Chapter IV: Third Day (2)

In no invention, either for ingenuity or utility, has modern genius been more conspicuous than in the invention of the steam-engine. The amazing power wielded by man, by this means, is just matter of astonishment and wonder. In no part of the kingdom have these stupendous machines been brought to greater perfection, either in size or principle, than in the mining counties of Cornwall and Devon. The largest ever built has lately been erected at Chacewater mine, in the county of Cornwall, by Mr. S. Moyle, of that place, and is for size and efficiency, as well as neatness, without a parallel. This stupendous machine is equal to 1,010 horses; it works day and night in pumping dry a mine of 100 fathoms deep, and of a large extent: and the quantity of water pumped out in one minute, and the column consequently lifted, is greater than any other machine of the kind ever erected. The whole reflects the greatest credit on the abilities of the engineer, and forms an interesting object to all those who are curious in mechanism, or who may visit the mines of Cornwall.[95]

A very ingenious naturalist suggests the idea, that subterraneous fire, and steam generated from it, are the true and real causes of earthquakes. And he thinks the elasticity of steam and its expansive force, are every way capable of producing the stupendous effects attributed to earthquakes, when it is considered that this expansive force of steam is to that of gunpowder as 140 to 5. He also apprehends that subterraneous fire must, at different times, have existed universally in the bowels of the earth, and that in union with water, or by the expansive power of steam, it has produced the immense continents, as well as the mountains of our globe.[96] There are, in the Memoirs of the Paris Academy of Sciences for the year 1707, some observations communicated by Vauban, from which it results that 140 pounds of water converted into vapor, would produce an explosion capable of blowing up a mass of 77,000 pounds, while 140 pounds of powder could only produce a similar effect upon a mass of 30,000.

Water would be the purest of all drinks, says Sturm, were it as absolutely simple body; but on the other hand, its medicinal virtue would be reduced to nothing. If we consider the manner in which water nourishes plants, it is easy to presume that it communicates the nutritious juices which it contains, to men and animals in the same way. Water is not very nutritive by itself, but being very subtile, it dissolves the nutritious parts of aliments, is a vehicle for them, and carries them along into the minutest vessels. It is consequently the most wholesome drink; and is essentially necessary to men and animals; and its salutary effects are felt, where all other liquids are found hurtful to health. “The water of Egypt,” says the Abbé Mascrier, “is so delicious, that one would not wish the heat to be less, or to be delivered from the sensation of thirst. The Turks find it so exquisite, that they excite themselves to drink of it by eating _salt_. It is a common saying among them, that if Mahomed had drank of it, he would have besought God that he might never die, in order to have had this continual gratification. When the Egyptians undertake the pilgrimage of Mecca, or go out of their country on any other account, they speak of nothing but the pleasure they shall have, at their return, in drinking of the waters of the Nile. There is no gratification to be compared to this: it surpasses, in their esteem, that of seeing their relations and families. All those who have tasted of this water, allow that they never met with the like in any other place. When a person drinks of it for the first time, he can scarcely be persuaded that it is not a water prepared by art: for it has something in it inexpressibly agreeable and pleasing to the taste; and it should have the same rank among _waters_, that _champaigne_ has among _wines_. But its most valuable quality is, that it is exceedingly salutary. It never incommodes, let it be drank in what quantity it may: this is so true, that it is no uncommon thing to see some persons drink three buckets full of it in a day, without the least inconvenience! When I pass such encomiums on the water of Egypt, it is right to observe, that I speak only of that of the _Nile_, which indeed is the only water, drinkable, for their _well-water_ is detestable and unwholesome. _Fountains_ are so rare, that they are a kind of prodigy in that country; and as to _rain-water_, that is out of the question, as scarcely any falls in Egypt.”

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Having attended to the situation and properties of water in the world of nature, we shall now show that by this element is represented the blessings of Divine grace in the moral or spiritual world. God is the _fountain of living waters_, ever-living, all-sufficient, and incessantly flowing; like waters, arising and issuing from a spring, which continue during the whole year: not like waters that proceed only from some excess of rain, such as land-floods, or those flowing down from hills, which in the winter season run in torrents, but in the heat of summer are dried up and fail. Such uncertain waters are well expressed by Job--“My brethren have dealt deceitfully as a brook, and as the stream of brooks they pass away; which are blackish by reason of the ice, and wherein the snow is hid: what time they wax warm they vanish: when it is hot they are consumed out of their place. The paths of their way are turned aside; they go to nothing, and perish. The troops of Tema looked, the companies of Sheba waited for them. They are confounded because they had hoped; they came thither, and were ashamed.” He alludes to those merchants who travelled in companies or caravans, with beasts of burden, through the deserts of Arabia; who, having in the winter observed and marked out in certain places on the road great pools of water, or copious streams locked up in the valleys by severe frosts; so that, when travelling the same road in summer, they expected finding water there still to refresh themselves and their thirsty camels; but, to their great grief and consternation, instead of pools or brooks of water, found heaps of dry sand, occasioned by intense heat. But God is a fountain which sends forth streams of blessings in all seasons, and never fails. The _living waters_ which proceed from him as their fountain, are not stagnant, or dead, but running, like those that issue from springs which are never dry, and possess the most refreshing and invigorating properties.

