A selection is easily made 
 of any one fish that may be required, for all take 
 greedily at a baited hook, from which they may 
 be released and restored to the water, without 
 injury, until the desired individual is obtained.* 
 Although rare with us, salt water ponds were 
 common among the Romans, in which were bred 
 sea trouts, soles, john-dories, and shell fish of va- 
 rious kinds. Lucullus, in order to let in sea 
 water to one of his preserves, had a mountain 
 cut through ; and in this preserve, at his death, 
 were so many fishes, that Cato, his trustee, sold 
 them for thirty-two thousand pounds sterling. 
 
 * M'Diarmid's Sketches from Nature. 
 
-268 
 
 The sale of the fish ponds of Irrius yielded the 
 same price. Caesar applied to this Irrius, upon 
 some remarkable occasion, to sell him lampreys: 
 this, however, was refused ; but, according to 
 Pliny, six thousand were borrowed from him. In 
 no article of food were these luxurious people 
 more profuse than in fish ; and immense sums 
 of money were frequently given for them. In 
 the reign of Tiberius, two hundred and fifty 
 pounds sterling were given for three mullets, 
 which were brought alive to the dining-room by 
 canals of salt water, running under the table up- 
 on which they were cooked in the presence of 
 those who were to feast upon them. Hortensius 
 was more careful of his lampreys than of his 
 slaves. Crassus, the orator, went into mourn- 
 ing for some he had lost ; and Vedius Pollio, 
 more than once threw in living men to be de- 
 voured by them ! 
 
 In contemplating the geographical distribution 
 of fishes, we recognize at once the great law 
 which binds all created beings, with the excep- 
 tion of man munificently set lord over all viz. 
 that certain species only shall inhabit certain 
 portions of the globe. What a diversity do we 
 observe in the form and organization of fishes, 
 according as they are destined to frequent the 
 rocky coast, the long declivity of the sandy beach, 
 the mud of the river's mouth, the confined chan- 
 nel of the archipelago, the polar ice, or the tro- 
 pical sea ! Nature, in dispensing her creatures 
 over the surface of this great globe, seems to 
 
269 
 
 have imposed limits upon each ; and to very few 
 only has she given the power to live indifferently 
 in opposite circumstances, and under the varied 
 influences of different climates. We can easily 
 understand why quadrupeds which cannot tra- 
 verse the sea should be confined to particular 
 lands ; and we can conceive, too, that birds, 
 great and wonderful as are their migrations, 
 must from physical causes have a limit to their 
 flight ; but that fishes, inhabiting as they do, a 
 medium, the temperature of which is more uni- 
 form than that of the air, and with no obstacles 
 to prevent their progress, or to fix boundaries 
 to their journey ings, still confine themselves in 
 marked zones, beyond which they never pass, 
 except from rare and accidental causes, can be 
 accounted for only on the principle of a law of 
 nature. Some species, accordingly, live within 
 the tropics, under almost every meridian, but do 
 not pass these limits or at most to a very little 
 distance ; others seem to be proper to the tem- 
 perate or the frigid zones of the northern hemis- 
 phere, whilst others again, belong exclusively to 
 the south. 
 
270 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 ICHTHYOLOGY CONTINUED. THE HERRING. 
 
 THE herring clupea harengus of Linnaeus is 
 distinguished from other fish of the same genus 
 by its peculiar lower jaw, and the seventeen rays 
 of its anal fin. It is about a foot in length, of a 
 dusky green colour above, and silvery beneath. 
 The head is small, the eye large and of a silvery 
 white. Its scales are easily rubbed off ; and with 
 the exception of the tail, which is large and fork- 
 ed, the fins are small and of a light colour. 
 
 This fish is more generally employed as an 
 article of food than any other : it forms an ele- 
 gant and dainty dish upon the pompous table of 
 the rich ; among the middle classes it is in uni- 
 versal estimation ; and with no other " appli- 
 ances or means to boot" than the boiled potato, 
 it forms a substantial and grateful meal to the 
 poor and needy. We find it in the palace, and 
 we meet with it in the pauper's cabin. It was 
 well known to our ancestors ; but, from their 
 ignorance of the means of preserving it, they did 
 not make it, as it now is, an article of commerce. 
 
271 
 
 The very important discovery of the art of 
 salting and drying fish, which has been the means 
 of affording sustenance to myriads, was made 
 towards the close of the thirteenth century, by 
 one William Beuckel of Brabant, who may just- 
 ly be considered one of the greatest benefac- 
 tors of the human race ; and it is recorded, that 
 one hundred and fifty years after his death the 
 Emperor Charles V. did honour to his invention, 
 by visiting and placing a herring on his tomb. 
 Some say that the secret was communicated to 
 the Flemings by a vagabond Scotsman, who, from 
 some motive or other, had quitted his country ; 
 but, whatever truth there may be in this, from that 
 time to the present the Dutch herrings have been 
 held in the highest estimation. The Dutch first 
 engaged in the herring fishing about the year 
 1164, and were in exclusive possession of it for 
 several centuries ; but at length its value became 
 so justly estimated, that severe and obstinate wars 
 between them and the English were the result. 
 This fish is found in the highest northern lati- 
 tudes that have yet been traversed, arid as low as 
 the northern coasts of France, but with the ex- 
 ception of one instance, where they were report- 
 ed to be in the bay of Tangier they have never 
 been discovered farther south than this. 
 
 It is the universal opinion, that during winter 
 herrings retire to the northern seas, and that 
 from thence they commence their great migra- 
 tions to Europe arid America, whence, terrified 
 by the numerous enemies with which they meet, 
 
272 
 
 they again return to their northern latitudes, 
 there to remain until they are excited by all- 
 powerful instinct to seek our warmer climes, in 
 order to mature and vivify their countless spawn. 
 When they first set out, the number of them 
 is so considerable, that they extend over a space 
 of many miles ; but meeting with enemies, their 
 numbers are diminished, and they separate in- 
 to two divisions, the one going to the west, the 
 other to the east. The former pressing onward 
 reaches the coast of Ireland in March, arid then 
 turning still more westerly, proceeds to the Ame- 
 rican coast. The latter taking their course to- 
 wards the south, again divides into two columns, 
 the one descending along the coast of Norway 
 into the Baltic ; while the other, turning to the 
 west, visits the Orkneys arid Shetland, where it 
 is a third time divided, one wing taking to the 
 east, the other to the western shores of Britain. 
 But it is needless to pursue this subject, of which 
 much is riot known with certainty : surely it is 
 sufficient for us to reflect, with awe and vene- 
 ration, upon the beneficence of that Almighty 
 Power who has impressed certain instincts upon 
 this most useful of aquatic creatures, which guide 
 and direct them to leave the vast polar seas at 
 certain seasons of the year, that they may visit 
 our shores, and bring with them wealth and food 
 to expecting thousands. There can be no doubt 
 that their instinct leads them to our seas to de- 
 posit their spawn. It is an erroneous idea that 
 they come hither in search of food, of which 
 
273 
 
 their countless myriads have deprived the north- 
 ern latitudes ; for they are observed to come to 
 us full of fat, and on their return to be lean and 
 miserable. 
 
