POPULAR SCIENCE. VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY. THERE IS SOMETHING PECULIARLY TEMPTING to the mind in the study of the minute structure of organic life: to look into the secrets hidden from the vulgar gaze, as it were, in the silent counsels of the Creator. In the pursuit of this knowledge, the student feels the light buoyancy of spirits which characterise our earliest searches after truth. With genuine simplicity he feels himself a child again; listening to the mysterious revelations of the Father of all Truth. Aye; and with his microscope in his hand, he is in a fairer way for Heaven than the professed theologian with his empiric distinctions of doctrine and discipline. course, that we cannot see that _part_on which we look perpendicularly. This phenomenon is well illustrated by a piece of window.glass. We know that, as it is usually presented to our gaze it is invisible, save by reflections from its surface, or the occurrence of some foreign body on it; but turn the edge to the eye, and instead of being colorless and perfectly transparent, it becomes colored and almost opaque. The structure which we have just examined is the simplest form of vegetable tissue; and is supposed to be the parent of all other forms. It is principally found in very succulent tubers and roots, fruit, in the flower, pith, and bark. The original form of the cell is said to be spherical; but from various causes, this form becomes changed by pressure. The cells change to square, oblong, many-sided; and indeed to an infinitude of shapes. One change, however, is more determinate than the rest, i. e., from the spherical to the tubular. In physiological language, from the cellular to the vascular. Let us now take as a second object, a fine section, cut lengthways, from the first year twig of a tree; and placing it under our microscope, we have a decided change of scene. True we have still the net-work of cells; but in addition to them, we discover a number of tubes running in a parallel course between them; some retaining a uniform thickness throughout, and others gradually tapering down to a pointed extremity. These tubes, or vessels, are never found in the lower class of plants-as mushrooms, seaweeds, and mosses; and occur most plentifully in such as form woody stems, as trees and shrubs. Their purpose is two-fold; they serve as canals through which the fluids pass, and they give solidity and strength to the structure. Foremost among the strength Simplicity is the great leading trait in all the works of nature; and never is this truth more beautifully illustrated than in the branch of science of which we are treating. So simple indeed is the structure of plants, and even of animals, that we might sum up by stating that a round little globe, a miniature bladder-a cell, represents all life, all action, all sensation, even the throne of intelligence. To illustrate this proposition, let us suppose that we have a thin section of some succulent vegetable substance-say a tuberous root; and subjecting it to a magnifying power of some two-hundred diameters, what have we then? The field of the microscope, which in reality does not exceed a pin's head in size, is covered by a piece of netting about two inches across. This net ting is the cellular structure of which the plant is composed. Each cell was originally separate, and had a distinct covering to itself; being in fact a bladder, though so small, that it would require from three hun-giving, are those which taper towards the dred to a thousand of them (placed in single file) to make up one linear inch. Cork, the outer bark of a species of oak, is composed of this tissue, and was found by Hooke to contain more than one thousand cells in the length of an inch. Little indeed do we imagine that a piece of this substance (an inch each way), is made up of 1,000,000,000 distinct cells, all possessed of individual as well as conjoint life. In the example supposed to be under our microscope, we see no evidence of the mass being made up of hollow spheres. The appearance presented is merely that of a piece of net-work, exhibiting dark thread-like lines, crossing each other at somewhat regular angles, enclosing clear spaces-generally six-sided. These spaces are the cells; the membrane of which is so delicate as to be invisible, unless when placed edgeways to the eye. So that it follows, as a matter of extremity. They are by far the shortest of all the vessels; their length seldom exceeding from twelve to twenty times their breadth. They are called fusiform or spindle-shaped, from their tapering at each end, and make up almost the entire bulk of timber. Occasionally, both cells and vessels present beautiful markings on their surface. Sometimes, they appear as if a band had been carefully wrapped round their exterior, and then they are called spiral cells or vessels, as the case may be. At other times, this ribbon seems broken up in pieces, and instead