Very much of the delight with which we pursue natural history is surely due to the almost constant recognition of the beautiful. I do not know that I could say with the poet,—

but certainly it is a joy as long as it endures; and the naturalist finds an endless recurrence of things of beauty. Birds, insects, shells, zoophytes, flowers, sea-weeds, are all redundant of beauty; and all the classes of natural objects, though not in an equal degree, nor manifestly in every individual object, yet possess it as a prominent element. Indeed, from the profusion with which loveliness is sown broadcast over the works of God, I have often thought, though it is not directly revealed, that a sense of the beautiful and a complacency in it, altogether independent of fitness for certain ends, or the uses which may be subserved, is an attribute of the Holy One Himself, and that our perception of it is the reflection of His—a part of that image of God in which man was created, and which sin has not wholly obliterated. I know that God may have clothed His works with beauty for other admiring eyes than man's; and that it is probable that the holy angels may be far more conversant with creation than we are with all our researches,—that the ten thousand times ten thousand flowers which are "born to blush unseen" by man, may be seen and admired by "ten thousand times ten thousand" angels,[203] and thus the tribute of praise for their perfection may be ever ascending before Him whose hands made them for His glory. We may allow this; and yet with reverence presume that His own pure eyes look upon the lilies' array with a delight in their mere loveliness, infinitely greater than that which men, or even angels, take in it, seeing it is written,—"for thy pleasure they are, and were created."

I remember being struck, and somewhat awed, too, with a thought of this kind, once, when, pushing my way through a very dense and tangled thicket in a lone and lofty mountain region of Jamaica, sufficiently remote from the dwellings of man to render it probable that no civilized human foot had penetrated thither before. I suddenly came upon a most magnificent terrestrial orchid in full blossom. It was Phajus TankervilliÆ,—a noble plant, which from the midst of broad leaves growing out of a mass of green bulbs, had thrown up its stout blossom-stems to the height of a yard or more, crowned with the pyramidal spike of lily-like flowers, whose expanding petals of pure white on one side and golden brown on the other, and trumpet-lip of gorgeous purple seemed, to my ravished gaze, the very perfection of beauty. For ages, I thought, that beauteous flower had been growing in that wild and unvisited spot, every season "filling the air around with beauty," and had in all probability never met a single human gaze before. Had, then, all that divinely-formed loveliness been mere waste for those generations? I asked myself; and I immediately replied, No: the eye of God himself hath rested on it with satisfaction, and the Lord hath taken pleasure in this work of His hands.

I shall not make this chapter an essay on the sublime and beautiful, nor seek to analyse the sense of beauty. It is enough that it is an appetite of our being, and that most abundantly in nature, on every side, there is the material of its gratification. So abundantly, indeed, that it were easy to expand the few pages which I propose to devote to the subject into a volume, or a dozen volumes, and yet leave untouched vast treasures of the beautiful in natural history. I must content myself and my readers with the selection of a few of the more prominent objects in which this sense is gratified, and with a discrimination of two or three distinct phases or conditions of existence which contribute, each in its measure, to give delight to the eyes.

Among Quadrupeds, there is perhaps less of beauty, strictly considered, than in most other classes of animals. Elegance of form, however, which is one phase of it, is seen in the lithe and active squirrel, the pretty petaurist, and many other of the smaller beasties, and is found in perfection in the deer and antelopes. Who that has seen a pet fawn coming to be caressed by a fair girl, but must have had his sense of the beautiful gratified? Mark the freedom and grace of every motion! See how it stretches out its pretty meek face and taper neck towards the hand; its extreme timidity causing its whole body and every limb to start on the slightest stir from the beholders, while on the least approach it bounds away in the exuberant playfulness of its little heart, then stops, and turns, and gazes, and stretches out its neck again! See when it trots or walks, how high it lifts its little slender feet, bending its agile limbs as if motion itself were a pleasure! See, as it stands, with one fore-foot bent up, the hoof nearly touching the belly; the long graceful ears moving this way and that, now thrown forwards, now backwards, now erected, to catch the slightest sound,—what a picture of fairy grace it is! There is beauty, too, in the soft, full liquid eye of these animals,—the "bright, black eye" of the "dear gazelle," which in the East is the very ideal of female loveliness. Its melting gaze seems full of tenderness, so that we cannot look without loving it.

Nor is beauty of colour wholly wanting. How rich is the tawny fur of the tiger, dashed with its black streaks! And the brighter yellow of the leopard and the jaguar, studded all over with rosettes of black spots! We forget the ferocity of the savage in its beautifully-painted coat. The zebra, too,—with the fine contrast of those bands of richest sable on the cream-coloured ground, now bold and broad, as on the rounded body, now running in fine parallel but irregularly-waved lines, as on the face,—is a beautiful quadruped; and a herd of them galloping wantonly over a South African plain, must be a sight worth seeing indeed.

When we come to Birds, however, beauty is not the exception, but the rule. The form of a bird is almost always graceful; the rounded swellings and undulations of outline, and the smoothness of the plumage give pleasure to the eye, even when there is no attractiveness of hue. One has almost a difficulty in naming an inelegant bird. But when, as in a thousand instances, brilliancy of colouring is combined with elegance of shape and smoothness of plumage, we must be charmed. Is not our own little goldfinch, is not the pert chaffinch that comes up to our very feet for a grain or a crumb, a pretty object? But the tropical birds,—we must look at them if we wish to know what nature can do in the way of adornment. We should go to the flats on the embouchure of the Amazon, and see the rosy spoonbills, in their delicate carnation dress, set off by the lustrous crimson of their shoulders and breast-tufts, feeding by hundreds on the green mud, or watch the gorgeous ibises, all clad in glowing scarlet with black-tipped wings, when, in serried ranks, a mile in length, like the vermillion cloud of morning, they come to their breeding-place,—a truly magnificent sight.[204]

The first of the Parrot tribe that I ever had an opportunity of seeing in its native freedom was the beautiful Parrakeet of the Southern States. Eighty or a hundred birds in one compact flock passed me flying low, and all nearly on the same plane; and, as they swept by, screaming as they went, I fancied that they looked like an immense shawl of green satin, on which an irregular pattern was worked in scarlet and gold and azure. The sun's rays were brilliantly reflected from the gorgeous surface, which rapidly sped past like a splendid vision.

The Cock of the Rock is a fine South American bird of the richest orange colour, crowned with a double crest of feathers edged with purple. Mr Wallace describes his search for it on the Rio Negro, and his admiration of its beauty. Some time he sought in vain, for it is a rare bird, till the old Indian who was his guide suddenly caught him by the arm, and, pointing to a dense thicket, whispered in a low tone, "Gallo!" Peering through the foliage, the naturalist caught a glimpse of the magnificent bird, sitting amidst the gloom, and shining out like a mass of brilliant flame. As it is easily alarmed and very wary, it required some following and perseverance before he shot it. One of his Indians descended into the deep rocky glen into which it fell, and brought it to him. "I was lost," he says, "in admiration of the dazzling beauty of its soft downy feathers; not a spot of blood was visible, not a feather was ruffled, and the soft, warm, flexible body set off the fresh swelling plumage in a manner which no stuffed specimen can approach."[205]

There is something exquisitely pleasing to the eye in the delicate painting of the soft plumage in most of the Goatsuckers and their allies. Entirely destitute of brilliant hues as they are, the combinations of warm browns, and cool greys, interchanged with black and white, and the manner in which these are softened, and blended, and minutely pencilled, produce an effect that is peculiarly charming.

In the Trogons of the tropical regions we see elegance of form combined with the most gorgeous colouring. Green and gold, crimson, scarlet, orange, and black, are the hues of these birds, which hide themselves in the deep dark recesses of the Amazonian and Indian forests. That species called the Resplendent is the noblest of the race, whose magnificence was so well appreciated by the ancient Mexican emperors, that none but members of the royal family were permitted to adorn themselves with its flowing plumes. The whole upper parts of this bird, its fine coronal crest of erectile plumes, its shoulder-hackles, or long lance-shaped feathers, that droop over the sides, and the elongated tail-coverts which hang down beyond the tail to a length of three feet or more, curving elegantly under the bird, as it sits on a branch, are of the richest golden green, shining with a satiny radiance. The under parts are of a splendid scarlet, and the tail feathers are white, with broad black bars.

More enchanting than mere colour, however rich and glowing this may be, is the fine metallic reflection which we see on the plumage of many tropical birds. The Rifle-bird of Australia might be seen sitting on a tree, and be passed by with contempt as a mere crow, while the eye was attracted to a more gaily-hued parrot by its side. But viewed close at hand, in the full blaze of the sun, the darker-plumaged bird is seen to exceed the other by far, in gorgeous glory, and to be not unworthy of the specific title of Paradiseus, by which it is known to naturalists. The body generally is of a deep velvet black, but it reflects a purple flush on the upper parts, and the feathers of the under parts are edged with olive-green. The crown of the head, and the whole throat, are clothed with scale-like feathers of the brightest emerald-green, which blaze with a gemmeous lustre in certain lights, and make the most vivid contrast with the velvet of the body. The tail displays its two middle feathers of the same lustrous green, while the bordering ones are deep black.

