Search:
A \ B \ C \ D \ E \ F \ G \ H \ I \ J \ K \ L \ M \ N \ O \ P \ R \ S \ T \ U \ V \ W \Z

Young Folks' Library, Volume XI (of 20) by Various

V >> Various >> Young Folks\' Library, Volume XI (of 20)

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23



"The Shells," continues the narrator, "hang at the Tree by a Neck
longer than the Shell;" this "neck" being represented by the stalk of
the barnacle. The neck is described as being composed "of a kind of
filmy substance, round, and hollow, and creased, not unlike the
Wind-pipe of a Chicken; spreading out broadest where it is fastened to
the Tree, from which it seems to draw and convey the matter which
serves for the growth and vegetation of the Shell and the little Bird
within it." Sir Robert Moray therefore agrees in respect of the manner
of nourishment of the barnacles with the opinion of Giraldus already
quoted. The author goes on to describe the "Bird" found in every
shell he opened; remarking that "there appeared nothing wanting as to
the internal parts, for making up a perfect Sea-fowl: every little
part appearing so distinctly, that the whole looked like a large Bird
seen through a concave or diminishing Glass, colour and feature being
everywhere so clear and neat." The "Bird" is most minutely described
as to its bill, eyes, head, neck, breast, wings, tail, and feet, the
feathers being "everywhere perfectly shaped, and blackish-coloured.
All being dead and dry," says Sir Robert, "I did not look after the
Internal parts of them," a statement decidedly inconsistent with his
previous assertion as to the perfect condition of the "internal
parts"; and he takes care to add, "nor did I ever see any of the
little Birds alive, nor met with anybody that did. Only some credible
persons," he concludes, "have assured me they have seen some as big as
their fist."

[Illustration: FIG. 2. BARNACLE TREE. (From Munster's "Cosmography.")]

This last writer thus avers that he saw little birds within the shells
he clearly enough describes as those of the barnacles. We must either
credit Sir Robert with describing what he never saw, or with
misconstruing what he did see. His description of the goose
corresponds with that of the barnacle goose, the reputed progeny of
the shells; and it would, therefore, seem that this author, with the
myth at hand, saw the barnacles only with the eyes of a credulous
observer, and thus beheld, in the inside of each shell--if, indeed,
his research actually extended thus far--the reproduction in miniature
of a goose, with which, as a mature bird, he was well acquainted.

On p. 157 is a woodcut, copied from Munster's "Cosmography" (1550), a
very popular book in its time, showing the tree with its fruit, and
the geese which are supposed to have just escaped from it.

This historical ramble may fitly preface what we have to say regarding
the probable origin of the myth. By what means could the barnacles
become credited with the power of producing the well-known geese? Once
started, the progress and growth of the myth are easily accounted for.
The mere transmission of a fable from one generation or century to
another is a simply explained circumstance, and one exemplified by the
practices of our own times. The process of accretion and addition is
also well illustrated in the perpetuation of fables; since the tale is
certain to lose nothing in its historical journey, but, on the
contrary, to receive additional elaboration with increasing age.
Professor Max Mueller, after discussing various theories of the origin
of the barnacle myth, declares in favor of the idea that confusion of
language and alteration of names lie at the root of the error. The
learned author of the "Science of Language" argues that the true
barnacles were named, properly enough, Bernaculae, and lays stress on
the fact that Bernicle geese were first caught in Ireland. That
country becomes _Hibernia_ in Latin, and the Irish geese were
accordingly named Hibernicae, or Hiberniculae. By the omission of the
first syllable--no uncommon operation for words to undergo--we obtain
the name Berniculae for the geese, this term being almost synonymous
with the name Bernaculae already applied, as we have seen, to the
barnacles. Bernicle geese and bernicle shells, confused in name, thus
became confused in nature; and, once started, the ordinary process of
growth was sufficient to further intensify, and render more realistic,
the story of the bernicle tree and its wonderful progeny.

