two minute orifices, from which orifices, in the act of stinging, and, as it should seem, after the point of the main sting has buried itself in the flesh, are launched out two subtile rays, which may be called the true or proper stings, as being those through which the poison is infused into the puncture already made by the exterior sting. I have said that chymistry and mechanism are here united: by which observation I meant, that all this machinery would have been useless, telum imbelle, if a supply of poison, intense in quality, in proportion to the smallness of the drop, had not been furnished to it by the chymical elaboration which was carried on in the insect's body; and that, on the other hand, the poison, the result of this process, could not have attained its effect, or reached its enemy, if, when it was collected at the extremity of the abdomen, it had not found there a machinery, fitted to conduct it to the external situations in which it was to operate, viz. an awl to bore a hole, and a syringe to inject the fluid. Yet these attributes, though combined in their action, are independent in their origin. The venom does not breed the sting; nor does the sting concoct the venom.

into moths and flies, is an astonishing process. A hairy caterpillar is transformed into a butterfly. Observe the change. We have four beautiful wings, where there were none before; a tubular proboscis, in the place of a mouth with jaws and teeth; six long legs, instead of fourteen feet. In another case, we see a white, smooth, soft worm, turned into a black, hard, crustaceous beetle, with gauze wings. These, as I said, are astonishing processes, and must require, as it should seem, a proportionably artificial apparatus. The hypothesis which appears to me most probable is, that, in the grub, there exist at the same time three animals, one within another, all nourished by the same digestion, and by a communicating circulation; but in different stages of maturity. The latest discoveries made by naturalists, seem to favour this supposition. The insect already equipped with wings, is described under the membranes both of the worm and nymph. In some species, the proboscis, the antenna, the limbs, and wings, of the fly, have been observed to be folded up within the body of the caterpillar; and with such nicety as to occupy a small space only under the two first wings. This being so, outermost animal, which, besides its own proper character, serves as an integument to the other two, being the farthest advanced, dies, as we suppose, and drops off first. The second, the pupa, or chrysalis, then offers itself to observation. This also, in its turn, dies; its dead and brittle husk falls to pieces, and makes way for the appearance of the fly or moth. Now, if this be the case, or indeed whatever explication be adopted, we have a prospective contrivance of the most curious kind: we have organizations three deep; yet a vascular system, which supplies nutrition, growth, and life, to all of them together.

the

IV. The proboscis, with which many insects are endowed, comes next in order to be considered. It is a tube attached to the head of the animal. In the bee, it is composed of two pieces, connected by a joint; for, if it were constantly extended, it would be too much exposed to accidental injuries; therefore, in its indolent state, it is doubled up by means of the joint, and in that position lies secure under a scaly penthouse. In many species of the butterfly, the proboscis, when not in use, is coiled up like a watch-spring. In the same bee, the proboscis serves the office of the mouth, the insect having no other: and how much better adapted it is, than a mouth would be, for the col- VI. Almost all insects are oviparous. Nature lecting of the proper nourishment of the animal, keeps her butterflies, moths, and caterpillars, lockis sufficiently evident. The food of the bee is the ed up during the winter in their egg state; and nectar of flowers; a drop of syrup, lodged deep in we have to admire the various devices to which, if the bottom of the corolla, in the recesses of the we may so speak, the same nature hath resorted, petals, or down the neck of a monopetalous glove. for the security of the egg. Many insects enclose Into these cells the bee thrusts its long narrow their eggs in a silken web; others cover them pump, through the cavity of which it sucks up with a coat of hair, torn from their own bodies; this precious fluid, inaccessible to every other ap- some glue them together; and others, like the proach. It is observable also, that the plant is not moth of the silkworm, glue them to the leaves the worse for what the bee does to it. The harm-upon which they are deposited, that they may not less plunderer rifles the sweets, but leaves the flower uninjured. The ringlets of which the proboscis of the bee is composed, the muscles by which it is extended and contracted, form so many microscopical wonders. The agility also with which it is moved, can hardly fail to excite admiration. But it is enough for our purpose to observe, in general, the suitableness of the structure to the use, of the means to the end, and especially the wisdom by which nature has departed from its most general analogy (for, animals being furnish-constitution. ed with mouths are such,) when the purpose could be better answered by the deviation.