 The wise regulations of the Dutch have contri- 
 buted much to preserve the reputation of their 
 herrings, and to multiply the species. Every 
 season each fisherman is obliged to swear that 
 he will no.t cast his nets before the 25th of June, 
 and when the season is over, he again swears 
 that he has been faithful to his oath. Another 
 law provides, that the fisherman shall cease to 
 ply his nets on the 25th of January ; and the fish 
 are thus permitted to cast their spawn uninter- 
 rupted and in safety. Hence, the Dutch fisheries 
 are far more productive than those of other na- 
 tions ; for migratory fish universally return to 
 the places where they were permitted to spawn 
 without being disturbed. Another Dutch law 
 enjoins, that the meshes of all herring nets shall 
 be of one size, by which means all small fish 
 escape, and only the large and full grown are 
 captured. 
 
 The herring, which is so extensively exposed 
 to the voracity of other animals, belongs itself 
 to the class of voracious fishes. It feeds for the 
 most part upon small entomostracese. Newcrantz 
 tells us he has found many small crabs undigest- 
 ed in its stomach ; and Lewenhoeck frequently 
 discovered there the eggs or spawn of many spe- 
 cies. They seem to be fond of worms ; and the 
 Norwegian fishermen often find a worm, which 
 
274 
 
 they call roe-aat, in their stomach. Herrings do 
 not all seem to spawn at the same time. The 
 stromling, or small spring herring of the Baltic, 
 appears arid spawns when the ice begins to melt, 
 and remains until the end of June ; then follows 
 a larger variety of summer herring ; and lastly, 
 towards the middle of September, the autumn 
 variety makes its appearance and deposits its 
 spawn. 
 
 The herring leads a persecuted life : man wages 
 a perpetual war against it, not only assailing it 
 when it arrives upon his shores, but forming, like 
 the Dutch, large fleets to attack it on the open 
 sea. The whale too, is another enemy which 
 swallows myriads of them ; turning himself in 
 small circles, he not only receives vast numbers 
 within his gulf-like mouth, but others, which he 
 disables by the strokes of his mighty tail, he swal- 
 lows at his leisure. The gull, too, darts among 
 the shoal and devours many, while at the same 
 time, it unerringly points out to the fisherman 
 where to cast his nets, and thus aids in their de- 
 struction. Yet no species is so abundant as the 
 herring ; and with all the numbers that are the 
 natural prey of other animals, and the myriads 
 that man appropriates to his own use, we do not 
 find this abundance in the slightest degree dimin- 
 ished. Some opinion may be formed of the num- 
 bers that are destroyed by man when I state that 
 in the bay of Ranoe, in Norway, about eighty jagts 
 are annually taken. One hundred tons make a 
 j and each ton contains about twelve hundred 
 
herrings. According to Pontoppidan, in his ac- 
 count of Norway, in the same bay, in one season, 
 nineteen 'millions of fish were taken. The her- 
 ring forms a principal part of the food of the Nor- 
 wegians, arid a large branch of their commerce. 
 Many hundred cargoes are annually sent from 
 Bergen alone ; and in 1752, between January 
 and October, this town dispatched from it one 
 hundred and thirty-two thousand, one hundred 
 and fifty-six tons. 
 
 But these considerations are more adapted to 
 the political economist than to the natural his- 
 torian. Suffice it to say, that with all attempts 
 to improve the British fisheries, the immense 
 sums expended upon them, the protection afford- 
 ed to them by government bounties and other 
 means, the Dutch still maintain their superiority 
 over us. I think the cause of this failure is 
 easily to be explained, and quite agree with Dr. 
 Knox, that the superiority of Dutch herrings de- 
 pends altogether upon their food. This very 
 scientific naturalist discovered that, whilst feed- 
 ing on the incredibly minute entomostraceous 
 animals, which it more especially affects, the con- 
 dition of the herring is excellent, rendering it de- 
 sirable food for man. In this state the stomach 
 seems as if almost empty, although, in reality, it 
 is full of minute animals, to be discovered only 
 by the microscope. The intestines also seem as 
 if empty, and are as free from intestinal and pu- 
 trescent debris as if it actually fed on nothing but 
 air and water. Whilst thus fed, the herring is in 
 
the very highest condition, and is scarcely inferior 
 to any fish. But as he approaches the shores, thus 
 quitting his proper feeding grounds, he takes to 
 other and coarser food ; his condition alters, and 
 his flesh becomes soft and tasteless, the stomach 
 and intestines are found loaded with putrescent 
 remains, and the fish is bad and unwholesome. 
 It is thus that the ill-conditioned herrings caught 
 upon the British shores, however carefully pre- 
 pared, can never enter into competition with the 
 products of the Dutch deep-sea fisheries. An 
 extensive knowledge of a strictly scientific nature 
 can alone improve this article of commerce ; and 
 until laws are formed upon such a basis, rather 
 than on the evidence of men, prejudiced in favour 
 of their own opinions, and biased by their all 
 engrossing and selfish interests, we must be con- 
 tented to allow to our Dutch brethren the advan- 
 tages over us which they have obtained. 
 
277 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ENTOMOLOGY. 
 
 THE senses of insects are well known to present, 
 in many cases, most extraordinary acuteness, the 
 details of which not only give inductive evidence 
 of wisdom and goodness, but when brought into 
 relation with those of man, present equally in- 
 teresting analogical proofs of design a design 
 which, as I have already stated, I believe to have 
 been at once that of producing harmony through, 
 out creation, and of affording lessons of humility 
 to that most perfect of God's sublunary creatures, 
 to whom the means and the faculty of observa- 
 tion have been given. Upon the admission of 
 this, must depend the analogical arguments in 
 favour of the fact, that the individual happiness 
 of the creature has been produced by the adap- 
 tation of its structure to its wants and necessi- 
 ties, and of its place of residence to its habits of 
 life. Is not the contemplation of the fitness of 
 these relations the birth-right of mankind ? and, 
 in reflecting on the beings of the external world, 
 on essences which differ from his own, and enjoy- 
 ments which he can only judge of by comparison, 
 does he riot admit that the observation of the 
 habits and manners of living objects in other 
 
278 
 
 words, natural history presents the two-fold ad- 
 vantage of bearing analogically upon the habits 
 of human life, and of exhibiting, in the most 
 striking and direct manner, the wisdom arid 
 goodness of the Creator? 
 
 But it is probably not in our power, since we 
 are thus forced to judge of the senses of insects 
 by a comparison with our own, to appreciate 
 fully the perfection of the former, or the won- 
 drous sources of joy for there is joy in the free 
 and spontaneous exercise of every sense which 
 God may have prepared for objects that are 
 among the smallest of his creation. The sounds 
 emitted by many insects their songs of triumph 
 or of love, the grateful expression of their de- 
 light in the lap of bounteous nature, of hearts 
 gladdened by sunshine, arid an organization en- 
 livened by the fragrance of flowers, the chirp of 
 surrounding creatures, and the numerically in- 
 finite relations which exist between them and the 
 continuous actions of decay and regeneration in 
 the organic world have from the earliest time, 
 attracted the attention of mankind. The follow- 
 ing illustration of this is beautifully rendered 
 from the original Greek of Archias, by Mr. Hay: 
 
 'Erst on the fir's green, blooming branch, oh grasshopper! 'twas 
 
 thine 
 
 To sit, or on the shady spray of the dusky, tufted pine ; 
 And from thy hollow, well-winged sides, to sound the blythesome 
 
 strain, 
 Sweeter than music of the lyre to the simple shepherd swain." 
 