The vast and little-known island of Papua contains some specimens of the feathered race of surpassing glory. The Epimachi, or Plume-birds, take a prominent place in this category. They are remarkable for the erectile scale-like feathers of the sides and shoulders, which form large fan-shaped tufts, standing out from the body in a very striking manner. Speaking of the superb Epimachus, Sonnerat, its describer, thus writes:—"As if to add to the singularity of this bird, nature has placed above and below its wings feathers of an extraordinary form, and such as one does not see in other birds; she seems, moreover, to have pleased herself in painting this being, already so singular, with her most brilliant colours. The head, the neck, and the belly are glittering green; the feathers which cover these parts possess the lustre and softness of velvet to the eye and touch; the back is changeable violet; the wings are of the same colour, and appear, according to the lights in which they are held, blue, violet, or deep black; always, however, imitating velvet. The tail is composed of twelve feathers, the two middle feathers are the longest, and the lateral feathers gradually diminish; it is violet, or changeable blue above, and black beneath. The feathers which compose it are as wide in proportion as they are long, and shine above and below with the brilliancy of polished metal.

"Above the wings the scapularies are very long and singularly formed; their points being very short on one side, and very long on the other. These feathers are of the colour of polished steel, changing into blue, terminated by a large spot of brilliant green, and forming a species of tuft or appendage at the margin of the wings.

"Below the wings spring long curved feathers, directed upwards; these are black on the inside, and brilliant green on the outside. The bill and feet are black."[206]

The same author, in referring to the brilliant metallic hues of this and other birds, takes occasion to notice the iridescent effect which is produced by the different angle at which light falls on the feathers. The emerald-green, for instance, will often fling out rays of its two constituent primary colours, at one time being blue-green, at another gold-green, while in certain lights all colour vanishes, and a velvet-black is presented to the eye. The ruby feathers of several birds become orange under certain lights, and darken to a crimson-black at other times.

This change of hue is analogous to the well-known iridescent changeableness of the nacre which lines various shells, and is owing to the structure of its surface reflecting the light in different rays, according to the angle at which it falls upon the feathers.

Another species, a native of the same teeming region, the Twelve-thread Epimachus, glows, with equal lustre, in the richest violet and emerald, but somewhat diversely arranged. The long, elegant depending tail is here reduced to ordinary dimensions, but, as if to compensate for this inferiority, the Twelve-thread is adorned with an expanding dress of the purest snowy white, composed of long silky plumes that spring from behind and below the wings, so soft and so loosely webbed as to wave gracefully in the slightest breeze. From these tufts project long and very slender shafts, unwebbed, and as fine as threads, curling elegantly, six on each side.

The little Sun-birds of India and Africa, and the still tinier Humming-birds of the New World are conspicuous for the metallic radiance of their plumage. Take for an example of the former the Fire-tailed Sun-bird of NepÂl. The crown and forehead are brilliant steel-blue, while the neck, the back, and the rump are of the richest scarlet, diversified by a broad patch of bright yellow across the middle of the back. The central feathers of the tail are lengthened, and are bright scarlet, while the lateral feathers are edged with the same rich hue on brown. The breast is golden yellow or orange, flushed with crimson in the centre, and the rest of the inferior parts are olive-green. Most of those gorgeous colours have a silky or metallic lustre, and blaze out under the tropical sunlight with amazing brightness.

Exquisite ornaments are these to an Indian garden, where they delight in the flowering plants and shrubs. They creep to and fro about the stalks and twigs, clinging by their little purple feet, and rifling the tubular corollas of the honeyed blossoms, whence doubtless they gather many minute insects, licked up with the nectar, by the aid of their curiously pencilled tongue.

For that peculiar charm which resides in flashing light combined with the most brilliant colours, the lustre of precious stones, there are no birds, no creatures, that can compare with the Humming-birds. Confined exclusively to America,—whence we have already gathered between three and four hundred distinct species, and more are being continually discovered,—these lovely little winged gems were to the Mexican and Peruvian Indians the very quintessence of beauty. By these simple people they were called by various names signifying "the rays of the sun," "the tresses of the day-star," and the like. Their glittering scale-like plumage was employed to make, at the cost of immense time, patience, and labour, the radiant mantles in which the emperors and highest nobles appeared on state occasions, as well as to form by a sort of mosaic, those embroidered pictures which so attracted the admiration of the Spanish conquerors. The Mexican priests adopted the tiny birds into their mythology: they taught that the souls of those warriors who died in defence of the gods, were conducted by Toyamiqui, the wife of the god of war, straight to the mansion of the sun, and there transformed into humming-birds.

In the gorgeous forest glooms of the mountainous parts of Jamaica, and especially in the sunny glades which here and there break their uniformity, where the ever-verdant foliage rises upon all sides of the open space like a wall, covered with the most elegant and fragrant flowers, I have been charmed by the familiar fearlessness and lustrous splendour of these little creatures. Here sitting down on a prostrate log in the shadow, I have watched them sipping all around, flitting to and fro, coming and going, every moment disappearing in the sombre shade, or suddenly flashing out, with a whirr like that of a spinning-wheel, into the bright sunshine. Bold and unsuspecting, they might be seen exploring bush after bush, and coming, while I remained motionless, even within arm's length of me, busily rifling all the blossoms in rapid succession, regularly quartering the surface of some favourite shrub, so as to lose none, and of course, in their zeal, frequently probing the same flower again and again. Sometimes it would be the Mango, suspending himself on whirring pinions in front of the flowers, his broadly-expanded tail-feathers of the richest violet, his body plumage all green and gold, and his cheeks and throat blazing, in the changing light, with the radiance now of the ruby, now of the amethyst, now of the sapphire, and now becoming for an instant the most intense black. But much more commonly on these occasions was I visited by the elegant Long-tail, whose slender form, black velvet crest, emerald bosom, and long tail-plumes, distinguish it as one of the principes of this patrician race. This lovely little gem would be hovering about, half-a-dozen visible at the same moment, threading the projecting branches, now probing here, now there, one moment above a flower and bending down to it, the next hanging below it, and thrusting up its crimson beak to kiss its nectar-tube from beneath, the cloudy wings on each side vibrating with a noise like that of a factory wheel, and its entire throat, breast and belly clothed in scaly plumage of the richest green, contrasted finely with the velvety black of all beside. This scaly plumage would flash brilliantly back the sun's light, like a noble emerald in the crown of a king; then, by the slightest possible turn of the bird, it would become black, all the light being absorbed; then, on another movement, it would seem a dark rich olive, and in an instant flame forth again with emerald effulgence, over which olive and black clouds were momentarily passing and repassing.

The phenomenon of this changing lustre is worthy of more careful attention than it has received. In such Humming-birds as I have examined,—and possibly it may be a general rule,—the iridescence of those portions of the plumage that are changeable is splendid in the ratio of the acuteness of the angle formed by the incident ray and the reflected one. Thus the scaly plumage of the neck of the Mango appears to advantage in a room with a single window, only when the beholder stands with his back to the light, and has the bird before him and facing him. Then the perpendicular band down the throat and breast, which seems composed of the richest black velvet, is bounded on each side by a broad band of glowing crimson, mingled with violet. It is not the entire plumage of even a Humming-bird that displays these refulgent gleams: some of the brilliant hues are permanent, not changeable colours; such as the golden greens which adorn the back and wing-coverts in so many species; in which the colour is subject to little change, and the only effect produced by the alteration of the angle of the light is the transforming the tips of the feathers into the appearance of burnished gold.

Wilson[207] has remarked that the plumage of the Indigo finch (Fringilla cyanea) in certain lights appears of a rich sky-blue and in others of a vivid verdigris green, so that the same bird, in passing from one place to another before your eyes, seems to undergo a total change of colour. When the rays of light so fall on the plumage that the angle of the incident and reflected ray is acute, the colour is green, when obtuse, blue. I have myself noticed exactly the same thing in the brilliant changeable colour of insects,—as, for instance, the CicindelÆ of America, and the Emerald Virgin Dragonfly (Agrion Virginica.)

