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delicate and perishable kinds. The specimens, I am told, will be carefully preserved, with as much attention to neatness in displaying them as circumstances will admit. The filiform kinds will be displayed on white paper. Dr. Harvey's first collections will be made in Western Australia, at various points along the coast, from Swan River to King George's Sound. Three or four months will be devoted to this locality. He will then proceed to Sydney and Van Diemen's Land; and it is his present intention to visit the coast of Chili. NANNETTE.
Can Fishes See?—I heard an argument the other day, Mr. Editor, touching the vision of fish. One party strongly insisted upon it that fishes were more accessible to sound than to light; whilst the other maintained the irect contrary. Which was right?-WILLIAM C., Eton.
[Fishes are no doubt moderately possessed of the power of hearing; but their sight is wonderfully acute, and it far surpasses any other instinctive gift. The eyes of fishes are much more perfectly formed than their other organs of sense, and we are much better acquainted with their action. They even observe a very minute object when the water is dark and the surface ruffled. But, on a clear day, river-fishes can see a shadow passing along the water, and are alarmed by it. Their eyes are admirably formed, both for protection and for readiness in the use. The surface is in general flat, and the common integument passes over the eye, without any duplicature or eyelid, except in a very few peculiar species; and thus the most violent agitation of the water produces much less effect upon the eye of fish than a gentle breeze does upon the human eye. Such an eye could not, indeed, exist exposed to the air, or to any drying element; and hence in all eyes that are to be used in the air, there are either moveable eyelids, as in the mammalia; or nictitating membranes, as in birds; by the application of which, the coat of the eye is kept moist and transparent. But the eye of a fish from the nature of its element, and the adaptation of the structure to that element, is always ready; and in all states of the water, in which the muscular action of the fish can keep its place, the eye can see the smallest substance. Turbid water, or even rolling pebbles, can do little injury to an eye so flat. But in proportion as the external surface of the eye is flat, the crystalline lens is convex. It is, indeed, nearly a perfect sphere; and thus the eye has great magnifying power; although it appears to have considerable range of focal length. The eye of a fish is one of the most curious varieties of that most interesting of organs.]
How can I Cure the Toothache?-If you can help a sufferer, do; pray do!-C., Long Acre.
[A mixture of two parts of the liquid ammonia of commerce with one of some simple tincture, is recommended as a remedy for toothache, so often uncontrollable. A picee of lint is dipped into this mixture, and then introduced into the carious tooth, when the nerve is immediately cauterised, and pain stopped. It is stated to be eminently successful, and in some cases is supposed to act by neutralising an acid product in the decaying tooth.]
THE SONG OF JUNE.
BY ELIZA COOK.
Oh, come with me, whoever ye be,
The strong and the hale-the poor and the pale— Come from the palace, and come from the cot; Ah, sad is the spirit that follows me not!
Old December lighted his pyre,
And beckoned ye in to the altar blaze ; He hung up his misseltoe over the fire,
And pressed soft lips upon Christmas days. Ye welcomed him with his eyes so dim, When I wander about, and whistle you out, But I know ye have more love for me,
With my blackbird pipers in every tree. Oh, come from the town, and let us go down
To the rivulet's mossy and osiered brink ; 'Tis pleasant to note the lily queen float,
The gadfly skim, and the dappled kine drink. Oh, let us away where the ring-doves play,
By the skirts of the wood in the peaceful shade; And there we can count the squirrels that mount,
And the flocks that browse on the distant glade. And if we should stay till the farewell of day,
Its parting shall be with such lingering smile, That the western light, as it greeteth the night, Will be caught by the eastern ray peeping the while.
Little ones come, with your chattering hum,
For no music is heard like the murmuring word
Ye who are born to be weary and worn
With labor or sorrow, with passion or pain,— Come out for an hour, there's balm in my bower,
To lighten and burnish your tear-rusted chain. Oh, come with me, wherever you be,
And beauty and love on your spirits shall fall; The rich and the hale, the poor and the pale, FOR LADY JUNE SCATTERS HER JOYS FOR ALL!
LOVE OF CHILDREN.