The element of water is used for washing and purifying the body; so the operation of Divine grace on the soul removes its moral defilement. All the purifications by water under the law, were outward expressions of this inward cleansing. Thus those important words by the prophet Ezekiel, “I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and ye shall be clean; from all your filthiness, and from all your idols, will I cleanse you: a new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you.” Accordingly the Psalmist says, “Thou shalt wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” He also prays, “Create in me a clean heart, oh God; and renew a right spirit within me.” As purity is necessary for enjoying communion with God in all his instituted ordinances, he says, “I will wash mine hands in innocency: so will I compass thine altar, oh Lord.” Similar language is used in the New Testament. Our Lord said to Peter, “If I wash thee not, thou hast no part in me.” The apostle Paul, after mentioning several immoral characters to the Christians at Corinth, says, “And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.”

Our Lord gave himself for us, not only that he might redeem us from all iniquity, but also that he might purify us unto himself a peculiar people. This cleansing, washing, and purifying the soul from sin, is, in the Holy Scripture, attributed to the virtual efficacy of his blood. “The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin.” “Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood.” The primary effect of his blood is the expiation of sin; and, as a consequence thereof, the remission of it. “This is my blood which is shed for the remission of sins.” “In whom we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins.” Now by the blood of Christ in these places we are to understand his sufferings, which were completed in the shedding of his blood on the cross.

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_Section_ II.--THE EARTH.

Surface of the Earth -- Mountains -- Fertility of Plants --
Dissemination of Seeds -- Preservation of Plants -- Adaptation
to different Climates -- Number of vegetables -- Succession of
vegetables -- Remarkable Trees -- Sensitive Plants -- Kitchen
vegetables -- Garden flowers -- Religious Improvement.

The dry land and the seas constitute what is called the _terraqueous globe_; what proportion the superficies of the sea bears to that of the land, cannot be easily ascertained; but, as one observes, the earth and the water exist in a most judicious proportion to each other. According to the most exact calculations, the surface of the earth is 199,512,595 square miles; and that of the sea is to the land as three to one. There is no certain measurement of the proportion of land and water which the parts within the polar circles contain. The superficies of the sea appearing so large, may lead some persons to suppose, that the proportions between the land and water are not wisely adjusted; and that had there been less sea and more dry land, this would have been more adapted to the accommodation and service of mankind. As such a supposition as this tends to arraign the wisdom of God, so it proceeds from ignorance of natural philosophy. For, as Dr. Keill asserts, “if there were but half the sea that now is, there would be also only half the quantity of vapors; and, consequently, we could have no more than half so many rivers as there now are, to supply not only all the dry land we have at present, but half as much more; for the quantity of vapors which are raised, bears a proportion to the surface whence they are raised, as well as the heat which raised them. The wise Creator so prudently ordered it, that the sea should be large enough to supply vapors sufficient for all the land, which it would not do if it were less than it now is.”[97] The Scriptures speak of God as making all things in number, weight, and measure; as proceeding in his works with the greatest exactness. “He hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven with a span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance.” Those who wish to see this further illustrated, would do well to consult Ray’s “Wisdom of God manifested in the works of the Creation,” and his “Physico-theological Discourses.”

The stately mountains, that lift their lofty heads above the clouds, serve for very beneficial purposes. Does the bold atheist call them blemishes, and irregularities in the formation of the earth? Surely he never considered how necessary they are, for arresting the clouds in their flight, and conveying their waters through imperceptible channels, till they meet in some common receptacle, whence they burst out in springs to fertilize the lower grounds, and afford refreshing streams for man and beast. “This,” says Mr. Halley, “seems to be the design of the hills, that their ridges, being placed through the midst of the continents, might serve as it were for alembics, to distil fresh water for the use of man and beast; and that their heights might give a descent to those streams to run gently, like so many veins of the microcosm, to be more beneficial to the creation.” They are, says Mr. Ray, “for the generation and maintenance of rivers and fountains, which--on the hypothesis that all proceed from rain water--could not subsist without them, or but rarely. So we should have only torrents, which would fail in summer, or in any dry season, and nothing to trust to, but stagnating water, reserved in pools and cisterns. The great inconvenience resulting from this I need not take pains to show. I say that fountains and rivers would be but rare, were there no mountains. For the whole dry land being but one continued mountain, and ascending all along from the sea to the mid-land, as is undeniably proved by the descent of rivers even in plain countries; the water sinking into the earth, may run under ground, and, according as the vein leads it, break out in the side of this mountain, though the place, as to outward appearance, be a plain. There are huge ridges and extended chains of mountains directed for the most part to run east and west; by which means they give admittance and passage to the vapors, brought by the winds from the Atlantic and Pacific oceans; but stop and inhibit their excursions to the north and south, either condensing them on their sides into water, by a kind of external distillation; or by straitening and constipating them, compelling them to gather into drops, or descend down in the rain.”