To return, however, to our Humming-birds, of which my readers will like to have one or two more described,—la crÊme de la crÊme, the very Élite of this lovely little fairy population. If we were to cross the Atlantic to Brazil, track up the mighty Amazon some thirty days' sail, and a distance of a thousand miles, we should come to the mouth of the Rio Negro, where a remarkable change in the appearance of the water indicates a totally different region. Instead of the muddy water of the Amazon, resembling pea-soup, that of the Negro is intensely dark, but clear and limpid, every ripple sparkling like crystal. The land becomes high, and the river, some four miles wide, passes between lofty cliffs, crowned with the rich green walls of the primeval forest. The country is far more attractive than that on the Amazon; instead of a dead level, swampy and intersected by sluggish igaripÉs, or shallow ponds, overhung by impenetrably tangled thickets, and full of venomous flies, here are gentle hills, and tiny brooks of sparkling water, and a comparatively open forest, with bright clear glades in which the traveller may recline without persecution from the flies,—these pests being unknown on the "black waters." The ground is covered by evergreens of different species and exquisite forms, and many kinds of elegant ferns are growing in the valleys. There are few lianes or spinous briers stretching from tree to tree, obstructing free passage, but a thousand lesser vines drape the low tree tops with myriads of flowers, new and attractive to the visitor. Everywhere the forest is intersected by paths, some made by the inhabitants in their frequent rambles, others by wild animals that come to the water to drink; and along these the eager naturalist can readily pass to the feeding trees of many beautiful and peculiar birds.

Here are wont to haunt many varieties of the richly-hued trogons, unknown to the lower regions; and at any hour their plaintive note may be heard at intervals, as they sit moodily, singly or in pairs, on the branches, with the long tail outspread and drooping, watching for passing insects. Cuckoos of several kinds, their plumage glancing red in the subdued light, flit noiselessly through the woods, searching for caterpillars. Purple jays, in large flocks, alight on some berry-bearing tree, chattering and gesticulating, but shy and alert,—ready to start at the snapping of a twig. Motmots and chatterers in gayest hues,—scarlet, violet and blue,—are abundant. Goatsuckers, in exquisitely-blended and pencilled tones of colour, start from some shady glen where they are dozing away the day hours, and, flying a short distance on soft winnowing pinions, rest again, and seem to fall asleep in an instant. Showy manikins and tanagers of the brightest tints are flaunting in every bush: pigeons and doves of soberer hues are cooing their gentle complainings in the taller trees; and guans and curassows are marching with stately pace in the paths, picking here and there some delicate morsel; or running with loud harsh cry, with outstretched neck and rapid stride, as they detect approaching danger.[208]

Still, conspicuous above all are the Humming-birds, which, revelling in this region of the sun, are buzzing around the blossoming shrubs like insects. And pre-eminent among these is the Fiery Topaz, a name that attempts to express what neither title, nor description, nor coloured figure can adequately express,—its gemmeous magnificence and lustre. One of the first ornithologists of the age, the Prince of Canino, has assigned to the species the honour of being "inter Trochilides pulcherrimus." Description, however, I must give, for want of anything better, since, even if I possessed a living specimen, I could not exhibit its living radiance to all my readers: therefore, pray pay attention to the details, and imagine. The general hue of this imperial atom is a blazing scarlet, in fine contrast with which the head and lower part of the throat are deep velvet-black. The gorget of the throat is emerald green, with a cloud of delicate crimson in the centre. The lower part of the back, the rump and the upper tail-coverts are of that beautiful bronzed green which changes to orange gold, so frequently seen in this tribe; while the wing-quills and tail are purplish black, except the middle pair of feathers in the latter, which are very slender, project to a great length, and cross each other; these are green with a purple gloss.

Among the hundreds of species of this very lovely tribe that swarm in the intertropical regions of South America, I will select one more for its surpassing beauty. It is the Bar-tailed Comet. We must look for it in the temperate and equable valley of the Desaguedero, which leads out of Lake TitiÇaÇa, the largest sheet of water on the South American continent, and famous in Peruvian tradition, as the scene where Mango Capac and Mama Ocollo surprised the barbarous aborigines by their first appearance. On one of the charming islets of this quiet lake, the two august strangers were seen, clothed in garments; and, declaring that they were the children of the sun long prophesied of, proceeded to teach their simple subjects the arts of civilisation, and to establish a regular government. We must search for our tiny Comet, too, in the cultivated plains that surround the Cerro of Potosi, that singular cone sixteen thousand feet in height, which is wholly composed of silver, and which is estimated to have yielded, during the three hundred years that have elapsed since the Indian exposed the solid silver, when he accidentally tore up a shrub by the roots,—the sum of two hundred millions of pounds sterling. The districts around, and specially the environs of the town of Chuquisaca, are adorned with a profusion of gardens and orchards, in which many European trees and flowers grow, as well as those of the tropics, the climate possessing the charms of many regions. In the shrubberies of the city, and in the gardens of the Indian cottages, as well as the slopes of the surrounding mountains, where the native groves and forests grow undisturbed, the brilliant Bar-tail may be seen during the summer months; but, as soon as the chilling winds of April tell of coming winter, the charming visitor becomes scarce, and flitting northward finds in the forests of Lower Peru the mild and balmy air which he loves. When the trees are in blossom, and particularly the apple-trees, which have been introduced from Europe, and are largely cultivated in orchards, the males may be seen shooting in and out among the foliage, like glowing coals of fire, chasing each other with shrill chirpings, and with surprising perseverance and acrimony. The fields of maize, and pulse, and other leguminous plants which are cultivated in the plains, receive a fair share of his attention; and the nopÂleries, or cactus-gardens, where the cochineal insect is reared for those most valuable crimson and scarlet dyes, which far outshine the vaunted productions of ancient Tyre. The blossom of the nopÂl is itself one of the most splendid of flowers. It begins to open as the sun declines, and is in full expanse throughout the night, shedding a delicious fragrance, and offering its brimming goblet, filled with nectareous juice, to thousands of moths, and other crepuscular and nocturnal insects. When the moon is at the full in those cloudless nights whose loveliness is known only in the tropics, the broad blossom is seen as a circular disk nearly a foot in diameter, very full of petals, of which the outer series are of a yellowish hue, gradually paling to the centre, where they shine in the purest white. The numerous recurving stamens surround the style which rises in the midst like a polished shaft, the whole glowing in its silvery beauty under the moonbeams, from the dark and matted foliage, and diffusing its delicious clove-like fragrance so profusely that the air is loaded with it for furlongs round.

Other species of Cactus and Cereus, some with yellow, and some with pink, and some with rich crimson blossoms,—the pride of our conservatories,—sprawl profusely in these gardens; and here the Bar-tail flaunts all day long sipping the nectar, and picking up myriads of minute insects which the blossoms attract, and which lodge in the honeyed recesses.

But it is time that the reader should know what sort of a bird this Bar-tailed Comet is. Attend, then, while I describe his ball-dress, more lustrous than any fair lady ever wore at Almack's. The head, neck, upper part of the back, and a considerable portion of the under surface, are light green, with reflections of burnished gold on the cheeks and forehead. The lower back is of a deep crimson. The throat flames like an emerald. The tail is the chief feature, the feathers being broad, and greatly lengthened, in regular graduation from the central ones to the outmost pair, which are double the length of the entire bird besides. The form of the tail is widely forked, its outline having a double curve, somewhat lyre-shaped. The tail-coverts are ruddy brown; and the feathers themselves are of the richest and most glowing fire-colour, incomparably lustrous; each feather being broadly tipped with velvety black. The graduation of the feathers throws these terminal black tips to a considerable distance from each other, and their alternation with the intermediate spaces of the fiery glow has an inconceivably charming effect, as the bird makes its rapid evolutions through the air, and whisks about among the flowers, with a velocity which the eye of the beholder can scarcely follow. It is very fond of certain long trumpet-shaped pendent blossoms, into which it penetrates so far, that nothing of it can be seen except the tips of its radiant forked tail projecting from the tube.

Another family of birds that is conspicuous for gorgeous beauty is that of the Pheasants. Our own familiar species, which is said to have been brought long ages ago from the banks of the Phasis in Colchis, by Jason in the Argo,—

is a very splendid bird, and is well painted in a few lines by Pope;—who speaks of his

But besides this, there are Indian and Chinese species which excel it in glory. There are the richly-pencilled Gold and Silver Pheasants, and the noble Reeves' and Amherst Pheasants, with their extraordinary long-barred tail plumes. The last named is a bird of unusual magnificence.

Then there is the splendid Fire-back of Sumatra and Java, which is adorned with a crest of slender stalked feathers, each expanding into a disk with spreading barbs. The head, neck, breast, and belly of this rare bird are of deep steel-blue, very lustrous, the lower part of the back fiery orange-red or flame-colour, varying in intensity according to the incidence of the light, and passing like a zone of fire round the body, though less brilliant on the abdomen; the rump and tail-coverts broad and truncate, bluish-green, each feather tipped by a paler bar. The tail is erect and arched, somewhat like that of the common cock, its middle feathers are pure white, and all the rest black, with green reflections. The legs and feet, which are scarlet, and the skin of the face, purple, complete the toilet of this magnificent oriental.