 Those, too, who loved those " living lyres in 
 
279 
 
 the olive groves sounding all summer long," have 
 celebrated the locust, 
 
 " Soother of loves, encourager of sleep, 
 Oh locust! mystic muse, shrill wing'd" 
 
 and the cicada, 
 
 " Cicada ! thou, who tipsy with the dews 
 Of weeping skies, on the tall poplar tree 
 
 Perch'd swayingly, thyself dost still amuse 
 
 And the hush'd grove, with thy sweet minstrelsy" 
 
 and even the murmur of bees " the small but 
 not sullen horn of one air-farer, and then of an- 
 other in succession, but not in pursuit, for each 
 in its instinct is as intent on its own far-off 
 flowers, as if there was not another bee under 
 the sun ;" and of a hundred other songsters of 
 the fir branches, the grass blade and the flower's 
 breast, each and all alive with the sound of 
 winged or shield-clad insects, hymning to the ear 
 of man the praises of their Creator. And that 
 this contemplation was not, even to the ancients, 
 the mere bodying forth of idle imaginings upon 
 the resources of nature, as exemplified in the 
 animal kingdom, but of philosophical observa- 
 tion, is unanswerably attested by the accuracy 
 of all their descriptions of the objects of natural 
 history. Thus we find in Melanger, the source 
 of many of these sounds distinctly alluded to,-^ 
 " excute facundas pedibus titubantibus alas ;" 
 which has been translated by the correct and; 
 classic Wilson, 
 
 " Striking thine own speaking wings with thy feet:" 
 2 O 
 
280 
 
 and, it is quite unnecessary to mention how 
 many sweet and touching passages to the same 
 effect, might be extracted from the writings of 
 the poets. of our own father-land. The love of 
 nature, and a sympathy with her beauties, spring 
 and ripen, as much from the observation of the 
 smallest creatures, as from the contemplation 
 of the habits and manners of the most noble ; 
 and the essence of poetry, all but that which 
 panders to the passions of mankind, consists in 
 a minute perception of the harmony, the beau- 
 ty and the loveliness, which adorn the face of the 
 earth. 
 
 With respect then to the sources of enjoyment 
 to insects furnished by their senses, that they 
 smell there seems to be no doubt, and that the 
 vegetable world affords a most abundant source 
 of enjoyment to the sense of smell, must be 
 equally admitted. Further, the possession of 
 the same sense leads many species to the choice 
 of their food or the pursuit of their prey ; while 
 the ejection of fluids of noxious odour is to 
 others, as in the instance of the tenebrise, a 
 means of defence. That smell is productive of 
 pleasure, is further shewn in the habits of many 
 dipterous and hymenopterous insects, and of 
 most butterflies. Sphinxes and many phalsense 
 fly about the flowers of lilies and other sweetly 
 smelling plants ; and, generally speaking, the 
 most fragrant plants are the most frequently vi- 
 sited by insects of all kinds. The immediate 
 organ of smell in insects is very questionable ; 
 
it has been referred successively to their stigma- 
 ta, their palpi, and their antennae. 
 
 It is said that Clerck, in a discourse held be- 
 fore the Royal Academy of Science, at Stock- 
 holm, in 1764, first maintained that the anten- 
 nae of insects were their organs of smell. He 
 was led to this opinion by observing that certain 
 beetles when alighting on flowers which were 
 grateful to them, opened the palates of their an- 
 tenna3; and Bergmann relates, that he has often 
 seen the ichneumon jaculator prying with its an- 
 tennae into the holes which contained the grubs 
 of the sphix figuli, as if to smell them out. 
 
 Again, the peculiarities of vision enjoyed by 
 the insect tribes in connection with their variety 
 of structure, are at once pleasing and wonderful. 
 Independently of the various directions in which 
 vision may be carried by some tribes, modern 
 discovery has shown, that its minuteness, as 
 contrasted with that of man, is almost incon- 
 ceivable, and that monadic animals, or such as 
 are microscopic to our ken, are easily visible to 
 the naked eye of insects ; and that some insects 
 more especially the aquatic larvae make these 
 monades the chief objects of their chase and nu- 
 triment. A new world would be open to eyes 
 capable of perceiving microscopic animals ; how 
 distinctly would the curious forms of the tribes 
 of aphides that cling to the rose branch be dis- 
 cerned yet not more so than they must be by 
 their determined and voracious destroyer, the 
 larva of the hemerobius j how obvious would ap- 
 
pear the precision and regularity of the flight of 
 gnats, weaving their aerial net-work, like a grey 
 cloud of evening, and how perfect and symmetri- 
 cal would seem the film-like gossamer, as it floats 
 
 " Idly in the wanton summer air ! " 
 
 yet not more so than they naturally present 
 themselves to insects. 
 
 The microscopic insects which abound on the 
 surface of the earth, do not appear to be so nu- 
 merous now as at the early periods of its history, 
 if we except the infusory tribes, which though as 
 yet little examined Ehrenberg, the companion 
 of Humboldt in his Asiatic Journey, has lately 
 shown to be repeated under the same forms, in 
 different geographical situations. There are lime- 
 stories belonging to the middle ages in geognostic 
 chronology, which appear to be almost entirely 
 composed of microscopic shells ; and even in 
 more modern formations, the number of micros- 
 copic species, independently of their individual 
 preponderance, has been found to exceed that of 
 the species recognized by the naked eye. The 
 myriads of creatures which nature in her prolific 
 and varied means has produced, may to some 
 appear not only accidental but unnecessary ; but 
 the relations of all to each other are such, as if 
 interrupted, would break the chain of existence 
 one of the most glorious and bounteous evidences 
 of design, which can be afforded by the contem- 
 plation of the lower orders of creation. 
 
 With respect also, to the hearing of insects, 
 
283 
 
 the progress of information on the nature and 
 mode of propagation of sound, brought into con- 
 nection with considerations on the organization 
 which renders animals susceptible of differences 
 of tone, and those combinations which produce 
 harmony, has made us aware that sound is pro- 
 pagated under circumstances which will render 
 what is very audible to one, scarcely, if at all so, 
 to others, even among men ; and it has been 
 still further rendered probable, that there exists 
 an infinite scale of sharp notes, which are per- 
 ceptible only to certain organizations, suitably 
 adapted for their reception. Thus, sounds may 
 be emitted from numerous tribes of living things, 
 the existence of which could not be detected by 
 our visual organs. Further, certain insects may 
 hear the song of their companions, or the watch- 
 word of their mates, and be insensible to the 
 calls of many other tribes ; while, on the other 
 hand, the incongruous sounds of the sunny green- 
 sward may be all resolved into harmony a har- 
 mony not intended for us among the choristers 
 themselves. Thus, in the song of insects, and 
 the developement of the sense of hearing, there 
 are analogies with our own enjoyments, which 
 lead us to deduce upon fair and rational grounds, 
 that they were intended for their happiness, and 
 the study of which assists us in marking the 
 goodness and the wisdom of the Creator. 
 