By way of a companion legend to that of the barnacle tree, we may
select the story of the "Lamb Tree" of Cathay, told by Sir John
Mandeville, whose notes of travel regarding crocodiles' tears, and
other points in the conformation of these reptiles, have already been
referred to. Sir John, in that chapter of his work which treats "Of
the Contries and Yles that ben bezonde the Lond of Cathay; and of the
Frutes there," etc., relates that in Cathay "there growethe a manner
of Fruyt, as thoughe it were Gowrdes: and whan thei ben rype, men
kutten (cut) hem a to (them in two), and men fyndem with inne a
lytylle Best (beast), in Flessche in Bon and Blode (bone and blood) as
though it were a lytylle Lomb (lamb) with outen wolle (without wool).
And men eaten both the Frut and the Best; and that," says Sir John,
"is a great marveylle. Of that frut," he continues, "I have eten; alle
thoughe it were wondirfulle"--this being added, no doubt, from an
idea that there might possibly be some stay-at-home persons who would
take Sir John's statement _cum grano salis_. "But," adds this worthy
"knyght of Ingolond," "I knowe wel that God is marveyllous in His
Werkes." Not to be behind the inhabitants of Cathay in a tale of
wonders, the knight related to these Easterns "als gret a marveylle to
hem that is amonges us; and that was of the Bernakes. For I tolde him
hat in oure Countree weren Trees that beren a Fruyt, that becomen
Briddes (birds) fleeynge: and tho that fellen in the Water lyven
(live); and thei that fallen on the Erthe dyen anon: and thei ben
right gode to mannes mete (man's meat). And here had thei als gret
marvayle," concludes Sir John, "that sume of hem trowed it were an
impossible thing to be." Probably the inhabitants of Cathay, knowing
their own weakness as regards the lamb tree, might possess a
fellow-feeling for their visitor's credulity, knowing well, from
experience, the readiness with which a "gret marvayle" could be
evolved and sustained.

Passing from the sphere of the mythical and marvellous as represented
in mediaeval times, we may shortly discuss a question, which, of all
others, may justly claim a place in the records of Zooelogical
curiosities--namely, the famous and oft-repeated story of the "Toad
from the solid rock," as the country newspapers style the incident.
Regularly, year by year, and in company with the reports of the
sea-serpent's reappearance, we may read of the discoveries of toads
and frogs in situations and under circumstances suggestive of a
singular vitality on the part of the amphibians, of more than usual
credulity on the part of the hearers, or of a large share of
inventive genius in the narrators of such tales. The question
possesses for every one a certain degree of interest, evoked by the
curious and strange features presented on the face of the tales. And
it may therefore not only prove an interesting but also a useful
study, if we endeavor to arrive at some just and logical conceptions
of these wonderful narrations.

[Illustration]

Instances of the discovery of toads and frogs in solid rocks need not
be specially given; suffice it to say, that these narratives are
repeated year by year with little variation. A large block of stone or
face of rock is detached from its site, and a toad or frog is seen
hereafter to be hopping about in its usual lively manner. The
conclusion to which the bystanders invariably come is that the animal
must have been contained within the rock, and that it was liberated by
the dislodgement of the mass. Now, in many instances, cases of the
appearance of toads during quarrying operations have been found, on
close examination, to present no evidence whatever that the appearance
of the animals was due to the dislodgement of the stones. A frog or
toad may be found hopping about among some recently formed debris, and
the animal is at once seized upon and reported as having emerged from
the rocks into the light of day. There is in such a case not the
slightest ground for supposing any such thing; and the animal may more
reasonably be presumed to have simply hopped into the debris from its
ordinary habitat. But laying aside narratives of this kind, which lose
their plausibility under a very commonplace scrutiny, there still
exist cases, reported in an apparently exact and truthful manner, in
which these animals have been alleged to appear from the inner
crevices of rocks after the removal of large masses of the formations.
We shall assume these latter tales to contain a plain, unvarnished
statement of what was observed, and deal with the evidence they
present on this footing.

[Illustration: A TOAD.]

One or two notable examples of such verified tales are related by
Smellie, in his "Philosophy of Natural History." Thus, in the "Memoirs
of the French Academy of Sciences" for 1719, a toad is described as
having been found in the heart of an elm tree; and another is stated
to have been found in the heart of an old oak tree, in 1731, near
Nantz. The condition of the trees is not expressly stated, nor are we
afforded any information regarding the appearance of the
toads--particulars of considerable importance in view of the
suggestions and explanations to be presently brought forward. Smellie
himself, while inclined to be sceptical in regard to the truth or
exactness of many of the tales told of the vitality of toads, regards
the matter as affording food for reflection, since he remarks, "But I
mean not to persuade, for I cannot satisfy myself; all I intend is, to
recommend to those gentlemen who may hereafter chance to see such rare
phenomena, a strict examination of every circumstance that can throw
light upon a subject so dark and mysterious; for the vulgar, ever
inclined to render uncommon appearances still more marvellous, are not
to be trusted."