It is a false and mistaken notion altogether, that men of great mind and intense thought are easily wearied or annoyed by the presence of children. The man who is wearied with children, must always be childish himself in mind; but alas! not young in heart. He must be light, superficial, though perhaps inquiring, and intelligent; but neither gentle in spirit, nor fresh in feeling. Such men must always soon become wearied with children; for very great similarity of thought and of mind-the paradox is but seeming is naturally wearisome in another while, on the contrary, similarity of feeling and of heart is that bond which binds our affections together. Where both similarities are combined, we may be most happy in the society of our counterpart; but where the link between the hearts is wanting, there will always be great tediousness in great similarity.
BEAUTIES OF JULY,WILD FLOWERS.
Dearly I love the field-flowers! yes,
But flowers that spring by vale or stream,
ANY PEOPLE IMAGINE that it is absolutely necessary for them to become regular botanists, before they can feel a love for flowers or venture to talk of them with enthusiasm! This is perfectly absurd. Why, the sight of a flower growing under a hedge in July, with its little innocent head modestly peeping forth to woo the passing stranger, has charms paramount to all so-called philosophy. Let botanists call these summer debutantes what they will, and bestow on them the hardest and ugliest of Latin names-WE will love them still the same, whilst we worship them in our own vernacular. Oh, Nature! blessed mother! thou art the loveliest of the lovely, the kindest of the kind. Would that we could live in thy service for ever! But this cannot be. Die we must; yet even on our death-bed may we be found warbling thy praises!
Such weather as we are now enjoying, and such sights as are now unfolded and still daily unfolding to our wondering eyes, have surely charms sufficient to make us all "good." We will not believe that any heart, only commonly instructed in the knowledge of good and evil, can associate with birds, flowers, trees, plants, buds, blossoms, insects, and all the happy summer tribes who are now in the very zenith of their glory, without being wrought upon, naturally, to "love one another," and to rejoice in the feeling of universal benevolence. Oh, that we could cross the path of every one of those who at this season are "halting between two opinions." We would entreat them to ramble abroad with us for a day or two, and never leave them till we had made converts of them all. Some may smile at the idea in which we so fondly indulge; yet have we ere now been very successful this way, and enjoyed many a triumph. The victory is worth striving for. It is not, we admit, easily won. Still," kind ness" is such a weapon! But we were going to speak of wildflowers, which just now are in all their beauty. Let us seek them in company; for there must now be only "one" heart amongst the chil dren of one great and good Father. His sweet voice reaches our ear in every tree; and his bountiful hand scatters blessings upon us wherever we tread.
The heat of June has brought everything so forward, that we now behold flowers of every hue, and of every shape, in the most abundant variety. At every step we take, the blue flowers of different shades of the common speedwell (the plant does look as if uttering a blessing upon us) meets the eye. There are nineteen different species of the speedwell indigenous to this country; some very rare, but others as plentiful as can be desired. Some grow in pools and running brooks, while others love the shade of woods or the dry sand of hills. One species has never done flowering through both the sum mer and the winter, and often may its little blossom be seen hermetically sealed in ice. In the centre of the flower bud, there exists a white ring, and from the brightness of the colors together, may have been suggested to the poet the lines upon this plant :
"Or caught from Eve's dejected eye The first repentant tear."
Here, in this field from which the rye has just been carried, is a pansy or heart's-ease. Who, to look at this small plant, with its blue, yellow, and white flower, would suppose it the origin of the beautiful ornaments of our garden, which bear the same name; yet such is the fact: if the seeds are sown in a light loamy soil, a hundred different colored and larger flowers will be obtained next year. The pansy is equally variable as to its duration; it may live only one year, as is usual with what are strictly annual flowers, or it may extend over a series of years, perhaps the effect of accident. In this field you may also see the remains of that pest to agriculturists, the common mustard or charlock. Its yellow flowers cast even the corn of that next field into the shade. Gay as it looks, it is a vile weed. Beside it, is the handsomest of all our wild flowers, the corn-cockle, with its beautiful pink blossoms striped with a darker shade, and the segments of its calyx or cup, which supports the flower high above the blossoms. The plant is very graceful, and, though not loved by the agriculturist, is too beautiful for us to say a word against it. In this stagnant pool of water is the waterplantain, with its rose-colored flowers, on a long stem, and looking so graceful and cool! The not-very-inviting-looking yellow flower is the iris, or fleur-de-lis; it possesses a large root, always lying horizontal, and a piece of it held between the teeth is said to cure the tooth ache. It is very acrid, is used for making ink, and we suspect its chief virtue consists in its acrid quality, which, causing the saliva to flow, may cool the mouth.
