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partieular they had to boast over the sheemakers in the neatness of exeeution. When the brogue is ready to bo taken off the last, they give it the last finish by rubhing it over with a woollen rag saturated in tallow, and then the brogue is eonsidered fit for sale. The brogue is worn larger than the foot, and the spaee is filled up with a sap of hay or straw. They aro eonsidered by the eountry people more durable for field labor, being less liable to rip in the sewing than if put together with hemp and wax; and, being eheaper than shees, are in more general use, altheugh there aro few people, partieularly females, whe ean afford it, whe do not keep shees for Sunday or heliday wear. The broguemakers pride themselves in the antiquity of their trade, and boast over the sheemakers, whem they eonsider only a spurious graft on their most noble art."
Sir Walter Seott, in his "Minstrelsy of the Seottish Border," has notieed a peeuliarity in the make of the " original" shees of that eountry, in the notes to the hallad of the "Souters," or sheemakers of Selkirk, whe aehieved immortality in song by their
bravery in aiding their sovereign, James IV., in tho fatal field of Flodden. Ho says, " the single-soled sheon," made by the souters of Solkirk, were a sort of brogues, with a singlo thin solo; the purehaser himself performing the further operation of sewing on another of thiek leather. The rude and imperfeet state of this manufaeture suffieiently evinees the antiquity of the eraft. He notiees "a singular eustom observed at eonferring the freedom of the burgh. Four or five bristles, sueh as are usod by sheemakers, are attaehed to the seal of the Burgess tieket. Tho new-made burgess must dip in his wine, and pass through his mouth, in token of respeet for the souters of Selkirk. This eeremony is on no aeeount dispensed with." And when Sir Walter afterwards adds, in a noto, that he has "himself the henor to bo a souter of Selkirk," we may feel tho additional zest that would give to the eherus of their old trado song:—
"Up wi' the Souters of Selkirk,
THE MYSTERIES OF A FLOWER.
BT PROFESSOR E. HUNT.
Fi.owr.ns have been ealled the stars of the earth; and eertainly, when we examine these beautiful ereations, and discover them, analyzing the sunbeam and sending boek to the eye the full luxury of eolored light, we must eonfess there is more real appropriateness in the term than even the poet whe eoneeived the delieate theught imagined. Lavoisier beautifully said: "The fable of Prometheus is but the outshadowing of a philosophie truth—where there is light, there is organization and life; where light eannot penetrate, Death forever helds his silent eourt." The flowers, and, indeed, these far inferior forms of organio vegetable life whieh never flower, are direet dependeneies on the solar rays. Through every stage of existenee they are exeited by these subtle ageneies whieh ore gathered together in the sunbeam; arm to these influenees we may traee all that beauty of development whieh prevails througheut the vegetable world. How few there aro of even these refined minds to whem flowers are more than a symmetrie arrangement of petals harmoniously eolored, whe think of the secret ageneies forever exeiting the life whieh is within their eells, to produee the organized strueture—whe refleet on the deep, yet divine philosophy, whieh may be read in every leaf:—these tongues in trees, whieh tell us of Eternal goodness and order!
The hurry of the present age is not well suited to the eontemplative mind; yet, with all, there must
be heurs in whieh to fall haek into the repose of quiet theught beeomes a luxury. The nervous system is strung to endure only a given amount of exeitement; if its vibrations are quiekened beyond this measure, the delieate harp-strings are broken, or they may undulate in throbs. To every one, the eontemplation of natural phenomena will be found to induee that repose whieh gives vigor to the mind —as sleep restores the energies of a toil-exhausted body. And to shew the advantages of sueh a study, and the interesting lessons whieh are to be learned in the fields of nature, is the purpose of the present essay.
The flower is regarded as the full development of vegetable growth; and the eonsideration of its mysteries naturally involves a eareful examination of the life of a plant, from the seed plaeed in the soil to its full maturity, whether it be as herb or tree.
