Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

CHAMELEONS ALL.

"Stretch'd at its ease the beast I view'd, And saw it eat the air for food,"

WHEN

THEN we ask the student why he broods over the most abstract problems in solitude, apart from the enjoyments of life; the soldier, why he has allowed himself to be subjected to the toil and dust of his extra-dangerous trade; the busy merchant, to what purpose he assiduously strives to equalize supply and demand over the earth; nay, even when we ask of the criminal why in the practice of crime he dares an ignominious death, we receive one answer from all, which, though expressed in phrase characteristic of each, is essentially the same: "What can we do? we cannot help it; a man can not live upon air." The answer appears to furnish an explanation; and even the judge is frequently so persuaded of the validity of the plea, that he allows it to dictate leniency.

But then comes the naturalist, an impracticable kind of man, who will recognize no truth but that which he can prove experimentally, and says, "You can live upon air; nay, in fact, man lives on air alone, and nothing else whatever." When we put the question, What do men really live upon the answers will be various. The Guacho who, in the immense pampas of Buenos Ayres, in swift career lassos the guanaco, or the wild bull, dayly swallows ten pounds of the flesh of his game, only occasionally varied by a moiety of pumpkin. Bread is not known to him. The Irish peasant regales himself on a meager supply of "potatoes and point." Meat is strange to him, and he is happy if occasionally he can add a herring to savor the mealy tubers. The Greenlander, in his smoky, fetid hut, beneath unsoftening snows, revels in the "blubber" of a stranded whale or captured seal. There the glistening, unctuous black sucks the sugar cane and swallows the banana; and there the Siamese swells himself with monstrous quantities of rice; the Abyssinian with great chunks of raw flesh quickly dismembered from the yet sentient, vital carcass of a brute; and the Esquimaux drinks in his brimming fill of warm fish oil. Here the Pekin gourmand zests it on his fattened rat, and imbibes his "bird-nest" broth; and then the "dietetic reformer" emphatically, nay, vehemently protesting

[ocr errors]

against the decency, the propriety, or the wholesomeness of animal flesh, turns from it with simulated loathing, and turns heartily to his mushes, his puddings, and his fruits.

So, the visible house of the spirit is built up out of apparently the most incongruous materials, but science proves that these varying forms are all constituted of one or several similar substances; that the whole of the multitudinous quantities which environ us yield but sixty-one elementary substances. But four alone of these bear an essential part of what we call organic existence. The two chief constituents of the atmosphere are nitrogen and oxygen. The latter and hydrogen constitute water, the latter and nitrogen united form ammonia, a volatile alkali, a kind of air which streams forth in great abundance through the mountain chimneys of subterranean fires.

These four, of which three are airs or gases, with carbon, a "solid," when combined form all the materials of plants or animals-the "organic" world. The most important and general of the compounds of these elements are water, which pervades the atmosphere as vapor; and carbonic acid and ammonia, which are diffused in the atmosphere as gases; and on the examination of these three compounds of the four elements turns the complete study of animal and vegetable life. The common air is about four-fifths of nitrogen, and one-fifth of oxygen, one two-thousandth of carbonic acid, and less than that amount of ammonia.

For every inch of oxygen he inspires, a man expires a cubic inch of carbonic acid The same exchange occurs in the process of combustion; and according to the computation of Poggendorf, about twelve thousand five hundred cubic geographical miles of carbonic acid gas have been expired in a period of five thousand years, exclusive of vast quantities which rise from the volcanic chimneys. According to this estimate, the carbonic acid of the atmosphere should now be to oxygen as one to one hundred and fifty-five, but in fact actually measured, it is found to amount to onefourth per cent. From this it is evident that some process prevails which transfers the carbonic acid into other relations. Oxygen is combined and continually combines with every terrestrial substance, but conspicuously so with carbon and hydro

gen, which process is called combustion, in which a quantity of heat bearing a determinate proportion to the amount of oxygen "consumed" is always liberated. Nitrogen, considered apart from other substances, has no striking familiarity with them, except only hydrogen, with which it readily unites to form ammonia. The four elements under consideration combined form numerous permutations. these but two classes are of decisive importance in the organic world. One of these classes comprises albumen, fibrine, caseine, gelatine-substances formed of the union of all four of these elements. The other class is gum, sugar, starch, the liquors from these, (spirit, wine, beer,) and the various kinds of fat, all of which are substances devoid of one of the four ele

Of

ments, namely, nitrogen. These merely pass through animate bodies, which burns the carbon and hydrogen with the oxygen inspired, and they are expired as carbonic acid and water. By this process of combustion, is evolved the heat indispensable to animal life. The animal body is incapable of forming from these constituents, or of forming from any other substance except caseine, albumen, fibrine, etc., substances necessary to its vitality and vigor, but must receive substances prepared for its nutrition or to be converted into bony structures.