be shaken off by the wind, or washed away by rain: some again make incisions into leaves, and hide an egg in each incision; whilst some envelop their eggs with a soft substance, which forms the first aliment of the young animal: and some again make a hole in the earth, and, having stored it with a quantity of proper food, deposit their eggs in it. In all which we are to observe, that the expedient depends, not so much upon the address of the animal, as upon the physical resources of his

The art also with which the young insect is coiled up in the egg, presents, where it can be In some insects, the proboscis, or tongue, or examined, a subject of great curiosity. The intrunk, is shut up in a sharp-pointed sheath: which sect, furnished with all the members which it sheath, being of a much firmer texture than the ought to have, is rolled up into a form which proboscis itself, as well as sharpened at the point, seems to contract it into the least possible space; pierces the substance which contains the food, by which contraction, notwithstanding the smalland then opens within the wound, to allow the ness of the egg, it has room enough in its apartenclosed tube, through which the juice is extract-ment, and to spare. This folding of the limbs ed, to perform its office. Can any mechanism be plainer than this is; or surpass this?

V. The metamorphosis of insects from grubs

appears to me to indicate a special direction; for, if it were merely the effect of compression, the collocation of the parts would be more various

than it is. In the same species, I believe, it is always the same.

less degree of heat than what takes place in a hive. This may be reckoned a nicety: but indeThese observations belong to the whole insect pendently of any nicety in the matter, I would tribe, or to a great part of them. Other observ- ask, what could the bee do with the honey, if it ations are limited to a fewer species; but not, per- had not the wax? how, at least, could it store it haps, less important or satisfactory. up for winter? The wax, therefore, answers a I. The organization in the abdomen of the silk-purpose with respect to the honey; and the honey worm, or spider, whereby these insects form constitutes that purpose with respect to the wax. their thread, is as incontestably mechanical as a This is the relation between them. But the two wire-drawer's mill. In the body of the silkworm substances, though, together, of the greatest use, are two bags, remarkable for their form, position, and, without each other, of little, come from a difand use. They wind round the intestine; when ferent origin. The bee finds the honey but makes drawn out, they are ten inches in length, though the wax. The honey is lodged in the nectaria of the animal itself be only two. Within these bags, flowers, and probably undergoes little alteration; is collected a glue; and communicating with the is merely collected: whereas the wax is a ductile, bags, are two paps or outlets, perforated, like a tenacious paste, made out of a dry powder, not grater, by a number of small holes. The glue or simply by kneading it with a liquid, but by a digum, being passed through these minute apertures, gestive process in the body of the bee. What acforms hairs of almost imperceptible fineness; and count can be rendered of facts so circumstanced, these hairs, when joined, compose the silk which but that the animal, being intended to feed upon we wind off from the cone, in which the silkworm honey, was, by a peculiar external configuration, has wrapped itself up in the spider, the web is enabled to procure it? That, moreover, wanting formed from this thread. In both cases, the ex- the honey when it could not be procured at all, it tremity of the thread, by means of its adhesive was farther endued with the no less necessary faquality, is first attached by the animal to some culty of constructing repositories for its preserva external hold; and the end being now fastened to tion? Which faculty, it is evident, must depend, a point, the insect, by turning round its body, or primarily, upon the capacity of providing suitable by receding from that point, draws out the thread materials. Two distinct functions go to make up through the holes above described, by an opera- the ability. First, the power in the bee, with retion, as hath been observed, exactly similar to the spect to wax, of loading the farina of flowers upon drawing of a wire. The thread, like the wire, is its thighs. Microscopic observers speak of the formed by the hole through which it passes. In spoon-shaped appendages with which the thighs one respect there is a difference. The wire is the of bees are beset for this very purpose; but, in as metal unaltered, except in figure. In the animal much as the art and will of the bee may be supprocess, the nature of the substance is somewhat posed to be concerned in this operation, there is, changed, as well as the form; for, as it exists secondly, that which doth not rest in art or will, within the insect, it is a soft, clammy gum, ora digestive faculty which converts the loose glue. The thread acquires, it is probable, its firmness and tenacity from the action of the air upon its surface, in the moment of exposure; and a thread so fine is almost all surface. This property, however, of the paste, is part of the contrivance.

The mechanism itself consists of the bags, or reservoirs, into which the glue is collected, and of the external holes communicating with these bags: and the action of the machine is seen, in the forming of a thread, as wire is formed, by forcing the material already prepared through holes of proper dimensions. The secretion is an act too subtile for our discernment, except as we perceive it by the produce. But one thing answers to another; the secretory glands to the quality and consistence required in the secreted substance; the bag to its reception: the outlets and orifices are constructed, not merely for relieving the reservoirs of their burden, but for manufacturing the contents into a form and texture, of great external use, or rather indeed of future necessity, to the life and functions of the insect.

