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Down by the stream there be two sweet willows , —Hush tbee , babe , while the wild winds Wow , — One hale , one blighted , two wedded willows All in th « dewrfall and the rain . u She is blighted , the fairyoong willow , —Hush thee , babe , while the wild winds How , — , She hears the spring-blood beat in the bark ; She hears the spring-leaf bud on the bough ; But she bends blighted , tie wan weeping willow , All in the dew-iau and the raiu . * 14 The stream runs sparkeing under the willow , —Hush thce , babe , while . the wild winds blow , — The summer rose-leaves drop in the stream ; * The winter oak-leaves drop in the stream ; But sKe bends blighted , the wan weeping willow , AU in th « dew-fall and tbft rain . " Sometimes the wind lifts the bright stream to her , ~ Hnsh thee , babe , white the wild winds blow , — The false stream sinks , aad her tears fail faster ; Because she touched it her tears fall faster : Over the stream her tears- fall faster , All in the sunshine or the rain . " The years they come , and the years they go ; Sing well-away , sing well-away ! And nnder mine eyes shines the bright life-river ; Sing wellraway , sing well-away ! Sweets sounds the spring in the hale green willow , The goodly green willow , the green waving willow ; Sweet in the willow , the wind-whisperiag willow \ Sing well-away , sing well-away ! But I b « nd blighted , the wan weeping willow , All in tie sun , and the clew , and the rain . " Such extracts might be multiplied to any extent , for there is" assuredly no want of " beauties in the volume ; and poetical readers , when they have jot ? over their profound disappointment , will afterwards turn over the pages for the " passages" until perhaps they forget how intrinsically poor a performance Balder is .
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> I THE LIFE OF A PLANT . Bfttamcoi Letter * By Dr > F . Unger . Translated by D . B . Paul . ( Highley ' s library of Science and Art . ) - T % * Mvcroacope , in its Special Application to Vegetable Anatomy and Physiology . By Dr . Hermann Schacht . Translated by F . Currey . Q Highley ' s Library of Science and Art . ) S . H 5 ghley . These two admirable works commence the series we mentioned some time ago as planned by Mr . Highley . / They may be noticed together , not only to save space , but also because they are closely related , and after reading Unger ' s Botanical Letters ( which the most unscientific may read with interest ) we advise an attentive study of the latter portion of Schacht ' s treatise on the Microscope .
ia these Botanical Letters you will meet with , no alarming details of Monandria , Dodecandriay ApetaUs , Mbnopetalte , with all the terrible array of Latin and Greek words hiding the significance of very familiar objects ; but you will be able to penetrate into the secrets of plant-growth and development , so as to gain a clear definite idea not only- of the Life of a Plant , but also of those more general laws of life which are common both to plant and animal . You must make up your mind to hear a great deal about " cells . ' It can't be helped . You will find , however , that there is nothing really alarming in these cells—little marvels as they are , science has come to a tolerable understanding with them on the capital points , and Dr . Unger ' s exposition is as clear and untechnical as could be desired . , Wlien you have followed his exposition , the result will be a grasp of this subject so incessantly recurring—cells and cell formation—which -wilt greatly aid you in all subsequent excursions into biology .
language far from accurate . There is one capital distinction between the cell and the brick , viz ., that the cell is , so to speak , its own hodman , makes its own bricks , and carries them to the required spot . u Each vesicle which is employed in the building up of the plant is , without exception formed in the interior of an already-existing cell ; when its formation is complete , it is at once pushed out j and laid in the place which it is destined to occupy . N « ther windlass nor pulley is requisite ; the whole operation takes place so readily , and , as it were , spontaneously , that we inaj well be astonished that such a thing is possible . We will now examine how this is accomplished . " First , the old « ell swells up considerably , increases in circumference , grows ; but it must be remembered that it is not a mere growth that takes place here . As in a pregnant animal , new cells are formed in its body ; when these have advanced so far in development as to possess all the organs requisite tor their independent existence , they are set at liberty ; and uie uicr wiucn iucontinuance 01 tnese not aevoies tae wnole
mo -eeu , during « processes , oniy of its contents to the formation o-f the brood of daughter-cells , but likewise suffers m diminution of its membranous envelope in consequence of the progressive enlargement , continues in a kind of dream existence , ana is at last entirely consumed . " Even while in the mothers-cell , the position is determined which the secondary-cells are to ocaupy ; therefore after their separation , no further displacement ; is necessary . If every cell , besides the capability of producing new cells , possessed sufficient energy to do so , only an irregular hea p of cells would be produced ; and , according to the fecundity of one or other of them , a larger accumulation of cells would be formed at certain point * than at others , and the whole would thus acquire a disfigured appearance . It is only owing to the single circumstance that this capability of production is limited , that order and regularity are maintained , as it were , spontaneously in the formation of the plant organism .. " Two facts here present themselves : on the one hand , it appears to be a constantly-pre-• vrotitn / v nAvmol n /^ ni 4 iti /\ n iViaf airrvshttt all nfAi 4 n / ifiAn i « . 1 innitA < 1 6 a 4-lm w ^?«* i * w » ¥ » «» lt £ , « L . a <\ h « ih 1 .