 There has been considerable doubt as to the 
 exact position of the organ of hearing, as well as 
 of smell, in insects, and some have supposed 
 
them to be placed in the same organ. Thus, 
 Bonsdorf relates that all his observations agreed 
 in one circumstance, viz. that the antennae which 
 were folded up in most insects, became erect as 
 soon as they were put on the alert by means of 
 loud sounds, while they disregarded low ones. 
 He observed, in a morning walk undertaken for 
 the purpose of catching insects on the hazels, 
 while standing in the shade, a nut-weevil sitting 
 quietly at a distance on a leaf, with its antennae 
 hanging down as if asleep ; he directed a pocket 
 telescope to the spot, which was about five feet 
 distant, and therefore convenient for viewing the 
 insect. " The point of view being thus deter- 
 mined," says he, " I made a loud sound, and was 
 delighted with the opportunity of seeing the wee- 
 vil not only roused, but its antenna which hung 
 down, become elongated, and being full of points 
 struck by the undulations of sound, they extend- 
 ed themselves arid remained on the alert, till 
 alarmed again by a fresh sound, the insect fell to 
 the ground, as is the habit of it and other wee- 
 vils."* But it is to be remarked here, that the im- 
 pression of the sound having been communicated 
 to the insect, the motion of the antennae might 
 have followed as an attempt, on its part, to as- 
 certain the proximity or the remoteness of the 
 danger by which it supposed itself threatened ; 
 arid thus the deductions drawn by Professor 
 Bonsdorf, from the antennae being put on the 
 alert by the influence of sound, are not at all sa- 
 
 * Field Naturalist, July 1833. 
 
tisfactory ; nor does even the firm and hollow 
 structure of these appendages, furnished with an 
 arrangement something like that of semicircular 
 canals, leave the subject without many douhts. 
 We must remember further, that spiders which 
 have no antennae have the faculty of hearing, 
 and that it is not destroyed in grasshoppers after 
 these organs have been removed. 
 
 Upon the subject of hearing in general, as en- 
 joyed by insects, Bonsdorf remarks, that the more 
 attentive observers and describers of the honey 
 bee, mention differences in their sounds, such 
 as a humming early in the morning, when the 
 working bees go out upon their flower-choosing 
 excursions ; another, when they call forth the 
 whole hive in defence of the state against the at- 
 tack of enemies ; another, when they clear their 
 hives from filth ; and another, when the queen 
 bee leads forth a swarm to seek new settlements. 
 " Now," he says, " I ask those who deny hearing 
 to insects, what can be the use of sounds so vari- 
 ously modulated, unless the bees can by hearing 
 discriminate those sounds ?" 
 
 There is another consideration connected with 
 the life of insects, which I believe was first 
 philosophically advanced by Lord Kames, but 
 has intuitively been admitted by many, which 
 places the goodness of the Creator in an equally 
 strong light : it is the kind of perception of time 
 which certain insects in all probability enjoy. 
 To the superficial thinker it may appear that 
 the brief existence of many winged insects 
 
286 
 
 ephemera of creation coming into life with the 
 morning radiance, and dying with the sun-set, 
 nay, often doomed to live only a few hours, is 
 incompatible with the idea of happiness confer- 
 red upon all creatures. It may appear to him 
 that the short enjoyment of the great ends of ex- 
 istence, in insects which vie with the clear and 
 transparent heavens in beauty, their few pleasures 
 when compared with those of animals of higher 
 instinct, and their apparent constant liability to 
 the pursuit of enemies, detract from the evidences 
 of a Father's hand, directing in kindness the va- 
 rious operations in the economy of nature. But 
 is it to be supposed, that time, which is marked 
 in our existence by the chime of a bell, by light 
 and darkness, by youth, manhood and old age, 
 is similarly portioned out to creatures which ac- 
 complish the whole purpose of their existence in 
 the space of one day ? Is it not more probable 
 that their periods of time, so brief to our percep- 
 tions, are, to their view, of long duration, and 
 that the acts of some insect tribes, which to us 
 appear momentary are really to them the work 
 of comparative days, and months, and years ? 
 
 Thus far then, I have endeavoured to note a 
 few of those points of consideration which bring 
 the faculties of insects into comparison with those 
 of man. They are real analogies, because we 
 cannot form to ourselves the notion of senses 
 enjoyed by the lowest of animate beings, which 
 being similar in their characters to our own, are 
 yet not accompanied by somewhat similar sensa- 
 
28? 
 
 tions ; and consequently we may fairly draw the 
 inference, that, they are to them not only of the 
 same utility as to us, hut also sources of enjoy- 
 ment, probably even the more distinct and the 
 more powerful, in proportion as they are less 
 disturbed in their simple and instinctive prin- 
 ciples by other and higher faculties. 
 
 There is another analogy which is generally 
 looked upon as merely imaginative, and yet 
 which certainly deserves some consideration ; 
 I mean the metamorphosis of insects as com- 
 pared with the life arid future destiny of man. 
 
 The earliest bards among the human race, 
 and the inspired writers in God's word, drew 
 the same conclusions from the wonderful trans- 
 formations of insects, doomed to pass through 
 three distinct characters of existence : that of 
 a grovelling and destructive worm, a mummied 
 and a coffined thing, and a bright and brilliant 
 insect, which seems born of a sunbeam a very 
 bodying forth of brightness in a living form arid 
 shape, adding to its exceeding beauty and ele- 
 gance, a purity of habits and a simplicity of 
 taste, which contrast as wonderfully with the 
 instincts of its creeping predecessor, as they ac- 
 cord with the exquisite structure of this aerial 
 spangle. From time immemorial the same im- 
 pression of this analogy has been handed down : 
 and how, I would ask, not in the spirit of 
 hypothetical speculation, but of humble enquiry 
 can the lessons of the Redeemer be illustrated 
 by phenomena more striking and appropriate ? 
 
If we now turn our contemplations in another 
 direction, and consider the advantages which are 
 derived hy the human species from the animal 
 and vegetable kingdoms, we are struck with their 
 intrinsic value in the scale of creation ; and, that 
 almost every natural object may be made to in- 
 crease the happiness and comforts of man. The 
 insect tribes have a much more limited influence 
 than other branches of the animal kingdom, be- 
 ing very seldom used as food, and rarely neces- 
 sary to the supply of our wants ; but still many 
 insects are extensively made use of, and are of 
 very great importance not only in the arts and 
 manufactures, but also in medicine. 
 
 It generally happens, that in the adaptation of 
 insect products, we derive benefit from opera- 
 tions carried on in the simple train of circum- 
 stances which belong to the developement of in- 
 sect life ; but, when we consider the extent of 
 these operations, viewed as a whole, and not as 
 connected with the life of each individual, we 
 must feel, I think, that the results are connected 
 with those arrangements by which Providence 
 appears to have secured the happiness and wel- 
 fare of the human species. 
 