In this adjoining thicket, it is very likely we shall find another species, with smaller and purple flowers. It has a very English name, the "roast-beef" plant, from a fancied resemblance to the smell of our national dish,
which is emitted from the bruised leaves. He must have been a very hungry man who discovered it! Growing by the side of the pool is the myosotis, or forget-me-not, the emblem of friendsh and something more, throughout Europe. There are six other species common to this country, which go by the more homely sobriquet of mouse-ear," a contrast to the extra sentiment of "forgetme-not." The plant, properly so called, is always found near pools of this kind, although every myosotis found by the roadside gets the name. Its flowers are larger, the leaves fresh-looking and shining; not hairy, as in most of the other species. We have only alluded to it for the benefit of those inclined to sentiment, that they may not make a mistake in bestowing such a favor on their friends; as the "forget-me-not" is too famous in verse for us to bestow upon it more glory.
Along this hedgerow we shall find some of the trailing and climbing plants; and let us point out the difference between climbing and trailing. This light green-looking plant is the black briar; the flowers are about the same color as the leaves, and are succeeded by a red berry. Near to each leaf, you will see a thread-like appendage, called a tendril, and it has taken hold of a branch of the thorn-hedge; thus supporting the plant, and enabling it to push the branch still higher up the hedge. Near to it is the nightshade, with its dark purple flowers and yellow streamers. This is a trailing plant, as it has no tendrils, and no hold of the hedge, except the support it derives from the closeness of the latter. The nightshade belongs to the same genus of plants as the potato, the flowers of both being very much alike. The berry of the nightshade is now green, but will soon assume the more gay and attractive color of red. It is a deadly poison, and mothers cannot be too careful with whom they trust their children in their walks during the autumn. We have often warned servants of the danger, on seeing their little charges plucking the dangerous and beautiful berry. Its effect is to cause most excruciating pains, and ultimate death, if an dote is not speedily applied.
"And honeysuckle loves to crawl Up the lone way and ruined wall," says the poet; and we may say it is always a welcome sight in an English hedge-row.
What a field for botanical research the rows we have passed would afford! Here are nineteen distinct species, indigenous to Great Britain, besides innumerable varieties. would require a whole number of OUR JOURNAL to give even the leading characteristics of each. Near the end of that long branch of the common dog-rose is a curious monstrosity, in the shape of a tuft of moss-instead of a new shoot. It is one of those freaks of nature in which she delights occasionally to indulge. The whole rose tribe of plants are so liable to vary with soil and climate, that their study is one of great difficulty.
At this season of the year our fields, pastures, and chalk-pits, are ornamented with a most beautiful and interesting tribe of plants, the orchidaceous. The variety of form and color which they exhibit, are so singular as to have rendered them general favorites; the tropical orchids being the mania of the day. The orchis plants are common in Kent, Suffolk, Surrey, and Middlesex, and, indeed, spread over the entire country. In most instances, they take their specific names from a resemblance, more or less close, to animals. Thus we have the monkey-orchis, the bee-orchis, the lizard-orchis, the butterfly-orchis, the man-orchis, and many others. The forms in many are almost ludicrously like, and they will amply repay the trouble of finding and examining;
To pursue our ramble further, would occupy more space than we can afford; nor is it necessary. One peep at the flower itself, is better than a whole written chapter setting forth its excellences and beauties. Let us add that we are indebted for several "hints" in this article to an unknown pen. The fair writer has inoculated us with her summer feelings, and we have endeavored to improve upon the text which she has brought under our eye.