i aiAttig iff mn * wuuivivu * vimu c *« -i& * v « ti «•** imvuiivvivu **» ¦ ifiitT ? vi Vw VUW tlHUFHimm IfJUvil vVUDiOlo in the capability of the mother to produce only two secondary cells ; while , on the other hand , these cells possess altogether different characters , if not in the first , at least in the last generations ; so that while the one is active and vigorous , soon producing * new genera ^ tion , the other ia modest retirement passes a mere passive existence . Cells of the latter kind do not contribute to the increase in size of the plant structure , bu \ by virtue of their more permanent character determine the duration of the plant , while cells of the other are soon consumed ; consequently it is of the ^ former cells that the plant is essentiall y composed : The arrangement of these cells , their maintenance of this permanent : character , or the occasional cessation of it , attended by a renewed capability of reproduction which may go . on indefinitely , determine that part of the whol * phenomenon which refers to the dimensions and forms of plants . "
Said we not these cells were little marvels ? One marvel we have not touched upon— -their alchemy . They can transmute one substance into another in their little laboratories , making the Miracle of Cana an . everyday occurrence . But here we must enter a caveat against a statement made by Dr . Unger : " These protein substances are not only of great importance in the ' general process of plant formation , giving rise to « very operation , and regulating its progress , being , as it were , the actual machinery , without which there would be no activity , but they are at the same time the substances without which animal , fife cannot be conceived , inasmuch as muscle , blood , milk , &c ., the substances by which animals are distinguished from all other beings ,
are in reality not made in or ay tne animal itself , but are derived ready formed from p lants . " . The error requires only a little attention ^ . to dissipate , it .. Blood ,, mule , and muscle are formed in the animal , and are not found at all in the plant the substances of which they are formed are found . , in ! the plant ., but the elaboration of these substances into , proximate principles takes place in the animal alone . It is now known that animals form even their own fat and their own sugar . We cannot follow Dr . Unger through the various phases of plant life ¦ has described- , enough has been done if we have stimulated the reade curiosity to get a book we cordially commend . It it excellently tr lated by Mr . Paul , and ia illustrated with numerous woodcuts .
And what is a cell ? A delicate membranous vesicle or closed sack , imperceptible to the naked eye , requiring , therefore , the Microscope ' s aid ; this membrane contains a u nucleus 1 ' of partly liquid partly solid substances in' one case , and in another a hollow space surrounded by a membrane almost stone-like in its hardness , the one being gradually produced from the other . ^ "_ H « w easy it is thus for the plant , by an appropriate distribution of tliese elements , so dissimilar in firmness , to employ the one here , the oth « r there , according as it may be requisite ; and thus on the one hand the firmness and durability of the plant , on the other , its constant increase and growth , are rendered possible . The threads which are employed for making linen and other woven fabrics , the wooi of trees , the hard shells of many fruits , consist of such old , indurated building-stones of the plant , while the younger and still soft cells , with thoir juicj and granular contents , frequently serve as the food of animala and of men . "
Although a cell has a shape of its own , you must not suppose that it preserves thb shape ; by pressure it becomes flattened ; by development it becomes cylindrical , aftd so forth ; thus the cells according to their figure form a kind of masonry , sometimes compact , sometimes porous , consisting of rounded , square , columnar , or plate-shaped cells . They are the bricks of which the structure is built . Anatomists call these cells so woven together into a tissue by the name of " cellular tissue . " " From the term cell alar tissue which has been applied to the masonry of the plant organism , it is very probable that those wh < have not had an opportunity ofexamining it by the aid of magnifying lenses , will form the erroneous opinion that it has ia reality a greater resemblance to a tissue than to a piece of masonry , fliis , however , is not by any means the case . It is well knotra to every one that the peculiarity of a tissue conaiats in its bdng composed of a number of thread-like parta running in one direction , and united by similar ones running transversely . Thero is nu kind of cementing aubitunce , but the compactness and strength of the tissue are solely and alone determined by the interlacing of more or leas uniform fibres .
