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300 mediæval history, as for instance in "Pigen fra Norge." As a lyrical poet he has also done good work. He is tender and melodious, and generally understands the art of giving his verses an elegant and attractive form. The best of his poetical works is his "Sorg og Tröst" (Sorrow and Consolation), a collection written on the occasion of the death of his beloved wife, and which was received with the highest favor, not only in Norway, but also in both the other Scandinavian countries. His cycle of romances, "Kongedatterns Brudefart" (The bridal tour of the princess), is also an exceedingly fine work.

The energetic efforts which began to be manifested about the year 1830 in the study of the characteristic peculiarities of the Norwegian people served as an important aid to the intellectual development on the basis of natural elements in the sense in which Welhaven and his friends had suggested. The knowledge of the life and habits of thought, of the nature of the country, etc., had hitherto been very superficial. What was known did not extend beyond the limits of the most ordinary things, and was not sufficient to serve as the basis of a truly national literature which was to have its roots in the life of the nation, and to reflect the character of the people. A beginning was now made in the way of collecting the materials and in publishing them in a systematic form. Not only was a new and brighter light shed on a multitude of things through the researches of historians and scientists, but entirely new fields, which had hitherto remained neglected, were made the object of comprehensive inquiries that yielded rich harvests.

In this direction much was done by (born 1812) who, partly alone and partly in connection with the bishop,  (1813-1880), collected old popular tales which were admirably adapted for the poet-


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Rh ical literature. Literature thus acquired an abundance of fresh materials, and the peculiarities of the Norwegian character were brought out into bold relief. Both these men were exceptionally fitted for the task of collecting and recasting these poetical productions of the popular mind of Norway, for they both possessed in a remarkable degree the art of coaxing from the common man his jealously guarded treasures of popular poetry. No less admirable was their talent for retelling what they obtained in such a manner that nothing was lost of the original either in substance or in style. This they were able to do because they were thoroughly familiar with the life and habits of the peasants, and in addition to this they were endowed with no mean poetical talent which they employed with consummate skill, for they checked it whenever there was any danger that it might be detrimental to the pure original form of the popular tales, or to the peculiar stamp which the people had given them. In the "Norske Huldreæventyr og Folkesagn," which Asbjörnsen has edited, giving the names of the persons by whom the tales have been told, he has inserted descriptions in which are found a series of striking pictures of the natural scenery and of the popular life of Norway. Moe has written a number of graceful and attractive poems, among which the earlier ones are especially charming. In them he extols the beauties of nature, while in his later poems, which are strongly pervaded by a religious element, he also frequently turns to nature to borrow from her symbolic expressions for his thoughts upon the loftiest themes. In his later works we also find numerous exquisite passages.

Many other writers have furnished excellent descriptions of nature and sketches of popular life, which are no less remarkable for their simple and attractive style than for their charming realism. Among the most important of these,


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302 which by the way may be regarded as the forerunners of that national poetry which has reached its climax in Björnson's stories, are 's "Fra Lofoten og Solör," 's "En Fjeldbygd," and 's small, yet spirited work, "En Jægers Erindringer." has produced most humorous and strikingly truthful sketches of the life of the lower classes in Christiania. (1802-1880), and the excellent linguist (born 1833) have made valuable collections of popular ballads, of which the Thelemark region seems to yield the most abundant harvest.

These efforts to penetrate to the very heart of the national life and to preserve it in its primitive purity, led to the so-called "Maalstræv," that is, an attempt to found a written language on the basis of the various popular dialects, "Landsmaalet" (the country vernacular), and to substitute it for the Danish-Norwegian language. It had its origin in that exclusive Norwegian tendency of the Wergeland party, and aided by the work of excellent philologists, especially by that of the distinguished (born 1813), it has brought to light a vast amount of linguistic treasures, which otherwise would have remained wholly neglected. Herein lies the great significance of these efforts, while their real aim, the creation of a new language out of the dialects, is, as a matter of course, an unattainable one. The "Maalstræver" school has produced a few poets, among whom (1818-1870) is the most remarkable. From him we have a number of beautiful lyric poems, and an epic "Storegut," written in the "Landsmaal." Another author of considerable merit, though far less original than Vinje,


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Rh is Christofer Janson, who has written a number of stories, dramas and lyric poems.

The two greatest poets that Norway has produced, and at the same time the two greatest poets now living in all Scandinavia are Björnson and Ibsen. (born 1832) suddenly became very popular by his first novel "Synnöve Solbakken," for it was no less distinguished for its clear insight into the knowledge of the peasant life in Norway than for its remarkably charming and poetical style. This fresh and graceful tale was followed by a number of similar poetical descriptions from the life of the Norwegian peasants "Arne," "En glad Gut," "Fiskerjenten," "Brudeslaatten" and several short stories, all of which possess the same excellences as the book with which this highly gifted author began his literary career, though none of them are equal to Synnöve Solbakken in artistic finish. Already in "The Fishermaiden," Björnson began to describe the life of the middle classes, and his "Magnhild" he moves wholly in the latter sphere, in which he is far less skilful. In his peasant stories—notwithstanding his condensed style, which reminds us of the old sagas—his delineations are remarkably suggestive and characteristic.

As a dramatist Björnson does not rank as high as he does as a novelist, though he has also achieved excellent results in this field. For his dramas he takes his materials partly from the sagas, as in "Sigurd Slembe," and in "Mellem Slagene," partly from modern history, as in "Maria Stuart," and partly from modern life, as in "De Nygifte," "En Fallit " and "Leonarda." In the later years politics, which have prominently engaged his attention, have also colored his dramatic compositions. In his plays "Redaktören" and "Kongen," he has given vent to his political and social ideas,


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ASIL. . Class 14,. Order:. Poverty is sometimes represented. under the figure of an old woman covered with rags, seated near a plant of basil. It is commonly said, that hate has the eyes of a basilisk, because this name has been given to a fabulous animal, which is stated to produce death by a single glance. Basil, however, is a name derived from the Greek, which signifies royal, and indicates the excellence of this fragrant plant.

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 wall. To the right, to the left, above, below, nowhere was there any passage. We had reached a spot where the rocks said in unmistakable accents—No Thoroughfare. I stood stupefied. The guide simply folded his arms. My uncle was silent.

