Purissima Maria, et in sincero Te non adoro, et in divino ardore," &c. The Italian language, under the guidance of its great authors, has assumed those graces and embellishments which raise it above all modern tongues, and distinguish it alike in prose and in verse, in composition and in conversation. "Illam quicquid agit, quoquo vestigia flectit Componit furtim subsequiturque decor." If the former glories of Rome have been dimmed, Italy collectively has been perhaps more glorious in modern than in antient days. In agriculture, in charitable and in literary institutions, Mr. Eustace deems this land to have been, until the French Revolution, unrivalled by any European nation. The Italian character also, as we have before observed, claims his attention; and he examines into the truth of those dark stories that formed the subjects from which our fair countrywomen, and the old women of both sexes, have painted their Spalatros and their spectres. From a minute inquiry directed to this point, during a considerable residence in the haunted places, he finds that these nightly deeds are not more common in Italy than in other countries; that their occurrence has long been on the decrease; and that neither France nor England has any right to tax the Italians with a disregard to human life. He represents the roads in Italy as excellent and safe, and the peasantry as laborious and robust, pious and humane. He more than once urges the benefits that would result from erecting the whole peninsula into one kingdom, as a counterpoise to France. We join him in the pious wish. Italy has ever been the grave of the French; and the poet, who sang that the lily is not destined to flourish on the Italian soil, has prophesied the true event. "Merlin gli fè veder che quasi tutti Gli altri, che poi di Francia scettro avranno, Che 'l Giglio in quel terreno abbia radice. Orland. Fur. Cant. 33. 10. ART. ART. V. An Essay on the Probability of Sensation in Vegetables, with additional Observations on Instinct, Sensation, Irritability, &c. By James Perchard Tupper, Member of the Royal College of Surgeons, and Fellow of the Linnean Society. 8vo. pp. 140. 58. Boards, White and Co. WE E learn that this Essay originated in some observations which the author had thrown together, when he attended as a student at the hospitals of Guy and St. Thomas, and when he enjoyed the benefit of the botanical instructions of Dr. Smith, the president of the Linnean Society, to whom it is dedicated. The inquiries to which these observations referred were resumed at subsequent intervals of leisure, and expanded into their present more connected form. Mr. Tupper lays it down as a primary position, which few considerate physiologists will be disposed to impugn, that yitality, as the result of a particular structure of organized parts, and as implying the faculty of reproducing a structure similar to itself, is an attribute of the vegetable as well as of the animal kingdom but he is at the same time perfectly aware of the futility of those lines of demarcation which have been too rashly alleged to discriminate these two grand departments of organized existence; and he admits that the transition from the animal to the plant is effected by shades so imperceptible, that it is difficult and perhaps impossible to determine what are those beings which actually form the last link in the scale of ani mated existence, and the first in that of vegetables.' He argues for the probability of sensation in vegetables not only from the general analogies which may be traced between animals and plants, but from other phænomena; some of which refer to certain powers of motion that particular species of plants are observed to possess even in a more eminent degree than the inferior orders of animals, several species of which are also destitute of all locomotive power.' The existence of these attributes, however, does not necessarily imply volition; which denotes a mental faculty associated with other qualities, and a power of deliberation and choice exerted on particular occasions. The aptitude and propensity of plants to incline to the light, the power exhibited by the climbing sorts in moving and turning their stems, branches, or tendrils, the direction assumed by the roots of trees, and many other vegetables, in quest of proper nourishment, &c.—this ingenious essayist ascribes to spontaneous motion or exertion. Aquatic plants also furnish some curious examples of spontaneous motion strongly characteristic of instinct. Among these, the water-lily affords a very remarkable instance, and that too connected with the reproduction of its species. This plant bears its flowers upon upon a foot stalk under water; and when the flowering season arrives, the stalk rises perpendicularly without any regard to the stream, until the flowers reach above the surface of the water. At this time some of them expand, and then the antheræ discharge their fecundating dust upon the stigma. About four o'clock in the afternoon the expanded flowers close, and the footstalk lies down either upon or under the water. It is erected every day until the flower has been fully impregnated, when it once more sinks under water, and there remains to ripen its seeds, which at a proper time escape from the fruit, and give birth to new individuals. This is asserted by Linnæus and various other naturalists; and, though controverted by some, has been recently confirmed by the observations of Dr. Smith, who authorizes me to use his name on this occasion. In cold or shady weather this phænomenon is less evident, and is explained by the writer last named as entirely owing to the stimulus of light. But yet, I presume, it is also in part referable to instinct, and that light operates only as an auxiliary to that phænomenon.' What is termed the sleep of plants, and flowers, is stated as another striking example of instinctive action in vegetables; or as a proot that they are endued with the power of self-motion, which contributes to their well-being, and may therefore-be fairly supposed to partake as much of the nature of instinctive action, or to be as necessarily the adjunct of sensation, in the vegetable as in the animal being. Moreover, as, in certain animals, the absence of locomotive power is no criterion of the want of sensation, neither, in vegetables, ought it to be urged against the existence of sensation in them. In short, if any species of living being, from man down to the most humble