of a regular corkscrew-like appearance on a vessel, only a number of rings are visible. Or the breaking may go still further, and a few bars alone remain; giving the idea, when looked at through the microscope, of a ladder. Only one step further is necessary, and all definite marking is lost in a confused aggregation of dots or spots. Another kind of marking is more worthy of notice. It occurs exclusively on the spindleshaped tissue; or rather, the woody-fibre. A row of round dots run perpendicularly down the tube, each surrounded by a dark ring. Occasionally, the row is double, as in the case of a tribe of pines inhabiting southern Chili and New Zealand. Indeed, this punctuated woody tissue occurs only in the pine tribe. All the varieties of tissue to which we have heretofore alluded, possess regular forms; but now we come to one of another class. This form is called the milk-vessels, from their containing a thick fluid, often of a milky whiteness. Plants which bleed freely upon being cut,-as the dandelion, poppy, lettuce, celandine, and India-rubber tree, are rich in this form of tissue; and in the thinner portions of many of them, it may be detected, resembling irregularly-branched veins, through which a granular fluid is seen coursing. These branched, or milk-vessels, are the least frequently met with of all tissues. Out of these cells and vessels, then, all plants, and parts of plants, are composed; and to these may they be reduced by means of the microscope. But every part of a plant is not built alike; the materials are similar, but in some the workmanship is finer than in others. The flower which seems to be the master-piece of nature's excellence, has a most delicate structure. It is composed almost exclusively of cells, which, in the case of tulips and lilies, are somewhat elongated; but, in the majority of other plants, approximate to the angular-spherical. These cells are perfectly transparent, but contain in their interiors rich colors of a wonderful diversity of tint; giving to the whole petal the strip, or dot, or the scarcely perceptible blush which suffuses its fair cheek. Few florists would credit the fact, that to produce the flame on a tulip petal, thousands of cavities have to be filled with purples, reds, crimsons, pinks, oranges, yellows, and saffron, of every variety of shade, from the deepest to the lightest. The flowers of some plants contain, besides cells, a number of milk-vessels; a few also exhibit an intermixture of the stronger vessels. The dandelion is an example of the former, and Banksia of the latter. The leaf is composed of cells, through which ramify a multitude of vascular bundles. These bundles are distinctly observable externally; and are variously known as the nerves, veins, and ribs. The latter is certainly the least objectionable title of the three, as the purpose of these bundles is to give strength to the leaf's expanse; while the fact of the plant being destitute of sen sation, and these bundles then performing no prominent part in the circulation, denies them any claim to be called nerves, or veins. The cells in the leaf contain a waxy substance, of a green color; which, shining through the transparent covering, gives the verdant hue to the leaf. The flower and leaf, as indeed almost all parts of the plant, are covered by a thin, transparent skin, which consists generally of a layer of flattened cells. This comes easily off with the knife, and must be familiar to all your readers. On the lower surface of leaf, situated in this thin skin or epidermis, are to be noticed some of the most beautiful objects which the microscope has yet revealed to us. These are the stomata. Of their functions, I shall have occasion to speak in a future paper. These mouths, or stomata, vary in size and form almost as much as cells do; they consist of a rounded oblong, or angled opening, bounded by from two to a dozen cells. ternally, they communicate with cavities between the cells, and serve as doors for the admission and ejection of gaseous substances. So many as one hundred and sixty thousand of these openings have been counted on one They generally square inch of lilac-leaf. occur on the under surface exclusively; though, in a few plants, they appear equally on both sides of the leaf. In Particulars regarding the structure of the root and stem, will be found in the next D. paper. "MAKE HAY WHILE THE SUN SHINES.” THE sun is bright, the air is clear, The darting swallows soar and sing; And from the stately elms I hear The blue-bird prophesying spring. So blue yon winding river flows, It seems an outlet from the sky; Where, waiting till the west wind blows, The freighted clouds at anchor lie. All things are new; the buds, the leaves, That gild the elm trees-nodding crest, And e'en the nests beneath the caves; There are no birds in last year's nest! All things rejoice in youth and love, The fullness of their first delight; And learn from the soft Heavens above