"Well, well, so much the better," cried my uncle, at last, "I now know what we are about. We are decidedly not upon the road followed by Saknussemm. All we have to do is to go back. Let us take one night's good rest, and before three days are over, I promise you we shall have regained the point where the galleries divided."

"Yes, we may, if our strength lasts as long," I cried, in a lamentable voice.

"And why not?"

"To-morrow, among us three, there will not be a drop of water. It is just gone."

"And your courage with it," said my uncle, speaking in a severe tone.

What could I say? I turned round on my side, and from sheer exhaustion fell into a heavy but troubled sleep. Dreams of water! And I awoke unrefreshed. I would have bartered a diamond mine for a glass of pure spring water!

day, our departure took place at a very early hour. There was no time for the least delay. According to my account, we had five days' hard work to get back to the place where the galleries divided.

I can never tell all the sufferings we endured upon our return. My uncle bore them like a man who has been in the wrong—that is, with concentrated and suppressed anger; Hans, with all the resignation of his pacific character; and I—I confess that I did nothing but complain, and despair. I had no heart for this bad fortune. But there was one consolation: Defeat at the outset would probably upset the whole journey!

As I had expected from the first, our supply of water gave completely out on our first day's march. Our provision of liquids was reduced to our supply of schiedam;


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 but this horrible—nay, I will say it—this infernal liquor burnt the throat, and I could not even bear the sight of it. I found the temperature to be stifling. I was paralyzed with fatigue. More than once I was about to fall insensible to the ground. The whole party then halted, and the worthy Icelander and my excellent uncle did their best to console and comfort me. I could, however, plainly see that my uncle was contending painfully against the extreme fatigues of our journey, and the awful torture generated by the absence of water. At length a time came when I ceased to recollect anything—when all was one awful, hideous, fantastic dream!

At last, on Tuesday, the eighth of the month of July, after crawling on our hands and knees for many hours, more dead than alive, we reached the point of junction between the galleries. I lay like a log, an inert mass of human flesh on the arid lava soil. It was then ten in the morning.

Hans and my uncle, leaning against the wall, tried to nibble away at some pieces of biscuit, while deep groans and sighs escaped from my scorched and swollen lips. Then I fell off into a kind of deep lethargy. Presently I felt my uncle approach, and lift me up tenderly in his arms. "Poor boy," I heard him say in a tone of deep commiseration.

I was profoundly touched by these words, being by no means accustomed to signs of womanly weakness in the Professor. I caught his trembling hands in mine and gave them a gentle pressure. He allowed me to do so without resistance, looking at me kindly all the time. His eyes were wet with tears. I then saw him take the gourd which he wore at his side. To my surprise, or rather to my stupefaction, he placed it to my lips.

"Drink, my boy," he said.

Was it possible my ears had not deceived me? Was my uncle mad? I looked at him, with, I am sure, quite an idiotic expression. I would not understand him. I too much feared the counteraction of disappointment.

"Drink," he said again.

Had I hear aright? Before, however, I could ask myself the question a second time, a mouthful of water cooled my parched lips and throat—one mouthful, but I do believe


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 it brought me back to life. I thanked my uncle by clasping my hands. My heart was too full to speak.

"Yes," said he, "one mouthful of water, the very last—do you hear, my boy—the very last! I have taken care of it at the bottom of my bottle as the apple of my eye. Twenty times, a hundred times, I have resisted the fearful desire to drink it. But—no—no, Harry, I saved it for you."

"My dear uncle," I exclaimed, and the big tears rolled down my hot and feverish cheeks.

"Yes, my poor boy, I knew that when you reached this place, this cross road in the earth, you would fall down half dead, and I saved my last drop of water in order to restore you."

"Thanks," I cried; "thanks from my heart."

As little as my thirst was really quenched, I had nevertheless partially recovered my strength. The contracted muscles of my throat relaxed—and the inflammation of my lips in some measure subsided. At all events, I was able to speak. "Well," I said, "there can be no doubt now as to what we have to do. Water has utterly failed us; our journey is therefore at an end. Let us return."

While I spoke thus, my uncle evidently avoided my face: he held down his head; his eyes were turned in every possible direction but the right one.

"Yes," I continued, getting excited by my own words, "we must go back to Sneffels. May heaven give us strength to enable us once more to revisit the light of day. Would that we now stood on the summit of the crater."

"Go back," said my uncle speaking to himself—"and must it be so?"

"Go back—yes, and without losing a single moment," I vehemently cried.

For some moments there was silence under that dark and gloomy vault. "So, my dear Harry," said the Professor in a very singular tone of voice, "those few drops of water have not sufficed to restore your energy and courage."

"Courage!" I cried.

"I see that you are quite as downcast as before—and still give way to discouragement and despair.." [sic]

What, then, was the man made of, and what other pro-


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 jects were entering his fertile and audacious brain! "You are not discouraged, sir?"

"What! give up just as we are on the verge of success, he cried, "never, never shall it be said that Professor Hardwigg retreated."

"Then we must make up our minds to perish," I cried with a helpless sigh.

"No, Harry, my boy, certainly not. Go, leave me, I am very far from desiring your death. Take Hans with you, ''I will go on alone." ''

"You ask us to leave you?"

"Leave me, I say. I have undertaken this dangerous and perilous adventure. I will carry it to the end—or I will never return to the surface of Mother Earth. Go—Harry—once more I say to you—go!"

My uncle as he spoke was terribly excited. His voice, which before had been tender, almost womanly, became harsh and menacing. He appeared to be struggling with desperate energy against the impossible. I did not wish to abandon him at the bottom of that abyss, while, on the other hand, the instinct of preservation told me to fly.

Meanwhile, our guide was looking on with profound calmness and indifference. He appeared to be an unconcerned party, and yet he perfectly well knew what was going on between us. Our gestures sufficiently indicated the different roads each wished to follow—and which each tried to influence the other to undertake. But Hans appeared not to take the slightest interest in what was really a question of life and death for us all, but waited quite ready to obey the signal which should say go aloft, or to resume his desperate journey into the interior of the earth.