What shall we say to the Argus Pheasant, the bird of Malacca with the magnificent pinions? How fine a sight must it be to see this noble fowl displaying his coxcombery in the presence of his admiring hens, strutting to and fro with his long tail feathers spread and erected, and his broad wings expanded and scraping the ground far on each side! The colours, it is true, are sober browns, varied with black and white; but how exquisitely are these arranged! Perhaps no brilliancy of tint would more charm the eye than the row of ocellated spots,—each a dark circular disk surrounded by concentric circles,—that runs along the centre of each of the enormously-developed secondary wing-quills.

To come back to colour and metallic refulgence. We must not overlook the MonÂl, or Scaly Impeyan of the Himalaya chain. This fowl, which is little less than a turkey, looks as if clothed in scale armour of iridescent metal, of which the specific hues can scarcely be indicated, so changeable are they; green, steel-blue, crimson, purple, and golden-bronze,—all of the utmost intensity of colour, and of dazzling refulgence, adorn this bird, set off by a broad square patch of pure white in the middle of the back, while the crown of the head carries a drooping crest of naked-shafted, broad-tipped, green feathers. This splendid fowl is as hardy as the turkey or pheasant, and will probably before long be domesticated in British preserves, to which it would be a noble addition, being perhaps exceeded by nothing in nature for refulgence.

In the same regions are found the Polyplectrons, or Pheasant Peacocks, birds of the same family. Look at one of these in detail, the Crested Polyplectron of the Sunda Isles. It much resembles a peacock in contour, the head and neck black, with steely reflections, relieved by a long stripe of white arching over each eye, and a broad patch of the same on the ears. The forehead and crown carry a crest of tall feathers capable of erection, and making a fine ornament. The whole under parts are velvet black; the back and rump warm brown, with paler wavy bands and lines. The coverts and secondary feathers of the wings are of the richest blue, each feather tipped with velvety black. But the tail is the grand display. It is a true tail, not a train of superincumbent feathers as in the peacock, the quill-feathers being of great length and breadth, and the whole capable of being widely expanded into an enormous rounded fan. The individual feathers are brown, pencilled and sprinkled with pale buff,—a pretty ground, on each of which is painted two large oval eye-spots of the most brilliant metallic blue or green, according to the light, contained within encircling double rings of black and white. These refulgent eyes are so set that they constitute two curved bands placed at some distance apart, running across the tail, and when this organ is expanded they impart to it a most regal appearance.

Last, but not least, in this distinguished tribe, there is the familiar Peacock, a proverb of splendour in raiment from the remote antiquity of Aristophanes and Aristotle to Mr Hollingshead, who lashes the sumptuary tendencies of our modern ladies under the title of "Peacockism."[211] The true Peacock, however, the genuine bird, may at least plead that no milliners' bills of £3000 are ever proved against him in Bankruptcy Courts.

I am not going to be so impertinent as to describe in detail the plumage of a bird so well known as the Peacock. Who does not know his empurpled neck so elegantly bridled, his aigrette of four-and-twenty battledore-feathers, his pencilled body-clothing, and, above all, his grand erectile train with its rows of eyelets? Who has not admired the lustre and beauty of those eyelets,—the kidney-like nucleus of deepest purple, the surrounding band of green, widening in front and filling the notch of the pupil, the broad circle of brown, and the narrow black ring edged with chestnut, and then the decomposed barbs of the feather, gilded green, all presenting the effulgence of burnished metal, or rather the glitter and glow of precious gems, flashing in the varying light? One can hardly imagine the splendour of the scene described by Colonel Williamson, as seen by him in the Jungleterry District in India, when, being engaged shooting these beautiful fowl, he estimates that not fewer than twelve or fifteen hundred Peafowl of various sizes were within sight of him for nearly an hour. "Whole woods were covered with their beautiful plumage, to which the rising sun imparted additional brilliancy. Small patches of plain among the long grass, most of them cultivated, and with mustard then in bloom, which induced the birds to feed, increased the beauty of the scene."

In the preceding volume I have spoken of the gorgeous beauty of the Birds of Paradise, and have quoted the description given by Lesson of his rapt feelings when, on first seeing a specimen in the forests of Papua, he could not shoot from emotion. A chapter on animal beauty cannot pass over this magnificent family, though to my own taste there is something in the refulgent radiance of the Humming-birds and Pheasants which is superior to anything seen in the Paradise-birds. The latter, or some of them at least, give me the idea of being over-dressed, particularly that one called the Superb, whose singular forked gorget and shoulder-cape, gorgeous as these adornments are, with their lustrous violet and green flushes, are somewhat inelegant in form. Yet some of them are softly beautiful;—

The Emerald Paradise, the best known of the family, seems to have been in the poet's eye; and certainly the combination of form and colour in this species is very charming. The rich chocolate of the upper parts, and the delicate lemon-yellow of the neck, contrast well with the gemmeous green lustre of the front, when the velvety plumage flashes and gleams in the sunlight. And the numerous soft floating plumes that arch out from the flanks to a great distance on all sides are exquisite in loveliness. "Even in the absolute quiet of a stuffed skin under a glass case," as Mr Wood remarks, "these plumes are full of astonishing beauty, their translucent golden-white vanelets producing a most superb effect as they cross and recross each other, forming every imaginable shade of white, gold and orange, and then deepening towards their extremities into a soft purplish red."

Mr G. Bennett, who saw a living specimen in an aviary at Macao, describes these long, elegant, loose-barbed plumes as occupying a good deal of the bird's own attention and care. "One of the best opportunities of seeing this splendid bird in all its beauty of action as well as display of plumage, is early in the morning, when he makes his toilet: the beautiful sub-alar plumage is then thrown out and cleaned from any spot that may sully its purity, by being passed gently through the bill; the short chocolate wings are extended to the utmost, and he keeps them in a steady flapping motion as if in imitation of their use in flight, at the same time raising up the delicate long feathers over the back, which are spread in a chaste and elegant manner, floating like films in the ambient air. In this position the bird would remain for a short time, seemingly proud of its heavenly beauty, and in raptures of delight with its most enchanting self; it would then assume various attitudes, so as to regard its plumage in every direction."[213]

Passing over all other classes of animate existence, I shall say a few words on the surpassing loveliness which is displayed by many of the Insect tribes. The nursery prejudice, that these creatures are worthy only to be trodden under foot, as things repulsive and disgusting, is certainly decaying, though it retains its hold still in some minds. A glance through an entomological cabinet would prove how unjust are such notions. If brilliant hues, polished surface, sculptured chasings, graceful forms, and lively motions can command admiration, these are displayed by Insects to a degree which we should in vain look for in any other class of creatures. We need not speak of simple colours; these occur in profusion, of all hues, of all shades of intensity, and of the very highest degrees of brightness; combined too, in the most elegant manner, and very frequently, particularly in the Lepidoptera, presenting that peculiar charm which results from the association of tints that are complemental to each other.

Words are always felt to be too poor to describe the refulgence of the hues of many of the feathered tribes;—the metallic gloss of the Trogons and the oriental GallinaceÆ, the gem-like flashings of the Humming-birds and the Birds of Paradise. Perhaps it would be deemed extravagant to assert, that these glories can be excelled by the tiny races I am now discussing; but equalled, most fully equalled, they assuredly are. To possess the glow of burnished metal upon the most varied hues, is, in the order Coleoptera, a common thing. Most of the EumolpidÆ are remarkable for this; of which I may instance Chrysochus fulgidus, a beetle from Bombay. The BuprestidÆ have long been celebrated, for the same reason; and portions of their bodies have been used in the toilet of ladies, in association with diamonds and rubies.

Many of the ChlamydÆ blaze with golden-crimson, purple, and the most fiery orange. The species of the small genus Eurhinus seem to send forth the coloured flames of the pyrotechnic art. The Longicornes display the same beauties, associated with gigantic size. Cheloderus Childreni, for example, a large beetle from Columbia, is equal to any Buprestis for the radiance of the green, crimson, purple, blue, scarlet, and gold, that are all at the same time flaming from its singularly-sculptured surface.

But there are impressions conveyed by the reflection of light from the bodies of many beetles, which far exceed the metallic fulgor of which I have been speaking, beautiful as it is. I cannot hope to describe them intelligibly; I know of no combination of words which will give an idea of them. I mean the soft, almost velvety radiance of some of the Goliathi; of many of the CetoniÆ, as the genus Eudicella, for instance; and of not a few of the PhanÆi, in the former two, the hue is generally green; in the latter, this colour is associated with other hues, most glowing, yet of an indescribable softness. I cannot imagine anything of this sort more charming than the soft golden and orange hue upon the green of the magnificent PhanÆus imperialis.