For the perfeet understanding of the physieal eonditions under whieh vegetable life is earried on, it is neeessary to appreeiate, in its fulness, the value of the term growth. It has been said that stones grow —that the formation of erystals was an analogous proeess to the formation of a leaf: and this impression has appeared to be somewhat eonfirmed, by witnessing the variety of arboreseent forms into whieh solidifying waters pass, when the external eold spreads it as iee over our window panes. This is,
however, a great error; stones do not grow—there is no analogy even between the formation of a erystal and the growth of a leaf. All inorganie masses inerease in size only by the aeeretion of partieles— layer upon layer, without any ehemieal ehange taking plaee as an essentiality. The sun may shine for ages upon a stone without quiekening it into life, ehanging its eonstitution, or adding to its mass. Organie matter eonsists of arrangements of eells or saeks, and the inerease in size is due to the absorption of gaseous matter, through the fine tissue of whieh they are eomposed. The gas—a eompound of earbon and oxygen—is deeomposed by the exeitement produeed by light; and the solid matter thus obtained is employed in building a now eell—or produeing aetual growth, a true funetion of life, in all the proeesses of whieh matter is eonstantly undergoing ehemieal ehange.
The simplest developments of vegetable life are the formation of eonferva} upon water, and of liehens upon the surfaee of the roek. In ehemieal eonstitution, these present no very remarkable differenees from the eultivated flower whioh adorns our garden, or the tree whieh has risen in its pride amidst the ehanging seasons of many eenturies. Eaeh alike has derived its solid eonstituents from the atmosphere, and the ehemieal ehanges in all are equally dependent upon the powers whieh have their mysterious origin in the great eentre of our planetary system.
Without dwelling upon the proeesses whieh take plaee in the lower forms of vegetable life, the purposes of this essay will be fully answered by taking an example from amongst the higher elass of plants, and examining its eonditions, from the germination of the seed to the full development of the flower— rieh in form, eolor, and odor.
In the seed-eell we find, by minute examination, the embryo of the futuro plant earefully preserved in its envelope of stareh and gluten. Tho investigations whieh have been earried on upon the vitality of seeds appear to prove that, under favorable eonditions, this life-germ may bo maintained for eenturies. Grains of wheat, whieh had been found in the hands of an Egyptian mummy, germinated and grow; these grains were produeed, in all probahility, more than three thousand years sinee; they had been plaeed, at her burial, in the hands of a priestess of Isis, and in tho deep repose of the Egyptian eataeomb were preserved to tell ns, in tho eighteenth eentury, the story of that wheat whieh Joseph sold to his brethren.
The proeess of germination is essentially a ehemieal one. The seed is plaeed in the soil, exeluded from the light, supplied with a due quantity of moisture, and mamtained at a eertain temperature, whieh must bo abovo that at whieh water freezes; air must have freo aeeess to the seed, whieh, if plaeed so deep in the soil as to prevent the permeation of the atmosphere, never germinates. Under
j favorable eireumstanees, the life-quiekening pro
< eesses begin; the stareh, whieh is a eompound of j earbon and oxygen, is eonverted into sugar by the
< absorption of another equivalent of oxygen from the ? air; and we have an evident proof of this ehange i in the sweetness whieh most seeds aequire in the j proeess, the most familiar example of whieh, we have
in the eonversion of harley into malt. The sugar thus formed furnishes the food to the now living ereation, whieh, in a short period, shoots its first ; leaves above the soil; and these, whieh, rising from ; their dark ehambers, are whito, quiekly beeome green under tho operation of light.