How then I wished with all my heart and soul that I could make him understand my words. My representations, my sighs and groans, the earnest accents in which I should have spoken would have convinced that cold hard nature. Those fearful dangers and perils of which the stolid guide had no idea, I would have pointed them out to him—I would have, as it were, made him see and feel. Between us, we might have convinced the obstinate Professor. If the worst had come to the worst, we could have compelled him to return to the summit of Sneffels. I ap-


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 proached Hans. I caught his hand in mine. He never moved a muscle. I indicated to him the road to the top of the crater. He remained motionless. My panting form, my haggard countenance, must have indicated the extent of my sufferings. The Icelander gently shook his head and pointed to my uncle. "Master," he said.

"The master!" I cried, beside myself with fury—"madman! no—I tell you he is not the master of our lives; we must fly! we must drag him with us! do you hear me? Do you understand me, I say?"

I have already explained that I held Hans by the arm. I tried to make him rise from his seat. I struggled with him and tried to force him away. My uncle now interposed. "My good Henry, be calm," he said. "You will obtain nothing from my devoted follower; therefore, listen to what I have to say."

I folded my arms, as well as I could, and looked my uncle full in the face.

"This wretched want of water," he said, "is the sole obstacle to the success of my project. In the entire gallery, composed of lava, schist, and coal, it is true we found not one liquid molecule. It is quite possible that we may be more fortunate in the western tunnel."

My sole reply was to shake my head with an air of incredulity.

"Listen to me to the end," said the Professor in his well known lecturing voice. While you lay yonder without life or motion, I undertook a reconnoitering journey into the conformation of this other gallery. I have discovered that it goes directly downwards into the bowels of the earth, and in a few hours will take us to the old granitic formation. In this we shall undoubtedly find innumerable springs. The nature of the rock makes this a mathematical certainty, and instinct agrees with logic to say that it is so. Now, this is the serious proposition which I have to make to you. When Christopher Columbus asked of his men three days to discover the land of promise, his men ill, terrified, and hopeless, yet gave him three days—and the New World was discovered. Now I, the Christopher Columbus of this subterranean region, only ask of you one more day. If, when that time is expired, I have not found the water of which we are in search, I swear to you, I will


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 give up my mighty enterprise and return to the earth's surface."

Despite my irritation and despair, I knew how much it cost my uncle to make this proposition, and to hold such conciliatory language. Under the circumstances, what could I do, but yield?

"Well," I cried, "let it be as you wish, and may heaven reward your superhuman energy. But as, unless we discover water, our hours are numbered, let us lose no time, but go ahead."

descent was now resumed by means of the second gallery. Hans took up his post in front as usual. We had not gone more than a hundred yards when the Professor carefuly examined the walls. "This is the primitive formation—we are on the right road—onwards is our hope!"

When the whole earth got cool in the first hours of the world's morning, the diminution of the volume of the earth produced a state of dislocation in its upper crust, followed by ruptures, crevasses and fissures. The passage was a fissure of this kind, through which, ages ago, had flowed the eruptive granite. The thousand windings and turnings formed an inextricable labyrinth through the ancient soil. As we descended, successions of layers composing the primitive soil appeared with the utmost fidelity of detail.

No mineralogists had ever found themselves placed in such a marvelous position to study nature in all her real and naked beauty. The sounding rod, a mere machine, could not bring to the surface of the earth the objects of value for the study of its internal structure, which we were about to see with our own eyes, to touch with our own hands. Remember that I am writing this after the journey.

Across the streak of the rocks, colored by beautiful green tints, wound metallic threads of copper, of manganese, with traces of platinum and gold. I could not help gazing at these riches buried in the entrails of mother earth, and of which no man would have the enjoyment to


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 the end of time! These treasures—mighty and inexhaustible, were buried in the morning of the earth's history, at such awful depths, that no crowbar or pickax will ever drag them from their tomb! The light of our Ruhmkorf's coil, increased tenfold by the myriad of prismatic masses of rock, sent their jets of fire in every direction, and I could fancy myself traveling through a huge hollow diamond, the rays of which produced myriads of extraordinary effects. Towards six o'clock, this festival of light began sensibly and visibly to decrease, and soon almost ceased. The sides of the gallery assumed a crystallized tint, with a somber hue; white mica began to commingle more freely with feldspar and quartz, to form what may be called the true rock—the stone which is hard above all, that supports, without being crushed, the four stories of the earth's soil. We were walled by an immense prison of granite!

It was now eight o'clock, and still there was no sign of water. The sufferings I endured were horrible. My uncle now kept at the head of our little column. Nothing could induce him to stop. I, meanwhile, had but one real thought. My ear was keenly on the watch to catch the sound of a spring. But no pleasant sound of falling water fell upon my listening ear.

At last the time came when my limbs refused to longer carry me. I contended heroically against the terrible tortures I endured, because I did not wish to compel my uncle to halt. To him I knew this would be the last fatal stroke. Suddenly I felt a deadly faintness come over me. My eyes could no longer see; my knees shook. I gave one despairing cry—and fell!

"Help, help, I am dying!"

My uncle turned and slowly retraced his steps. He looked at me with folded arms, and then allowed one sentence to escape, in hollow accents, from his lips—"All is over."

The last thing I saw was a face fearfully distorted with pain and sorrow; and then my eyes closed.

When I again opened them, I saw my companions lying near me, motionless, wrapped in their huge traveling rugs. Were they asleep or dead? For myself, sleep was wholly out of the question. My fainting fit over, I was wakeful as the lark. I suffered too much for sleep to visit my eye-


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 lids—the more, that I thought myself sick unto death—dying. The last words spoken by my uncle seemed to be buzzing in my ears—all is over! It was probable that he was right. In the state of prostration to which I was reduced, it was madness to think of ever again seeing the light of day. Above were miles upon miles of the earth's crust. As thought of it, I could fancy the whole weight resting on my shoulders. I was crushed, annihilated! and exhausted myself in vain attempts to turn in my granite bed.

Hours upon hours passed away. A profound and terrible silence reigned around us—a silence of the tomb. Nothing could make itself heard through these gigantic walls of granite. The very thought was stupendous.

Presently, despite my apathy, despite the kind of deadly calm into which I was cast, something aroused me. It was a slight but peculiar noise. While I was watching intently, I observed that the tunnel was becoming dark. Then gazing through the dim light that remained, I thought I saw the Icelander taking his departure, lamp in hand.