Others again, as Hoplia farinosa, a little chafer from Southern Europe, and many of the weevil tribe (CurculionidÆ), are covered with scales of vivid splendour, but so minute, and so closely set, that the whole surface reflects one soft but rich lustre of tints, differing according to the species. We would instance, of these, the noble species of the genus Cyphus. Others of the same great family, on a dark but still richly-coloured ground, have the minute scales clustered in spots or bands, forming regular patterns in much variety; and in these they reflect rainbow hues, as if a sunbeam decomposed through a prism had been solidified and pulverised; or if viewed through a lens, looking like powdered gems, each individual scale changing its hues with the slightest motion of the eye. Among these we may mention Hypsonotus elegans, Cyphus spectabilis, Entimus splendidus, and E. imperialis, commonly known as diamond beetles; and the elegantly-shaped genus Pachyrhynchus, of which the P. gemmatus, from the Philippine Islands, is, perhaps, the most lovely of all earthly creatures.

And if we look at the Lepidoptera, the order more especially under review, we feel that beauty belongs to them rather as an essence than as an accident. Their broad fan-like wings have an airy lightness and grace to which the painter and the poet pay homage, when they endow the sylphs and loves of their fancy with butterfly pinions.

They are clothed with minute scales, which are the vehicle of their colours, somewhat resembling in this respect the beetles last spoken of; but they have beauties peculiar to themselves. Fine combinations and contrasts of colours are too much the rule in this order to need specification; and these are often shaded and blended with a downy softness, as in the Sphinges and Moths. As illustrious examples, I will mention the Gynautocera, a group of Oriental Moths approaching in some points the Butterflies, as exhibiting the most brilliant hues in bands and clouds, but softly blended and mingled, with exceeding chasteness and beauty.

Many species of the genus Catagramma, a group of Butterflies marked on the inferior surface of the fore-wings with scarlet and black, and on that of the hind with singular concentric circles of black on a white ground, have on the superior surface the metallic lustre common in the beetles, the wings being of golden green or blue. The genus Urania has this radiance still more conspicuous; while the inferior surface of some of the TheclÆ, as T. imperialis, T. ActÆon, T. Endymion, &c., is covered with the most rich and varied metallic hues, as if powdered with gold, copper, and silver filings. Some Butterflies, as several of our native Fritillaries, and more vividly an American species, (Argynnis passiflorÆ,) one from New Zealand, (Argyrophenga antipodum,) and the beautiful Paphia Clytemnestra, have spots of burnished silver on their inferior surface; and several of our own moths, as the genus Plusia, are so spotted on the upper surface. Others display a lustre between that of silver and that of pearl, as several species of Charaxes on one, and the magnificent Morpho Laertes on both surfaces. But of this sort of beauty, perhaps nothing can excel the gemmeous green, changing to azure, of Papilio Ulysses, or that of Apatura (?) laurentia; or, above all, of some of the great Brazilian Morphos. The blaze of silvery azure that flashes from M. Adonis, M. Cytheris, and M. Menelaus, is indescribable; the eyes are pained as they gaze upon it; yet there is said to be an unnamed species from the emerald mountains of Bogota, of which a single specimen is in a private cabinet in London, which is far more lustrous than these.

The change from one hue to another produced by the play of light in altering the angle of its reflection, has always been much admired; and this occurs in great perfection, and with much diversity, in the lovely insects of the Lepidopterous order.

Some of the genus HÆtera, (as H. piera, and H. esmeralda,) and many of the HeliconiadÆ, as Hymenitis diaphana, &c., have the wings nearly or quite destitute of the ordinary scaly clothing, presenting only a transparent membrane of great delicacy; over which the light plays with a beautiful iridescence. Papilio Arcturus and some allied species, are of a golden-green, changing to blue, or to glowing purple. Very many of the NymphalidÆ are distinguished for a flush of surpassing richness, that in one particular light gleams over the surface. Our own Apatura Iris, commonly known as the purple emperor, is a native example of this beauty, and still more A. namoura; but especially the species of the genus Thaumantis, as well as Morpho Martia, and M. Automedon. Diadema bolina also displays a purple flush over and around the white spots, which is exquisitely beautiful. In general this glow is found only in the male, but in the lovely Epiphile chrysitis it is common to the female.

In Colias Electra a warm purple glow plays over the surface in a strong light, which is the more singularly beautiful, because the permanent colour which is thus suffused is a rich golden orange. There is, however, a species (C. Lesbia) of which only a single specimen is known, and that is in fragments, in the Banksian Collection, which is in this respect vastly superior to the former. In all these cases, the playing gleam is more or less empurpled; in Paphia Portia, however, it may be called crimson.

But still more exquisitely beautiful than any of these is the fine opalescence that irradiates some butterflies in the changing beam. There is a white butterfly from Senegal (Anthocharis Ione) allied to our common garden whites, marked at the tips of the wings with a spot of violet, surrounded by black. In a certain aspect, there plays over this spot a violet opalescence of exceeding richness. And to mention no more, (for, indeed, we know not that we could mention anything to surpass this,) the carnation spots on the black wings of Papilio Anchises, P. Æneas, P. Tullus, &c., are at intervals flushed with a violet opalescence, so brilliant, that we know no other object to compare with it.

In contemplating such objects, we cannot help concurring in the sentiments expressed by the pious Ray:—"QuÆri fortasse À nonnullis potest, quis Papilionum usus sit? Respondeo, Ad ornatum universi, et ut hominibus spectaculo sint: ad rura illustranda velut tot bracteÆ inservientes. Quis enim eximiam earum pulchritudinem et varietatem contemplans mira voluptate non afficiatur? Quis tot colorum et schematum elegantias naturÆ ipsius ingenio excogitatas et artifici penicillo depictas curiosis oculis intuens, divinÆ artis vestigia eis impressa non agnoscat et miretur?" And I may add, since such exquisite traces of loveliness remain in a world which Satan has spoiled and sin defiled, what must have been its glory when He who made it could take complacency in beholding it, and in the minutest details could pronounce it "very good!"

The Rev. James Smith of Monquhitter thus alludes to the exquisite beauty of some South American butterflies. One or two of the species I have already alluded to, but even these can yield additional themes of admiration. "I hold," he says, "that there are hues and shades of colour which are positively beautiful in themselves, and independently of all associations whatever; and to look upon which merely as patches of colour, affords a gratification of no mean description. And for the truth of such an opinion, I know not where I should obtain a stronger and a more pleasing proof, than from the Lepidoptera to which I have alluded. The patch, for instance, which is on the posterior wings of the HÆtera Esmeralda, and which may be characterised as a compound of carmine and of the deepest blue dotted with two spots of vermilion, will in itself, and irrespectively of association, communicate a pleasure to every eye which looks upon it. The band of silver blue on the wing of a large Morpho; the deep tone, to speak in pictorial phrase, of the black in the Papilio Sesostris, finer even than the finest velvet of Genoa; the rich dark orange on Epicilia AncÆa; the blue, shining in one unnamed species like polished steel, in another (Thecla) with a radiant clearness, which ultramarine itself could not surpass; the satin-like golden green, the pearly lustrous white, and the deep shining emerald ribbons in Urania Boisduvalii; the crimson lines and spots deeper and clearer than blood, in a species to which no name is attached, of Papilio; the small spangles of silver with which the under surface of one of the least among them (Cupido) is, as it were, incrusted; the iridescent and delicate violet with which, on the same surface, a particular species of HÆtera is, so to speak, washed over, in a way which calls to our remembrance the 'scumbling' given by Rembrandt as the finishing touch to his finest productions; all these, and many more, possess a beauty which I contend, in opposition to the doctrine of Alison and Jeffrey, is absolute in itself; which is altogether irrespective of association; and which the most skilful of human pencils would find it impossible completely and properly to copy."[214]

I must apologise to fair readers for alluding to Spiders—"nasty spiders!"—in a chapter on beauty; but prejudice must not make us shut our eyes to glories even among these. In the tropical species there is often metallic splendour and brilliance of colour. In my "Naturalist's Sojourn in Jamaica," my friend Mr Hill has written some very interesting observations on the web of a certain Spider, and on the relations of its structure with that of the Spider itself; but I allude to it now because of the elegance of the creature, the Epeira argentata of Fabricius. The upper surface of the body is of a glistening satiny or silvery whiteness, the belly yellow, spotted with black, and the legs marked with alternate rings of the same contrasted hues.

In the same island I was familiar with another species, (Nephila clavipes,) remarkable for the length and strength of its silken cords. The body, which is lengthened, is studded with round white spots, each encircled with a black border, on a rich greenish brown ground, reminding one of the characteristic markings of the Tragopans among birds. The cephalothorax is shining black, its lustre half concealed by a clothing of short silvery down: the legs are very long, and have a remarkably elegant appearance from having a bunch of black hair set around the extremity of the first and second joints, like the bristles of a bottle-brush.

