This sonnet was written in 1807, and when we consider the immense numbers used in medicine, and the utter neglect of leech culture in this country, we shall cease to wonder that native leeches are very scarce. It is said that four only of the principal dealers in London import every year more than seven million leeches. The annual demand in France was estimated in 1846 to be from twenty to thirty millions; Paris requiring three millions a year. "I should be very sorry, papa," said Jack, "to walk about like the old man in the lines you quoted just now, with bare legs in the water, making them a bait for leeches. Ugh! it is horrible to think of; they must suck a good deal of blood from the man's legs." There is nothing like being used to a thing, and when you remember that many people derive their whole support from the leeches they gather, you will not wonder that they do not fear a few leech bites. I do not suppose they lose much blood; no doubt the gatherers pick them up pretty quickly and put them into their collecting cases; besides the chief flow of blood from a leech-bite occurs after the leech has been removed; the flow is encouraged by the application of warm fomentations, but the cold water of a pool would stop the flow of blood in the case of the man's legs. We ought to be thankful for the existence of an animal which is of such immense service to mankind. I suppose it was the appreciation of their value in medicine that induced French ladies, about forty-five years ago, to regard leeches with especial favour. Many people remember the Cochin-China mania and the sea-anemone mania, but, May, what will young ladies say to the fact that in 1824 there existed in France a mania for leeches? The most enthusiastic admirer of Cochin fowls or sea-anemones would never have thought of carrying her admiration of her pets so high as to wear on her dress figures of these animals; but we learn from a French writer that there might have been seen at that period elegant ladies wearing dresses à la Broussais on the trimming of which were imitations of leeches! Broussais, you must know, was a physician, no doubt a fashionable ladies' doctor, and a great patron of leeches. "What," asked Willy, "are the leeches I often find in the drains on the moors and in other places?" I have no doubt you often find these kinds; there is a small leech, the commonest of all, called Nephelis, whose little oval cocoons are so frequent on the under sides of stones in the water and on water plants. I will soon find a few cocoons; look here, under this bit of brick tile are five or six; they now contain eggs, as I will show you, by slitting open the case with my penknife. These gradually change to young leeches, which find their way out of the cocoon through one or other of the two openings at either end. Then there is the horse leech, and another very similar to it, called Aulastoma, which means having "a mouth as wide as a hall;" it has no English name, but we may give it one if you like, and call it "the hall-mouthed leech." Its mouth is capable of great stretching, and can readily take in huge earthworms nearly the size of itself. I once witnessed a curious sight—I put a couple of "hall-mouths" into a glass vessel of water, and introduced also a great fat lob-worm; each leech seized the worm, the one took the head, the other the tail. As the worm got gradually swallowed the two leeches came to very close quarters, and at last touched. What was to happen? would they twist and writhe about and break the worm, and so share the "grub" between them? No; the one fellow quickly proceeded to swallow his antagonist. I watched him carefully, and he succeeded in getting down the red lane about an inch of his companion; but whether he did not like the taste, or whether he had qualms of conscience for taking such unfair advantage of a near relation, I know not; after a few minutes the partly swallowed leech made his appearance again, apparently none the worse for his temporary sojourn in the throat of his companion. This leech may be seen sometimes on damp earth in search of its favorite earthworms. I should mention also that another worm-devouring leech has lately been found in this country; it is known by the name of Trocheta, called after a French naturalist, Du Trochet, who first described it. I dare say if we look carefully we shall find it in this neighbourhood. All these leeches lay cocoons in which the young are developed. Let us leave the pool and take our little fish with us, taking care not to shake the can more than we can help. We are now in the fields; the grass is beautifully green after the late rain. Look at that crab tree in the hedge; did you ever see such a magnificent mass of blossom? The hawthorn hedges are loaded with May-buds; what a show of May there will be in a fortnight's time. Let us gather a sprig of crab blossom and a few bits of May-bud, and see if we cannot gather a pretty handful of wild flowers for May to take home to mamma. Here are a few cowslips with their drooping golden bells and delicious scent; I am afraid we shall not find enough to make a cowslip ball. Here is cuckoo-flower, which, as old Gerarde says, "doth flower in April and Maie, when the cuckoo doth begin her pleasant notes without stammering." Old Gerarde, by the way, ought to have said "his pleasant notes," for it is the male bird alone that cries "cuckoo." Its flowers are of a delicate pale purple when at the height of its beauty; they become nearly white when on the wane. "Ladies' smock" is another name for this harbinger of Spring; Shakespeare speaks of it—
"The daisies pied and violets blue,
And lady-smocks all silver white."