II. Bees, under one character or other, have furnished every naturalist with a set of observations. I shall, in this place, confine myself to one; and that is the relation which obtains between the wax and the honey. No person, who has inspected a bee-hive, can forbear remarking how commodiously the honey is bestowed in the comb; and, amongst other advantages, how effectually the fermentation of the honey is prevented by distributing it into small cells. The fact is, that when the honey is separated from the comb, and put into jars, it runs into fermentation, with a much

powder into a stiff substance. This is a just account of the honey, and the honey-comb; and this account, through every part, carries a creative intelligence along with it.

The sting also of the bee has this relation to the honey, that it is necessary for the protection of a treasure which invites so many robbers.

III. Our business is with mechanism. In the panorpa tribe of insects, there is a forceps in the tail of the male insect, with which he catches and holds the female. Are a pair of pincers more mechanical than this provision in its structure? or is any structure more clear and certain in its design?

IV. St. Pierre tells us,* that in a fly with six feet, (I do not remember that he describes the species,) the pair next the head and the pair next the tail, have brushes at their extremities, with which the fly dresses, as there may be occasion, the anterior or the posterior part of its body; but that the middle pair have no such brushes, the situation of these legs not admitting of the brushes, if they were there, being converted to the same use. This is a very exact mechanical distinction.

V. If the reader, looking to our distributions of science, wish to contemplate the chymistry, as well as the mechanism, of nature, the insect creation will afford him an example. I refer to the light in the tail of a glow-worm. Two points seem to be agreed upon by naturalists concerning it; first, that it is phosphoric; secondly, that its use is to attract the male insect. The only thing to be inquired after, is the singularity, if any such there be, in the natural history of this animal,

* Vol. i. p. 342.

which should render a provision of this kind more | is a gratifying spectacle, to see this insect wafted necessary for it, than for other insects. That sin- on her thread, sustained by a levity not her own, gularity seems to be the difference which subsists and traversing regions, which, if we examined between the male and the female; which differ- only the body of the animal, might seem to have ence is greater than what we find in any other been forbidden to its nature. species of animal whatever. The glow-worm is a female caterpillar; the male of which is a fly; lively, comparatively small, dissimilar to the female in appearance, probably also as distinguished from her in habits, pursuits, and manners, as he is unlike in form and external constitution. Here then is the adversity of the case. The caterpillar cannot meet her companion in the air. The winged rover disdains the ground. They might never, therefore, be brought together, did not this radiant torch direct the volatile mate to his sedentary female.

In this example, we also see the resources of art anticipated. One grand operation of chymistry is the making of phosphorus: and it was thought an ingenious device, to make phosphoric matches supply the place of lighted tapers. Now this very thing is done in the body of the glowworm. The phosphorus is not only made, but kindled; and caused to emit a steady and genial beam, for the purpose which is here stated, and which I believe to be the true one.

VI. Nor is the last the only instance that entomology affords, in which our discoveries, or rather our projects, turn out to be imitations of nature. Some years ago, a plan was suggested, of producing propulsion by reaction in this way: by the force of a steam-engine, a stream of water was to be shot out of the stern of a boat; the impulse of which stream upon the water in the river, was to push the boat itself forward; it is, in truth, the principle by which sky-rockets ascend in the air. Of the use or practicability of the plan, I am not speaking; nor is it my concern to praise its ingenuity: but it is certainly a contrivance. Now, if naturalists are to be believed, it is exactly the device which nature has made use of, for the motion of some species of aquatic insects. The larva of the dragon-fly, according to Adams, swims by ejecting water from its tail; is driven forward by the reaction of water in the pool upon the current issuing in a direction backward from its body.

I MUST now crave the reader's permission to introduce into this place, for want of a better, an observation or two upon the tribe of animals, whether belonging to land or water, which are covered by shells.