Let us all drink deeply into the spirit of this loving season; and whilst we wander anti-abroad happily and lovingly, accompanied by our friends, let us endeavor to make others think as we think, feel as we feel, and see the same indescribable beauties in all animate nature.
This cup-shaped large white flower is called the convolvulus, or bindweed, and sometimes "heave-bine." Though not furnished with tendrils, it twines itself round any stem that it can reach, and is altogether a most elegant plant. From the roots spreading very rapidly, it is not much of a favorite with gardeners, as it is apt to climb upon and choke, as the phrase is, more precious plants. The honeysuckle you will see also in this hedge. Its fragrant blossoms are now in perfection, although they have long flowered in gardens and on walls:
THE VITAL POINT.
Ar a recent sitting of the French Academy of Sciences it was demonstrated by a learned acadebrain of animals, that the motive power of the mician, from various careful experiments on the respiratory mechanism, the vital point of the nervous system, is not bigger in size than a pin's head. Upon this tiny speck depends the life of the nerves, which is the life of the animal.
"Tis a beautiful world! the stars talk to me
The soft gentle twilight steals o'er the lea,
Every tree, every leaf, prove a power supreme,
She is tracing the lineaments of a dear mother's face; that mother who has been laid in the cold grave now some nine moons wasted. What memories, what thoughts, what affections, rush through her mind, as she gazes on the features so I roam hand-in-hand with the bright days of vividly stamped on the daguerreotype! Every dimple and every line are retained, with a fidelity that fairly staggers the beholder,-and makes her
Through valley, glen, forest, and brake;
And Summer's light breezes new joys seem to scarcely credit that the life-like form and life-like
gleam, OH, THIS IS A BEAUTIFUL WORLD!
GEMS AT HOME.
HOME is the spot of earth supremely blest-
HOME is a casket of the rarest gems that can glitter in the noon-day sun. Whether we instance the palace of royalty, or the equally sacred roof of the cottager, matters but little. Every room, every nook, every corner, abounds with gems of the richest value to the properly constituted mind. It requires no particularly retentive memory to call to mind the varied treasures of a given home. It needs no vivid imagination to pourtray the many cherished objects that are held dear by brothers, sisters, fathers, and mothers,-not so much for their intrinsic worth, as for the ties of love, affection, and duty that they recall.
sufferer. The pillow is pressed by the pallid cheek of a child over whom five summers seem scarcely to have passed. The anxious watcher, so silently moving across the room, is the sleeper's mother. The fever spot hath passed, and the little girl is slowly recovering; but the doating parent hardly ventures to breathe with confidence. The approach of death has been so near that the fearful consummation still seems inevitable.
As they waft my light bark on the lake. There's a ray of hope in the darkest day, A joy that the heart loves to borrow;
Perhaps, when the picture was taken, it was lightly esteemed,-the receiver little dreaming
And bright happy thoughts, as the clouds pass how soon death would desolate her hearth. If so,
Awaken to welcome the morrow.
a deep atonement has been made by the priceless worth since set upon the trifle. It is now one of the most valued gems the owner possesses. Nothing could replace it; neither could the ingenuity of man or the wealth of worlds, produce so complete a monument to the memory of the dead.
Sadly closing the eloquent record of a mother's being, our friend opens the second case. Oh! the tell-tale eye, how it brightens ! How the color comes and goes, as the young wife views the manly form of her early love,-the father of her child! He is thousands of miles away, under the scorching sun of India, little conscious of his daughter's danger or its mother's grief. Perhaps he, too, is suffering,-but no; do not fill the cup of misery to the brim. His return is expected; perchance he is hastening on his way home,-with the same bright eye, the same well-knit form, and the same frank expression so faithfully caught by the magic pencil of the photographist. Either way it is a consolation of no small extent to realise his form so palpably before the eye.