The melting tenderness of night. Maiden! who read'st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay; Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For oh! it is not always May. Enjoy the spring of love and youth, To some good angel leave the rest; For time will teach thee soon the truth, There are no birds in last year's nest. H. W. L. GENTLENESS, AND ITS POWER. A woman's-nay, a little child's soft hand, PLUTARCH. IT IS NOT NEEDFUL FOR US to dilate on the magic power of gentleness, which we have ever pronounced to be an irresistible argument when all others fail; but we know too well the value of such a talisman, to be silent in its praises as opportunity offers. One half at least of the world's misfortunes originate in their contempt for this virtue. Take our word for it, good people; we may always lead, and win, by kindness. Hard words, cruel speeches, opposition, and perverseness, prevail neither with mankind nor with animals. But every thing falls before the sunshine of good-nature. We prove this daily. The subjoined fragment will fully illustrate our meaning : * : "I did not hear the maiden's name; but in my thought I have ever since called her "Gentle Hand." What a magic lay in her touch! It was wonderful. unawares. "When and where, it matters not now to relate; but once upon a time, as I was passing through a thinly-peopled district of country, night came down upon me, almost Being on foot, I could not hope to gain the village towards which my steps were directed, until a late hour; and I therefore preferred seeking shelter and a night's lodging at the first humble dwelling that presented itself. "Dusky twilight was giving place to deeper shadows, when I found myself in the vicinity of a dwelling, from the small uncurtained windows of which the light shone with a pleasant promise of good cheer and comfort. The house stood within an enclosure, and a short distance from the road along which I was moving with wearied feet. Turning aside, and passing through an ill-hung gate, I approached the dwelling. Slowly the gate swung on its wooden hinges, and the rattle of its latch, in closing, did not disturb the air until I had nearly reached the little porch in front of the house, in which a slender girl, who had noticed my entrance, stood awaiting my arrival. "Don't be afraid. He won't hurt you,' said a voice, that to me sounded very sweet and musical. "I now came forward, but in some doubt as to the young girl's power over the beast, on whose rough neck her almost childish hand still lay. The dog did not seem by any means reconciled to my approach, and growled wickedly his dissatisfaction. "Goin,Tiger,' said the girl-not in a voice of authority, yet in her gentle tones was the consciousness that she would be obeyed; and as she spoke, she lightly bore upon the animal with her hand, and he turned away, and disappeared within the dwelling. 66 6 'Who's that?' A rough voice asked the question; and now a heavy-looking man took the dog's place at the door. "Who are you? What's wanted?' There was something very harsh and forbidding in the way the man spoke. The girl now laid her hand upon his arm, and leaned with a gentle pressure against him. "How far is it to G- ?' I asked, not deeming it best to say, in the beginning, that I sought a resting-place for the night. "To G -!' growled the man, but not so harshly as at first. 'It's a good six miles from here.' "A long distance; and I'm a stranger and on foot,' said I. If you can make room for me until morning I will be very thankful.' "I saw the girl's hand move quietly up his arm, until it rested on his shoulder, and now she leaned to him still closer. "Come in. We'll try what can be done for you.' There was a change in the man's voice that made me wonder. "I entered a large room, in which blazed a brisk fire. Before the fire sat two stout lads, who turned upon me their heavy eyes with no very welcome greeting. A middleaged woman was standing at a table, and two children were amusing themselves with a kitten on the floor. 666 'A stranger, mother,' said the man who had given me so rude a greeting at the door; and he wants us to let him stay all night.' "The woman looked at me doubtingly for a few moments, and then replied, coldly: "We don't keep a public house." "I'm aware of that, ma'am,' said I;' but night has overtaken me, and it's a long way to G-—.' "Too far for a tired man to go on foot,' said the master of the house, kindly; 'so it's no use talking about it, mother; we must give him a bed.' "A deep, quick bark, answered almost like an echo, the sound of the shutting gate; and, sudden as an apparition, the form of an immense dog loomed in the doorway. I was now near enough to see the savage aspect of the animal, and the gathering motion of "So unobtrusively that I scarcely noticed his body, as he prepared to bound forward the movement, the girl had drawn to the upon me. His wolfish growl was really fear-woman's side. What