I fortify my own verdict with the observations of a brother naturalist on the Spiders of Borneo, presuming that those which he alludes to appear to belong to the genus Gastracantha, of which I have seen species in Jamaica.

"The spiders, so disgusting in appearance in many other countries, are here of quite a different nature, and are the most beautiful of the insect tribe; they have a skin of a shell-like texture, furnished with curious processes, in some long, in others short, in some few, in others numerous; but are found, of this description, only in thick woods and shaded places: their colours are of every hue, brilliant and metallic as the feathers of the humming-bird, but are, unlike the bright colours of the beetle, totally dependent on the life of the insect which they beautify, so that it is impossible to preserve them."[215]

It is possible that this beauty might be less evanescent if the animals were preserved in spirit or other antiseptic fluid. A writer in the Zoologist (p. 5929) mentions the fact that the iridescence of certain beetles (Cassida) which is peculiarly splendid and metallic, and which disappears immediately on the insects' becoming dry, is perpetuated in its original loveliness when the specimens are preserved in spirit, even after the lapse of several years.

The tropical species of this genus are far finer and richer than our little English kinds, though these are pretty. I was much delighted by the brilliance of some of the Jamaican species, and Sir Emerson Tennent thus speaks of them in Ceylon:—

"There is one family of insects, the members of which cannot fail to strike the traveller by their singular beauty, the CassidadÆ, or tortoise beetles, in which the outer shell overlaps the body, and the limbs are susceptible of being drawn entirely within it. The rim is frequently of a different tint from the centre, and one species which I have seen is quite startling from the brilliancy of its colouring, which gives it the appearance of a ruby inclosed in a frame of pearl; but this wonderful effect disappears immediately on the death of the insect."[216]

If we turn to the vegetable world, what a profusion of beauty do we find! Exquisite are the tiny Mosses, when the fogs and rains of winter, so inimical to other vegetation, have quickened them into verdure and fruit. How they spread along the hedgerow banks in soft fleeces of vivid emerald, and shoot up their slender stalks, each crowned with its tiny urn, and wearing its fairy nightcap! Beautiful are the tiny dark-green feather-like leaves of the Forkmoss crowded on the clayey bank; beautiful the wild sprays of the plumy Hypnum; and beautiful the little round velvet cushions of Tortula, that grow on every old wall-top.

Exquisite too are the Ferns, in their arching fronds, so richly cut in elegant tracery. See a fine crown of the Lady Fern in a shaded Devonshire lane, and confess that grace and beauty are triumphant there. And in the saturated atmosphere of the tropical islands, where these lovely plants form a very large proportion of the entire vegetation, and some of them rise on slender stems thirty or forty feet in altitude, from the summit of which the wide-spreading fronds arch gracefully on every side, like a vast umbrella of twinkling verdure, through whose filagree work the sunbeams are sparkling,—what can be more charming than Ferns?

The queenly Palms, too, are models of stately beauty. LinnÆus called them vegetabilium principes; and, when we see them in some noble conservatory of adequate dimensions, such as the glass palm-house at Kew, crowded side by side, with their crowned heads, and lofty stature, and proud, erect bearing, we are involuntarily reminded of the monarchs of many kingdoms met in august conclave.

Are the Grasses worthy of mention for their beauty? Surely, yes. Many of them display a downy lightness exquisitely lovely, as the common Feather-grass. The golden panicles of the great Quake-grass, so curiously compacted and hanging in stalks of so hair-like a tenuity as to nod and tremble with the slightest motion, how beautiful are these! And the satiny plumes of the Pampas-grass projecting from the clump of leaves form a fine object. But the Bamboos, those great arborescent Grasses of the tropics, form a characteristic feature of the vegetation of those regions, of almost unexampled magnificence. I have seen them in their glory, and can sympathise with the philosophical Humboldt in the powerful effect which the grandeur of the Bamboo produces on the poetic mind. It is an object never to be forgotten, especially when growing in those isolated clumps, that look like tufts of ostrich-plumes magnified to colossal dimensions. A thousand of these noble reeds standing in close array, each four or five inches in the diameter of its stem, and rising in erect dignity to the height of forty feet, and all waving their tufted summits in diverging curves moved by every breeze,—form, indeed, a magnificent spectacle. Growing in the most rocky situations, the Bamboo is frequently planted in Jamaica on the very apex of those conical hills which form so remarkable a feature in the landscape of the interior, and to which its noble tufts constitute a most becoming crown.

Mr Ellis thus describes the elegance of these magnificent Grasses in Madagascar:—

"The base of the hills and the valleys were covered with the Bamboo, which was far more abundant than during any former part of the journey. There were at least four distinct varieties: one a large growing kind, erect nearly to the point; a second smaller, seldom rising much above twenty feet in height, bushy at the base, and gracefully bending down its tapering point. A third kind rose in single cane, almost without a leaf, to the height of thirty feet or more; or, bending over, formed a perfectly circular arch. I also saw a Bamboo growing as a creeper, with small short joints, feathered with slender leafy branches at every joint, and stretching in festoons from tree to tree along the side of the road, or hanging suspended in single lines from a projecting branch, and swinging gently with the passing breeze. The appearance of the Bamboo when growing is exceedingly graceful. Sometimes the canes, as thick as a man's arm at the base, rise forty or fifty feet high, fringed at the joints, which are two or three feet apart, with short branches of long, lance-shaped leaves. The smaller kinds, which abound most in this region, are still more elegant; and the waving of the canes, with their attenuated but feathery-looking points, bending down like a plume, and the tremulous quivering, even in the slightest breeze, of their long, slender leaves, present ever-varying aspects of beauty; and, combined with the bright-green colour of the Bamboo-cane and leaf, impart an indescribable charm to the entire landscape."[217]

Glorious in loveliness are the MusaceÆ, the Plantains and Bananas of the hot regions. Humboldt calls the Banana "one of the noblest and most lovely of vegetable productions;" and truly its enormous, flag-like leaves of the richest green, permeated by nervures running transversely in exactly parallel lines, and arching out in every direction from the succulent, spongy, sheathed stem, command our admiration, apart from the beauty of their flowers, or the importance of their fruit.

In a description of a mountain scene in Tahiti, drawn with graphic power by Charles Darwin, the Banana forms a prominent element:—"I could not look on the surrounding plants without admiration. On every side were forests of Banana; the fruit of which, though serving for food in various ways, lay in heaps decaying on the ground.... As the evening drew to a close, I strolled beneath the gloomy shade of the Bananas up the course of the stream. My walk was soon brought to a close, by coming to a waterfall between two and three hundred feet high; and again above this there was another.... In the little recess where the water fell, it did not appear that a breath of wind had ever blown. The thin edges of the great leaves of the Banana, damp with spray, were unbroken, instead of being, as is so generally the case, split into a thousand shreds. From our position, almost suspended on the mountain-side, there were glimpses into the depths of the neighbouring valleys: and the lofty points of the central mountains, towering up within sixty degrees of the zenith, hid half the evening sky. Thus seated, it was a sublime spectacle to watch the shades of night gradually obscuring the last and highest pinnacles."[218]

This scene must have been one of surpassing sublimity and loveliness. Few doubtless have ever beheld anything that can be compared with it. But perhaps many have felt—I have, often,—that there are occasions in which the sense of the beautiful in nature becomes almost painfully overpowering. I have gazed on some very lovely prospects, bathed perhaps in the last rays of the evening sun, till my soul seemed to struggle with a very peculiar undefinable sensation, as if longing for a power to enjoy, which I was conscious I did not possess, and which found relief only in tears. I have felt conscious that there were elements of enjoyment and admiration there, which went far beyond my capacity of enjoying and admiring; and I have delighted to believe, that, by and by, when, in the millennial kingdom of Jesus, and, still more, in the remoter future, in the dispensation of the fulness of times, the earth—the "new earth,"—shall be endowed with a more than paradisaical glory, there will be given to redeemed man a greatly increased power and capacity for drinking in, and enjoying the augmented loveliness. Doubtless the risen and glorified saints, sitting with the King of kings upon His throne, will have the senses of their spiritual bodies expanded in capacity beyond what we can now form the slightest conception of; and as all then will be enjoyment of the most exquisite kind, and absolutely unalloyed by interruption or satiety,—the eye will at length be satisfied with seeing, and the ear be satisfied with hearing. "I shall be satisfied, when I awake up with thy likeness."

It is in Flowers that the beauty of the vegetable world chiefly resides; and I shall now therefore select a few examples from the profusion of lovely objects which the domain proper of Flora presents to us.