The third case is opened, and another phase of human love is stirred to its depths. What now greets the eyes of the loving woman? it is the cherub-like face of the little invalid there,-taken when the rosy hue of health bedecked its cheek, and before it had reached its third summer. Tears gush into the fond parent's eyes, as she once more beholds her darling, whose very movement seems to have been caught in the picture. The little creature is laughing, and looks its mother full in the face, whilst she gazes on the portrait. The
See yonder room, and mark how the better feelings of our nature embalms a memento which the thoughtless would jeer at. It is a sick chamber. Albeit the blinds are down, the brilliant light of a May morning pierces the apartment, as if nature herself was greeting the convalescence of a little
smile so exquisitely pourtrayed on the silver tablet are for ever gone!
tiny hands of the infant are extended as if inviting the embrace of the beholder,—and altogether the miniature bears the soul and life about it that could only be secured by an almost instantaneous
work of nature. Such indeed it was.
The mother's reverie is at length disturbed by the waking of the invalid
"Ma! ma!" said the child, "have you not been crying?"
Crying, dear? what should make me cry, now that my darling is getting well?" and she imprinted a fervent kiss on the brow of her offspring. "You were crying," resumed the child. "I've been awake and saw you kiss papa's picture."
The accusation was too much for the full heart of the fond mother. She buried her face in her
hands, and gave vent to her feelings in a flood of
Reader! there is more truth in this little scene than may at first sight be imagined. Nay it is true to the letter. The picture is drawn from life!
T. H. C.
No. I. THE CHEMISTRY OF PLANTS.
IN THESE DAYS, everybody is desirous of knowing a little about everything; not so much from the desire of becoming rivals to that class of "dabblers" who continually bore you with cramp names in common conversation, and tell you everything they know-and a great deal which they don'tbut for the laudable purpose of understanding what is every day spoken about, and every day seen. To aid such as desire a little information regarding that fairest half of creation, the vegetable kingdom, in some knowledge of the mysteries of non-animated life, I will endeavor, in the course of five easy lessons, to convey a little useful knowledge as free as possible from those dread scholastic barriers, scientific technicalities.
little dust. Thin, subtle, invisible air, clear colorless, tasteless water, and fine dust! Such, however, is the case; as may be proved beyond dispute, by burning a leaf, a piece of wood or flesh, until both air and water are dispersed, and we have nothing left save a morsel of ash. This ash or dust, though it plays an important part in vegetable life, may conveniently be left out of consideration for the present, merely premising of it, that it seldom amounts to more than from two to five per cent. of the entire weight of the plant.
Having then for a time got rid of that which is solid and tangible, we have now only to do with the air and water, or the bodies which the plant procures from them. These are four in number, are gaseous in form, and universal in diffusion, forming according to the character of their union with each other, either gases, liquids, or solids. The names applied to these elements by chemists, are Carbon, Hydrogen, Oxygen and Nitrogen; and in scientific writings, they are represented by their initial letters C. H. O. N., a practice which I propose to adopt in these papers. Carbon [C.] is not found as a gas, except in combination with something else, and is seldom to be met with at all in a pure state. Indeed, it is said that the diamond is the only instance in which it is found pure. Charcoal is a more familiar example, though there it is mixed up with the dust or ash of the plant, and not unfrequently with other gases. Hydrogen [H.] is the lightest of all gases; and, unlike the former, is inflammable, burning with a sepulchral yellow flame, and an intense heat. In combination with C. it constitutes the gas which is burned in our houses; and with Oxygen, forms water. It is never found pure in nature, but is readily prepared in chemistry. Oxygen [O.] is the great life-sustaining gas; without it, life would instantly become extinct. So slender is the thread of our existence! It supports combustion. With C. it forms that most deleterious gas, carbonic acid, with H. water; and with the next in order, makes up the great bulk of the atmosphere. Nitrogen [N.] exists less plentifully in plants than in animals, and to its presence, is chiefly attributable the unwholesome smell emitted by decaying matter.
The ash of plants, or as it is generally termed the inorganic part, consists of a much greater number of elements than that which we have been considering, or the organic. They do occur, however, in small quantities. The potato contains about eleven parts of ash in a thousand of the tuber; the turnip, ten; beetroot, ten; parsley, twenty-seven; and French beans, only six. The quantity found in fruit is still lower. The strawberry