After the waters had subsided, the land appeared, dry and fit for vegetation. “And God said, Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit-tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself upon the earth: and it was so. And the earth brought forth grass, and herb yielding seed after his kind, and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in itself, after his kind.” Here we rise to organized and vegetative bodies. At the Divine command, herbs, plants, trees, and all the almost endless varieties of the vegetable world, bearing their several seeds and fruits, according to their different kinds, immediately began to appear. Thus before God formed any living creature to dwell upon the earth, he provided abundantly for its sustenance. “Now as God delights to manifest himself in the little as well as the great,” says a celebrated commentator, “he has shown his consummate wisdom in every part of the vegetable creation. Who can account for, or comprehend, the structure of a single tree or plant? The roots, the stem, the woody fibres, the bark, the rind, the air-vessels, the sap-vessels, the leaves, the flowers, and the fruits, are so many mysteries. All the skill, wisdom, and power of men and angels, could not produce a single grain of wheat!”

Dr. Hales, in his Statistical Essays, has observed, that the substances of vegetables appear, by a chemical analysis, to be composed of sulphur, volatile salt, water, and earth, which are all endued with mutually attracting powers; and also of a large portion of air, which has a wonderful power of strongly attracting in a fixed state, or of repelling in an elastic state, with a power which is superior to great compressive forces.[98] By the infinite combinations, action, and reaction of these principles, all the operations in animal and vegetable bodies are effected. These active aërial principles are very serviceable in carrying on the work of vegetation to its perfection and maturity; not only in helping, by their elasticity, to distend each ductile part, but, also, by enlivening and invigorating their sap, where, mixing with the other mutually attracting principles, they are, by gentle heat and motion, set at liberty to assimilate into the nourishment of the respective parts. The sum of the attracting powers of these mutually acting and re-acting principles, is, while in this nutritive state, superior to their repelling power; by which the work of nutrition is gradually advanced by the nearer and nearer union of these principles from a less to a greater degree of consistency, till they are advanced to that viscid, ductile state, whence the several parts of vegetables are formed; and are, at length, firmly compacted into hard substances, by the flying off of the watery diluting vehicle: but when they are again disunited by the watery particles, their repelling power is thereby become superior to their attracting power, and the union of the parts of vegetables is so thoroughly dissolved, that putrefaction commences.

God has endued the vegetable creation with the astonishing power of multiplying itself by seeds, slips, roots. &c. ad infinitum: it contains in itself all the rudiments of the future plants through their endless generations. The celebrated Linnæus, in an “oration concerning the augmentation of the habitable earth,” which proceeds on the supposition of the existence of a sexual system in the vegetable world, shows how from one plant of each species the immense number of individuals now existing might arise. He gives some instances of the surprising fertility of certain plants; as, of the elecampane, one plant of which produced 3,000 seeds; of spelt, 2,000; of the sun-flower, 4,000; of the poppy, 3,200; of tobacco, 40,320: and one grain of Turkey-corn produces 2,000 others! But supposing any annual plant producing yearly only two seeds, even of these, after 20 years, there would be 1,048,576 individuals. For they would increase yearly in a double proportion, _viz._ 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, &c. The seed of the _elm_, as a learned author observes, affords a remarkable instance of the prolific power with which the vegetable creation is endued, to multiply its different species. “This tree produces one thousand five hundred and eighty-four millions of seeds; and each of these seeds has the power of producing the same number. How astonishing is this produce! At first one seed is deposited in the earth; from this one a tree springs, which in the course of its vegetative life produces one thousand five hundred and eighty-four millions of seeds. This is the first generation. The second generation will amount to two trillions, five hundred and ten thousand and fifty-six billions. The third generation will amount to fourteen thousand six hundred and fifty-eight quadrillions, seven hundred and twenty-seven thousand and forty trillions! And the fourth generation from these would amount to fifty one sextillions, four hundred and eighty-one thousand three hundred and eighty-one quintillions, one hundred and twenty-three thousand one hundred and thirty-six quadrillions! Sums too immense for the human mind to conceive; and when we allow the most confined space in which a tree can grow, it appears that the seeds of the third generation from one elm would be many myriads of times more than sufficient to stock the whole superficies of all the planets in the solar system!”