This author strikes the key-note of the inquiry in his concluding
words, and we shall find that the explanation of the matter really
lies in the clear understanding of what are the probabilities, and
what the actual details, of the cases presented for consideration. We
may firstly, then, glance at a few of the peculiarities of the frogs
and toads, regarded from a zooelogical point of view. As every one
knows, these animals emerge from the egg in the form of little
fish-like "tadpoles," provided with outside gills, which are soon
replaced by inside gills, resembling those of fishes. The hind legs
are next developed, and the fore limbs follow a little later; whilst,
with the development of lungs, and the disappearance of the gills and
tail, the animal leaves the water, and remains for the rest of its
life an air-breathing, terrestrial animal. Then, secondly, in the
adult frog or toad, the naturalist would point to the importance of
the skin as not only supplementing, but, in some cases, actually
supplanting the work of the lungs as the breathing organ. Frogs and
toads will live for months under water, and will survive the excision
of the lungs for like periods; the skin in such cases serving as the
breathing surface. A third point worthy of remembrance is included in
the facts just related, and is implied in the information that these
animals can exist for long periods without food, and with but a
limited supply of air. We can understand this toleration on the part
of these animals when we take into consideration their cold-blooded
habits, which do not necessitate, and which are not accompanied by,
the amount of vital activity we are accustomed to note in higher
animals. And, as a last feature in the purely scientific history of
the frogs and toads, it may be remarked that these animals are known
to live for long periods. One pet toad is mentioned by a Mr. Arscott
as having attained, to his knowledge, the age of thirty-six years; and
a greater age still might have been recorded of this specimen, but for
the untoward treatment it sustained at the hands, or rather beak, of a
tame raven. In all probability it may be safely assumed that, when the
conditions of life are favorable, these creatures may attain a highly
venerable age--regarding the lapse of time from a purely human and
interested point of view.

We may now inquire whether or not the foregoing considerations may
serve to throw any light upon the tales of the quarryman. The first
point to which attention may be directed is that involved in the
statement that the amphibian has been imprisoned in a _solid_ rock.
Much stress is usually laid on the fact that the rock was solid; this
fact being held to imply the great age, not to say antiquity, of the
rock and its supposed tenant. The impartial observer, after an
examination of the evidence presented, will be inclined to doubt
greatly the justification for inserting the adjective "solid"; for
usually no evidence whatever is forthcoming as to the state of the
rock prior to its removal. No previous examination of the rock is or
can be made, from the circumstance that no interest can possibly
attach to its condition until its removal reveals the apparent wonder
it contained, in the shape of the live toad. And it is equally
important to note that we rarely, if ever, find mention of any
examination of the rock being made subsequently to the discovery.
Hence, a first and grave objection may be taken to the validity of the
supposition that the rock was solid, and it may be fairly urged that
on this supposition the whole question turns and depends. For if the
rock cannot be proved to have been impermeable to and barred against
the entrance of living creatures, the objector may proceed to show the
possibility of the toad having gained admission, under certain notable
circumstances, to its prison-house.

The frog or toad in its young state, and having just entered upon its
terrestrial life, is a small creature, which could, with the utmost
ease, wriggle into crevices and crannies of a size which would almost
preclude such apertures being noticed at all. Gaining access to a
roomier crevice or nook within, and finding there a due supply of air,
along with a dietary consisting chiefly of insects, the animal would
grow with tolerable rapidity, and would increase to such an extent
that egress through its aperture of entrance would become an
impossibility. Next, let us suppose that the toleration of the toad's
system to starvation and to a limited supply of air is taken into
account, together with the fact that these creatures will hibernate
during each winter, and thus economize, as it were, their vital
activity and strength; and after the animal has thus existed for a
year or two--no doubt under singularly hard conditions--let us imagine
that the rock is split up by the wedge and lever of the excavator. We
can then readily enough account for the apparently inexplicable story
of "the toad in the rock." "There is the toad and here is the solid
rock," say the gossips. "There is an animal which has singular powers
of sustaining life under untoward conditions, and which, in its young
state, could have gained admittance to the rock through a mere
crevice," says the naturalist in reply. Doubtless, the great army of
the unconvinced may still believe in the tale as told them; for the
weighing of evidence and the placing _pros_ and _cons_ in fair
contrast are not tasks of congenial or wonted kind in the ordinary run
of life. Some people there will be who will believe in the original
solid rock and its toad, despite the assertion of the geologists that
the earliest fossils of toads appear in almost the last-formed rocks,
and that a live toad in rocks of very ancient age--presuming,
according to the popular belief, that the animal was enclosed when the
rock was formed--would be as great an anomaly and wonder as the
mention, as an historical fact, of an express train or the telegraph
in the days of the patriarchs. In other words, the live toad which
hops out of an Old Red Sandstone rock must be presumed, on the popular
belief, to be older by untold ages than the oldest fossil frogs and
toads. The reasonable mind, however, will ponder and consider each
feature of the case, and will rather prefer to countenance a
supposition based on ordinary experience, than an explanation brought
ready-made from the domain of the miraculous; whilst not the least
noteworthy feature of these cases is that included in the remark of
Smellie, respecting the tendency of uneducated and superstitious
persons to magnify what is uncommon, and in his sage conclusion that
as a rule such persons in the matter of their relations "are not to be
trusted."