I. The shells of snails are a wonderful, a mechanical, and, if one might so speak concerning the works of nature, an original contrivance. Other animals have their proper retreats, their hybernacula also, or winter-quarters, but the snail carries these about with him. He travels with his tent; and this tent, though, as was necessary, both light and thin, is completely impervious either to moisture or air. The young snail comes out of its egg with the shell upon its back; and the gradual enlargement which the shell receives, is derived from the slime excreted by the animal's skin. Now the aptness of this excretion to the purpose, its property of hardening into a shell, and the action, whatever it be, of the animal, whereby it avails itself of its gifts, and of the constitution of its glands, (to say nothing of the work being commenced before the animal is born,) are things which can, with no probability, be referred to any other cause than to express design; and that not on the part of the animal alone, in which design, though it might build the house, could not have supplied the material. The will of the animal could not determine the quality of the excretion. Add to which, that the shell of a snail, with its pillar and convolution, is a very artificial fabric; whilst a snail, as it should seem, is the most numb and unprovided of all artificers. In the midst of variety, there is likewise a regularity, which would hardly be expected. In the same species of snail, the number of turns is usually, if not always, the same. The sealing up of the mouth of the shell by the snail, is also well calculated for its warmth and security; but the cerate is not of the same substance with the shell.

VII. Again: Europe has lately been surprised II. Much of what has been observed of snails, by the elevation of bodies in the air by means of belongs to shell-fish, and their shells, particularly a balloon. The discovery consisted in finding out to those of the univalve kind; with the addition a manageable substance, which was, bulk for bulk, of two remarks: one of which is upon the great lighter than air; and the application of the disco- strength and hardness of most of these shells. I do very was, to make a body composed of this sub- not know whether, the weight being given, art can stance bear up, along with its own weight, some produce so strong a case as are some of these heavier body which was attached to it. This ex- shells. Which defensive strength suits well with pedient, so new to us, proves to be no other than the life of an animal, that has often to sustain the what the Author of nature has employed in the dangers of a stormy element, and a rocky bottom, gossamer spider. We frequently see this spider's as well as the attacks of voracious fish. The thread floating in the air, and extended from other remark is, upon the property, in the animal hedge to hedge across a road or brook of four or excretion, not only of congealing, but of congealfive yards width. The animal which forms the ing, or, as a builder would call it, setting in water, thread, has no wings wherewith to fly from one and into a cretaceous substance, firm and hard. extremity to the other of this line; nor muscles to This property is much more extraordinary, and, enable it to spring or dart to so great a distance: chymically speaking, more specific, than that of yet its Creator hath laid for it a path in the atmo-hardening in the air, which may be reckoned a sphere; and after this manner. Though the ani- kind of exsiccation, like the drying of clay into mal itself be heavier than air, the thread which bricks. it spins from its bowels is specifically lighter. This is its balloon. The spider, left to itself, would drop to the ground; but being tied to its thread, both are supported. We have here a very peculiar provision: and to a contemplative eye it

3 L

III. In the bivalve order of shell-fish, cockles muscles, oysters, &c. what contrivance can be so simple or so clear, as the insertion, at the back, of a tough tendinous substance, that becomes at once the ligament which binds the two shells

38*

together, and the hinge upon which they open | or rather of the studiously diversified methods, by

and shut?

which one and the same purpose is attained. In IV. The shell of a lobster's tail, in its articula- the article of breathing, for example, which was tions and overlappings, represents the jointed to be provided for in some way or other, besides part of a coat of mail; or rather, which I believe the ordinary varieties of lungs, gills, and breathto be the truth, a coat of mail is an imitation of a ing holes (for insects in general respire, not by lobster's shell. The same end is to be answered the mouth, but through holes in the sides,) the by both; the same properties, therefore, are re-nymphæ of gnats have an apparatus to raise their quired in both, namely, hardness and flexibility, backs to the top of the water, and so take breath. a covering which may guard the part without The hydrocanthari do the like by thrusting their obstructing its motion. For this double purpose, tails out of the water. The maggot of the eruca the art of man, expressly exercised upon the sub- labra has a long tail, one part sheathed within ject, has not been able to devise any thing better another (but which it can draw out at pleasure,) than what nature presents to his observation. Is with a starry-tuft at the end, by which tuft, not this therefore mechanism, which the mechanic, when expanded upon the surface, the insect both having a similar purpose in view, adopts. Is supports itself in the water and draws in the air the structure of a coat of mail to be referred to which is necessary. In the article of natural art? Is the same structure of the lobster, con- clothing, we have the skins of animals invested ducing to the same use, to be referred to any thing with scales, hair, feathers, mucus, froth; or itless than art? self turned into a shell or crust: in the no less necessary article of offence and defence, we have teeth, talons, beaks, horns, stings, prickles, with (the most singular expedient for the same purpose) the power of giving the electric shock, and, as is credibly related of some animals, of driving away their pursuers by an intolerable fætor, or of blackening the water through which they are pursued. The consideration of these appearances might induce us to believe, that variety itself, distinct from every other reason, was a motive in the mind of the Creator, or with the agents of his will.