 I may here instance the caterpillar, which is in 
 the habit of spinning threads which are of con- 
 siderable utility during its life as a grub, and 
 which, when about to undergo its appointed me- 
 tamorphosis, it weaves into a little mansion, at 
 once to keep it in a constant temperature, and 
 to preserve it from accidents of wind or weather, 
 
289 
 
 as well as from birds arid other animals that 
 might make an easy prey of a being possessing 
 no powers of motion or other means of escape. 
 When considered with respect to each individual 
 insect, the utility of these protections called co- 
 coons, is obvious and simple ; but when viewed 
 collectively, we feel inclined to say, that their 
 remote utility is best pointed out in their adap- 
 tation to the wants and necessities of man , or- 
 der and unity will be found characterising every 
 step of the life of insects, and affording direct 
 evidence of wisdom and of goodness in the en- 
 joyments and comforts provided for the creature 
 in its different states, independently of the beau- 
 ty and immensity of the results which are pro* 
 duced by such simple and curious means. 
 
290 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ENTOMOLOGY CONTINUED. THE SILK-WORM. 
 
 THE silk-worm is the larva or caterpillar of an 
 insect of a tribe of spinning moths, which has 
 been designated by naturalists by the term bom- 
 byX) a natural family containing some very re- 
 markable species, arid distinguished from other 
 tribes by possessing pectinated or comb-like an- 
 tenna?, and having their wings always incumbent 
 or depressed, while the insect is in a resting po- 
 sition. 
 
 The moth of the silk worm belongs to the mul- 
 berry tree, arid was consequently called by natu- 
 ralists bombyx niori. The beech also, the oak, 
 the pine, the plumb tree, the poplar and many 
 other trees, have each their peculiar species of 
 this family. 
 
 The caterpillars of the mulberry moth, com- 
 monly called silk worms (vzrs a soie) have a 
 lengthened, and more or less round body, which 
 is smooth in some, while in others it is covered 
 with hair or tubercles. Their jaws act as cutting 
 instruments, arid are used to divide the parenchy- 
 ma of leaves, and beneath the jaws, at the lower 
 part of the head is an opening which contains 
 
291 
 
 the spinning apparatus (fillers). The number 
 of feet varies from twelve to sixteen, six of which 
 are placed beneath the first three segments of the 
 body, and are preserved by the perfect insect 
 after a change of form. By means of the thread 
 which they spin, they are enabled to descend 
 from one branch to another, or to reascend, 
 by seizing the silken cord between their teeth, 
 and curving up that portion of the body in which 
 the six true legs are situated. The insect then 
 lays hold of the cord with the last pair, which 
 secures it another fixed point, it then lifts up 
 its head a second time, lays hold of an addi- 
 tional portion of the thread, and, by a repetition 
 of its former action, it gradually ascends to the 
 point which it wishes to reach, and, when safely 
 landed, it disembarrasses itself of the silk which 
 has been collected. These caterpillars are fur- 
 ther enabled by the same thread to escape their 
 enemies ; and they never move without taking 
 the precaution of having a thread ready to sus- 
 tain them in the air, if they should happen to 
 fall. 
 
 During their life time they change their skin 
 three or four times ; and, when they have attain- 
 ed their full growth, they spin a cocoon, in which 
 they enclose themselves to undergo their meta- 
 morphosis. In the construction of this cocoon, 
 the silk-worm uses silk only, but caterpillars in- 
 troduce other extraneous bodies, particularly 
 hairs. 
 
 I stated, that after a certain period, the cater- 
 
pillar encloses itself in a cocoon, and becomes a 
 nymph, so called, because the insect is then 
 bound up and charged with bands. It is also 
 called chrysalis, from its being gilded and bril- 
 liant. It is, however, a mistaken notion that 
 there is any real metamorphosis or transforma- 
 tion undergone by the caterpillar to become a 
 perfect insect ; there is a change in form, in fea- 
 ture and in proportion, and in the developement 
 of certain organs of motion, but it appears that 
 all these organs existed in the individual in an 
 embryo state during each stage of its existence. 
 
 >The life of the silk-worm divides itself into 
 three periods, which cannot be considered with- 
 out mingled admiration and pleasure. In its 
 first period it is produced under the form of a 
 worm, its body being lengthened and formed by 
 several membranous rings, fittfftohe one into the 
 other. It then walks with the assistance of sixteen 
 feet ; it has a little eminence on the last ring, 
 and its colour is a dirty white OE yellowish tint. 
 It changes its skin four times before making its 
 cocoon, which moults are attended with so much 
 danger, that, when educated (to use a term of art) 
 for artificial purposes, they cs*use a great num- 
 ber to perish. They prepare themselves for it 
 several days previously by ceasing to eat they 
 seek for solitude and spin a few threads of silk, 
 which they stick to leaves and on their skins. 
 Some days before they are to become a nymph, 
 they choose the most convenient place for their 
 cocoon, and then fix its point of rost, which con- 
 
 * O.UWlk'*^fc- 
 
sist of several silken threads. The second day 
 of labour they give to the cocoon the form which 
 they intend it to take, multiplying the threads 
 and shutting themselves up, and by the third 
 day they are entirely hidden. The day follow* 
 ing the caterpillar continues to work in the inte- 
 rior, always with the same thread of silk which 
 it never breaks, and when it has given to its lodg- 
 ing all the perfection that it is susceptible of, it 
 becomes changed into a chrysalis. It has been 
 calculated that the single thread of silk which 
 forms a cocoon, is more than three miles in length. 
 
 In this, the second period of its existence, the 
 insect is no longer a worm, but a creature, the 
 limbs of ^lich are all enclosed in one or more 
 enveloping folds, and bent down on its breast^ 
 possessing no power of motion. The caterpillar 
 had taken care, in finishing his cocoon, to make 
 one of its ends less solid than the other, and to 
 moisten the silk with a liquid which corrodes it, ; v 
 and thus at the end of fifteen or sixteen days 
 after the change of a caterpillar into a chrysalis, 
 the newly developed moth or insect has only to 
 make a slight effort in order to effect its passage 
 through a cocoon, the tissue of which is in other 
 parts so close that it is almost impossible to tear 
 it. 
 
 In the third period of its existence the insect 
 attains all the organic perfection which belongs ^ , 
 to the rank in creation that it is destined to fill. 
 The bands of the nymph, chrysalis or aurelia, 
 are broken, and the insect commences a new 
 
' v/ v< 
 
 life. All its limbs previously bent, J$ft arid with- 
 out action " a ma?& of pap or soft substance, 
 apparently putriiiecj,; in which every thing seems 
 confoftnded" unf&fct, strengthen themselves, and 
 are put in action. Supported on six legs, hence- 
 fortli the insect gently treads the earth, or sus- 
 tained by light wings covered with a brilliant 
 scaly dust, be as lighty takes his aerial flight. 
 We cannot better assure ourselves of the gradu- 
 ated march of nature, than by the contemplation 
 of these periods of insect life. The same day 
 that they have quitted their cocoon, they are 
 ready to procreate their species ; the male seeks 
 the female, soon after which their short career is 
 terminated, and they die worn out. The females 
 also perish almost immediately after laying their 
 eggs. 
 