Why had he acted thus? Did Hans the guide mean to abandon us? My uncle lay fast asleep—or dead. I tried to cry out, and arouse him. My voice, feebly issuing from my parched and fevered lips, found no echo in that fearful place. My throat was dry, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. The obscurity had by this time become intense, and at last even the faint sound of the guide's footsteps was lost in the blank distance. My soul seemed filled with anguish, and death appeared welcome, only let it come quickly.

"Hans is leaving us," I cried. "Hans—Hans, if you are a man, come back."

These words were spoken to myself. They could not be heard aloud. Moreover, a moment's reflection re-assured me. Hans's departure could not be a flight. Instead of ascending the gallery, he was going deeper down into the gulf. Had he had any bad design, his way would have been upwards.

This reasoning calmed me a little and I began to hope! The good, and peaceful, and imperturbable Hans would certainly not have arisen from his sleep without some serious and grave motive. Was he bent on a voyage of dis-


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AY-BERRY, or WAX-MYRTLE, , Class 22,. Order:. The Bay-berry, or Wax-myrtle, is a shrub found in the Northern and Middle Atlantic States, growing chiefly in barren soils. The name is derived from a wax-like substance, of a greenish colour and pleasant odour, which is obtained from the berries, and in some districts very abundantly.

title: Page:Floras Lexicon-1840.djvu/50


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 covery? During the deep, still silence of the night had he at last heard that sweet murmur about which we were all so anxious?

a long, long, weary hour, there crossed my wildly delirious brain all sorts of reasons as to what could have aroused our quiet and faithful guide. The most absurd and ridiculous ideas passed through my head, each more impossible than the other. I believe I was either half or wholly mad. Suddenly, however, there arose, as it were from the depths of the earth, a voice of comfort. It was the sound of footsteps! Hans was returning. Presently the uncertain light began to shine upon the walls of the passage, and then it came in view far down the sloping tunnel. At length Hans himself appeared.

He approached my uncle, placed his hand upon his shoulder, and gently awakened him. My uncle, as soon as he saw who it was, instantly rose. "Well!" exclaimed the Professor.

"Vatten," said the hunter.

I did not know a single word of the Danish language, and yet by a sort of mysterious instinct I understood what the guide had said.

"Water, water!" I cried, in a wild and frantic tone, clapping my hands, and gesticulating like a madman.

"Water!" murmured my uncle, in a voice of deep emotion and gratitude. "Hvar?"

"Nedat."

"Where? below!" I understood every word. I had caught the hunter by the hands, and I shook them heartily, while he looked on with perfect calmness.

The preparations for our departure did not take long, and we were soon making a rapid descent into the tunnel. An hour later we had advanced a thousand yards, and descended two thousand feet. At this moment I heard an accustomed and well-known sound running along the floors of the granite rock—a kind of dull and sullen roar, like that of a distant waterfall.


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 pinetum at Cowdray this form also grows very well, and it is perfectly hardy at Colesborne and in Yorkshire. At Poltalloch in Argyllshire it also attains large dimensions.

Cryptomeria resembles Sequoia and Araucaria Cunninghami in having leaves which are spirally arranged and markedly decurrent on the shoots. The awl-shaped leaves of Araucaria Cunninghami strongly resemble those of the ordinary forms of Cryptomeria; but in the former they always end in bristle-like points, whereas in the latter they taper to a blunt point. The subulate leaves of Sequoia gigantea are closely appressed to the shoots in three ranks, with only their upper half free; whereas in Cryptomeria they are in five ranks, and are free from the shoots for the greater part of their length.

The tree is said by Siebold to have been introduced into St. Petersburg by the overland route through Siberia, several years before Fortune sent it to England. The credit of the introduction into England is, however, due to Captain Sir Everard Home, who sent seeds to Kew from Chusan in 1842. Several seedlings were raised at Kew, which were kept in a greenhouse till 1847, and were then planted out; but they never did well. One planted near the rockery was living in 1880, when it measured 26 feet high by 2 feet 3 inches in girth; and another stood for some years near the main entrance. Both these trees have been cut down, and there do not appear to be any survivors of the first importation now at Kew or elsewhere. Fortune introduced the tree in quantity in 1844, when he sent seeds, apparently gathered in Chekiang, from Shanghai to the Horticultural Society. The first tree planted in France was at Chaverney in 1844, and the second at Angers in 1847. All the old trees in this country and on the Continent are from Fortune's seeds, and belong consequently to the Chinese form.

The variety Lobbii was introduced by Thomas Lobb in 1853 from the Botanic Garden of BuitzenborgBuitenzorg [sic] in Java, where it had been sent from Japan in 1825 by Siebold, It differs only slightly from the ordinary Japanese form. Siebold states that he introduced the typical Japanese form into Leyden in 1861. John Gould Veitch introduced several kinds of Cryptomeria, as the result of his visit to Japan in 1860; but I have not been able to identify these, and according to H.J. Veitch, the typical Japanese form was first introduced by Maries in 1879. Probably there are no trees of this kind in England older than this date. The introduction of variety elegans has been already given above.

Cryptomeria was discovered in China in 1701 by J. Cunningham, who found it in


text: Flora's Lexicon/Bay-berry

title: Flora's Lexicon/Bay-berry


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 During the first half-hour of our advance, not finding the discovered spring, my feelings of intense suffering returned. Once more I began to lose all hope. My uncle, however, observing how down-hearted I was again becoming, took up the conversation. "Hans was right," he exclaimed, enthusiastically; "that is the dull roaring of a torrent."

"A torrent," I cried, delighted at even hearing the welcome words.

"There's not the slightest doubt about it," he replied, "a subterranean river is flowing beside us."

I made no reply, but hastened on, once more animated by hope. I did not even feel the deep fatigue which hitherto had overpowered me. The very sound of this glorious murmuring water already refreshed me. We could hear it increasing in volume every moment. The torrent, which for a long time could be heard flowing over our heads, now ran distinctly along the left wall, roaring, rushing, spluttering, and still falling.

Several times I passed my hand across the rock hoping to find some trace of humidity—of the slightest percolation. Alas! in vain. Again a half hour passed in the same weary toil. Again we advanced.