That very curious tribe of plants, the OrchideÆ, so remarkable for the mimic forms of other things, that its blossoms delight to assume, is also pre-eminent in gorgeous beauty. Take the SobraliÆ,—terrestrial species from Central America, where they form extensive thickets, growing thrice the height of man, with slender nodding stems, and alternate willow-like leaves, and terminal racemes loaded with snow-white, pink, crimson, or violet flowers.[219] Imagine the crushing through "thickets" of the lovely S. macrantha! The large lily-like blossoms of this species are eight inches long, and as many wide, of the richest purple crimson, and of the most elegant shape conceivable, with the lip so wrapped round the column as to appear funnel-shaped, bordered by an exquisitely-cut fringe.

I have before alluded to Phajus TankervilliÆ, that rich lily-like spike of blossom which I stumbled on in the midst of a dense thicket in the mountains of Jamaica. Another terrestrial genus of great elegance is Cypripedium, of which we have one native species, C. calceolus, the yellow lady's slipper,—one of the most charming, but the rarest and most difficult of propagation, of British plants. But this is far excelled in beauty by many of the exotic species; as, for example, the exquisite C. barbatum from Malacca. The very foliage is princely; for the nervures and cross-veins form a network pattern of dark green upon the light green area of each broad leaf. The blossom rears up its noble head erect, with its standard-petal of white, striped with green and purple, the wing-petals studded with purple tubercles along their edges, and the lip or slipper-shaped petal of a dark purple hue.

My readers may have occasionally noticed a little plant, in the most recherchÉes stove-houses, of so much delicacy and preciousness that it is invariably kept under a bell-glass. I mean the AnÆctochilus setaceus. It belongs to this tribe, and is a terrestrial species, growing about the roots of the trees in the humid forests of Ceylon. Its exquisite loveliness has attracted the attention of even the apathetic Cingalese, who call it by the poetical epithet of Wanna Raja, or king of the forest. It does not appear to possess any peculiar attractiveness in its blossoms,—indeed, I have never seen it in flower; but its leaves, which grow in opposite pairs, are elegantly heart-shaped, of a deep rich greenish-brown hue, approaching to black, of a surface which resembles velvet, reticulated all over with pale golden veins, which, being numerous and minute, have a very charming appearance, somewhat like the pale network on black patches which we see in the wings of some dragon-flies.

The epiphyte Orchids are also magnificent in beauty. One of the handsomest genera is Dendrobium, containing many species, mostly natives of Southern Asia and the great islands. Perhaps the finest of all is D. nobile, of which the sepals and petals are greenish-white, tipped with rich purple, and the downy tube-like lip is of the same regal hue in the interior, with a pale yellow margin.

By the side of this you may set the lovely Huntleya violacea, one of the discoveries of Sir R. Schomburgk in the interior of Guiana. Its broad wavy petals of the softest richest violet, "vary in intensity from deepest sapphire to the mild iridescence of opal." This fine flower has a melancholy interest from its being associated with the death of Sir Robert's friend and fellow-servant, Mr Reiss. The gorgeous scenes of tropical vegetation in which the plant was found, and the sad accident, are thus depicted by the accomplished traveller:—

"I discovered the Huntleya violacea for the first time in October 1837, then on my ascent of the river Essequibo. The large cataract, Cumaka Toto, or Silk Cotton Fall, obliged us to unload our corials, and to transport the luggage overland, in order to avoid the dangers which a mass of water, at once so powerful and rapid, and bounded by numerous rocks, might offer to our ascent. While the Indians were thus occupied, I rambled about one of the small islands, which the diverging arms of the river formed in their descent, and the vegetation of which had that peculiar lively appearance which is so characteristic of the vicinity of cataracts, where a humid cloud, the effects of the spray, always hovers around them. Blocks of syenite were heaped together; and while their black shining surface contrasted strongly with the whitish foam of the torrent, and with the curly waves beating against the rocky barriers—as if angry at the boundary which they attempted to set to the incensed element—their dome-shaped summits were adorned with a vegetation at once rich and interesting. Heliconias, Tillandsias, Bromelias, Ferns, Pothos, Cyrtopodiums, Epidendrums, Peperomias, all appeared to struggle for the place which so small a surface afforded to them. The lofty mountains, Akaywanna, Comute, or Taquia, and Tuasinki, recede and form an amphitheatre, affording a highly interesting scene, and no doubt the most picturesque of that part of the river Essequibo.

"I was attracted by a number of Oncidium altissimum which covered one of the rocky piles, and astonished me by their long stems and bright colour of their flowers, when my attention was more powerfully attracted by a plant, the appearance of which, although different from the pseudo-bulbous tribe, proclaimed, nevertheless, that it belonged to that interesting family, the OrchideÆ. The specimens were numerous; and clothed almost, with their vivid green, the rugged and dark trunks of the gigantic trees, which contributed to the majestic scene around me. It was not long before I discovered one of these plants in flower. It was as singular as it was new to me;—the sepals and petals of a rich purple and velvet-like appearance; the helmet, to which form the column bore the nearest resemblance, of the same colour; the labellum striated with yellow.

"In the sequel of my expeditions, I found it generally in the vicinity of cataracts, where a humid vapour is constantly suspended, and where the rays of the sun are scarcely admitted through a thick canopy of foliage. I traced the Huntleya from the sixth parallel of latitude to the shady mountains of the Acaria chain near the equator; but in its fullest splendour it appeared at one of the small islands among the Christmas cataracts in the river Berbice. There is a melancholy circumstance connected with the plant, which its appearance never fails to recall to my memory. Their singular beauty at this spot induced my friend, Mr Reiss, who accompanied me as a volunteer during the unfortunate expedition up the river Berbice, to draw and paint it on the spot. He was yet occupied with this task when the last of our canoes was to descend the dangerous cataract. He arose from his occupation, desirous to descend with the Indians in the canoe, although against my wish, but he persisted. The canoe approached the fall; it upset; and, of thirteen persons who were in it at the time, he was the only one who paid the rash attempt with his life. He is now buried opposite that island, the richest vegetable productions of which it was his last occupation to imitate on paper and in colours."[220]

We might linger long on these flowers of strange loveliness, but space compels us to forsake them and to turn to some other examples in the wide range of Flora's domains. How glorious a sight must be the sheeted Rhododendrons of the Himalaya peaks, on whose lofty elevations Dr Hooker found these fine plants in great prominence, "clothing the mountain-slopes with a deep-green mantle, glowing with bells of brilliant colours; of the eight or ten species growing here, [on the Zemir, in Sikkim, twelve thousand feet above the sea,] every bush was loaded with as great a profusion of blossoms as are their northern congeners in our English gardens!"[221]

The noblest of the genus is that which is dedicated to Lady Dalhousie. It is an epiphyte, being always found growing, like the Orchids, among mosses and ferns, upon the trunks of large trees, especially oaks and magnolias, at an elevation of from seven to ten thousand feet. In this particular, in the fragrance of its noble white blossoms, in its slender habit, in the whorled arrangement of its branches, and in the length of time during which it continues in flower in its native regions, viz., from April to July, it differs from all its fellows of the same genus that inhabit northern India.

The flowers are four inches in length and four in diameter, with a broad trumpet lip. Their colour is pure white, assuming a delicate rosy tinge as they become old, and sometimes becoming spotted with orange. They have an odour which resembles that of the lemon.

Of this and the following species Dr Hooker writes from Dorjiling, seven thousand feet above the sea:—"On the branches of the immense purple-flowered magnolia, (M. Campbellii,) and those of oaks and laurels, Rhododendron DalhousiÆ grows epiphytally, a slender shrub bearing from three to six white lemon-scented bells, four and a half inches long and so many broad, at the end of each branch. In the same woods the scarlet Rhododendron (R. arboreum) is very scarce, and is outvied by the great R. argenteum, which grows as a tree, forty feet high, with magnificent leaves twelve to fifteen inches long, deep green wrinkled above and silvery below, while the flowers are as large as those of R. DalhousiÆ and grow more in a cluster. I know nothing of the kind that exceeds in beauty the flowering branch of R. argenteum, with its wide-spreading foliage and glorious mass of flowers."[222]

The latter, which is nearly equal to R. DalhousiÆ in the size of its blossoms, and perhaps superior to it in other respects, is another white-flowered species. It is, as described above, a tree with large massive leaves of a silvery tint beneath. When young, they are exquisitely beautiful, being encased in long flesh-coloured cones of large scales, of very ornamental appearance. The flowers are three inches long, forming a compact globose head.

They secrete a large quantity of honey, which is said to be poisonous, as is also that of R. DalhousiÆ.