 In considering the life of the silk- worm and its 
 silver winged progenitor, in the relation in which 
 thoy stand to other insects, and the amount which 
 is allotted to them of animate enjoyments in their 
 position in the scale of creation, one is almost 
 tempted to hold forth the evidences of wisdom 
 and goodness beyond what is directly manifested 
 in that history. But this is not at all necessary ; 
 for the argument is comparative, and the amount 
 of power and beneficence must be regarded in 
 connexion with the rank which the animal has 
 to fill. The great proofs of wisdom, every where 
 tempered by bounty, must be derived from a 
 contemplation of the whole of the animal king- 
 dom. It is there alone that we see how great is 
 

 the amount, #f happiness given to each ; and 
 when we can thus, in briefly tracing the career 
 and destiny of so small and humble a living thing 
 as the silk-worm, discover a continued design of 
 providing for all its wants, and of enabling it to 
 overcome all its difficulties, how much ought we 
 to admire the goodness that enables us, while 
 we pass over the imposing evidences oftamplitude, 
 magnificence and harmony of design that per- 
 vade the whole to separate a single atorn.'of '. 
 creation, and in the careful study of its <variou3 
 actions and changes during life, and the naeans 
 by which they are performed, to find the samd^^ 
 infallible proofs of the power, wisdom and good- 
 ness of God ! 
 
296 
 
 . 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS of the power, wisdom and good- 
 ness of the Creator, might be produced from the 
 works of nature, without end; they meet us 
 at every turn ; and to whatever department our 
 enquiries are directed, they flow in upon us in 
 overwhelming abundance. It is well worthy of 
 remark, indeed, as shewing the depth and solidi- 
 ty of the foundation on which rests the existence 
 of a supreme, intelligent and beneficent First 
 Cause, that the farther we push our discoveries, 
 the more clearly are the Divine perfections ex- 
 hibited. It is not merely true, that on a super- 
 ficial view we perceive the necessity of believing 
 that a limited and changing world, such as that 
 in which we dwell, could neither exist without 
 being produced, nor be the author of its own ex- 
 istence ; and that there must therefore be, be- 
 yond the range of our senses, an independent and 
 uncreated Essence, without beginning, without 
 bounds, incapable of change, intelligent, ever 
 active, all-pervading ; but it is also certain, that 
 these primd facie views, as they may be called, 
 
are not only uncontradicted, but fully established 
 by the most minute survey of the objects within 
 the sphere of our vision ; so that he who pene- 
 trates the deepest into the secrets of nature, only 
 multiplies proofs of that most sublime and most 
 animating truth, that "verily there is a God" 
 who made and rules the universe. 
 
 To some of these proofs I have adverted, and 
 cursory as my observations have necessarily been, 
 on account of the extensive plan I prescribed to 
 myself, and the desire of being popular rather 
 than scientific, such is the innate force of the 
 evidence, that I do trust no candid man can rise 
 from the perusal of these pages without feelings 
 of religious awe and veneration. 
 
 In considering a subject of this kind, however, 
 there is a further, and, I will add, a more im- 
 portant object of which we ought never to lose 
 sight ; I mean the light which natural religion 
 throws on Divine revelation. There are many 
 circumstances which must prevent a reflecting 
 Theist from resting satisfied with the discoveries 
 of the character of the Eternal, which he legiti- 
 mately deduces from the works of creation 
 Among these there is nothing more staggering 
 than the existence of evil. Much ingenuity, in- 
 deed, has been employed in proving, that the 
 evils which exist in the world are more than 
 counterbalanced by the advantages with which 
 they are accompanied, that there are compensa- 
 tions and abatements which frequently turn the 
 scale in favour of enjoyment, even under circum- 
 
'.'. . . 298 
 
 stances of the greatest seeming misery, and that, 
 in reference to morals, the very crimes, of which 
 men as free agents are guilty, give birth to vir- 
 tues in others, which shed a peculiar splendour 
 over the human character ; and, if they do not 
 remove the worthlessness of the criminal, at least 
 ennoble the nature which his conduct has a ten- 
 dency to degrade- 
 
 It is vain, however, to deny that, after alii 
 these are nothing more than abatements and 
 compensations. No ingenuity can disguise the 
 appalling fact, that evil, both physical and mo- 
 ral, does exist on the earth, adhering to the con- 
 dition, and influencing the conduct and destiny 
 of every human being. That there is a prepon- 
 derance of good, which I am not inclined to deny, 
 may alleviate, but does not remove the difficulty. 
 The question still recurs, " why should evil ex- 
 ist at all ?" And that question, which natural 
 religion cannot answer, gives rise to a long train 
 of similar enquiries, all of them full of gloom and 
 mystery, and all of them beyond the power of 
 unassisted reason to solve. 
 
 A well constituted mind, therefore, cannot rest 
 contented with the discoveries which it makes in 
 reading the book of nature. There is stiil some- 
 thing wanting to its thirst for knowledge and to 
 the satisfaction of its doubts. It cannot be happy 
 amidst the terrors which surround the throne of 
 a half-discovered God, who is seen working every 
 when*, but working in clouds and darkness 
 Hence the sound and enlightened Theist per- 
 
299 
 
 ceives, with Socrates, that nothing could be more 
 desirable than that the Eternal should break the 
 silence of nature, and proclaim His character and 
 His will to His rational offspring. He is thus 
 prepared for receiving the truths of revelation. 
 
 Now, in examining the scriptures, which pro- 
 fess to contain communications from Heaven, 
 we find a most striking analogy between these 
 communications and the ordinary operations of 
 Providence ; and, what is more, they afford the 
 very information of which we are in want, and 
 fill up the blank which we discovered in the vo- 
 lume of nature, It is on this view that Butler 
 has founded his celebrated argument in favour 
 of revealed religion ; and assuredly it is an argu- 
 ment well calculated to arrest the attention and 
 allay the doubts of a sceptical rnirid. A philoso- 
 pher speculating in his closet on the Divine at- 
 tributes, comes naturally to the conclusion, that 
 a Being of infinite perfection can leave nothing 
 imperfect in His works ; but when he descends 
 from these high arid abstract musings into the 
 realities of the world in which he lives, an order 
 of things opens to his view, very different from 
 that which he had been led to anticipate. There 
 is a distinct arid strikingly peculiar character in- 
 scribed on creation. It is a stupendous system, 
 consistent and uniform indeed in itself, but very 
 far from being deducible from CL priori argu- 
 ments, or consonant to preconceived opinions. 
 In deriving our ideas of the Creator from the 
 character of Himself which He has caused to be 
 
300 V 
 
 reflected from His works, we acquire views, un- 
 doubtedly more just and appropriate, yet full 
 of obscurity, and embarrassed with many diffi- 
 culties. 
 
 Now, the remarkable peculiarity of revelation 
 is, that, while it exhibits to us the very same 
 character of the Almighty which is to be found 
 inscribed on creation, all its discoveries tend 
 to remove the mystery in which that character 
 is involved, and to clear away the darkness with 
 which nature has surrounded it. This is just 
 what might have been expected in a communi- 
 cation from Heaven, and it tends to give a re- 
 markable credibility to the Divine record. It has 
 an effect on the mind similar, if the comparison 
 be allowable, to that which is produced by the 
 detail of a characteristic anecdote of some indivi- 
 dual with whose striking peculiarities we happen 
 to be acquainted. The incident might be diffi- 
 cult of belief if attributed to any one else ; but, 
 as soon as the individual is named, conviction is 
 carried strongly to the mind, and we instantly 
 say we believe it, " because it is so like the man." 
 