plant, be destitute of the locomotive power, it is because all the important purposes of welfare and preservation, for which it is given to others, are fully answered without it. From his review of instinct, volition, and locomotive power, the essayist infers that they are distinct attributes; inasmuch (he says) as instinct may exist independently of the other two, and the locomotive power, independently of volition. Indeed, if we attend to the particular character of the locomotive faculty in many animals, it is evident that the exertion of this power is merely instinctive, though it is not a necessary adjunct either of instinct or of sensation. But at the same time, I apprehend that sensation is necessarily associated with the instinctive faculty, although the former, like the latter, may exist independently both of volition and of the locomotive power; and perhaps we refuse to admit the existence of sensation in vegetables, under the idea that it is çonnected with the exercise of intellectual powers, which we cannot suppose to appertain to this class of beings.' Mere sensitive power, it is well remarked, does not necessarily imply a thinking and reasoning mind, and may therefore belong to the lowest orders of animals, and to plants. Mr. Tupper next proceeds to combat the fashionable and ingenious doctrine which deduces vegetable motions from irritability, independently of sensation. If by irritability we are to understand a susceptibility of receiving impressions, it naturally pre-supposes sensation; for wherefore bestow a capacity of receiving impressions, if none are to be received? Again, the permanent action of irritability differs very materially from the temporary action of stimuli applied to the muscles of an amputated limb; and we are not warranted to assert that vegetable differs in its nature from animal irritability, when we observe that they are subjected to analogous laws, and produce analogous effects. Having met with great fairness the most plausible objections to his favourite hypothesis, the author prosecutes at considerable length, and with much judgment and ability, the correspondences which may be traced between various departments of the physiological structure of plants and animals; or rather, the correspondences of actions or effects produced by the respective organic structure of both. In some cases, the particular organs destined for certain purposes in the economy of both cannot be demonstrated, in the present state of human knowlege: but we are not, on that account, authorized to deny their existence, while the uniformity of their operations sufficiently indicates their presence. In reply to the question, In what particular manner do vegetables feel themselves affected in consequence of any impression which they may receive? it is observed that the difference between the sentient organs of plants and our own precludes us from forming any idea of the particular kind of pleasure, or pain, which a plant may experience; although we may distinguish in its appearance by which of the two it is affected; as a drooping aspect, for example, evinces pain and uneasiness, while a healthy and vigorous air denotes the enjoy ment of well-being. Another argument, which has been stated against the existence of sensation in vegetables, is deduced from the goodness of the Deity; who, it is urged, would never bestow feeling on beings so much exposed to the depredations of animals, and various other injuries. The answer to such an objection is obvious; that the same reasoning would more forcibly maintain the non-existence of sensation in animals which prey on one another, and which are likewise exposed to innumerable accidents and injuries. We have seldom seen this view of the subject treated in a more impressive and becoming manner than in the pages of the present Essay, though the passage to which we allude is too long for our quotation. Lastly, many vegetable actions, and the means of defence with which plants are furnished, as prickles, stings, effluvia, &c., would lead us to infer that they are, moreover, endued with the principle of self-preservation. • From this general view of the subject, it is evident that animals and vegetables reciprocally tend to the maintenance of a due balance of life through the whole creation; and the particular manner in which this is accomplished is one of those circumstances attending the institutions of nature, which cannot fail to convince us of the existence of a superintendent Providence. If there were not a check to the destruction of living beings, as well as to their undue increase, some of the species would soon be exterminated: and if there were a chasm formed in consequence of the extinction of even the most insignificant species, the whole system would be thrown into confusion; all order would be at an end; and man himself would be at last incapable of resisting this seemingly trifling shock, and the whole living creation would soon be annihilated. • ❝—— each moss, Each shell, each crawling insect, holds a rank We must also bear in mind, that although the means of defence which nature has given to animals and vegetables, may not prove always effectual for their individual preservation; yet, millions of them go through the natural course of their existence, without having suffered from the depredations of their enemies. And even those individuals, which fall a sacrifice to the wants or the appetites of others, have for the most part enjoyed that portion of existence allotted to them, and experienced every degree of happiness of which their nature is capable. The microscope has discovered to us an innumerable multitude of beings, of whose existence we had no idea before; and though legions of these are daily devoured by the innumerable tribes of other animals that feed on the vegetables or fluids where these diminutive creatures abound; yet, can we reasonably imagine that such a profusion of living beings exists without enjoyment? Or, shall we suppose that sensation has been bestowed on them merely to swell the catalogue of sufferings, and multiply the sum of misery in the animal world? — Such an idea is as revolting to reason, as it is incompatible with the infinite goodness of "NATURE'S GOD." We may, therefore, confidently believe that these diminutive beings have their season of enjoyment, as well as the enormous Leviathan, although perhaps only a few hours encircle the whole course of their appointed existence! • How |