Here is blue speedwell and the delicately pencilled stitchwort with its pure snow-white blossoms and delicate green leaves. It is a lovely Spring flower and very common amongst the grass of every hedgerow. We will pluck a few bits; how brittle the stem is. What curious ideas our ancestors must have had; fancy calling this plant "all-bones!" Its name, stitchwort, no doubt alludes to the plant's supposed virtue in cases of "stitches" in the side. The following lines of Calder Campbell on Spring flowers I am sure you will think very pretty:
"The buds are green on the Linden tree,
And flowers are bursting on the lea;
There is the daisy, so prim and white,
With its golden eye and its fringes bright;
And here is the golden buttercup,
Like a miser's chest with the gold heap'd up;
And the stitchwort with its pearly star,
Seen on the hedgebank from afar;
And there is the primrose, sweet, though wan,
And the cowslip dear to the ortolan,
That sucks its morning draught of dew
From the drooping curls of the harebell blue."
Here is more "May-flower" or marsh marigold; let us take some; it will make a bright show in our wildflower cluster. We will put a sprig or two of copper beech, with its rich brown leaves, which we can get from the garden, two bits of lilac, purple and white; and though the nosegay is common, it is still very beautiful, and mamma will put it in her best vase and give it a place in the drawing-room for those to admire who have hearts to admire the wild gifts of Nature.
Why, Jacko, what are you grubbing up in that ditch? "I am not grubbing up anything," said Jacko, "but here are a lot of black creatures, lively enough when you stir them up; I suppose they must be tadpoles." Tadpoles, Jack, unquestionably, but are they the young of the toad or the frog? Let me see. Well, it is not easy to say which in their present stage, a tadpole is so like a tadpole, whether the young of frog or toad. If you had found the eggs, which you might have done earlier in the year, there would have been no difficulty in saying whether they belonged to a toad or a frog; for the toad lays its black eggs imbedded in a long clear jelly-like line, whereas the frog's eggs are imbedded in a shapeless mass of jelly. Look at some of these little black fellows, as black as niggers; there is a delicate fringe on each side of the head; these are the creature's gills and answer the same purpose as the gills in a fish; the blood circulates through them, and is made fresh and pure by the action of the air contained in the water. In this state the tadpole is more of a fish than a reptile; in a short time, however, these gills will be lost and then the tadpole can no longer breathe the air of the water, but must come to the surface to take in air from the atmosphere. By-and-by we should see two small tubercles appear near the root of the tail; these are the first indications of hind-legs. Meanwhile the forelegs are budding forth, and in time would assume their distinct forms. The changes of the tadpole, when it is a fish, to a frog, when it becomes a reptile, are most curious and instructive. If you have never seen the circulation of blood in a tadpole's tail, you have something to look forward to, and I will promise to show it you some day under the microscope. "What kind of frog," Willy asked, "do they eat in France? because you know the French eat frogs." The frog which the French eat is a different species from our common frog, though I dare say our common frog would be quite as good. The edible frog has been several times found in this country, and Mr. Eyton says that during the time a detachment of the French were prisoners at Wellington, they were highly delighted to find their old friend the edible frog in the wild moors here. I have never myself seen any other than the common frog in this neighbourhood. You may think a frog would make a curious sort of pet, but a gentleman once kept a frog for several years quite domesticated. It made its appearance in an underground kitchen at Kingston on the banks of the Thames. The servants, wonderful to say, showed him kindness and gave him food; one would rather have expected that they would have uttered loud shrieks of terror and fainted away at the unexpected sight. Curiously enough, during the winter seasons, when frogs as a rule are lying asleep at the bottom of a pool, this frog used to come out of his hole and seek a snug place near the kitchen fire, where he would continue to bask and enjoy himself till the servants retired to rest. And more curious still, this frog got remarkably fond of a favourite old cat, and used to nestle under the warm fur of Mrs. Pussy, she in the mean time showing she did not in the least object to Mr. Frog's presence.
Both frogs and toads do a great deal of good by destroying quantities of slugs and injurious insects; they are, moreover, perfectly harmless. Some ignorant people, who love to destroy everything, insist on killing frogs and toads; they say they eat the strawberries in their gardens. Did you ever examine a frog's or a toad's tongue, Willy? You never did; then I hope the next frog you catch you will carefully open his mouth—treat him as if you loved him, as honest Isaac Walton says—and give me some short account of the structure of a frog's tongue. "All right, papa," said Willy, "I will bear the matter in mind. It makes me laugh, though, to think of my examining a frog's tongue; still I wonder what it is like, and I wish I could at once catch a frog to see; but we are now again near home, and I must wait for another walk."