she said to her I did ful. At the instant when he was about to spring, a light hand was laid upon his shaggy neck, and a low word spoken. not hear, for the brief words were uttered in a low voice; but I noticed that, as she spoke, one small fair hand rested on the woman's hand. Was there magic in that gentle touch? The woman's repulsive aspect changed into one of kindly welcome, and she said: "Yes, it is a long way to Gguess we can find a place for him. you had any supper?' "I answered in the negative. I Have "The woman, without further remark, drew a pine table from the wall, placed upon it some cold meat, fresh bread and butter, and a pitcher of new milk. While these preparations were going on, I had leisure for more minute observation. There was a singular contrast between the young girl I have mentioned, and other inmates of the room; and yet I could trace a strong likeness between the maiden and the woman, whom I supposed to be her mother-browned and hard as were the features of the latter. "Soon after I had commenced eating my supper, the two children who were playing on the floor began quarrelling with each other. go "John! off to bed!' said the father, in a loud, peremptory voice, speaking to one of the children. "But John, though he could not help hearing, did not choose to obey. "Do you hear me, sir? Off with you!' repeated the angry father. "I don't want to go,' whined the child. "Go, I tell you, this minute!' "Still there was not the slightest movement to obey; and the little fellow looked the very image of rebellion. At this crisis in the affair, when a storm seemed inevitable, the sister, as I supposed her to be, glided across the room; and stooping down, took the child's hand in hers. Not a word was Gradually the high tone of the disputant subsided, and his words had in them less of personal rancour. Still, the discussion went on; and I noticed that the maiden's hand, which rested on the temple when unimpassioned words were spoken, resumed its caressing motion the instant there was the smallest perceptible tone of anger in the father's voice. It was a beautiful sight; and I could but look on and wonder at the power of that touch-so light, so unobtrusive, yet possessing a spell over the hearts of all around her. As she stood there, she looked like an angel of peace, sent to still the turbulent waters of human passion. Sadly out of place I could not but think her, amid the rough and rude; and yet, who more than they need the softening and humanising influences of one like the Gentle Hand? "Many times more, during that evening, did I observe the magic power of her hand and voice the one gentle, yet potent, as the other. “On the next morning, breakfast being over, I was preparing to take my departure, when my host informed me that if I would wait for half an hour, he would give me a ride in his wagon to G--, as business required him to go there. I was very well pleased to accept of the invitation. In due time, the farmer's wagon was driven into the road before the house, and I was invited to get in. I noticed the horse; it was a roughlooking Canadian pony, with a certain air of stubborn endurance. As the farmer took his seat by my side, the family came to the door to see us off. "Dick!' said the farmer, in a perempsaid, but the young rebel was instantly sub-tory voice, giving the rein a quick jerk as he spoke. dued. Rising, he passed out by her side, and I saw no more of him during the evening. host was "Soon after I had finished my supper, a neighbor came in, and it was not long before he and the man of the house were involved in a warm political discussion, in which were many more assertions than reasons. My not a very clear-headed man; while his antagonist was wordy and specious. The former, as might be supposed, very naturally became excited, and now and then indulged himself in rather strong expressions towards his neighbor, who, in turn, dealt back wordy blows that were quite as heavy as he had received; and a good deal more irritating. "And now I marked again the power of that maiden's gentle hand. I did not notice her movement to her father's side. She was there when I first observed her, with one hand laid upon his temple, and lightly smoothing the hair with a caressing motion. "But Dick moved not a step. "Dick! you vagabond! get up." And the farmer's whip cracked sharply by the pony's ear. "It availed not, however, this second appeal. Dick stood firmly disobedient. Next the whip was brought down upon him with an impatient hand; but the pony only reared up a little. Fast and sharp the strokes were next dealt, to the number of a half-dozen. The man might as well have beaten his wagon! "A stout lad now came into the road; and catching Dick by the bridle, jerked him forward, using, at the same time, the customary language on such occasions; but Dick met this new ally with increased stubbornness, planting his forefeet more firmly, and at a sharper angle with the