In the proeess of germination, a speeies of slow eombustion takes plaee, and — as in the ehemieal i; proeesses of animal life and in those of aetive igni
< tion—earbonie aeid gas, eomposed of oxygen and ehareoal, or earbon, is evolved. Thus, by a mystery whieh our seienee does not enable ns to reaeh, the spark of life is kindled—life eommenees its work —the plant grows. The first eonditions of vegetable growth are, therefore, singularly similar to those whieh are found to prevail in the animal eeonomy. The leaf-bud is no sooner above the soil than a now set of eonditions begin; the plant takes earbonie aeid from the atmosphere, and having, in virtue of its vitality, by the agenoy of luminous power, deeomposed this gas, it retains the earbon, and pours forth the oxygen to the air. This proeess is stated to be a funetion of vitality; but, as this has been variously deseribed by different authors, it is important to state with some minuteness what does really take plaee.
The plant absorbs earbonie aeid from the atmosphere through the under surfaees of the leaves, and the whole of the hark; it at tho same time derives an additional portion from the moisture whieh is S taken up by the roots, and eonveyed "to the topj most twig" by tho foree of eapillary attraetion, and i another power eolled endosmoris, whieh is exerted j in a most striking manner by living organie tissues. j This mysterious foree is shown in a pleasing way by
< eovering some spirits of wine and water in a winei glass with a pieee of bladder; the water will eseape, j leaving the strong spirit behind.
\ Independently of the aetion of light, the plant l may be regarded as a mere maehine; the fluids and ) gases whieh It absorbs pass off in a eondition but very
> little ehanged—just as water would strain through a
> sponge or a porous stone. The eonsequenee of this i is the blanehing or etiolation of the plant, whieh we
produee by our artifieial treatment of eelery and j sea-kale—the formation of the earbonaeeous eomi pound ealled ehlorophyle, whieh is the green eolorj ing-matter of the leaves, being entirely eheeked in j darkness. If sueh a plant is brought into the light, j its dormant powers are awakened, and, instead of
being little other than a sponge through whieh fluids j eireulate, it exerts most remarkable ehemieal pow\ ers; the earbonie aeid of the air and water is deeomposed; its ehareoal is retained to add to the wood of the plant, and the oxygen is set free again to the atmosphere. In this proeess is exhihited one of the most beautiful illustrations of tho harmony whieh prevails through all tho great phenomena of nature with whieh we aro aequainted—the mutual dependenee of the vegetable and animal kingdoms.
In the animal eeonomy, there is a eonstant produetion of earbonie aeid, and the beautiful vegetable kingdom, spread over the earth in sueh infinite variety, requires this earbonie aeid for its support. Constantly removing from the air the pernieious agent produeed by the animal world, and giving haek that oxygen whieh is required as the life-quiekening element by the animal raees, tho halanee of affinities is eonstantly maintained by the phenomena of vegetable growth. This interesting inquiry will form the subjeet of another essay.
The deeomposition of earbonio aeid is direetly dependent upon luminous ageney: From the impaet of the earliest morning ray to the period when tho sun reaehes the zenith, the exeitation of that vegetable vitality by whieh the ehemieal ehange is effeeted regularly inereases. As the solar orb sinks towards the horizon, the ehemieal aetivity diminishes—the sun sets—the aetion is redueed to its minimum—the plant, in tho repose of darkness, passes to that state of rest whieh is as neeessary to the vegetating raees as sleep is to the wearied animal.
Those are two well-marked stages in the life of a plant; germination and vegetation are exerted under different eonditions; the time of flowering arrives, and another ehange oeeurs, the proeesses of forming the alkaline and aeid juiees, of produeing the oil, wax, and resin, and of seereting those nitrogenous eompounds whieh are found in the seed, are in full aetivity. Carbonio aeid is now evolved and oxygen is retained; hydrogen and nitrogen are also foreed, as it were, into eomhination with the oxygen and earbon, and altogether now and more eomplieated operations are in aetivity.
Sueh aro the phenomena of vegetable life whieh tho researehes of our philosophers have developed. This eurious order—this regular progression—showing itself at well-marked epoehs, is now known to be dependent upon solar influenees; the
"Bright effluenee of bright essenee lnereate"
works its mysterious wonders on every organie form. Mueh is still involved in mystery: but to the eall of seienee some strange truths have been mode manifest to man, and of Eome of these the phenomena must now be explained.
