dure, in the spring. In lofty mountains, where the summer heats are not sufficient to ripen the seeds, grasses abound, which are viviparous, and consequently able to propagate themselves without seed. It is an observation, likewise, which has often been made, that herbivorous animals attach themselves to the leaves of grasses; and, if at liberty in their pastures to range and choose, leave untouched the straws which support the flowers.

The GENERAL properties of vegetable nature, or properties common to large portions of that kingdom, are almost all which the compass of our argument allows to bring forward. It is impossible to follow plants into their several species. We may be allowed, however, to single out three or four of these species as worthy of a particular notice, either by some singular mechanism, or by some peculiar provision, or by both.

I. In Dr. Darwin's Botanic Garden (1. 395, note), is the following account of the vallisneria, as it has been observed in the river Rhone." They have roots at the bottom of the Rhone. The flowers of the female plant float on the surface of the water, and are fur. nished with an elastic, spiral stalk, which extends or contracts as the water rises or falls; this rise or fall, from the torrents which flow into the river, often amounting to many feet in a few hours. The flowers of the male plant are produced under water; and, as soon as the fecundating farina is mature, they separate themselves from the plant; rise to the surface; and are wafted by the air, or borne by the currents, to the female flowers." Our attention in this narrative will be directed to two particulars: first, to the mechanism, the "elastic, spiral stalk," which lengthens or contracts itself according as the water rises or falls; secondly, to the provision which is made for bringing the male flower, which is produced under water, to the female flower which floats upon the surface.

II. My second example I take from Withering's Arrangement, vol. ii. p. 209. ed. 3. "The cuscuta

Withering, Bot. Arr. vol. i. p. 28. ed. 24.

europea is a parasitical plant. The seed opens, and puts forth a little spiral body, which does NOT seek the earth, to take root; but climbs in a spiral direction, from right to left, up other plants, from which, by means of vessels, it draws its nourishment." The "little spiral body" proceeding from the seed, is to be compared with the fibres which seeds send out in ordinary cases and the comparison ought to regard both the form of the threads and the direction. They are straight; this is spiral. They shoot downwards; this points upwards. In the rule, and in the exception, we equally perceive design.

III. A better known parasitical plant is the evergreen shrub, called the mistletoe. What we have to remark in it, is a singular instance of compensation. No art hath yet made these plants take root in the earth. Here therefore might seem to be a mortal defect in their constitution. Let us examine how this defect is made up to them. The seeds are endued with an adhesive quality, so tenacious, that if they be rubbed upon the smooth bark of almost any tree, they will stick to it. And then what follows? Roots springing from these seeds, insinuate their fibres into the woody substance of the tree; and the event is, that a mistletoe plant is produced next winter. Of no other plant do the roots refuse to shoot in the ground; of no other plant do the seeds possess this adhesive, generative quality, when applied to the bark of trees.

IV. Another instance of the compensatory system_ is in the autumnal crocus, or meadow saffron (colchicum autumnale). I have pitied this poor plant a thousand times. Its blossom rises out of the ground in the most forlorn condition possible; without a sheath, a fence, a calyx, or even a leaf to protect it: and that, not in the spring, not to be visited by summer suns, but under all the disadvantages of the declining year. When we come, however, to look more closely into the structure of this plant, we find that, instead of its being neglected, Nature has gone out of her course to provide for its security, and to

Withering, Bot. Arr. vol. i. p. 203. ed. 2d.