It now became evident that the hunter, during his absence, had not been able to carry his researches any farther. Guided by an instinct peculiar to the dwellers in mountain regions and water finders, he "smelt" the living spring through the rock. Still he had not seen the precious liquid. He had neither quenched his own thirst nor brought us one drop in his gourd.

Moreover, we soon made the disastrous discovery, that if our progress continued, we should soon be moving away from the torrent, the sound of which gradually diminished. We turned back. Hans halted at the precise spot where the sound of the torrent appeared nearest.

I could bear the suspense and suffering no longer, and seated myself against the wall, behind which I could hear the water seething and effervescing not two feet away. But a solid wall of granite still separated us from it!

Hans looked keenly at me, and, strange enough, for once I thought I saw a smile on his imperturbable face. He rose from a stone on which he had been seated, and


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 took up the lamp. I could not help rising and following. He moved slowly along the firm and solid granite wall. I watched him with mingled curiosity and eagerness. Presently he halted and placed his ear against the dry stone, moving slowly along and listening with the most extreme care and attention. I understood at once that he was searching for the exact spot where the torrent's roar was most plainly heard. This point he soon found in the lateral wall on the left side, about three feet above the level of the tunnel floor.

I was in a state of intense excitement. I scarcely dared believe what the eider-duck hunter was about to do. It was, however, impossible in a moment more not to both understand and applaud, and even to smother him in my embraces, when I saw him raise the heavy crowbar and commence an attack upon the rock itself.

"Saved," I cried.

"Yes," cried my uncle, even more excited and delighted than myself; "Hans is quite right. Oh, the worthy, excellent man! We should never have thought of such an idea."

And nobody else, I think, would have done so. Such a process, simple as it seemed, would most certainly not have entered our heads. Nothing could be more dangerous than to begin to work with pickaxes in that particular part of the globe. Supposing while he was at work a break-up were to take place, and supposing the torrent once having gained an inch were to take an ell, and come pouring bodily through the broken rock!

Not one of these dangers was chimerical. They were only too real. But at that moment no fear of falling in of roof, or even of inundation was capable of stopping us. Our thirst was so intense, that to quench it we would have dug below the bed of old Ocean itself.

Hans went quietly to work—a work which neither my uncle nor I could have undertaken. Our impatience was so great, that if we had once begun with pickax and crowbar, the rock would soon have split into a hundred fragments. The guide, on the contrary, calm, ready, moderate, wore away the hard rock by little steady blows of his instrument, making no attempt at a larger hole than about six inches. As I stood, I heard, or I thought I heard, the roar of the torrent momentarily increasing in loudness, and at times


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 tree of Japan, as it is also the largest, and though it is now difficult to say how far its natural distribution extends, it has been planted everywhere from such a remote period, and grows so rapidly that it is now the most conspicuous tree in all those parts of Japan which I visited except in the island of Hokkaido.

I saw it wild in the primeval forests which cover the mountains on the frontier of the provinces of Akita and Aomori in the extreme north, near a station called Jimba, at an elevation of about 1000 feet, where the lower edge of the forests and more accessible valleys have already been denuded of their best timber. The Japanese Government have lately made a good road up one of the valleys, which enabled me to see the forest at its best under the guidance of their obliging foresters. The hills are here very steep, often with a slope of 30° to 40°, and covered on the north-east aspects with an almost pure growth of Cryptomeria, and though on the south-west aspects a few deciduous trees, such as maple, magnolia, oak, chestnut, and Æsculus were mixed with it, I saw no other conifer. This forest is not truly virgin, because from time to time trees have been cut for shingles and tub staves, which are made in the forest and carried out on men's backs as usual in the remoter parts of Japan. But in many places it was quite dense, and the undergrowth consisted largely of ferns, Aucuba, Skimmia, Hydrangea, and a variety of other shrubs, and tall, rank-growing herbaceous plants such as Spiræa and Rodgersia podophylla.

The trees average in size 100 to 110 feet high by 2 to 3 feet in diameter, and are clean for half their length or more, in the denser parts of the forest. The largest trees which have been felled here do not exceed about 100 feet in timber length and about 4 feet diameter. The rings of one of 5 feet in girth which I measured showed 116 years' growth, of which about 87 were red heart-wood. Another close by was very flat-sided, measuring 3 feet 9 inches in diameter one way, and only 2 feet 9 inches the other, the centre on that side being only 1 foot from the nearest point of the bark. This tree was about 136 years old, over 100 years growth being red heart-wood.

Many trees were more or less curved at the butt, and many others forked low down into two, three, or more stems. There were plenty of cones on the trees which had sufficient light, but a careful search did not discover a single self-sown seedling, all the young trees which were coming up—and those not numerous—being evidently suckers or growths from the stool. The dense layer of coarse, sour humus and half-decayed leaves and branches form a bed in which the seedling after germination cannot take root, but on the railway banks and other exposed surfaces not overgrown by dense grass young seedlings appeared and grew freely. Many of these trees had large climbers, such as Vitis Coignetiæ, Schizophragma, and Wistaria, growing nearly to their tops. Plate 38, taken from a negative kindly given me by the Japanese Imperial Forest Department, shows the appearance of this forest. Plate 39, from the same source, shows a mature forest of Cryptomeria in the island of Shikoku. Plate 39 shows the trunk of the tree and the manner of felling still adopted in Japan, cf. p. 137.

The forester told me that the system adopted in this forest, now that it is


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 I almost felt the pleasant sensation of water upon my parched lips.

At the end of what appeared an age, Hans had made a hole, which enabled his crowbar to enter two feet into the solid rock. He had been at work exactly an hour. It appeared a dozen. I was getting wild with impatience. My uncle began to think of using more violent measures. I had the greatest difficulty in checking him. He had indeed just got hold of his crowbar when a loud and welcome hiss was heard. Then a stream, or rather a jet of water burst through the wall and came out with such force as to hit the opposite side!

Hans, the guide, who was half upset by the shock, was scarcely able to keep down a cry of pain and grief. I understood his meaning when plunging my hands into the sparkling jet I myself gave a wild and frantic cry. The water was scalding hot! "Boiling," I cried, in bitter disappointment.