 What then is the pervading and remarkable 
 feature exhibited in the works of nature ? The 
 answer is deducible from every department of 
 these works, and cannot fail to have been deep- 
 ly impressed on the mind in looking back to the 
 survey, superficial though it be, which we have 
 just finished. It is, that these works display a 
 system, not of abstract perfection, but of con- 
 trivances, expedients and compensations, con- 
 
trivances to produce beneficent ends expedients 
 to overcome opposing obstacles compensations 
 to counterbalance or alleviate unremoved evils. 
 There are general laws impressed on nature, 
 and, under all circumstances, rigidly adhered to, 
 wise, magnificent, universal, but bearing in 
 themselves qualities which subject all things to 
 change and decay, and which in various other 
 respects lead to calamitous consequences. These 
 general laws were to be dealt with in such a way 
 as to produce a world of animated beings in which 
 enjoyment should predominate. " The problem," 
 as has been strikingly remarked, "was, matter 
 being given, to construct a world." 
 
 Here we find materials, often stubborn and 
 apparently unsuitable, moulded and adapted with 
 consummate art to effect some beneficent pur- 
 pose ; we see difficulties the most staggering 
 overcome with amazing skill, and defects which 
 seemed to be incurable, converted, by some sim- 
 ple and unexpected contrivance, into perfections; 
 while the whole system is so admirably combined, 
 and made so beautifully to harmonize, that it is 
 impossible not to acknowledge a power and wis- 
 dom altogether Divine. Change, decay and ca- 
 lamity are, as we have said, inherent in the very 
 constitution of nature ; and such a state of things 
 seems inconsistent with the permanent welfare 
 of individuals : but here, where contrivances and 
 expedients fail, compensation is introduced. In- 
 dividuals die, but the species lives ; the destruc- 
 tion of one organized being preserves the life 
 
302 
 
 arid contributes to the enjoyment of another, 
 the passing away of one generation makes room 
 for the next in constant succession, arid thus, 
 without inconvenience, multiplies indefinitely the 
 number of creatures who enjoy the blessing of 
 existence. 
 
 Such is nature : and what then is the God of 
 nature ? Here philosophy is at fault, and revela- 
 tion takes up the question. When we are told 
 of man's abused liberty which placed him in the 
 forlorn condition of alienation from his Maker 
 of his state of discipline, and the means of his 
 redemption, the existence of evil becomes intel- 
 ligible, and the mystery of nature is unfolded. 
 
 There- is, indeed, something still dark and mys- 
 terious in that decree of the Eternal by which the 
 human race was doomed to guilt and misery, by 
 which the most noble and excellent of his sub- 
 lunary works, whose head he had crowned with 
 glory, and on whose breast he had stamped an 
 image of his own perfections, should have been 
 permitted to abuse those privileges to divest 
 himself of the high rank which he held among 
 creatures, and by his follies and crimes to degrade 
 himself below the beasts that perish. While other 
 animals are formed with admirable skill to fulfil 
 the end of their existence, arid to be happy up to 
 the extent of their capacities, he would appear to 
 form a melancholy exception to this beneficent 
 order of nature. Formed with feelings suscep- 
 tible of the most exquisite enjoyment, yet doom- 
 ed to a perpetual conflict of jarring emotions and 
 
303 
 
 heart-rending cares endowed with faculties cap- 
 able of comprehending the most sublime mys- 
 teries, yet grovelling in the dust, and expending 
 his powers on empty trifles glowing with hopes 
 and desires which look beyond the bounds of 
 time and grasp eternity, yet fixing his affections 
 on this little spot of earth, contented with plea- 
 sures which perish in the using, and, after drag- 
 ging out a few miserable and inglorious years, 
 sinking at last into the silent tomb and mingling 
 with the clods of the valley : such is man in his 
 natural state, fallen, guilty, and mortal; a wretch- 
 ed outcast of nature, and a blot on the face of 
 creation ! 
 
 But how does revelation explain this dark mys- 
 tery ? It tells us that the present world is not the 
 ultimate destiny of man that he is here in a state 
 of preparation for immortality, and that, if he is 
 not wanting to himself, he will rise more vigor- 
 ous and lovely from his fall, assuming a new 
 character, and taking a higher station in the scale 
 of existence ; it exhibits the Almighty to us in 
 the character of a Father chastising his undutiful 
 children for their profit, bringing good out of ap- 
 parent evil, employing sin and death as the hand- 
 maids of holiness and immortality, making pain, 
 disappointment and grief the harbingers of eter- 
 nal joy, and converting the curse which blighted 
 the earth into a blessing. 
 
 It is impossible to take up the subject in this 
 light, without perceiving how astonishingly the 
 appearances of nature harmonize with those of 
 
304 
 
 revelation, and how strongly the two systems ex- 
 plain and uphold each other. Indeed, they may 
 truly be said not to be two systems, but only two 
 departments of the same system the same cha- 
 racter is unfolded in both the same plan of ope- 
 ration the same ultimate end. The one dis- 
 plays the system in its commencement, the other 
 in its consummation, the one is the seed, the 
 other the fruit. 
 
 In following out this view, we shall find many 
 circumstances of a very satisfactory nature, which 
 bear upon the subject. Among these is the state 
 of the question as to a future period of existence. 
 
 When treating of entomology, I cursorily no- 
 ticed the transformation of insects, as affording an 
 argument from analogy, frequently adduced in fa- 
 vour of the immortality of the soul ; but there are 
 other natural phenomena, which also seem favor- 
 able to the hopes of a new existence after death. 
 The resemblance between the alternation of the 
 seasons, for example, and the progress and decay 
 of human life, is too obvious to have escaped the 
 observation of any reflecting mind. Spring is 
 the infancy and youth of the year summer its 
 vigorous and sober manhood autumn its mel- 
 low age, when its fruits are reaped, and its la- 
 bours are at a close. At last comes winter cold, 
 desolate and stark an affecting type of hoary 
 years, and of death ; the leafy honours of the 
 woods are fallen, the flowers and grass which 
 adorned the fields have passed away, the music 
 of the grove has ceased ; nature is clad in a 
 
305 
 
 winding-sheet of snow, and eveiy thing seems to 
 indicate that vegetation has run its course, and 
 is annihilated. But, at the voice of spring, nature 
 revives the sun, which, skirting the verge of the 
 sky, had become feeble and cheerless, resumes 
 its genial influences, and takes a wider circuit in 
 the heavens ; young Spring walks forth again in 
 her beauty, gentle zephyrs fan her bosom, flowers 
 spring beneath her feet, and wherever she smiles, 
 the woods and lawns burst into life, and the 
 voice of joy resounds. 
 
 May not this be an emblem of the destiny of 
 man ? As he undergoes the various vicissitudes 
 of growth, maturity, decay and death, like the 
 productions of the vegetable world ; may he not 
 also, like them, hear the creative voice of a new 
 spring, and live ? 
 