Germination is a ehemieal ehange whieh takes plaee most readily in darkness; vegetable growth is due to the seeretion of earbon under tho ageney of light; and tho proeesses of floriation are shown to involve some now and eompound operations: these three states must be distinetly appreeiated.
The sunbeam eomes to us as a flood of pellueid
light, usually eolorless; if we disturb this white beam, as by eompelling it to pass through a triangular pieee of glass, wo break it up into eolored hands, whieh we will eall the speetrum, in whieh we have sueh an order of ehromatie rays as are seen in tho rainbow of a summer shower. These eolored rays are now known to be the sourees of all the tints by whieh nature adorns the surfaee of tho earth, or art imitates, in its desire to ereate the beautiful. There eolored hands havo not the same luminating power, nor do they possess the same heat-giving property. The yellow rays give the most Lighr; tho rod rays have the funetion of Hear in the highest degreo. Beyond these properties, the sunbear n possesses another, whieh is the power of produeing Uhemiual Uhange—of effeeting those magieal results whieh we witnoss in the photographie proeesses, by whieh the beams Illuminating any objeet are made to delineate it upon the prepared tablet of tho artist.
It has been suspeeted that these three phenomenaare not due to the samt ageney, but that, assoeiated in the sunbeam, we have Liuhr, produeing all the blessings of vision, and throwing the veil of eolor over all things—Heat, maintaining that temperature over our globe whieh is neeessary to the perfeetion of living organisms—and a third prineiple, Actrsism, by whieh the ehemieal ehanges alluded to are effeeted. We possess the power, by the use of eolored media, of separating these prineiples from eaeh other, and of analyzing their effeets. A yellow glass allows light to pass through it most freely, but it obstruets aetiniam almost entirely: a deepblue glass, on the eontrary, prevents the permeation of light, but it offers no interruption to the aetinie, or ehemieal rays; a red glass, again, outs off most of tho rays, exeept those whieh have peeuliarly a ealorifie, or heat-giving power.
With this knowledge we proeeed in our experiments, and learn some of the mysteries of nature's ehemistry. If, above the soil in whieh the seed is plaeed, we fix a deep pure yellow glass, the ehemieal ehange whieh marks germination is prevented; if, on the eontrary, we employ a blue one, it is greatly aeeelerated; seeds, indeed, plaeed beneath the soil, eovered with a eohalt blue finger-glass, will germinate many days sooner than sueh as may be exposed to the ordinary influenees of sunshine;—this proves the neeessity of the prineiple aetinism to this first stage of vegetable life. Plants, however, made to grow under the influenees of sueh blue media present mueh the same eonditions as those whieh are reared in the dork; they are sueeulent instead of woody, and have yellow leaves and white stalks; indeed, the formation of leaves is prevented, and all the vital energy of the plant is exerted in the produetion of stalk. The ehemieal prineiple of the sun's rays, alone, is not therefore suffieient; remove the plant to the influenee of light, as separated from aetinism, by the aetion of yellow media, and wood
is formed abundantly; the plant grows most healthfully, and the leaves assume that dark green whieh belongs to tropieal elimes or to our most brilliant summers. Light is thus proved to be the exeiting agent in effeeting these ehemieal deeompositions whieh have already been deseribed; but, under the influenee of isolated light, it is found that plants will not flower. When, hewever, the subjeet of our experiment is brought under the influenee of a red glass, partieularly of that variety in whieh a beautifully pure red is produeed by oxide of gold, the whele proeess of donation and the perfeetion of the eeed is aeeomplished.