But it must also be noted that we possess valuable evidence of a
positive and direct kind bearing on the duration of life in toads
under adverse circumstances. As this evidence tells most powerfully
against the supposition that the existence of those creatures can be
indefinitely prolonged, it forms of itself a veritable court of appeal
in the cases under discussion. The late Dr. Buckland, curious to learn
the exact extent of the vitality of the toad, caused, in the year
1825, two large blocks of stone to be prepared. One of the blocks was
taken from the ooelite limestone, and in this first stone twelve cells
were excavated. Each cell was one foot deep and five inches in
diameter. The mouth of each cell was grooved so as to admit of two
covers being placed over the aperture; the first or lower cover being
of glass, and the upper one of slate. Both covers were so adapted that
they could be firmly luted down with clay or putty; the object of this
double protection being that the slate cover could be raised so as to
inspect the contained object through the closed glass cover without
admitting air. In the second or sandstone block, a series of twelve
cells was also excavated; these latter cells being, however, of
smaller size than those of the limestone block, each cell being only
six inches in depth by five inches in diameter. These cells were
likewise fitted with double covers.

On November 26th, 1825, a live toad--kept for some time previously to
insure its being healthy--was placed in each of the twenty-four cells.
The largest specimen weighed 1185 grains, and the smallest 115 grains.
The stones and the immured toads were buried on the day mentioned,
three feet deep, in Dr. Buckland's garden. There they lay until
December 10th, 1826, when they were disinterred and their tenants
examined. All the toads in the smaller cells of the sandstone block
were dead, and from the progress of decomposition it was inferred that
they had succumbed long before the date of disinterment. The majority
of the toads in the limestone block were alive, and, curiously enough,
one or two had actually increased in weight. Thus, No. 5, which at the
commencement of its captivity had weighed 1185 grains, had increased
to 1265 grains; but the glass cover of No. 5's cell was found to be
cracked. Insects and air must therefore have obtained admittance and
have afforded nourishment to the imprisoned toad; this supposition
being rendered the more likely by the discovery that in one of the
cells, the covers of which were also cracked and the tenant of which
was dead, numerous insects were found. No. 9, weighing originally 988
grains, had increased during its incarceration to 1116 grains; but
No. 1, which in the year 1825 had weighed 924 grains, was found in
December, 1826, to have decreased to 698 grains; and No. 11,
originally weighing 936 grains, had likewise disagreed with the
imprisonment, weighing only 652 grains when examined in 1826.

At the period when the blocks of stone were thus prepared, four toads
were pinned up in holes five inches deep and three inches in diameter,
cut in the, stem of an apple-tree; the holes being firmly plugged with
tightly fitting wooden plugs. These four toads were found to be dead
when examined along with the others in 1826; and of four others
enclosed in basins made of plaster of Paris, and which were also
buried in Dr. Buckland's garden, two were found to be dead at the end
of a year, their comrades being alive, but looking starved and meagre.
The toads which were found alive in the limestone block in December,
1826, were again immured and buried, but were found to be dead,
without leaving a single survivor, at the end of the second year of
their imprisonment.

These experiments may fairly be said to prove two points. They firstly
show that under circumstances even of a favorable kind when compared
with the condition popularly believed in--namely, that of being
enclosed in a _solid_ rock--the limit of the toad's life may be
assumed to be within two years; this period being no doubt capable of
being extended when the animal gains a slight advantage, exemplified
by the admission of air and insect-food. Secondly, we may reasonably
argue that these experiments show that toads when rigorously treated,
like other animals, become starved and meagre, and by no means
resemble the lively, well-fed animals reported as having emerged from
an imprisonment extending, in popular estimation, through periods of
inconceivable duration.