"Well, never mind," said my uncle, "it will soon get cool."

The tunnel began to be filled by clouds of vapor, while a small stream ran away into the interior of the earth. In a short time we had some sufficiently cool to drink. We swallowed it in huge mouthfuls.

Oh what exalted delight—what rich and incomparable luxury! What was this water, whence did it come? To us what was that? The simple fact was—it was water; and, though still with a tinge of warmth about it, it brought back to the heart, that life which, but for it, must surely have faded away. I drank greedily, almost without tasting it.

When, however, I had almost quenched my ravenous thirst, I made a discovery. "Why, it is ferruginous water."

"Most excellent stomachic," replied my uncle, "and highly mineralized. Here is a journey worth twenty to Spa."

"It's very good," I replied.

"I should think so. Water found six miles under ground. There is a peculiarly inky flavor about it, which is by no means disagreeable. Hans may congratulate himself on having made a rare discovery. What do you say,


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 nephew, according to the usual custom of travelers, to name the stream after him?"

"Good," said I. And the name of "Hans-bach" was at once agreed upon.

Hans was not a bit more proud after hearing our determination than he was before. After having taken a very small modicum of the welcome refreshment, he had seated himself in a corner with his usual imperturbable gravity.

"Now," said I, "it is not worth while letting this water run to waste."

"What is the use," replied my uncle, "the source from which this river rises is inexhaustible."

"Never mind," I continued, “let us fill our goat skin and gourds, and then try to stop the opening up."

My plan, after some hesitation, was followed or attempted. Hans picked up all the broken pieces of granite he  had knocked out, and using some tow he happened to have about him, tried to shut up the fissure he had made in the wall. All he did was to scald his hands. The pressure was too great, and all our attempts were utter failures.

"It is evident," I remarked, "that the upper surface of these springs is situated at a very great height above—as we may fairly infer from the great pressure of the jet."

"That is by no means doubtful," replied my uncle, "if this column of water is about thirty-two thousand feet high, the atmospheric pressure must be something enormous. But a new idea has just struck me."

"And what is that?"

"Why be at so much trouble to close this aperture?"

"Because" I hesitated and stammered, having no real reason.

"When our water bottles are empty, we are not at all sure that we shall be able to fill them," observed my uncle.

"I think that is very probable."

"Well, then, let this water run. It will, of course, naturally follow in our track, and will serve to guide and refresh us."

"I think the idea a good one," I cried, in reply, "and with this rivulet as a companion, there is no further reason why we should not succeed in our marvellous project."

"Ah, my boy," said the professor, laughing, "after all, you are coming round."


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 healthy Cryptomeria, from whose sap alone it must now be deriving its sole nourishment, as no decaying wood is visible, and it is about 20 feet from the ground. The shape of the trees here is more picturesque and less regular than at Nikko, some having spreading branches quite near the ground; the best of these measured 133 feet by 19 feet 3 inches, with a spread of 25 yards.

The finest trees in the cemetery, and probably the finest in existence, stand on the right at its extreme end, close to an enclosure, just before reaching the large barn-like temple called "Mandoro," or hall of ten thousand lamps, which is itself surrounded and backed up by a grove of superb trees standing very thickly together. Of the trees on the right just before reaching the temple one had previously been measured by Prof. Honda of Tokyo University, who made it 58 metres high. I made it 180 feet with a girth of 24 feet. But though this may be the tallest it is not so fine a timber tree as the one standing just beyond it, which does not swell so much at the ground, but carries its girth higher up and is cleaner. This tree is broken off at about 150 feet, but seems quite vigorous, and certainly contains 2000 feet or more of sound timber.

So far I have spoken only of the Cryptomeria in a wild state and as an ornamental tree, but it is also planted very largely in many parts of Japan for timber, and forms a most profitable source of revenue to many of the smaller landowners and farmers as well as to the State. Its cultivation has attained a maximum in the district of Yoshino in the province of Yamato, and from The Forestry and Forest Products of Japan, published at Tokyo in 1904, we learn that this cultivation dates back 400 years, and covers as much as 38 per cent of the whole area of the district, of which no less than 93 per cent is forest land. The inhabitants have probably brought the art of profitable timber growing to a higher point of perfection than any other people in the world, no less than 85 per cent of the local male population consisting of woodmen, sawyers, timber carriers, and foresters. The quantity of Cryptomeria timber alone exported from Yoshino amounted in the year 1902 to 8,857,000 cubic feet, valued (I presume locally) at 1,695,000 yen, equal to about £175,000 sterling.

The trees are planted out at three years old after being twice transplanted in the nursery, where they are raised from seed and kept shaded during the first year. This, at least, is the rule in the Kisogawa district, though I was told that in the south Cryptomerias are more cheaply and quickly raised from cuttings, and that these produce as good trees as seedlings.

About 4000 per acre are usually planted, and weeded once or twice a year for three years, when they suppress the weeds by their shade. The plantations grow very fast, and are pruned from the eighth to the twenty-third year after planting out. Thinning is done at the earliest at twelve years, and the thinnings form such a profitable source of revenue that income is probably returned quicker by such a Cryptomeria plantation than by any other tree. The final felling takes place at about 120 years old, when as many as 180 trees, containing 15,000 cubic feet, may be found on an acre. The previous thinnings are estimated at 16,000 cubic feet, making the total product per acre in 120 years over 30,000 feet. This result, which


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 "More than that, I am now confident of ultimate success. Forward."

"One moment, nephew mine. Let us begin by taking some hours of repose."

I had utterly forgotten that it was night. The chronometer, however, informed me of the fact. Soon we were sufficiently restored and refreshed, and had all fallen into a profound sleep.

the next day we had nearly forgotten our past sufferings. The first sensation I experienced was surprise at not being thirsty, and I actually asked myself the reason. The running stream, which flowed in rippling wavelets at my feet, was the satisfactory reply.

We breakfasted with a good appetite, and then drank our fill of the excellent water. I felt myself quite a new man, ready to go anywhere my uncle chose to lead. I began to think. Why should not a man as seriously convinced as my uncle, succeed, with so excellent a guide as worthy Hans, and so devoted a nephew as myself? These were the brilliant ideas which now invaded my brain. Had the proposition now been made to go back to the summit of Mount Sneffels, I should have declined the offer in a most indignant manner. But fortunately there was no question of going up. We were about to descend farther into the interior of the earth. "Let us be moving," I cried, awakening the echoes of the old world.