While many plants and trees may be propagated by branches, buds, suckers, and leaves fixed in the ground; so concerning the dissemination of seeds after they come to maturity, the Author of nature has wisely provided in various ways; this being absolutely necessary, since without it no crop could follow. The stalks and stems favor this purpose; for these raise the fruit above the ground, so that the winds, shaking them to and fro, widely disperse the ripe seeds. The pericarpium, a pellicle or thin membrane encompassing the fruit or grain of a plant, is generally shut at the top, that the seeds may not fall before they are shaken out by stormy winds. Wings are given to many seeds, by the help of which they fly far from the mother plant, and frequently spread over a large tract of country. These wings consist either of down, as in most of the composite-flowered plants; or of a membrane, as in birch, alder, ash, &c. Several kinds of fruits are endued with a remarkable elasticity, by the force of which the ripe pericarpies throw the seeds to a great distance; as wood-sorrel, spurge, phyllanthus, and dittany. Other seeds or pericarpies are rough, or provided with hooks, as hounds-tongue, agrimony, &c; so that they are apt to stick to animals which pass by them, and by this means are carried to their holes, where they are both sown and manured. Berries, as well as other pericarpies, are by nature allotted for aliment to animals; but, with this condition, that while they eat the pulp, they shall sow the seeds: for when they feed on it, they either disperse them at the same time; or, if they swallow them, they are returned unhurt. The mistletoe always grows on other trees, because the thrush eating its seeds, casts them forth with its dung. The cross-bill living on fircones, and the haw-finch feeding on pinecones, sow many of their seeds.

The structure of plants contributes essentially both to their own preservation, and that of others. But the wisdom of the Creator appears very remarkable in the manner of the growth of trees. For as their roots descend deeper than those of other plants, provision is thereby made that they shall not rob them too much of nourishment;[99] and what is still more, a stem, not above a span in diameter, often shoots its branches very high; these bear perhaps many thousand buds, each of which is a plant, with its leaves, flowers, and stipulæ. Now if all these grew on the plain, they would take up a thousand times as much space as trees do; and, in this case, there would scarcely be room in all the earth for so many plants as at present trees alone afford. Besides, plants that shoot up in this way are more easily preserved from cattle by a natural defence: their leaves also, falling in autumn, cover the plants growing about them against the rigor of the winter; and, in the summer, they afford a pleasing shade, not only to animals, but to plants, against the intense heat of the sun. We may add, that trees, like all other vegetables, imbibe water from the earth: which does not circulate again to the root, but being dispersed like small rain, by the transpiration of the leaves, moistens the plants that grow around. Many plants and shrubs are armed with thorns, as the buckthorn, sloe, carduus, cotton-thistle, &c: these serve to keep off animals, which otherwise would destroy their fruit. At the same time, they cover many other plants, especially of the annual kind, under their branches. Nay it has frequently been observed on commons where furze grows, that wherever a bush was left untouched for some years by the inhabitants a tree has sprung up, being secured by the prickles of that shrub from the bite of cattle. So that while adjacent grounds are robbed of plants by voracious animals, some may be preserved to ripen flowers and fruit, and stock the surrounding parts with seeds which otherwise would be quite extirpated. All herbs cover the ground with their leaves, and by their shade hinder it from being totally deprived of that moisture which is necessary to their nourishment. Mosses, which adorn the most barren places, do, at the same time, preserve lesser plants when they begin to shoot, from cold and drought; as is evident in gardens, where plants are preserved in the same way. They also hinder the fermenting earth from forcing the roots of plants upwards in the spring; like what happens annually to trunks of trees, and other things put into the ground. Hence very few mosses grow in warm climates, the same necessity not existing in those places.

The great Author of all things intended that the whole earth should be covered with plants, and that no place should be void or barren. But since all countries have not the same changes of seasons, and every soil is not equally adapted to every plant; therefore, that no place should be without some, he gave to each of them such a nature as might be chiefly accommodated to their own climate: so that some of them can bear intense cold, others an equal degree of heat; some delight in dry ground, others in moist, &c. Hence plants grow where the seasons of the year and the soil are friendly to their constitution. Grasses, the most common of all plants, can bear almost any temperature of air: in this the good providence of the Creator particularly appears; for all over the globe they are necessary for the nourishment of cattle. The same is observed in relation to our most common grains. Thus neither the scorching sun, nor the pinching cold, hinders any country from having vegetables. Nor is there any soil which does not bring forth many kinds of plants. Deserts and sandy places are adorned with trees and plants.

If we connect the vast fecundity of vegetables with their number, how bountiful will the great Author of nature appear! Solomon had a comprehensive knowledge of the different species of plants, for he “spake of trees, from the cedar-tree that is in Lebanon even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall;” but his writings on this subject, not being quoted by any ancient author, nor the least fragment remaining, are entirely lost. Theophrastus, a Greek philosopher, who succeeded Aristotle in his school at Athens, where his name became so celebrated that he was attended by two thousand pupils, wrote a work entitled “The History of Plants,” in which above 500 different plants are described. Dioscorides, a Grecian by birth, but under the Roman empire, a physician and botanist in the time of Nero, being near 300 years posterior to Theophrastus, describes about 600 plants. Pliny the elder,[100] in his voluminous work entitled “The History of the World,” gives descriptions of above 1,000 different species of plants. Hieronymus Bock, or Bouc, a German, generally known by the name of _Tragus_, in 1532, published a History of Plants, in which he describes 800 species.