Liebig has proved that albumen, fibrine, and caseine are the only materials of nutrition; that these can not be replaced by other substances; and that when they are withheld vitality must cease. But co-operating with these to sustain life, must be also the compounds devoid of nitrogen. These are commonly called "food," but "Liebig" proves that they are the "materials of respiration" only. Comparing the requisitions of animal life and form, with the contents of plants, the food of animals, we find in their juices a certain quantity of solved albumen. In all the cereal world there is ever a certain quantity of a substance called formerly gluten. Legumine and gluten, or caseine and fibrine, occur in the cells of all known plants.

The second class, the substances devoid of nitrogen, are as widely distributed in the vegetable world. When we review all the nutritive substances man obtains from the vegetable kingdom, we find three groups, the first of which is remarkable for the great amount of starch contained

in the plants composing it. To this group belong the cereals and pulses, the tuberous vegetables, sow-breads, mandioc, yams, taro, and the stems of the palms, whence we have sago. The second group includes the fruits rich in sugar and gum, which owe their peculiar cooling properties to malic, citric, and tartaric acids, and their delicious flavors to a small quantity of aromatic substance. In addition to our well-known fruits are the date, the banana, the bread fruit, the sugar cane, and the saccharine and gummy, fleshy roots which compose a large portion of our domestic vegetables. The third class consists of the oleaginous kernels of various fruits, the cacao, cocoa nut, the Brazil nut, and the many kinds of nuts with which we gratify the taste. Man requires for nutrition three principal substances, rich in nitrogene, fibrine, caseine, and albumen; these occur not only in the animal kingdom, but are abundant in the vegetable world. Further for the maintenance of respiration, and, therefore, of heat, he consumes a certain quantity of substances devoid of nitrogen, which are furnished both by the fat of animals and by the great majority of vegetables. We now readily comprehend some of the most striking features of the phenomena of respiration of man and animals. Thus far we have seen that the whole animate world lives upon the vegetable, either mediately or immediately; but we do not arrive at the conclusion of our investigations here; for here the question arises: What do plants live upon? As the first step to the solution of this question we inquire, What is the plant composed of? Considered apart from the inorganic constituents, the ash and salts, the body of the plant is composed of matters which contain no nitrogen, of cellular and vegetable jelly, which have similar composition with sugar, gum, and starch, and are different from the various fatty and waxy substances in that the latter have a small proportion of oxygen. But besides these the plant requires nitrogenous substances to give rise to those chemical processes by which the transmutation of the nutrient matter is effected. The inquiry into the nutrition of the plant includes, therefore, the inquiry into the sources of carbon and nitrogen, oxygen and hydrogen being sufficiently provided by water and common air. The general notion is, that the plant

extracts its carbon and nitrogen from manure, or from the humus of the soil. All animal and vegetable bodies, as soon as vitality is extinct, pass into a state of decomposition or dissipation into the atmosphere, being changed into carbonic acid, ammonia, and water. While this change is incom'plete, a residue, itself much altered, of a brownish or black color, remains, which, at the commencement of the decomposition, is called manure, and toward its close, humus or vegetable mold. It is a compost of the products of decomposition. In the beginning of the solution of this group of phenomena it was reasoned that "carbon and nitrogen are abundant in humus; in a soil that is rich in humus, or well manured, plants thrive better than in one that is poor in humus; consequently humus is the source of the carbon and nitrogen of plants." This reasoning was inconclusive. There was a period of our earth's existence when no vegetable feathered its solid crust, in which no animal lived, and in which no humus could possibly be present. From this soil, devoid of humus, gradually developed vegetation in such gigantic luxuriance that it-buried and preserved for us by subsequent revolution as coal-assumes a most essential part in the human economy of the present day.