Some, who may acknowledge the imitation, and assent to the inference which we draw from it, in the instance before us, may be disposed, possibly, to ask, why such imitations are not more frequent than they are, if it be true, as we allege, that the same principle of intelligence, design, and mechanical contrivance was exerted in the formation of natural bodies, as we employ in the making of the various instruments by which our purposes are served? The answers to this question are, first, that it seldom happens, that precisely the same purpose, and no other, is pursued in any work which we compare, of nature and of art; secondly, that it still more seldom happens, that we can imitate nature, if we would. Our materials and our workmanship are equally deficient. Springs and wires, and cork and leather, produce a poor substitute for an arm or a hand. In the example which we have selected, I mean a lobster's shell compared with a coat of mail, these difficulties stand less in the way, than in almost any other that can be assigned: and the consequence is, as we have seen, that art gladly borrows from nature her contrivance, and imitates it closely.

BUT to return to insects. I think it is in this class of animals above all others, especially when we take in the multitude of species which the microscope discovers, that we are struck with what Cicero has called "the insatiable variety of nature." There are said to be six thousand species of flies; seven hundred and sixty butterflies; each different from all the rest. (St. Pierre.) The same writer tells us, from his own observation, that thirty-seven species of winged insects, with distinctions well expressed, visited a single strawberry-plant in the course of three weeks.* Ray observed, within the compass of a mile or two of his own house, two hundred kinds of butterflies, nocturnal and diurnal. He likewise, asserts, but, I think, without any grounds of exact computation, that the number of species of insects, reckoning all sorts of them, may not be short of ten thousand. And in this vast variety of animal forms (for the observation is not confined to insects, though more applicable perhaps to them than to any other class,) we are sometimes led to take notice of the different methods,

To this great variety in organized life, the Deity has given, or perhaps there arises out of it, a corresponding variety of animal appetites. For the final cause of this, we have not far to seek. Did all animals covet the same element, retreat, or food, it is evident how much fewer could be supplied and accommodated, than what at present live conveniently together, and find a plentiful subsistence. What one nature rejects, another delights in. Food which is nauseous to one tribe of animals, becomes, by that very property which makes it nauseous, an alluring dainty to another tribe. Carrion is a treat to dogs, ravens, vultures, fish. The exhalations of corrupted substances, attract flies by crowds. Maggots revel in putrefaction.

CHAPTER XX.
Of Plants.

I THINK a designed and studied mechanism to be, in general, more evident in animals than in plants: and it is unnecessary to dwell upon a weaker argument, where a stronger is at hand. There are, however, a few observations upon the vegetable kingdom, which lie so directly in our way, that it would be improper to pass by them without notice.

The one great intention of nature in the structure of plants seems to be the perfecting of the seed; and, what is part of the same intention, the preserving of it until it be perfected. This intention shows itself, in the first place, by the care which appears to be taken, to protect and ripen, by every advantage which can be given to

* Derham, p. 7.

therefore to be gotten over. Now what we are to remark is, how nature has prepared for the trials and severities of that season. These tender embryos are, in the first place, wrapped up with a compactness, which no art can imitate: in which state, they compose what we call the bud. This is not all. The bud itself is enclosed in scales; which scales are formed from the remains of past leaves, and the rudiments of future ones. Neither is this the whole. In the coldest climates, a third preservative is added, by the bud having a coat of gum or resin, which, being congealed, resists the strongest frosts. On the approach of warm weather, this gum is softened, and ceases to be a hindrance to the expansion of the leaves and flowers. All this care is part of that system of provisions which has for its object and consummation, the production and perfecting of the seeds. The SEEDS themselves are packed up in a cap