From later botanical researches, we learn, that the bountiful Creator has enriched the earth with about 20,000 different species of vegetables. The following statement of the progress of botanical knowledge has recently been given to the public. Messrs. Humboldt and Boupland, the celebrated travellers, have collected in their five years’ travels through South America, 3,800 species of plants, of which upwards of 3,000 were new, and absolutely unknown before to the botanists of Europe. We are at present acquainted altogether with 44,000 species of plants; while the whole number mentioned by the Greeks, Romans, and Arabians, does not exceed 1,400. It is worth remarking, that the vegetable productions of the new world seem to have been in an inverse ratio, both in point of number and luxuriance, to those of the animal kingdom. In North America, for instance, the number of lofty trees is far greater than in Europe. In the former country, there are found 137 species of trees, whose trunks exceed the height of 30 feet; while in Europe there are scarcely 45 species. But it is singular there are no firs to be found on any part of the mountains of South America, between the tropics, though they are very abundant in North America. The reason why Magnolias, and other equinoxial plants, appear so far north in America, is, that as far as lat. 48 deg. the summers are 9 degrees (of Fahrenheit) hotter than in the corresponding European latitudes. The winters, however, are more than proportionably colder. At Philadelphia the summer is as hot as at Rome; while the winter corresponds with that of Vienna. At Quebec, the summer is warmer than at Paris; the winter colder than at St. Petersburgh. Beyond Lake Superior, and at Hudson’s Bay, it is said that the earth is perpetually frozen at the depth of three feet from the surface, which prevents the inhabitants from digging wells. The same thing happens in Siberia, on the banks of the Lena; while in South America there are cities at a greater height than the highest summit of the Pyrenees, and houses more elevated than the Peak of Teneriffe, the region, in Europe, of perpetual congelation. To this we may add, that Linnæus, the celebrated botanist, divided all plants into classes, the classes into orders, the orders into genera, and the genera into species: and the species, we are told, amount perhaps to 40,000, or 50,000, or more!

The fertility of the earth has been continued from the creation, through every successive period, to the present time. Plants spring up, grow, flourish, ripen their fruit, wither, and at last, having finished their course, die, and return to the dust again, from whence they first took their rise. Thus black mould, which covers the earth, is generally owing to dead vegetables. For all roots descend into the sand by their branches, and after a plant has lost its stem, the root remains; but this too rots at last, and changes into mould. Thus this kind of earth is mixed with sand, by the arrangement of nature, nearly in the same way as dung thrown on fields is wrought into the earth by the industry of the husbandman. But the earth offers again to plants from its bosom what it has thus received. For when seeds are committed to the earth, they draw to themselves, accommodate to their nature, and turn into plants, the more subtile parts of this mould by the co-operation of the sun, air, and rain; so that the tallest tree is, properly speaking, nothing but mould wonderfully compounded with air and water, and modified by a virtue communicated to a small seed by the Creator. From these plants, when they die, just the same kind of mould is formed as gave birth to them originally; whence fertility remains continually uninterrupted. Whereas the earth could not make good its annual consumption, unless it were constantly recruited by new supplies.

That the Author of nature had so constituted the world that none of the elements should be subject to destruction, might have been supposed by the ancients; but, till the present advanced state of the science of chemistry, no proof of this interesting fact could have been adduced. Of the indestructibility of matter it may be remarked, that provision has been made even for the restoration of the fallen leaves of vegetables, which rot on the ground, and, to a careless observer, would appear to be lost for ever. Berthollet has shown by experiment, that, whenever the soil becomes charged with such matter, the oxygen of the atmosphere combines with it, and converts it into carbonic acid gas. The consequence of this is, that this same carbon in process of time is absorbed by a new race of vegetables, which it clothes with a new foliage, and which is itself destined to undergo similar putrefaction and renovation to the end of time.

The selection of a few remarkable trees and plants will serve to impress the reader with a sense of the wisdom and power of God, as displayed in the vegetable kingdom. As rivers and brooks are very seldom found in deserts and sandy places, many of the trees growing there distil water; and, by that means, afford great comfort both to man and beast. Thus the _Tillandsia_, which is a parasitical plant, growing on the tops of trees in the deserts of America, has its leaves turned at the base into the shape of a pitcher, with the extremity expanded; in these the rain is collected, and preserved for the use of men, beasts, and birds. The water-tree in Ceylon produces cylindrical bladders, covered with a lid; into these is secreted a most pure and refreshing water. There is a kind of cuckow-pint in New France, of which, if a person break a branch, it will afford him a pint of excellent water. How wise, how beneficial is the adaptation of plants to the inhabitants of those countries where they grow!