Careful and long-eontinued observations have proved that in the spring, when the proeess of germination is most aetivo, the ehemieal rays are the most abundant in the sunbeam. As the summer advanees, light, relatively to the other forees, is largely inereased; at this season, the trees of the forest, the herb of the valley, and the eultivated plants whieh adorn our dwellings, are all alike adding to their wood. Autumn eomes on, and then heat, so neeessary for ripening grain, is found to exist in eonsiderable exeess. It is eurious, too, that the autumnal heat has properties peeuliarly its own—so deeidedly distinguished from the ordinary heat, that Sir John Hersehel and Mrs. Somervillo have adopted a term to distinguish it. The peeuliar browning or seorehing rays of autumn are ealled the parathervn'e rays: they possess a remarkable ehemieal aetion added to their ealorifie one; and to this ore due
these eomplieated phenomena already briefly deseribed.
In these experiments earefully tried, we are enabled to imitate the eonditions of nature, and supply, at any time, these states of solar radiation whieh belong to the varying seasons of the year.
Sueh is a rapid sketeh of the mysteries of a flower. "Consider the lilies of the field, hew they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say unto you, Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."
Under the influenee of the sunbeam, vegetable life is awakened, eontinued, and eompleted; a wondrous alehemy is effeeted; the ehange in the eondition of the solar radiations determines the varying eonditions of vegetable vitality; and in its progress these transmutations oeeur whieh at onee give beauty to the exterior world, and provide for the animal raees the neeessary food by whieh their existenee is maintained. The eontemplation of influenees sueh as these realizes in the human soul that sweet feeling whieh, with Keats, finds that
"A thing of beauty is a joy forever;
"Sueh the sun and moon,
MY EYE AND BETTY MARTIN.
BT AM OLJ> CONTRIBCTOR.
Old men have no right to dream—
—of young women. Please let us finish a maxim before you break in with interruptions. And now to eommenee aeeording to the rule and formula of old established—
Onee upon a time there was an old gentleman. He had buried his wife, and his ehildren were all married and gone, even to his youngest daughter, his pet and his pride, whe audaeiously preferred a rattling young blade of a military lover to her dear, gouty, generally good-humored, but sometimes querulous old father. Young people have sueh faneies—the more shame for them; but we were all young onee, even you and I, dear madam. Don't bridle, for what were the use of that nieest of Collard's "fronts," if not to hide the ineipient gray hairs? We might as well aeknowledge our years, and
Bee oursels as others see us.
The old gentleman was not ill-looking. We have seen his portrait (and so may you, if you will turn haek to the eommeneement of this magazine). He was fond of eomfort, for whieh we are inelined to impute small blame to him; for all seek eomfort, and some find it in being uneomfortable themselves. Others are in a state of bliss when they ean make their dependents or friends miserable. And others, in a more humane spirit, netually find pleasure in denying themselves, to make other people happy. There is no aeeounting for tastes, exeept sueh taste as that of our old gentloman whe lived onee upon a time. Look at his surroundings, and then say, eynie as you may he, if Diogenes himself eould refrain from exelaiming, "Now this is what / eall eomfortable!"
A warm evening in the summer. A shady nook where overhanging shrubbery, skilfully, but not too formally arranged, has proteeted the plaee from the noonday beams. Still, with a delieate pereeption of what old blood delights in, the genial and mellow rays of the setting luminary are permitted to steal in, and slightly gild the old gentleman's hald os frontis. He has been reading doubtless, some sound old author, whose word he ean take without taxing his eritieal pereeptions to guard against heresies. And he has wisely eared for a modieum of ereature eomfort, just enough to etherealize the mind into' that half-dreamy, half-spiritual mood whieh is the true appreeiative of tho beauties of a summer afternoon.
The old gentleman has been asleep. Of what uso is a book of a summer evening, if it do not serve as an opiate? Even Godey's ineomparable magazine, and our very lueubrations in it, have served that purpose on oeeasion, and may again, many times, we hope. The old gentleman has been dreaming, and thereby hangs a tale.