 Analogies of this kind are not indeed so strik- 
 ing as that of those insects, which, after being 
 apparently dead and entombed, rise again, as it 
 were from the grave, and, waving their painted 
 wings, flutter from flower to flower, and seem to 
 live in a new world amidst a paradise of sweets ; 
 but they have at least furnished the poet and 
 philosopher with beautiful illustrations of im- 
 mortality. The truth however is, that the very 
 strongest of these analogies are nothing more 
 than illustrations, and cannot be dignified by the 
 name of solid arguments. They could not be so, 
 even if the analogy were complete ; but it fails 
 in its most important point. Go to the tomb of 
 the caterpillar it is empty. The same body, 
 
306 
 
 which reposed in seeming death, has burst its 
 shell, and has only assumed a new form. Go 
 to the human tomb -the remains of what once 
 was man are still there, mouldering into dust! 
 
 But, although neither these analogies, nor any 
 other phenomena of natural religion, amount to 
 a proof that man survives the tomb, yet, when 
 this doctrine has been propagated on the autho- 
 rity of Divine revelation, they come with a very 
 powerful effect on the mind. They shew, in a 
 remarkable and convincing light, the correspon- 
 dence between natural and revealed religion, and 
 thus form an argument in confirmation of the 
 latter, rather than a proof of that particular doc- 
 trine to which they more immediately refer. 
 
 But, besides this general adjustment to each 
 other, of the principles of natural and revealed 
 religion, there are some remarkable instances, 
 of a different kind, in which, also, the disco- 
 veries of the former give confirmation ~to the 
 declarations of the latter. I have already ad- 
 duced one example of this species of confirma- 
 tion, derivable from the science of geology, in 
 which the truth of the Mosaic account of the 
 flood, and the accuracy of the very period when 
 that awful catastrophe is said in the Divine re- 
 cord to have occurred, are most satisfactorily de- 
 monstrated. To geology we are also indebted 
 for other coincidences of a similar nature ; and 
 among these there is one, which, although I have 
 nowhere seen it noticed, arid although it is rather 
 circumstantial than direct, is very convincing to 
 
307 
 
 my own mind. It is this. We are informed in 
 the book of Genesis that the age of the antedilu- 
 vians extended to not less than ten times the age 
 of the present generations of men. We also find, 
 that, from the period of the flood, this extreme 
 longevity began gradually to be diminished, till it 
 reached the present standard, probably about, or 
 soon after the time of the settlement of the fa- 
 mily of Jacob in the land of Egypt. It seems a 
 sound inference from this fact, that, from what- 
 ever cause, at the time of this great crisis, some 
 new and deleterious property had been commu- 
 nicated to certain substances on which living 
 beings depend for the prolongation of their exist- 
 ence, that is, to the Atmosphere which they in- 
 spire, or to the food which they eat. The pheno- 
 menon recorded, agrees, at all events, with this 
 hypothesis, as the strength of the human consti- 
 tution seems to have been gradually undermined, 
 till it reached its minimum. Along with this 
 scriptural fact, I should be inclined to place that 
 of the existence of giants in the very early ages 
 after the flood, were I not doubtful, on the critical 
 grounds stated in another part of this work, whe- 
 ther or riot the various words translated "giants" 
 were really meant to indicate men of extraor- 
 dinary stature. 
 
 What then are the geological facts that seem 
 to bear out the statements to which we have al- 
 luded ? It must appear obvious, that the only 
 evidence of this kind which we can expect, must 
 be indications of the existence of a state of things 
 
308 
 
 before the deluge, better adapted for the mainte- 
 nance of animal life, accompanied, in all proba- 
 bility, with a salutary influence on the vegetable 
 world. If, on examining the remains found in 
 the detritum of the latest formation, we should 
 discover proofs that animals now confined to tro- 
 pical regions, for example, had been at the period 
 of the flood spread over the temperate zone that 
 creatures of a larger size than now exist on our 
 globe, then brouzed on its herbage, or devoured 
 its less powerful inhabitants and if, in addition 
 to this, it should appear that the earth was more 
 prolific, or nourished plants of more luxuriant 
 growth, we should then be in possession of a va- 
 .riety of facts, all confirmatory of each other, and 
 pointing to one conclusion, namely, that there 
 was, during the antediluvfan era, a vigour in the 
 powers which support organized existence, un- 
 known to the world in its present state ; and 
 hence we should derive a very powerful argu- 
 ment in favour of the credibility of the fact re- 
 corded in the Bible, which the infidel has held 
 up to such unsparing ridicule, that the life of 
 man was, in its primitive state, prolonged far 
 beyond the period which it can at present attain. 
 Now, that this state of things did actually ex- 
 ist, there are various and very remarkable indica- 
 tions. By the researches of geology, the original 
 existence of tropical plants and animals in our 
 temperate zones has been put beyond all dispute : 
 fossil remains of creatures of amazing size, the 
 species of which are now extinct, and of gi- 
 
609 
 
 gantic races of existing quadrupeds, are spread 
 over the face of the earth ; and among the dilu- 
 vial relics of the vegetable kingdom are found 
 various kinds of plants and trees, of very superi- 
 or dimensions, which seem to have been foster- 
 ed in a climate and soil more genial than which 
 is now experienced in any part of the globe. I 
 do not know where we could seek for evidence 
 of a superior vigour in the powers of life, during 
 the antediluvian period, if we deny it in such in- 
 stances as these. 
 
 Tnere is something very satisfactory in this 
 kind of testimony borne to the truth of the sacred 
 scriptures. It comes upon us unexpectedly, and 
 is entirely without suspicion ; and while, in this ' 
 one instance, it proves the futility of an infidel 
 objection boldly urged, it throws discredit upon 
 other objections of a similar nature, against which 
 no such evidence has hitherto been brought. If 
 the discovery of extinct species of enormous 
 animals, suL-h as the mammoth, megatherium, 
 megalonyx, and gigantic tapir, and of the fact, 
 that tropical animals, such as the tiger, hyena 
 and hippopotamus, existed, during antediluvian 
 times, in regions, which, from the coldness of 
 the climate, are now altogether uncongenial to 
 them, as well as indications connected with other 
 kindred geological phenomena, rebuke the pre- 
 sumptuous sneers of the infidel as to the original 
 longevity of the human race asserted in the Di- 
 vine record, it seems fair to infer, that in in- 
 stances where the refutation is not so complete, 
 
310 
 
 * 
 
 the defect must lie in our own ignorance of the 
 operations of Providence, anil not in the word 
 of God ; and hence the argument extends in its 
 conclusions far beyond the isolated fact which 
 it is brought to establish/ 
 
 On the whole, . although it be true that natur- 
 ahtheology is something distinct from revealed 
 theology, yet the enquiring mind cannot fail to 
 perceive, not only in the discoveries which the 
 former makes, but also in the very deficiences 
 which it exhibits, such circumstances as form a 
 most powerful auxiliary to the argument in sup- 
 port of the latter; 'and he, who has attended 
 with a candid and intelligent mind to the light 
 which the progress of science and human re- 
 search has thrown, and is throwing, on this most 
 important of all enquiries, can find no reason to 
 doubt, that, in the further advancement of know- 
 ledge, difficulty after difficulty will disappear, and 
 revealed religion will be ultimately found, in all 
 its truths and in all its bearings, to correspond 
 with the discoveries of the naturalist, and the 
 clearest dictates of sound philosophy. 
 
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