On the top of a rock, in one of the Canary Islands, says Glass, in his History, grows the _Fountain Tree_, called, in the language of the ancient inhabitants, _Garse_, (sacred or holy tree,) which for many years has been preserved sound, entire, and fresh. Its leaves constantly distil such a quantity of water as is sufficient to furnish drink to every living creature in Hierro; nature having provided this remedy for the drought of the island. It is situated about a league and a half from the sea. Nobody knows of what species it is, only that it is called _Til_. It is distinct from other trees, and stands by itself. The circumference of its trunk is about twelve spans, the diameter four, and in height from the ground to the top of the highest branch forty spans: the circumference of all the branches together, is one hundred and twenty feet. The branches are thick and extended: the lowest commence an ell from the ground. Its fruit resembles the acorn, and tastes something like the kernel of a pine-apple, but is softer and more aromatic. The leaves of this tree resemble those of the laurel, but are larger, wider, and more curved; they come forth in perpetual succession, so that the tree always remains green. On the north side of the trunk, are two large tanks, or cisterns, of rough stone, or rather one cistern divided, each half being twenty feet square, and sixteen spans in depth. One of these contains water for the drinking of the inhabitants; and the other that which they use for their cattle, washing, and such like purposes. Every morning, near this part of the island, a cloud or mist arises from the sea, which the south and easterly winds force against the fore-mentioned steep cliff, so that the cloud, having no vent but by the gutter, gradually ascends it, and from thence advances slowly to the extremity of the valley, where it is stopped and checked by the front of the rock, which terminates the valley, and then rests upon the thick leaves and wide-spreading branches of the tree, from whence it distils in drops, during the remainder of the day, until it is at length exhausted, in the same manner that we see water drip from the leaves of trees after a heavy shower of rain. This tree yields most water in those years when the Levant or easterly winds have prevailed for a continuance, for by these winds only the clouds or mists are drawn hither from the sea. A person lives on the spot near where this tree grows, who is appointed by the council to take care of it, and its water; and is allowed a house to live in, with a certain salary. He every day distributes to each family of the district, seven pots or vessels full of water, besides what he gives to the principal people in the island.

In Cockburn’s Voyages we find the following account of the _Dropping Tree_, near the mountains of Vera Paz, in America. “On the morning of the fourth day we came out on a large plain where were numbers of fine deer, and in the middle stood a tree of an unusual size, spreading its branches over a vast compass of ground. Curiosity led us up to it; we had perceived, at some distance, the ground about it to be wet, at which we began to be somewhat surprised, as well knowing there had no rain fallen for near six months past, according to the certain course of the season in that latitude; that it was impossible to be occasioned by the fall of dew on the tree, we were convinced, by the sun having power to exhale all moisture of that nature a few minutes after his rising. At last, to our great amazement, as well as joy, we saw water dropping, or, as it were, distilling fast from the end of every leaf of this wonderful (nor had it been amiss, if I had said miraculous) tree; at least it was so with respect to us, who had been laboring four days through extreme heat without receiving the least moisture, and were now almost expiring for the want of it. We could not help looking on this as liquor sent from heaven to comfort us under our great extremity. We catched what we could of it in our hands, and drank very plentifully of it, liking it so well, that we could hardly prevail with ourselves to give it over. A matter of this nature could not but excite us to make the strictest observations concerning it; and accordingly we staid under the tree near three hours: we found that we could not clasp its body by five times. We observed the soil where it grew to be very stony; and upon the nicest inquiry we could afterwards make, both of the natives of the country, and the Spanish inhabitants, we could not learn that there was any such tree known throughout New Spain, nor perhaps all America over.”

The _Tallow Tree_, mentioned by Du Halde in his History of China, grows in great plenty in that country, producing a substance much like our tallow, and serving for the same purposes. It is about the height of a cherry tree; its leaves are in form of a heart, of a deep shining red color, and its bark very smooth. Its fruit is enclosed in a kind of pod or cover, like a chestnut, and consists of three round white grains, of the size and form of a small nut, each having its peculiar capsule, and within that a little stone. This stone is encompassed with a white pulp, which has all the properties of true tallow, as to consistence, color, and even smell; and accordingly the Chinese make their candles of it, which doubtless would be as good as those in Europe, if they knew how to purify this vegetable as we do the animal tallow, and make their wicks as fine. All the preparation they give it, is to melt it down, and mix a little oil with it, to make it softer and more pliant. It is true, their candles made of it yield a thicker smoke, and give a dimmer light than those of ours; but these defects are owing in a great measure to the wicks, which are not of cotton, but only a little rod or switch of dry light wood, covered with the pith of a rush, wound round it, which, being very porous, serves to filtrate the minute parts of the tallow, attracted by the burning stick, and which by this means is kept burning.