We resumed our march on Thursday at eight o'clock in the morning. The great granite tunnel went round by sinuous and winding ways, presenting every now and then sharp turns, and in fact had all the appearance of a labyrinth. Its direction, however, was in general towards the southwest. My uncle made several pauses in order to consult his compass. The gallery now began to trend downwards in a horizontal direction, with about two inches of fall in every furlong. The murmuring stream flowed quietly at our feet. I could not but compare it to some familiar spirit, guiding us through the earth, and I dabbled


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 quality, but about 80 yen per 100 cubic feet, equal to about s. 8d. per foot, is the price in Tokyo, and selected half-inch boards for ceilings and panellings cost from 2S. to 4s. each.

Rein, in Industries of Japan, p. 226, speaks of a Cryptomeria which he measured in 1874 having at 1½ metres high a girth of 9.41 metres, equal to about 30 feet. This grew on the Sasa-no-yama-toge, between Tokyo and Kofu, at about 750 metres above sea level.

Weston, in The Alps of Japan, mentions trees high up on the eastern side of the pass between Nakatsugawa and the Ina-kaido, called the Misaka-tõge, on the northern slope of Ena-San, which measured at 3 feet from the ground no less than 26 feet in girth. It would not be supposed possible that in a country where neither machinery nor horse-power is used for the removal of timber such large trees could be utilised, but the Japanese are very ingenious in the handling of large logs in their mountain forests.

I was presented by Baron Kiyoura, Minister of Agriculture, with a most curious and interesting series of sketches, which I found in the Imperial Bureau of Forestry, showing the means adopted for felling and transporting large timber growing in rocky gorges and the most inaccessible situations. These I exhibited at a meeting of the Scottish Arboricultural Society at Edinburgh on 10th February 1905.

The modus operandi is as follows:—First men climb up the trees and lop off all the large branches, so that the tree may not lodge among its standing neighbours when felled. Ropes are then attached to the trunk and carried round a windlass, so that it may be pulled over in the right direction.

When the tree is felled it is cut into suitable lengths, often 20 to 30 feet long, and a hole cut in the end, to which a stout rope is attached. By this it is sometimes dragged, sometimes lowered, to the nearest slide, which is built up of smaller timber. Or, if the locality is too distant from a slide or from a stream large enough to float it, a platform is built on the mountain-side, on which it is sawn into boards, which are carried out of the forest on men's backs, or on sledges on the snow.

A most ingenious plan, which I have seen in no other country, is adopted where the slope of the mountain is too steep to let a log slide at its own pace.

The slide is built in a zig-zag form, and at each angle a bank is made and covered with earth and bark to check the impetus of the log, whose upper end when so checked is reversed by means of a strong pole laid across the slide, and then goes downwards till it reaches the next angle, where it is again checked and reversed by its own weight.

To see a large gang of men, all singing in chorus at their work, moving timber in a mountain forest under the direction of their foremen, is one of the most interesting sights beheld in Japan, and I could not sufficiently admire the pluck, activity, and ingenuity they showed in the very dangerous and difficult work which is necessary when logs get jammed, as they often do in these rapid mountain torrents; and when men, standing on small rafts fastened to boulders in a roaring rapid, or let down from above by ropes, have to dislodge the logs from where they have stuck fast. Rh


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 my fingers in its tepid water, which sang like a naiad as we progressed. My good humor began to assume a mythological character.

As for my uncle he began to complain of the horizontal character of the road. His route he found began to be indefinitely prolonged, instead of "sliding down the celestial ray," according to his expression.

But we had no choice; and as long as our road led towards the center—however little progress we made, there was no reason to complain. Moreover, from time to time the slopes were much greater; the naiad sang more loudly, and we began to dip downwards in earnest. I felt, however, no further painful sensation. I had not got over the excitement of the discovery of water.

That day and the next we did a considerable amount of horizontal, and relatively very little vertical, traveling. On Friday evening, the tenth of July, according to our estimation, we ought to have been thirty leagues to the southeast of Reykjawik, and about two leagues and a half deep. We now received a rather startling surprise.

Under our feet there opened a horrible well. My uncle was so delighted that he actually clapped his hands—as he saw how steep and sharp was the descent. "Ah, ah!" he cried, in rapturous delight; "this will take us a long way. Look at the projections of the rock. Hah!" he exclaimed, "it's a fearful staircase!"

Hans, however, who in all our troubles had never given up the ropes, took care so to dispose of them as to prevent any accidents. Our descent then began. I dare not call it a perilous descent, for I was already too familiar with that sort of work to look upon it as anything but a very ordinary affair. This well was a kind of narrow opening in the massive granite of the kind known as a fissure. The contraction of the terrestrial scaffolding, when it suddenly cooled, had been evidently the cause. If it had ever served in former times as a kind of funnel through which passed the eruptive masses vomited by Sneffels, I was at a loss to explain how it had left no mark. We were, in fact, descending a spiral, something like those winding staircases in use in modern houses.

We were compelled every quarter of an hour or there-


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The finest specimens of Cryptomeria known to us in England are at Hempsted, the seat of the Earl of Cranbrook, in Kent, which Lord Medway thinks were planted before 1850. They grow in a sheltered situation on a greensand formation, and the largest exceeds Sequoia sempervirens, planted near it, in height. I made it 80 feet by 8 feet, and another tree 72 feet by 8 feet 2 inches. Both are symmetrical, and seem to be growing fast (Plate 42).

At Pencarrow, in Cornwall, a number of trees were planted by Sir W. Molesworth in 1848–9, and have thriven very well, though the soil is not very favourable. Mr. Bartlett informs us that the tallest of them, which grows on a dry, steep, stony bank, crowded by other trees, is now 68 feet by 5 feet 6 inches. The largest, on moister soil, is 62 feet by 8 feet. Six other trees, planted in 1875, vary from 48 feet by 5 feet down to 33 feet by 4 feet 3 inches. At this elevation, 450 feet, there is often snow, and the thermometer sometimes falls to 12° and 14°.