Here is the fact, bearing decisive denial right into the teeth of the argument, which further involved the assumption that "there exists on the earth a definite quantity of organic matter, which circulates between the animal and vegetable kingdom; the decaying animal serves as nutriment to the plant, and the developed plant again to the animal." But here it is forgotten that the putrefactive process intervenes, which unquestionably causes the dissolution of the organic matter and its dissipation as ex-organic compound, carbonic acid and ammonia. Further the organic substance which it is assumed was at once created with the earth must, in the great lapse of time, have long since been used up. But the case is exactly the contrary. Equally in the course of the great geognostic periods, and in that of the history of the earth, beginning with mankind, there is seen, in the former, from period to period, and in the latter from century to century, an ever-increasing fullness of organic life, and incessant multiplication in the animal and in the vegetable world.

Whence this, if there is no process by which the inorganic matter is carried over into the circle of the organic? If the reasoning we are rejecting were true, what enormous quantities of carbonic acid and ammonia would have been poured forth by respiration and combustion during thousands of years, from the decomposition of animal and vegetable bodies, and the continual flow of those products from volcanoes during that time. The fact is, that ammonia only occurs in exceedingly small quantities, and carbonic acid is a minor agent in the composition of the atmosphere. But science has proved that these matters are immediately withdrawn from the atmosphere and embodied in the animate world.

In the pampas of South America existed, at the period of their first occupation by the Spaniards, the same thrifty vegetation as at present, the same scanty population, the same quantity of indigenous animals that now wander there. The Spaniards introduced the horse and neat cattle, and these have multiplied in such profusion that Monte Video alone exports annually three hundred thousand hides; and no marked diminution was experienced in the abundance of horses there, though the military expedition of Rosas destroyed one hundred thousand of these animals. The native organic life and its quantity have, therefore, since the discov ery by the Spaniards, importantly increased, and millions on millions of pounds of nitrogen and carbon combined into organic substances have been exported without the soil there having received the smallest appreciable return of organic matter. Whence this export if not from the atmosphere. If we consider only one of the constituents of tea, nitrogen, we find that of that alone China exports three hundred thousand pounds without any considerable return of that element. The haymaker of Switzerland and the Tyrol mows a definite amount of grass every year on the Alps, inaccessible to cattle, and returns not the smallest quantity of organic matter to the soil. Whence the constituents of the hay? The plant must have carbon and nitrogen, and in South America and the Alps there is no known or suspected possibility of obtaining these matters except from the ammonia and carbonic acid of the atmosphere.

The Northern provinces of Holland,

Friesland, Gromingen, and Dreuthe export annually about a million pounds of nitrogen in cheese. They obtain this from their meadows by means of cows; they furnish the only manure the meadows receive. Whence the exported tons of nitrogen, since the cows return nothing to the meadows but what they have received from it in addition to the nitrogen transplanted. But the positive experiments of Boussingault✶ settle this point. Boussingault devoted four hectares of land (nearly five acres) of his estate in Alsace to experiments, which were pursued with the utmost assiduity and care during many years. He allowed this land to be cultured in the usual manner for twenty-one years. But the manure that was used was weighed, as well as the product of the harvest, and the quantity of the carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen, and ash of both were very accurately ascertained. The result found was, that on an average, the annual harvest gained from the soil twice as much nitrogen, three times as much carbon and hydrogen, and four times as much oxygen, as had been given to it in manure, supposing here that the whole contents of the manure entered the plant, which is not actually the case. Since, then, carbonic acid, ammonia, and water form the food of plants, and we find that these matters never can be so combined as not to contain far more oxygen than the substances occurring in plants, free oxygen gas must necessarily be set free in the vital processes of the plant. And thus, as the final movement of our inquiry, we reach this conclusion: that decomposition and respiration liberate all vegetable and animal substances (diminishing the oxygen in the air) in the form of carbonic acid, ammonia, and water, which diffuse themselves through the atmosphere. The plant takes these substances and forms from them, accompanied by an incessant increase of the oxygen of the atmosphere, compounds rich in carbon and hydrogen, but devoid of nitrogen, such as starch, gum, sugar, and the various fatty matters, and others rich in nitrogen, namely, albumen, fibrine, and caseine. The animal world builds up its corporeal frame from

See the Chemical and Physiological Balance of Organic Nature. Dumas and Boussinganlt, 12mo. London, 1844.