These tales are, in short, as devoid of actual foundation as are the
modern beliefs in the venomous properties of the toad, or the ancient
beliefs in the occult and mystic powers of various parts of its frame
when used in incantations. Shakespeare, whilst attributing to the toad
venomous qualities, has yet immortalized it in his famous simile by
crediting it with the possession of a "precious jewel." But even in
the latter case the animal gets but scant justice; for science strips
it of its poetical reputation, and in this, as in other respects,
shows it, despite fable and myth, to be zooelogically an interesting,
but otherwise a commonplace member of the animal series.

[Illustration]




ON A PIECE OF CHALK

_A LECTURE TO WORKING MEN_.

(Delivered in England.)

BY T.H. HUXLEY.


[Illustration: A CHALK CLIFF.]

If a well were to be sunk at our feet in the midst of the city of
Norwich, the diggers would very soon find themselves at work in that
white substance almost too soft to be called rock, with which we are
all familiar as "chalk."

Not only here, but over the whole county of Norfolk, the well-sinker
might carry his shaft down many hundred feet without coming to the end
of the chalk; and, on the sea-coast, where the waves have pared away
the face of the land which breasts them, the scarped faces of the high
cliffs are often wholly formed of the same material. Northward, the
chalk may be followed as far as Yorkshire; on the south coast it
appears abruptly in the picturesque western bays of Dorset, and breaks
into the Needles of the Isle of Wight; while on the shores of Kent it
supplies that long line of white cliffs to which England owes her name
of Albion.

Were the thin soil which covers it all washed away, a curved band of
white chalk, here broader, and there narrower, might be followed
diagonally across England from Lulworth in Dorset, to Flamborough Head
in Yorkshire--a distance of over two hundred and eighty miles as the
crow flies.

From this band to the North Sea, on the east, and the Channel, on the
south, the chalk is largely hidden by other deposits; but, except in
the Weald of Kent and Sussex, it enters into the very foundation of
all the south-eastern counties.

Attaining, as it does in some places, a thickness of more than a
thousand feet, the English chalk must be admitted to be a mass of
considerable magnitude. Nevertheless, it covers but an insignificant
portion of the whole area occupied by the chalk formation of the
globe, which has precisely the same general character as ours, and is
found in detached patches, some less, and others more extensive, than
the English.

Chalk occurs in north-west Ireland; it stretches over a large part of
France--the chalk which underlies Paris being, in fact, a continuation
of that of the London basin; it runs through Denmark and Central
Europe, and extends southward to North Africa; while eastward, it
appears in the Crimea and in Syria, and may be traced as far as the
shores of the Sea of Aral, in Central Asia.

If all the points at which true chalk occurs were circumscribed, they
would lie within an irregular oval about three thousand miles in long
diameter--the area of which would be as great as that of Europe, and
would many times exceed that of the largest existing inland sea--the
Mediterranean.

Thus the chalk is no unimportant element in the masonry of the earth's
crust, and it impresses a peculiar stamp, varying with the conditions
to which it is exposed, on the scenery of the districts in which it
occurs. The undulating downs and rounded coombs, covered with
sweet-grassed turf, of our inland chalk country, have a peacefully
domestic and mutton-suggesting prettiness, but can hardly be called
either grand or beautiful. But on our southern coasts, the wall-sided
cliffs, many hundred feet high, with vast needles and pinnacles
standing out in the sea, sharp and solitary enough to serve as perches
for the wary cormorant, confer a wonderful beauty and grandeur upon
the chalk headlands. And in the East, chalk has its share in the
formation of some of the most venerable of mountain ranges, such as
the Lebanon.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23
Copyright (c) 2007. bestextbooks.com. All rights reserved.

Review: The Thin Blue Line: How Humanitarianism Went to War by Conor Foley
Articles published by guardian.co.uk Books

John Crace digests High Fidelity by Nick Hornby
Review: The Thin Blue Line: How Humanitarianism Went to War by Conor FoleyAid worker Foley conducts a fascinating and important analysis of recent wars and disasters around the world, says Steven Poole

After 90 years, Pooh returns to Hundred Acre Wood in sequel

John Crace takes a brief look at Nick Hornby's record collection