These and many other curious particulars Jack learned about plants; but he was not yet able to answer some of the questions which had been suggested by the potato in the cellar. How did this plant know that it wanted light and air? and what made it bend round the barrel, and move forward toward the window? Are plants endowed with feeling and knowledge, which teaches them their wants, and points out the means by which these are to be satisfied? These inquiries were pursued, and Jack at last became acquainted with what is thought by learned men upon these interesting topics.
Animals are endowed with what is called instinct, which is inherent or implanted by God. The purpose of this is to make them act in a manner to secure food, to protect themselves from injury, and in general to promote their happiness. This instinct is sometimes distinct from intelligence, and sometimes mixed with it. In its simplest form, it seems to be as involuntary as the beating of the heart, or the circulation of the blood. Thus a hen sits upon her eggs, but the reason she does not know. She is guided by some power as distinct from her own knowledge, as is the beating of her heart.
Now, we know nothing of this instinct, except that it is a principle implanted by God to promote the benefit of the species to which it belongs; and that, at the same time, it is totally different from that intelligence which springs from knowledge, and leads its possessor to act in a particular manner, from its own reflections. A species of instinct of a lower grade is doubtless imparted to plants. If seeds are cast into the soil in the shade, as they require light, this instinct impels them to creep, bend, and rise, as the case may be, where it may receive the light and air it requires. Such was the conclusion to which our young botanist arrived; and here we must leave him for the present.
Bonaparte’s Ways.—The great roads constructed by Napoleon over the Alps, are, that over Cenis, 30 miles long and 18 yards wide; that over Semplon, 36 miles long and 25 yards broad; one partly through galleries hewn in the rocks, 683 feet; that over Genevre, 6,000 feet high; that from Nice to Monaco; and that over St. Gothard, 8,264 feet high. They are altogether the most gigantic efforts of labor since the pyramids of Egypt.
Lady Jane Grey.
(Continued from page 61.)
After her marriage, Lady Jane led a life of almost as great seclusion as before; she pursued her studies and maintained a correspondence in Latin with the most eminent reformers in Germany. She took little heed of the ambitious designs of her parents; nay, it is almost certain that she was purposely kept in entire ignorance of them, and that the first intimation which she had of her destiny, was when the two dukes, attended by other nobles, came to announce to her the death of Edward, approaching her with the respect and ceremony appropriate to a sovereign. The intelligence caused her both surprise and grief. She refused to receive the crown, pleading the superior right of her cousins Mary and Elizabeth, and the little probability that the people would recognize her title. “But,” she continued, “if fortune would give me warranties of her favor and her constancies, should I be well advised to take upon me this crown of thorns, which would not fail to torment me, though I were assured not to be strangled with it? My liberty is better than the chain you offer me, with what precious stones soever it be adorned, or of what gold soever framed. I will not exchange my peace for honorable and precious jealousies, for magnificent and glorious fetters; and if you love me in earnest, you will rather wish me a secure and quiet fortune, though mean, than an exalted condition exposed to the world, and followed by some dismal fall.”
But the nobles had proceeded too far to be thwarted in their purpose by the scruples or the disinclinations of a young girl. Northumberland commanded and threatened, Suffolk begged and entreated, yet Lady Jane did not yield, notwithstanding the habits of implicit obedience in which she had been educated. A new auxiliary was then brought into the field; Lord Guilford Dudley, dazzled by the brilliant destiny which seemed to await him, was induced to exert his influence; the wife could not withstand his wishes, and surrendered her own judgment to the will of her relations.
The sovereigns of England were wont to pass the first days after their accession at the Tower, in London; and, in compliance with this custom, Lady Jane proceeded thither, accompanied by a brilliant cavalcade of nobility, of both sexes. The streets through which she passed were crowded with people, but it was from curiosity rather than satisfaction; no acclamations of joy saluted her,—an omen which gave great encouragement to the friends of Mary.