But that which maketh an end

toe. But this is a fable; for it is not probable that birds should feed upon what they cannot digest. But allow that, yet it cannot be, for other reasons; for, first, it is found but upon certain trees, and those trees bear no such fruit as may allure that bird to sit and feed upon them. It may be, that bird feedeth upon the misseltoe berries, and so is often found there; which may have given occasion to the tale. of the question is, that misseltoe hath been found to put forth under the boughs, and not only above the boughs; so it cannot be anything that falleth upon the bough." He then goes on to argue that this plant, which he considers as a superior kind of fungus, is produced by "abundance of sap in the bough that putteth it forth," which, he says, may be certainly set down; as also that "this sap must be such as the tree doth excern and cannot assimilate, for else it would go into a bough; and, besides, it seemeth more fat and unctuous than the ordinary sap of the tree; both by the berry, which is clammy; and by that it continueth green winter and summer, which the tree doth not." The vegetable Physiologist, however, is now well assured, that the Misseltoe is a distinct and independent plant, springing, like others, from seed, and drawing its nourishment from the juices of the tree on which it has germinated (VEGET. PHYSIOL. § 319); and a little careful observation of the habits of the Missel-Thrush and other birds would have shown to the great philosopher, that they really perform the office which is commonly attributed to them that of diffusing the plant, by dropping its seeds in situations where they may fall into the chinks and hollows of trees,--but which he denied on very insufficient grounds.

There are two other tendencies which exist, more or less, in almost every mind; and which must be especially guarded against by those who desire to render that study of Nature alike beneficial to their own minds, whilst promoting the improvement of science. These are, the love of the marvellous ; and the inclination to rest satisfied with superficial resemblances.

An amusing illustration of the effects of these may be drawn from a large volume, entitled "Gerarde's Herbal," first published near the end of the 16th century, but looked up to by many of a generation, not long since passed, as their chief botanical authority. "Having travelled," he says at the conclusion of his volume, "from the grasses growing in the bottom of the fenny waters, the woods, and mountains, even unto Lebanus itself-and also the sea and bowels of the same-we are arrived at the end of our history; thinking it not impertinent to the conclusion of the same to end with one of the marvels of this land, we may say of the world-the history whereof, to set forth according to the worthiness and variety thereof, would not only require a large and peculiar volume, but also a deeper search into the bowels of Nature than my intended purpose will suffer me to wade into, my sufficiency also considered. There are found in the north parts of Scotland, and the islands adjacent, called Orchades, certain trees whereon do grow certain shells of a white colour, tending to russet, wherein are contained little living creatures; which shells, in time of maturity, do open, and out of them grow those little living things, which, falling into the water, do become fowls, which we call Barnacles, in the north of England Brant-geese, and in Lancashire Treegeese; and the other that do fall upon the land, perish and come to nothing. Thus much by the writings of others, and also from the mouths of people of those parts, which may very well accord with truth."

"But what our eyes have seen and our hands have touched," continues the Author, doubtless with full sincerity, "we shall declare. There is a small island in Lancashire called the Pile of Foulders, wherein are found the broken pieces of old and bruised ships, some whereof have been cast thither by shipwreck, and also the trunks and bodies, with the branches of old and rotten trees, cast up there likewise, whereon is found a certain spume or froth, that in time breedeth unto certain shells, in shape like

those of a mussel, but sharper pointed, and of a whitish colour; wherein is contained a thing in form like a lace of silk finely woven as it were together, of a whitish colour, one end whereof is fastened unto the inside of the shell, even as the fish of oysters and mussels are; the other end is made fast unto the belly of a rude mass or lump, which in time cometh to the shape and form of a bird; when it is perfectly formed, the shell gapeth open, and the first thing that appeareth is the foresaid lace or string; next come the legs of the bird hanging out, and as it groweth greater, it openeth the shell by degrees, till at length it is all come forth, and hangeth only by the bill. In short space it cometh to full maturity, and falleth into the sea, where it gathereth feathers, and groweth to a fowl, bigger than a Mallard, and lesser than a Goose, having black legs and a bill or beak, and feathers black and white, spotted in such manner as our Magpie, called in some places a Pie Annet, which the people of Lancashire call by no other name than a Tree Goose; which place aforesaid, and all those parts adjacent, do so much abound therewith, that one of the best may be bought for threepence. For the truth. hereof, if any doubt, may it please them to repair unto me, and I shall satisfy them by the testimony of credible witnesses.”