them of situation in the plant, those parts which most immediately contribute to fructification, viz. the antheræ, the stamina, and the stigmata. These parts are usually lodged in the centre, the recesses, or the labyrinths of the flower; during their tender and immature state, are shut up in the stalk, or sheltered in the bud: as soon as they have acquired firmness of texture sufficient to bear exposure, and are ready to perform the important office which is assigned to them, they are disclosed to the light and air, by the bursting of the stem, or the expansion of the petals; after which they have, in many cases, by the very form of the flower during its blow, the light and warmth reflected upon them from the concave side of the cup. What is called also the sleep of plants, is the leaves or petals disposing themselves in such a manner as to shelter the young stems, buds, or fruit. They turn up, or they fall down, according as this purpose renders either change of posi-sule, a vessel composed of coats, which, compared tion requisite. In the growth of corn, whenever the plant begins to shoot, the two upper leaves of the stalk join together, embrace the ear, and protect it till the pulp has acquired a certain degree of consistency. In some water-plants, the flowering and fecundation are carried on within the stem, which afterward opens to let loose the impregnated seed.* The pea or papilionaceous tribe, enclose the parts of fructification within a beautiful folding of the internal blossom, sometimes called, from its shape, the boat or keel; itself also protected under a penthouse formed by the external petals. This structure is very artificial; and, what adds to the value of it, though it may diminish the curiosity, very general. It has also this farther advantage (and it is an advantage strictly mechanical,) that all the blossoms turn their backs to the wind, whenever the gale blows strong enough to endanger the delicate parts upon which the seed depends. I have observed this a hundred times in a field of peas in blossom. It is an aptitude which results from the figure of the flower, and, as we have said, is strictly mechanical; as much so, as the turning of a weather-board or tin cap upon the top of a chimney. Of the poppy, and of many similar species of flowers, the head, while it is growing, hangs down, a rigid curvature in the upper part of the stem giving to it that position; and in that position it is impenetrable by rain or moisture. When the head has acquired its size, and is ready to open, the stalk erects itself, for the purpose, as it should seem, of presenting the flower, and with the flower, the instruments of fructification, to the genial influence of the sun's rays. This always struck me as a curious property; and specifically, as well as originally, provided for in the constitution of the plant: for, if the stem be only bent by the weight of the head, how comes it to straighten itself when the head is the heaviest ? These instances show the attention of nature to this principal object, the safety and maturation of the parts upon which the seed depends.

In trees, especially in those which are natives of colder climates, this point is taken up earlier. Many of these trees (observe in particular the ash and the horse-chesnut) produce the embryos of the leaves and flowers in one year, and bring them to perfection the following. There is a winter

* Philos. Transact. part ii. 1796, p. 502.

with the rest of the flower, are strong and tough. From this vessel projects a tube, through which tube the farina, or some subtile fecundating effluvium that issues from it, is admitted to the seed. And here also occurs a mechanical variety, accommodated to the different circumstances under which the same purpose is to be accomplished. In flowers which are erect, the pistil is shorter than the stamina; and the pollen, shed from the antheræ into the cup of the flower, is caught, in its descent, by the head of the pistil, called the stigma. But how is this managed when the flowers hang down (as does the crown-imperial, for instance,) and in which position, the farina in its fall, would be carried from the stigma, and not towards it? The relative length of the parts is now inverted. The pistil in these flowers is usually longer, instead of shorter, than the stamina, that its protruding summit may receive the pollen as it drops to the ground. In some cases, (as in the nigella,) where the shafts of the pistils or stiles are disproportionably long, they bend down their extremities upon the antheræ, that the necessary approximation may be effected.

But (to pursue this great work in its progress,) the impregnation, to which all this machinery relates, being completed, the other parts of the flower fade and drop off whilst the gravid seed-vessel, on the contrary, proceeds to increase its bulk, always to a great, and in some species (in the gourd, for example, and melon,) to a surprising comparative size; assuming in different plants an incalculable variety of forms, but all evidently conducing to the security of the seed. By virtue of this process, so necessary, but so diversified, we have the seed, at length, in stone-fruits and nuts, incased in a strong shell, the shell itself enclosed in a pulp or husk, by which the seed within is, or hath been, fed; or, more generally, (as in grapes, oranges, and the numerous kinds of berries,) plunged overhead in a glutinous syrup, contained within a skin or bladder: at other times (as in apples and pears) imbedded in the heart of a firm fleshy substance; or (as in strawberries) pricked into the surface of a soft pulp.

These and many more varieties exist in what we call fruits.* In pulse, and grain, and grasses;

From the conformation of fruits alone, one might be led, even without experience, to suppose, that part of this provision was destined for the utilities of animals. As limited to the plant, the provision itself seems to go beyond its object. The flesh of an apple,