No such arrangement ia found in the so-called tissues of the plant . Its elementary parts are , vilhout any exception , microscopic ; they are simply situuteu bea ' ule and ubove ench other ; they are not interlaced , not oven those which , arc tubular , except sometimes in mossoa , algao , Sec . , come quently the mass which they form resembles masonry rather than a tissue . We have got the bricks ; but liow about the mortar ? All those cells have to be cemeted together , otherwise the first guat of wind would blow them into space . To provide against this there is * ' intercellular substance , " which is secreted through the cell walla , and is transferred from the inside to the outside , where it adheres to the external walls of the adjoining cells . In using the terms bricks atul masonry , we have , of course , been using
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92 THE LEADER : [ Saturday ,
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THEATRES . In spite of crowded houses , in spite of prosperous Pantomime , managers , with no regard for my leisure , are sounding loud notes of ' ^ forthcoming novelties " and irresistible attractions . The Haymarket has Miss Cushman to play a round of characters ( she has already appeared in Bianca and Mrs . Hatter ) ; it has also n two act comedy in rehearsal . Drury Lane is again to resound Vith G . V . Brooke , who plays Brutus on Monday next , and Mr . E . T . Smith , J J " The great placarder of the wall * of town , " invites witli advertising eloquence to this " great lyric occasion . " Why lyric ? Is G-. V . Brooke to sing the part , or , instead of striking the tyrant , is he to strike the lyre ? At the Olympic we hear of a five-act play , of high , pretensions . It is time the Camp at the Olympic and the Wandering Minstrel vanished from the bills .
May one and all bo successful ! The -wish ia selfish ; but after all is there so much harm in selfishness as moralists proclaim ? If we didn ' t take care of ourselves would the moralists undertake that agreeable yet onerous task ? Not they . Take care of your souls they will ; at least , as far as threats of damnation go . But talce care of your comforts , wishes , interests—I should like to see them at work ! It strikes me—but I am frivolous , you know , and can't ge ( fto the depths of things—that this crusade against Selfishness—good , cosy , careful , farthoughted , wise Selfishness—is but another form of man ' s discontent , his blasphemy against what is , under the guise . 14 Devotion to something afar
From the sphere « f our sorrow . " The Golden Age is always the age in which we don't live . Tlie thing we desire is always the tiling wo haven ' t got . Critics tell you to write for " Posterity , " forgetting , as Goethe says , that somebody must amuse the Present : " "WV . r muchte donn der Mitwelt Spasa ?" Forgettm £ , as I often say ( which , as they never heard it , they have no right to forget ) , that Postei'ity is but an unborn Present , which , when it couies , will be contemptible . In the same spirit moralists warn you against
Selfishness because it * , » , because it is a reality , an active , healtliy , vigorous thing , which you jire told to give up for unselfishness—a figment , a possibility , a tiling to be . i ? ow consider the selfishness which prompted the wish just uttered , that all the plays would nucceed . From my point of view , it means increased leisure , in which to cultivate ( not coddle ) my imiuortal soul in activities more congenial than criticism . From the other point of view , it means gratification of hundreds , success to authors , money to man . tt . gers . And thus , you see , good , honest Selfishness issuing into beneficence I Therefore , beloved reader , be selfish—you will , wont you?—from this day forth ! - ViviAK .
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Citation
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Leader (1850-1860), Jan. 28, 1854, page 92, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse2.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2023/page/20/
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