It is scarcely conceivable how any one could have been so led away by the love of the marvellous, as to rest upon the most superficial resemblance, in proof of the extraordinary supposition, that from a Barnacle is produced a Bird; especially when the Author tells us that so far he is satisfied by his own observation, of "what his eyes have seen and his hands have touched." The other part of his story, setting forth that these Barnacles grow upon trees, which he learned "from the writings of others, and also from the mouths of people of those parts," is by no means so discordant with truth, as they certainly do grow on trees, though not produced by them. Those who have seen the Mangrove trees (BOTANY, § 598) surrounding the lagoons in the islands of the tropical ocean, their pendent branches loaded with

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shell-fish of various kinds, may easily excuse a popular error of this nature; but for the Scientific Naturalist of the present day to give credence to it, would be unpardonable.

The study of Natural History, then, has an obvious tendency, not only to encourage the habit of correct and unprejudiced observation in its votaries, but to call into exercise the discriminating powers, which shall teach them to attach their due value to the statements of others. Upon the advantage of such a kind of mental cultivation, it is unnecessary here to dwell. It is useful in every situation, in every relation of life. It enables us to suspend our judgment, when we are not satisfied of the stability of the grounds upon which we are to decide; and leads us to draw the line between suspicious incredulity on the one hand, and too ready assent to improbable and unconfirmed statements on the other. In the cultivation of this habit, the study of Natural History has an obvious advantage over that of the more exact Sciences. We have not yet the same guidance afforded by general laws, as that which they possess, and which enables the physical philosopher to decide at once on the truth of statements submitted to him. Tell a man acquainted with the simple laws of Matter, that a perpetual motion had been invented, depending upon strictly mechanical principles; and he will not believe it, because he knows it to be a physical impossibility. In Natural History we are to a certain extent equally safe in forming a positive decision. The differences between the skeleton of Man, and that of an Elephant or Lizard, are now sufficiently well known, to prevent our giving credence to the marvellous accounts of such prodigies, as a Man 25 feet long; these cease to astonish us (except as regards the ignorance that propagated them), now that we are acquainted with their true explanation. Nor are we in danger of allowing ourselves to be led away by an English writer of much learning, who, so late as the middle of the 17th century, attributed the origin of fossil shells and fishes to " a plastic virtue latent in the earth."

But

when we place side by side the apparently contradictory statements of credible observers at the present time (take, for instance, those of Audubon and Waterton on the powers of scent possessed by the Vulture), we are compelled to suspend our judgment, until we have examined into the possible fallacies of each, and sought for more unexceptionable testimony from other sources. Now it is the very necessity of this process, which is seldom needed in other sciences, that renders the study of Natural History peculiarly advantageous as a means of intellectual culture and discipline. "If a man," says Bacon, "begin with certainties, he shall end in doubts; but if he be content to begin with doubts, he shall end in certainties."

But Natural History employs higher faculties of the mind, than those simply connected with the observation of facts. There is no Science which, with so extensive a basis of observed phenomena, has its materials so little connected by general laws. The slow progress of this is partly due to the prevalent misconception of their nature, and of the mode in which they are to be attained. It has been already pointed out, that Classification, which is so often considered as the highest object of Natural History, is but a means towards the pursuit of more elevated inquiries,-a means which is employed in all Sciences, but which takes a more prominent station in Natural History, in consequence of the difficulties attending it, and the diversity of the objects which come within its scope. But even though not the highest object of Natural History, it exercises mental faculties of a superior order. The mere collection of specimens, and the arrangement of them under their respective divisions, is a useful exercise to the growing mind; teaching, as it does, the habits of patient discrimination and careful comparison. But this may be carried too far. It is not uncommon to meet with persons, in whom the amor habendi (love of possessing), engrosses every other feeling, to which the pursuit of science ought to give rise. These are, indeed, mere collectors; estimating their