The _Tea Tree_ is a native of China, of very slow growth; it has a black, woody, irregular, branched root, and rises to a fathom high, or rather more. Its leaves are very thick set, without any regularity, and are, in substance, like those of the morella cherry tree; but, when young, they resemble, except in color, the spindle tree, with red berries, called _euonymus_. The larger leaves are about two inches long, and one broad. The method of gathering them is one by one, lest they should be torn. The first gathering begins at the middle of the first moon, immediately before the vernal equinox; these leaves are scarcely full opened, being only of two or three days growth; but they are accounted the best, fetch the best price, and are called the flower of the tea; but, by the Chinese, _veui boui_, or bohea tea. The second gathering begins about a month after, and the last gathering is in June; the leaves of the gatherings are sorted into three several classes, according to their size and goodness, and sold accordingly. After the leaves are gathered, they are the same day carried to the work-house, and roasted over a slow fire in an iron pan; and, that they may be thoroughly and equally dried, the roaster keeps them continually stirring with his hands, then takes them out, with a shovel like a fan, and commits them to the rollers, who roll them with the palms of their hands in small parcels, till they are equally cooled, and the sharp yellow and greenish juice is quite discharged. They are then poured upon a mat, and sorted a second time into different classes according to their goodness, and those that are less curled or burnt are taken out.--It is said that the Dutch were the first importers of tea into Europe, about the year 1606, for which they exchanged dried sage with the Chinese: and though the English did certainly about the same time gain a knowledge of this plant, we do not find that the government took any cognizance of it till the Restoration, when in 1660, a duty of eight-pence per gallon was laid on the liquor made, and sold in all coffee-houses.

The _Coffee Tree_ is a native of the Indies, grows surprisingly quick, and its body is naturally of an upright form; its leaves are something like those of the common bay, but curl at the end and hang downwards. The blossoms first appear in July, when they show themselves in bunches at the joints, near the ends of the branches; they are much like the flowers of the jessamine, but have the addition of some yellow _apices_, which are loose on the top of the blossom, and a _style_ which shoots out near half an inch above it. The fruit appears about October, which hangs on the tree till the next July before it is ripe: it is then gathered and prepared for the market, or for propagating other plants. Coffee is, perhaps, one of the greatest blessings, among those that are not really necessaries of life, that Providence has granted to mankind; and, considering its beneficial qualities as well as its agreeable properties, it should be ranked among the most elegant plants, in foliage, blossom, and fruit. It is a wholesome, pleasant, and cheap beverage, and of great use in many disorders. The origin of the use of coffee is stated to be as follows. A prior of a monastery in the part of Arabia where this berry grows, having remarked that the goats which eat of it became extremely brisk and alert, resolved to try the experiment on his monks, of whom he so continually complained for their lethargic propensities. The experiment turned out successful; and, it is said, it was owing to this circumstance that the use of this Arabian berry came to be so universal.

The _Banian Tree_ is a native of several parts of the East Indies. It has a woody stem, branching to a great height and vast extent, with heart-shaped entire leaves, ending in acute points. Of this tree the following lines of Milton contain a description equally beautiful and just.

“There soon they chose
The fig tree; not that tree for fruit renown’d,
But such as at this day to Indians known
In Malabar or Decan, spreads her arms,
Branching so broad and long, that in the ground
The bended twigs take root and daughters grow
About the mother tree, a pillar’d shade,
High over arch’d and echoing walks between;
There oft the Indian herdsman, shunning heat,
Shelters in cool, and tends his pasturing herds
At loop-holes cut through thickest shade.”

The banian tree, or Indian fig, is perhaps the most beautiful of nature’s productions in that genial climate, where her luxuriance is displayed with the greatest profusion and variety. Some of these trees, as they are continually increasing, and, contrary to most other things in animal and vegetable life, seem to be exempted from decay, grow to an amazing size. Every branch projecting from the main body throws out its own roots, at first in small tender fibres, several yards from the ground; these continually grow thicker till they reach the surface; and there striking in, they increase to large trunks, and become parent trees, shooting out new branches from the top; these at length suspend their roots, which, swelling into trunks, produce other branches: thus continuing in a state of progression as long as the earth, the first parent of them all, contributes her sustenance. The Hindoos are peculiarly fond of this tree; they view it as an emblem of the Deity, from its long duration, outstretching arms, and overshadowing beneficence; they almost pay it divine honors, and

“Find a fane in every sacred grove.”

Near these trees the most esteemed pagodas are generally erected; under their shade the brahmins spend their lives in religious solitude; and the natives of all casts and tribes are fond of recreating in the cool recesses, beautiful walks, and lovely vistas of this umbrageous canopy, impervious to the hottest beams of a tropical sun.

A description of a tree in the island of Java, called the _Upas_, or Poison Tree, is given to the public by a surgeon belonging to the Dutch East India Company, of the name of Foersch, who was stationed at Batavia, in the year 1774. Surprising its this account may be, it is accompanied by so many public facts, and names of persons and places, that it is somewhat difficult to conceive it fabulous. The Upas grows about seven leagues from Batavia, in a plain surrounded by rocky mountains, the whole of which plain, containing a circle of ten or twelve miles round the tree, is totally barren. Nothing that breathes or vegetates can live within its influence. The bird that flies over it drops down dead. The beast that wanders into it expires. The whole dreadful area is covered with sand, over which lie scattered loose flints and whitened bones, Thus,

“Fierce in dread silence on the blasted heath,
Fell Upas sits!”