make up to it for all its defects. The seed-vessel, which in other plants is situated within the cup of the flower, or just beneath it, in this plant lies buried ten or twelve inches under ground within the bulbous root. The tube of the flower, which is seldom more than a few tenths of an inch long, in this plant extends down to the root. The stiles in all cases reach the seed-vessel; but it is in this, by an elongation unknown to any other plant. All these singularities contribute to one end. "As this plant blossoms late in the year, and, probably, would not have time to ripen its seeds before the access of winter, which would destroy them; Providence has contrived its structure such, that this important office may be performed at a depth in the earth out of reach of the usual effects of frost." That is to say, in the autumn nothing is done above ground but the business of impregnation; which is an affair between the antheræ and stigmata, and is probably soon over. The maturation of the impregnated seed, which in other plants proceeds within a capsule, exposed together with the rest of the flower to the open air, is here carried on, and during the whole winter, within the heart, as we may say, of the earth, that is, " out of the reach of the usual effects of frost." But then a new difficulty presents itself: Seeds, though perfected, are known not to vegetate at this depth in the earth. Our seeds, therefore, though so safely lodged, would, after all, be lost to the purpose for which all seeds are intended. Lest this should be the case," a second admirable provision is made to raise them above the surface when they are perfected, and to sow them at a proper dis tance;" viz. the germ grows up in the spring, upon a fruit-stalk, accompanied with leaves. The seeds now, in common with those of other plants, have the benefit of the summer, and are sown upon the surface. The order of vegetation externally is this:-The plant produces its flowers in September; its leaves and fruits in the spring following.

V. I give the account of the dionæa muscipula, an extraordinary American plant; as some late authors

Withering, ubi supra, p. 360.

have related it: but whether we be yet enough acquainted with the plant, to bring every part of this account to the test of repeated and familiar observation, I am unable to say. "Its leaves are jointed and furnished with two rows of strong prickles; their sur faces covered with a number of minute glands, which secrete a sweet liquor that allures the approach of flies. When these parts are touched by the legs of flies, the two lobes of the leaf instantly spring up, the rows of prickles lock themselves fast together, and squeeze the unwary animal to death."* Here, under a new model, we recognise the ancient plan of nature, viz. the rela tion of parts and provisions to one another, to a common office, and to the utility of the organized body to which they belong. The attracting syrup, the rows of strong prickles, their position so as to interlock the joints of the leaves; and, what is more than the rest, that singular irritability of their surfaces, by which they close at a touch; all bear a contributory part in producing an effect, connected either with the defence or with the nutrition of the plant.

CHAP. XXI.

The elements.

WHEN we come to the elements, we take leave of our mechanics; because we come to those things, of the or ganization of which, if they be organized, we are confessedly ignorant. This ignorance is implied by their name. To say the truth, our investigations are stopped long before we arrive at this point. But then it is for our comfort to find, that a knowledge of the constitution of the elements is not necessary for us. For instance, as Addision has well observed, "we know wa ter sufficiently, when we know how to boil, how to freeze, how to evaporate, how to make it fresh, how to make it run or spout out, in what quantity and direction we please, without knowing what water is." The

* Smellie's Phil. of Nat. Hist. vol. i. p. 5.

observation of this excellent writer has more propriety in it now, than it had at the time it was made: for the constitution, and the constituent parts, of water, appear in some measure to have been lately discovered; yet it does not, I think, appear, that we can make any better or greater use of water since the discovery, than we did before it,

We can never think of the elements, without reflecting upon the number of distinct uses which are consolidated in the same substance. The air supplies the lungs, supports fire, conveys sound, reflects light, diffuses smells, gives rain, wafts ships, bears up birds. 'EE idaτoç Tа Travтa: water, besides maintaining its own inhabitants, is the universal nourisher of plants, and through them of terrestrial animals; is the basis of their juices and fluids; dilutes their food; quenches their thirst, floats their burdens. Fire warms, dissolves, enlightens; is the great promoter of vegetation and life, if not necessary to the support of both.

We might enlarge, to almost any length we pleased, upon each of these uses; but it appears to me almost sufficient to state them. The few remarks which I judge it necessary to add, are as follow:

I. AIR is essentially different from earth. There appears to be no necessity for an atmosphere's investing our globe; yet it does invest it: and we see how many, how various, and how important, are the purposes which it answers to every order of animated, not to say of organized, beings, which are placed upon the terrestrial surface. I think that every one of these uses will be understood upon the first mention of them, except it be that of reflecting light, which may be explained thus: -If I had the power of seeing only by means of rays coming directly from the sun, whenever I turned my back upon the luminary, I should find myself in darkness. If I had the power of seeing by reflected light, yet by means only of light reflected from solid masses, these masses would shine indeed, and glisten, but it would be in the dark. The hemisphere, the sky, the world, could only be illuminated, as it is illuminated, by the light of the sun being from all sides, and in every direction, reflected to the eye, by particles, as nume