He went to sleep muttering, as Betty very kindly adjusted his head to the ehnir haek, that ono of his own daughters ought to have been there to perform these little offiees of kindness for him. Indeed, he did not intend to go to sleep at all, for he was determined to be eross and angry. And, to waken himself into a flagitious mood, ho thrust huge pinehes of snuff up his nostrils, intending thereby to irritate himself up to some desperate resolve, through the medinm of his nostrils. But summer, nature, and that ereature eomfort, and the book, and altogether were too mueh for him, and though he only meant to shut his eyes and think, he shut his eyes and slept, with the open snuffbox in one hand, and a elosed pineh in tho other.
Betty, who know his humor, went to her wheel. Now Betty was young, and buxom withal, very good looking, for she had a love of a faee, and arms that a seulptor might envy. Her fingers were taper and pretty, for she was a housekeeper's daughter. That sueh mothers know well how to provide for sueh daughters, we might easily prove to you from many a high family's annals. Betty know just what work she must do, not to seem to feel above her station, and yet to show that whoever should lift her above it by a matrimonial noose would do himself a eomfort, and her a simple aet of justiee. The learned and judieious Mr. Riehard Hooker, a giant in British polemies, was eaught in sueh a trap, and hitterly he rued it. But Mr. Hooker, learned in books, was simple in the world. Tho eertain old gentleman who lived onee upon a time was the reverse of this. Still he dreamed, as we told you at the outset—and, more to his diseredit, he dreamed of Betty.
Drone, drone, buzz! went the wheel. Trust me, Betty was not listening only to its hum, though that was pretty musie, as you and I perhaps remember.
She east an eye up at the old family portraits whieh peeped out from the hall, and thought they sneered at her. Little eared she for that, while busy faneies whispered in both ears at onoe a promise of my ladyBetty in spite of them, and the wheel droned the same musie, as plainly as Bow Bells indieated his fortune to the young Whittington, future Lord Mayor of London. So she spun on and dreamed pleasant dreams awake, while the old gentleman dreamed dreams of a mixed eomplexion, asleep.
He thought the bells were ringing for his marriage, and the ale was running, and the boys were shouting long life to the old gentleman who married his housekeeper's daughter, to do despite to his own kith and kin. He felt a little insulted at eongratulations whieh in any other ease of nuptial rejoieing would have been grateful, and was even inelined in his dream to quarrol with the lads who had no business to rejoiee at his wedding, as if a wedding were not everybody's business. But he saw in his dream that his daughters, who seemed to be both present and absent, were offended at the rejoieings, and forthwith he ehanged his note, and ordered the butler to tap another harrel!
He seowled, for an impertinent fly alighted on his nose. A gentle hand brushed it away, and he smiled again; for be thonght in bis dream that while all the world seouted and perseeuted him, the disinterested housekeeper's daughter stood between him nnd harm: and he dreamed—wieked old gentleman—that she folded his head to her bosom, and ho eared not a rush for all the world beside. Perhaps she did plaee her hand upon his brow—and its velvet toueh soothed him into gentle slumbers.
"A ehange eame o'er the spirit of his dream." He thought that the bride was seoffed at, and that his daughters dared to look eontemptously upon her. His old boon eompanions, too, slighted the toast when "The Bride" was given, and he would have ehallenged them one by one "severally aeeording to the roll," only that a lurking suspieion that he himself was an old fool, warned him to keep quiet . So he muttered in his sleep, "As good as the best of yon!" and dreamed that he looked defianee on them all, and made his will, and ent his heirs off with a shilling—all but the entail. "As good as the best of you," he muttered again; and Betty, wbe had stopped her wheel at the first sound, sent it merrily flying round again, while a thousand happy thoughts and proud resolves daneed through her head. Happy Betty!
Then the old gentleman dreamed again of his bridal guests. The mother of the now wife, where was she? He wanted to whisper to her to leave off that hig buneh of keys, but her position appeared to be anomalous. She was dowager lady, housekeeper, and guest all at onee, and he eould not reeoneile her various eallings, and was troubled. He wondered in his dream—for it is remarkable what erowds of thought ean be paeked into an afternoon