The grandeur and beauty of the same genus are celebrated by Mr Low, as he saw the species growing in Borneo, where too their parasitic character struck him, as it had done Dr Hooker:—

"Perhaps the most gorgeous of the native plants are the various species of the genus Rhododendron, which here assume a peculiar form, being found epiphytal upon the trunks of trees, as the genera of the tribe Orchidaceoe. This habit, induced probably by the excessive moisture of the climate, is not, however, confined to the Ericaceous plants, but also prevails with the genera Fagria, Combretum, and many others, usually terrestrial; the roots of the Rhododendrons, instead of being, as with the species [which are] inhabitants of cold climates, small and fibrous, become large and fleshy, winding round the trunks of the forest trees; the most beautiful one is that which I have named in compliment to Mr Brooke. Its large heads of flowers are produced in the greatest abundance throughout the year: they much exceed in size those of any known species, frequently being formed of eighteen flowers, which are of all shades, from pale and rich yellow to a rich reddish salmon-colour; in the sun, the flowers sparkle with a brilliancy resembling that of gold dust.

"Four other species which I discovered are very gorgeous, but of different colours, one being crimson and another red, and the third a rich tint between these two: of the fourth I have not yet seen the flowers."[223]

Take an example from another order. The Lightning-tree of Madagascar rises before us in the graphic pages of Mr Ellis:—

"But the most magnificent objects were the fine trees of AstrapÆa Wallichii, or viscosa. The name of this Malagasy plant was derived from the word for lightning, on account of the brilliancy of its flowers; and Sir Joseph Paxton and Dr Lindley have thus spoken of A. Wallichii:—'One of the finest plants ever introduced. And when loaded with its magnificent flowers, we think nothing can exceed its grandeur.' I had seen a good-sized plant growing freely at Mauritius, but here it was in its native home, luxuriating on the banks of the stream, its trunk a foot in diameter, its broad-leaved branches stretching over the water, and its large, pink, globular, composite[224] flowers, three or four inches in diameter, suspended at the end of a fine down-covered stalk, nine inches or a foot in length. These, hanging by hundreds along the course of the stream, surpassed anything of the kind I had seen, or could possibly have imagined. I frequently met with the AstrapÆa afterwards, but always growing near the water, and its branches frequently stretching over a lake or river."[225]

The Leguminous or Papilionaceous order presents many plants of striking beauty, both in foliage, which is often of extreme lightness and elegance, and also in blossom. They are among the gayest and most graceful of plants in all regions. The magnificent vegetation of the Mauritius contains one of notable glory, the Flamboyant, thus noticed by Ellis:—

"Conspicuous beyond all the rest is the stately and gorgeous Poinciana regia, compact-growing and regular in form, but retaining something of the acacia habit, rising sometimes to the height of forty or fifty feet, and, between the months of December and April, presenting, amidst its delicate pea-green pinnated leaves, one vast pyramid of bunches of bright, dazzling scarlet flowers. Seen sometimes over the tops of the houses, and at others in an open space, standing forth in truly regal splendour, this is certainly one of the most magnificent of trees. Its common name is mille fleurs, or flamboyant."[226]

I have had the delight of seeing the Poinciana pulcherrima in Jamaica, where it goes by the name of Flower-feuce, or sometimes, the "Pride of Barbadoes." It is, when in flower, a gorgeous mass of scarlet and orange, and it seemed to me the most magnificent thing in its way, that I had ever seen. It does not, however, attain the dimensions of its antipode, rarely exceeding those of a large shrub.

I know not what the Burmese tree is, which is alluded to in the following extracts from letters which I have received from my esteemed friend, Captain G. E. Bulger, of the 10th Regiment:—

"I shall be exceedingly obliged by your telling me whether you are familiar with the tree known in the West Indies and South America as the 'Bois Immortel;' and whether you think the leaf herewith sent belongs to it.

"During the cool season in Burmah, the forest presents a gorgeous sight, from the multitude of scarlet blossoms which a large kind of tree puts forth; and I am strongly inclined to think that this splendid ornament of the jungles is, at all events, allied to the Bois Immortel of the Western World.

"The tree I speak of begins to flower about the middle of December, at which time the leaves commence to wither and drop off. By the end of January, when it is in full bloom, there is hardly a leaf remaining, but it continues one mass of scarlet blossom until March. The flower is shaped like that of the pea.

"If you can enlighten me on this point I shall be indeed very much obliged."

I was compelled to confess my ignorance even of the South American beauty, and my friend thus replied:—

"I first read of the 'Bois Immortel' in 'Waterton's Wanderings,' and I subsequently saw a coloured representation of the tree in Mr Gould's magnificent work on Humming-Birds. I think the specific name was also given in that work, but it is some time ago, and I have almost forgotten what it was like. Since I saw these two works, I have heard officers speak of the splendour of the South American forests during the season of 'Le Bois Immortel,' and have heard more than one say that they believed nothing on earth could be more magnificent than 'matchless Trinidad' when these trees are in full bloom. The autumnal beauty of the North American woods is, doubtless, familiar to you, and I question very much whether there is anything richer or more lovely to be found even in South America."

Even the humblest orders of plants have the element of beauty bestowed on them with no niggard hand. Who would have expected, among the ChenopodeÆ, and, above all, in the lowly little Saltworts, to find such a glowing scene as Mr Atkinson describes?—

"We were now on a heavy sandy steppe—part of the Sackha Desert, which extends into the Gobi—and vegetation was so very scant, that even the steppe grass had disappeared. The Salsola was growing in a broad belt around the small salt lakes, its colour varying from orange to the deepest crimson. These lakes have a most singular appearance when seen at a distance. The sparkling of the crystallised salt, which often reflected the deep crimson around, gave them the appearance of diamonds and rubies set in a gorgeous framework. I rode round several times, admiring their beauty, and regretting that it was impossible to stay and visit a large lake, which I observed, ten or fifteen versts distant, surrounded with green, orange, and crimson."[227]

The microscope, too, will bring out beauties in flowers which the unassisted eye is incompetent fully to recognise. If we take a scarlet Geranium, or a purple Heartsease, the eye is delighted with the brilliancy of the colouring; but on placing a petal of either on a slip of glass, under a pretty high magnifying power, and reflecting the full rays of the sun through the object, the rich gorgeousness of the hue, the sparkling gem-like radiance of the surface, and the exquisitely-regular form of the round cells, with their clear interstices, form a spectacle of glorious beauty that almost surpasses the conception of one who has not seen it.

I shall close this chapter, which might easily have been expanded into a volume, with a reference to an humble and minute plant, whose fairy loveliness, combined with an almost unkillable hardiness of constitution, has won for it a place in every garden, however unpretending, and however ungenial in its locality,—the London-pride. This exquisite little Saxifrage, general favourite as it is, requires the microscope to bring out its beauties to advantage, but under a good instrument you cannot fail to be charmed with it. I have one before me at this moment, and will describe what I see.

First, I notice, on a cursory glance, that the whole plant is clothed with tiny hairs; I take one of the flower-stalks and examine these with a power of three hundred diameters. Each now becomes a stem of glass-like clearness, tapering upwards to a point, where it bears a richly crimson cup, and in this is seated a globule of colourless glass, just as an acorn sits in its shell. The multitude of these organs—glandular hairs, the botanist calls them—standing up side by side, rising to varying heights, and displaying various degrees of development, is a very pleasing sight.

I turn to an unopened bud, putting on a lower power, and viewing it as an opaque object, with reflected light by the aid of the Lieberkuhn. Here are the parting sepals of the calyx, painted with rose-pink and pea-green, and studded all over with the knobbed hairs just noticed; the coloured surface is rough with granules, but it is the roughness of glass, for every knob gleams and sparkles with light. The corolla, a little white ball, displays its petals smoothly folded over each other, and their surface has the same appearance of granular glass as that of the calyx.

But now let me examine this blossom just expanded this morning,—the very first of the season, by the way. I must have a low power for this, eighty diameters, or so. Oh, how exquisite! The little saucer of five oval petals, each of snowy whiteness, bearing its bow of lovely crimson specks, with a spot of gamboge-yellow for the chord, and the whole sparkling with glassy points as before. The pale red germen in the centre, rising into two points of snow, their rosy tips pressed close together, as if the twins were kissing. The ten stamens, five short alternating with five long ones, and each bearing its pretty kidney-shaped anther of pale scarlet. No; all are not kidney-shaped; for here is one which has burst, and the grains of red pollen are seen covering its rough purple surface; and here is one stamen from the point of which the anther has gone, leaving only two or three pollen-grains adhering. Behind all, I see the sepals of the calyx, peeping out between the petals, and forming a fine dark background for them, and for the longer filaments.

And now I say to my readers, one and all,—you may not have the opportunity to examine the glorious tropical Orchids, or the gorgeous Flamboyant, but go and pluck a flower of the London-pride, and you will have before your eyes such a production of Divine handiwork as may well excite the admiration and adoration of an angel.

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