ground. The impatient boy now struck the pony on the side of his head with his clinched hand, and jerked cruelly at his bridle. It availed nothing, however; Dick was not to be wrought upon by any such arguments. "Don't do so, John!' MUSINGS AND MEDITATIONS. BY A BENEDICT. "I turned my head as the maiden's sweet "How use does breed a habit in a man!" voice reached my ear She was passing through the gate into the road, and in the next moment had taken hold of the lad and drawn him away from the animal. No strength was exerted in this; she took hold of his arm, and he obeyed her wish as readily as if he had no thought beyond her gratification. "And now that soft hand was laid gently on the pony's neck, and a single low word spoken. How instantly were the tense muscles relaxed-how quickly the stubborn air vanished! "Poor Dick!' said the maiden, as she stroked his neck lightly, or softly patted it with her child-like hand. "Now, go along, you provoking fellow!' she added in a half-chiding, yet affectionate voice, as she drew upon the bridle. The pony turned towards her, and rubbed his head against her arm for an instant or two; then, pricking up his ears, he started off at a light, cheerful trot, and went on his way as freely as if no silly crotchet had ever entered his stubborn brain. "What a wonderful power that hand possesses!' said I, speaking to my companion, as we rode away. "He looked at me for a moment, as if my remark had occasioned surprise. Then a light came into his countenance, and he said briefly "She's good! Everybody and everything loves her." Was that indeed the secret of her power? Was the quality of her soul perceived in the impression of her hand, even by brute beasts? The father's explanation was, doubtless, the true one. Yet I have since wondered, and still do wonder, at the potency which lay in that maiden's magic touch. I have seen something of the same power, showing itself in the loving and good, but never to the extent as instanced in her, whom, for a better name, I must still call 'Gentle Hand.'" A gentle touch-a soft word. Ah! how few of us, when the will is strong with its purpose, can believe in the power of agencies so apparently insignificant! And yet all great influences effect their ends silently, unobtrusively, and with a force that seems at first glance to be altogether inadequate. Is there not a lesson for us all in this? And how very quickly it may be learnt! God bless every "gentle hand!" say we. Q. SHAKSPEARE. WHAT A BLOCKHEAD MY BROTHER TOM Is, not to marry! Or rather, perhaps, I should say, what a blockhead not to marry some twenty-five years ago-for I suppose he will hardly get any decent sort of a body to take him, as old as he is now. Poor fellow! what a forlorn, desolate kind of life he leads. No wife to take care of him-no children to love him-no domestic enjoyment-nothing snug and comfortable in his arrangements at home-no nice sociable dinners-no pleasant faces at breakfast! By the way, what is the reason that my breakfast does not come up? I have been waiting for it this half-hour. Oh! I forgot; my wife sent the cook to market to get some trash or other for Dick's cold. She will be the death of that boy! But, after all, I ought not to find fault with Tom for not getting a wife, for he has lent me a good deal of money, that came quite convenient; and I suppose my young ones will have all that he's worth when he dies. Poor fellow ! They'll want it, I am afraid; for though my business does very well, this housekeeping eats up the profits with such a large family as mine. Let me see how many mouths I have to feed every day. There's my wife, and her two sisters; that's three-and the four boys, seven-and Lucy, and Sarah, and Jane, and Louisa, four more-eleven. Then there's the cook and the housemaid, and the boyfourteen; and the woman that comes every day to wash, and to do odd jobs about the house-fifteen. Then there's the nurserymaid-sixteen. Surely there must be another? I am sure I made it up seventeen when I was reckoning up last Sunday morning at church. There must be another somewhere: let me see again- wife, wife's sisters, boys, girls. Oh, it's myself! I have so many to think of, and to provide for, that I forget myself half the time. Yes, that makes it seventeen. Seventeen people to feed every day is no joke; and somehow or other, they have all furious appetites. But then, bless their hearts, it is pleasant to see them eat: what a havoc they do make of the cakes in a morning, to be sure! Now poor Tom knows nothing of all this. There he lives, all alone by himself in a boarding-house, with nobody near him who cares a brass farthing whether he lives or dies. No affectionate wife to nurse him, coddle him up, put him to bed, &c., when he is sick; no little prattlers about him to keep TASTE.-Nothing can be more atrocious than him in good-humor; no dawning intellects, fancy without taste.-GOETHE. whose development he can amuse himself with |