This tree may be called the emperor’s great military magazine. In a solution of the poisonous gum which exudes from it, his arrows and offensive weapons are dipped; the procuring, therefore, of this poisonous gum, is a matter of as much attention as of difficulty. Criminals are only employed in this dreadful service. Of these, several every year are sent with a promise of pardon and reward if they procure it. Hooded in leather cases, with glass eyelet-holes, and secured as much as possible from the foul effluvia of the air they are to breathe, they undertake this melancholy journey, travelling always with the wind. About one in ten escapes, and brings away a little box of this direful commodity!

Every one skilled in natural history knows, that the mimosæ, or sensitive plants, close their leaves, and bend their joints, on the least touch. This is truly astonishing: but hitherto no end or design of nature has appeared from these motions; they soon recover themselves, and the leaves are expanded as before. Dionæ Muscipula, or Venus’s Fly Trap, is a newly discovered sensitive plant; and shows that nature may have some view towards its nourishment, in forming the upper joint of its leaf like a machine to catch food. Upon the middle of this lies the bait for the unhappy insect that becomes its prey. Many minute red glands, that cover its inner surface, and which, perhaps, discharge some sweet liquor, tempt the poor animal to taste them; and the instant these tender plants are irritated by its feet, the two lobes rise up, grasp it fast, lock the two rows of spines together, and squeeze it to death. Further, lest the strong efforts for life, in the creature thus taken, should serve to disengage it, three small erect spines are fixed near the middle of each lobe among the glands, that effectually put an end to all its struggles. Nor do the lobes ever open again, while the dead animal continues there. But it is nevertheless certain that the plant cannot distinguish between an animal and a mineral substance; for if we introduce a straw, or a pin, between the lobes, it will grasp it full as fast as if it were an insect. This plant grows in America, in wet shady places, and flowers in July and August. The largest leaves are about three inches long, and an inch and a half across the lobes: the glands of those exposed to the sun are of a beautiful red color; but those in the shade are pale, and inclining to green. The roots are squamous, sending forth few fibres, and are perennial. The leaves are numerous, inclining to bend downwards, and are placed in a circular order; they are jointed and succulent; the lower joint, which is a kind of stalk, is flat, longish, two-edged, and inclining to heart-shaped. In some varieties, they are serrated on the edges near the top. The upper joint consists of two lobes, each lobe is of a semi-oval form, with their margins furnished with stiff hairs, like eye-brows, which embrace or lock in each other when they are inwardly irritated. The upper surfaces of these lobes are covered with small red glands, each of which appears, when highly magnified, like a compressed arbutus berry. Among the glands, about the middle of each lobe, are three very small erect spines. When the lobes enclose any substance, they never open again while it continues there. If it can be shoved out, so as not to strain the lobes, they expand again; but if force is used to open them, so strong has nature formed the spring of their fibres, that one of the lobes will generally snap off, rather than yield. The stalk is about six inches high, round, smooth, and without leaves, ending in a spike of flowers. The flowers are milk-white, and stand, on foot stalks, at the bottom of which is a little painted bractea, or flower-leaf.

There is not an article in botany more admirable than a contrivance, visible in many plants, to take advantage of good weather, and to protect themselves against bad. They open and close their flowers and leaves in different circumstances; some close before sun-set, some after; some open to receive rain, some close to avoid it. The petals of many flowers expand in the sun; but contract at night, or on the approach of rain. After the seeds are fecundated, the petals no longer contract. All the trefoils may serve as a barometer to the husbandman; they always contract their leaves on an impending storm. Some plants follow the sun, others turn from it. Many plants, on the sun’s recess, vary the position of their leaves, which is styled, the _sleep of plants_. A singular plant was lately discovered in Bengal. Its leaves are in continual motion all day long; but when night approaches; they fall down from an erect posture to rest.[101]

A plant has a power of directing its roots for procuring food. The red whortle-berry, a low evergreen plant, grows naturally on the tops of our highest hills, among stones and gravel. This shrub was planted in an edging to a rich border, under a fruit wall. In two or three years it over-ran the adjoining deep-laid gravel walk, and seemed to fly from the border, in which not a runner appeared. An effort to come at food, in a bad situation, is extremely remarkable, in the following instance. Among the ruins of New Abbey, formerly a monastery in Galloway, there grows on the top of a wall, a plane tree, about twenty feet high. Straitened for nourishment in that barren situation, it several years ago directed roots down the side of the wall, till they reached the ground ten feet below; and now the nourishment it afforded to those roots during the time of their descending, is amply repaid, having every year, since that time, made vigorous shoots. From the top of the wall to the surface of the earth these roots have not thrown out a single fibre, but are now united in a single root.