At Castlehill, in North Devon, the late Earl Fortescue planted many Cryptomerias, but though they have grown well, they are mostly rather bushy than tall trees, and may have been raised from cuttings. One of them, which was 8 feet in girth and only 40 feet high, was covered with burr-like excrescences as much as 8 inches long.

At St. George's Hill, near Byfleet, growing on Bagshot sand on the highest part of the hill, surrounded by pines, is a tree 64 feet by 5 feet 5 inches.

At Kitlands, near Leith Hill, Surrey, there is a large Cryptomeria, planted by the late D.D. Heath, Esq., the branches of which have taken root and formed a grove, whose branches in turn root outside.

There is a fine tree at Killerton, which in 1902 was about 75 feet high, by 6 feet 5 inches in girth, though owing to its situation it was difficult to photograph or to measure exactly. A tree at Bicton is nearly equal to it in height and girth. At Eastnor Castle, Worcestershire, the property of Lady Henry Somerset, there is a tree 65 feet high by 5 feet 10 inches in girth.

At Fonthill Abbey, Wilts, the seat of Lady Octavia Shaw-Stewart, there is a beautiful tree 67 feet high by 9 feet 3 inches in girth. At the entrance gate of Rufford Abbey, Notts, the seat of Lord Savile, there is a fine tree about 62 feet high.

At Dropmore a large tree, planted in 1847, was cut down in 1904, and measured 68 feet 6 inches by 5 feet 9 inches. Though it seemed in perfect health, Mr. Page informed me that the heart was partly decayed. There are still three good specimens at Dropmore—two of the Chinese kind, planted in 1847, which measure (February 1905) 64 feet by 5 feet 6 inches, and 62 feet by 6 feet 7 inches; the third, var. Lobbii, planted in 1853, is 74 feet high by 4 feet 7 inches in girth. These measurements were kindly sent by Mr. Page.

At Barton, Suffolk, one, planted in 1848, was found by Henry in 1904 to be


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 abouts to sit down in order to rest our legs. Our calves ached. We then seated ourselves on some projecting rock with our legs hanging over, and gossiped while we ate a mouthful—drinking still from the pleasantly warm running stream which had not deserted us.

It is scarcely necessary to say, that in this curiously shaped fissure the Hansbach had become a cascade to the detriment of its size. It was still, however, sufficient, and more, for our wants. Besides we knew that, as soon as the declivity ceased to be so abrupt, the stream must resume its peaceful course. At this moment it reminded me of my uncle, his impatience and rage, while when it flowed more peacefully, I pictured to myself the placidity of the Icelandic guide.

During the whole of two days, the sixth and seventh of July, we followed the extraordinary spiral staircase of the fissure, penetrating two leagues farther into the crust of the earth, which placed us five leagues below the level of the sea. On the eighth, however, at twelve o'clock in the day, the fissure suddenly assumed a much more gentle slope still trending in a southeast direction. The road now became comparatively easy, and at the same time dreadfully monotonous. It would have been difficult for matters to have turned out otherwise. Our peculiar journey had no chance of being diversified by landscape and scenery. At all events, such was then my idea.

At length, on Wednesday the fifteenth, we were actually seven leagues (twenty-one miles) below the surface of the earth, and fifty leagues distant from the mountain of Sneffels. Though, if the truth be told, we were very tired, our health had resisted all suffering, and was in a most satisfactory state. Our traveler's box of medicaments had not even been opened. My uncle was careful to note every hour the indications of the compass, of the manometer, and of the thermometer, all which he afterwards published in his elaborate philosophical and scientific account of our remarkable voyage. He was therefore able to give an exact relation of the situation. When, therefore, he informed me that we were fifty leagues in a horizontal direction distant from our starting-point, I could not suppress a loud exclamation.

"What is the matter now?" cried my uncle.


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 "Nothing very important, only an idea has entered my head," was my reply.

"Well, out with it, my boy."

"It is my opinion that if your calculations are correct we are no longer under Iceland."

"Do you think so?"

"We can very easily find out," I replied, pulling out the map and compasses.

"You see," I said, after careful measurement, "that I am not mistaken. We are far beyond Cape Portland; and those fifty leagues to the southeast will take us into the open sea."

"Under the open sea," cried my uncle, rubbing his hands with a delighted air.

"Yes," I cried, "no doubt old ocean flows over our heads."

"Well, my dear boy, what can be more natural. Do you not know that in the neighborhood of Newcastle there are coal mines which have been worked far out under the sea?"

Now my worthy uncle, the Professor, no doubt regarded this discovery as a very simple fact, but to me the idea was by no means a pleasant one. And yet when one came to think the matter over seriously, what mattered it whether the plains and mountains of Iceland were suspended over our devoted heads, or the mighty billows of the Atlantic Ocean? The whole question rested on the solidity of the granite roof above us. However, I soon got used to the idea, for the passage now level, now running down, and still always to the southeast, kept going deeper and deeper into the profound abysses of Mother Earth.

Three days later, on the eighteenth day of July, on a Saturday, we reached a kind of vast grotto. My uncle here paid Hans his usual rix-dollars, and it was decided that the next day should be a day of rest.


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text: The Trees of Great Britain & Ireland/Volume 1/Pyrus


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text: The Trees of Great Britain & Ireland/Volume 1/Taxodium


text: The Trees of Great Britain & Ireland/Volume 1/Thuya


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AY. . Class 9,. Order:. The Laurus Nobilis, or Sweet Bay, though but a shrub in our country, in Asia and the southern parts of Europe, its proper birth-place, attains to the height of twenty or thirty feet. It grows very freely on the banks of the river Peneus, in Thessaly; and hence, perhaps, the fable of the metamorphosis of, daughter of that river. It also, with classic propriety, adorns mounts Ida and Athos.

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text: Page:The four Gospels - translated from the Latin Vulgate, and diligently compared with the original Greek text, being a revision of the Rhemish translation (IA TheFourGospelsTranslated).pdf/12


text: Flora's Lexicon/Bay

title: Flora's Lexicon/Bay


text:
Author:Charles W. Hattersley

Works

 * Uganda By Pen and Camera

title: Author:Charles W. Hattersley