[blocks in formation]

That I never yet reproach'd him, ne'er a word of censure spoke ;

That his mem'ry must be gentle to the heart his coldness broke.

Tell him, through the years which follow'd, when no tidings from him came, Nor his absence, nor his silence, was I ever heard to blame;

O, this wild desire to see him, God subdue within my breast!

For it racks me into torture, and my soul hath need of rest.

When I'm dead, and in my coffin, and the shroud about me wound,

And my narrow bed is ready, in the pleasant church-yard ground,

Lay the locket and the letters both together on my heart,

And this little ring he gave me, never from my finger part.

Now, I'm ready, read the letters, the dear letters once again;

As I listen while you read them, I shall lose all sense of pain;

And if, when you have finish'd, I should gently fall asleep

Gently fall asleep and wake not-dearest sister, do not weep.

I

A NIGHT OF TERROR.

THE TEMPTER.

FOUND myself far from home on business at Prague. It was in April. However agreeable the diversion, I could not suppress my home-sickness. I longed for our little town, where my young wife had been impatiently expecting my return already for seven weeks. Since our wedding-day we had never before been so long separated. It is true Fanny sent me letters every week; but these lines, so full of love, and fondness, and melancholy, were only oil to the fire. Taking leave of my few acquaintances and friends, I told my host to make out my bill. I was to set off on the morrow with the post.

In the morning the landlord appeared with a pretty heavy account. I felt for my pocket-book, and sought it in all my pockets, and in all corners. It was gone. I felt very uncomfortable, for there were more than fourteen hundred dollars in bills in it. It was in vain that I turned the room topsy-turvy; the pocket-book was not forthcoming. It was either stolen or lost. I had it in my hands only the day before; I was accustomed to carry it in the breastpocket of my coat. Fanny's letters were there too. I was certain that I had felt it the night before when undressing. How now were my bank-notes to be recovered? Whoever had got them could easily change them into gold and silver.

As my thoughts took this turn there suddenly occurred to me the recollection of a figure that I had seen at billiards about a week before in a close red coat, and that then seemed to me like a prince of darkness in human shape. My blood actually ran cold at the remembrance; and yet I was so desperate that I thought to myself, "I don't care for my part! Were he here now he would be right welcome, if he would only bring me my pocket-book."

Just then some one knocked at the door. "Holloa!" thought I; "the tempter is not going to take a joke in earnest." I ran to the door; my mind was full of the plaguy red-coat, and I really believed that it was he.

And lo! wonderful surprise! when I opened the door in stepped, with a slight nod, the very tempter I was thinking of.

I must relate how and where I had made the acquaintance of this apparition.

I had gone one evening to a coffeehouse or casino, where I hoped to find the latest newspapers. At a small table sat two gentlemen, engaged at chess. A little elderly man, in a scarlet cloak, was walking up and down the room with his hands behind him. I took up the newspaper.

No one attracted my attention so much as the gentleman in scarlet. There was in his figure, in his movements, and in his features something striking and repulsive, which corresponded with his evident want of taste in dress. He was something under the usual size, but large-boned and broad-shouldered. He seemed to be between fifty and sixty years of age, and had a stoop in his walk. His coal-black hair hung thick about his head. His tawny complexion, and his hawk's-nose and high cheek-bones, gave him a very repelling look. The malice of the infernal regions seemed to mock one from every feature. "If that man is not Satan himself," thought I," he must be Satan's brother." I looked involuntarily at his feet for the cloven foot, and, sure enough, he had one human foot like ours, but his left was a club foot in a laced boot; yet he did not limp with it, but walked softly about as if among egg-shells, which he did not care to break.

As the red-coat passed the chess-table one of the players said to his antagonist, who seemed somewhat embarrassed, "You are lost now beyond salvation." The redcoat stopped a moment, cast a glance upon the board, and remarked to the victor, "You are mistaken. In three moves you will be checkmated." The winner smiled haughtily; his opponent shook his head despairingly, and moved; at the third move the supposed victor was actually checkmated.

I had not seen him since, but I did not forget the striking figure and the infernal physiognomy, and I was really frightened at the thought of dreaming about them. And now he stood unexpectedly before me in my room!

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small]
« VorigeDoorgaan »