Addendum.—On November 2nd, 1905, after a further interval of thirteen years, these Tortoises had respectively attained to a weight of 4 lbs. and half an ounce, and 3 lbs. 13½ ozs. as compared with weights of 2 lbs. 10 ozs. and 2 lbs. 5 ozs. in 1886. They are therefore still growing in size and weight. In October of last year (1907) they weighed respectively 4 lbs. 2½ ozs. and 4 lbs.
Norwich is proverbially a City of Gardens, and many of the houses in St. Giles’s Street, including my own, are fortunate enough to share in the advantage of possessing one of these valuable urban appendages.
As regards the birds that frequent these gardens, the neighbourhood of Chapel Field, with its trees and shrubs, is, or should be, an additional attraction to them; but I am bound to say that I have not observed so great a congregation, or so large a variety of birds, in Chapel Field Gardens as might have been expected.
My own garden consists of a plot of grass of fair size, with one large apple tree in its centre, a double laburnum tree close by, and with several other trees of good size on its confines. Some of the boundary walls are covered with ivy. In my neighbours’ gardens are also both trees and shrubs, whilst Chapel Field is in the immediate vicinity, just beyond my stable yard.
There is thus a considerable variety of shelter for the birds, and, doubtless, a proportionate variety of food for them at the proper seasons.
In ordinary years, and in average seasons, the following birds come into my garden:—
1. Our constant town friends, the Sparrows.
2. Blackbirds and Thrushes (a pair of each of which usually build and hatch with me, though I am sorry to say that their labour and pains are usually devoid of result, as the young birds are got by the Cats, either in the nest, or as soon as they leave it).
3. Starlings.
4. Robins.
5. Jackdaws (occasionally—from the neighbouring church steeple).
6. At rare intervals I see a little Wren, or Tom-tit, busily engaged on the above-mentioned laburnum tree, evidently getting a good meal from what it finds in the bark.
7. In the prolonged frosty or snowy weather the garden is occasionally visited by the Missel-thrush, and now and then also by
8. A Rook.
In the ordinary way, and in open weather, thenumberof my bird visitors is not large, but in the cold winter weather, and in response to my invitation, this number very considerably increases, so that at times I must have had as many as thirty-five or forty feeding in my garden at the same time. The increase of numbers is chiefly made up of extra Sparrows and Starlings; and when it occurs the scene is often a very lively one; the whole of the thirty or forty birds being often assembled very closely together in active movement; and the grass or garden path on which they collect is sometimes quite black with their feathered life.
The prolonged frost of the past winter is fresh in all our memories.
On January 6th, when I specially noted the assemblage of my bird friends, we had had intermitting frost and snow for about five weeks, almost continuous snow (with occasional yieldings of the frost) for a fortnight, and a complete snowy covering up of the garden ground for a week, with sharp frosts, and often low temperatures at night. There had been no sun, and, therefore, no melting of the snow by the wall, or by the hedge edges, and, consequently, doubtless the natural animal food of the birds was very scarce and difficult to obtain. Some food had been thrown to them daily during the greater portion of this severe weather; but for the preceding week they had been fed pretty regularly twice daily.
My usualtimes for feedinghad been about 9.30 (after my breakfast), and about 2 p.m. (after luncheon).
When first fed, the birds—beginning with the Sparrows—seem only to find the food thrown out by accident, and would drop down by ones and twos, as their instinct or sense of far-sight appeared to show them that there was food to be had. But very soon they seemed to remember these fixed hours, and many of them, especially Starlings, would then be seen collected on neighbouring trees, or elsewhere, before these times, evidently ready and waiting for what they were expecting.
The Sparrows would be chirping in the ivy. The Starlings would be seen sitting on the watch on a neighbouring tree or trees, and as soon as the food was thrown down they would immediately begin to descend upon it.
Yet not all at once, or without due and proper precaution and inspection. First, the Sparrows—as the boldest—would drop down singly, but in rapid succession. Then the Starlings would draw nearer one byone, and carefully look down and inspect the ground. And when one had summoned courage to descend, the rest would quickly follow. But, of course, the slightest noise would make the whole flock suddenly flutter up again into the trees, or into the next garden, as quickly to return when the alarm was found to be groundless.
After a little further time, a Thrush or a Blackbird or two would join the group. Later still, always late, a little Robin—quiet, silent, and pathetic—with its half timid and half confiding manner, would come into view. Again, after a further interval, occasionally one of the Jackdaws would appear upon the scene. And now and then, last of all, a huge Rook would suddenly descend and carry off some large crust which the smaller birds had left uneaten—reserved for more deliberate pecking at when the crumbs and smaller portions of food were disposed of.
The manners of these various birds differed strikingly. The Sparrows, of course, would be first and boldest, and everywhere.
The Starlings would often form a compact group around the outspread food, one of them occasionally darting off with a big morsel or savoury bone.
The Thrushes and Blackbirds would arrive quietly from over the wall; they would hop about usually on the furthermost outskirts of the crowd, and as near as possible to their habitual corner. And the Blackbirds would waggle their tails in their own quaint manner, and perhaps give their peculiar cry, whilst both Thrushes and Blackbirds would evidently indicate their consciousness of superior manners and their greater dignity, if not their actually more retiring dispositions.
The little Robin, solitary and observant, would comenearer to the house than the other birds; but his advent was usually too late for anything but the bare dry remains of the feast left by the rapacious Sparrows and Starlings.
The Jackdaw would fly straight to the apple tree, perch upon it, then suddenly descend and seize upon the biggest remaining morsel; then as quickly fly up again into the tree and try to eat it there. In this respect, in marked contrast to the Rook, which in the worst weather would occasionally suddenly arrive and help himself to the biggest crust left, but he would always at once fly away with it in his capacious maw.
I am sorry to say that my garden party friends have displayed a very considerable amount of selfishness. Each kind of bird, of course, selects first the kind of food most appropriate to it. But there is clear indication that the law of force prevails amongst them, and that might carries the day against fairness and right. And it is most clear that neither Communism, nor Socialism, nor Equality with Fraternity, is a doctrine in favour with them—at least in practice. As long as there is a good supply of the best eatables, my friends are most communistically amiable to each other. But as soon as the available supply begins to run short, then the most barefaced selfishness is the order of the day. The strong sparrows drive away the weaker ones, or pursue them and steal from them any dainty little morsel they may have secured and flown away with. The Starlings dart at each other and scream, or go through continual “fluttering duels” in their efforts to steal their neighbours’ goods; whilst the Jackdaws and Rooks have no reserve in displaying their views as to their practical agreement with Rob Roy’s well-known maxim.
I have not observed either the Blackbirds or Thrushes to fight for their food as the Sparrows and Starlings do.
The Starlings exhibit some other very peculiar ways. Before descending to feed they will sit upon neighbouring trees in an attitude of pensive watchfulness—one irresistibly reminding one of an old man leaning his head upon one side and resting it upon his hand. Their peculiar waddling walk or run and extreme liveliness of manner are well known; but when all the food is gone, and they return for a short season to their trees, they will often resume their philosophic or contemplative attitude—very soon, however, to disappear to “other fields and pastures new,” or in plain English, to some neighbouring and equally hospitable garden. And their capacity for food appears to be very great.
Thekinds of foodwhich I have thrown to my feathered friends have been bread and large crusts, oats, the refuse of meals, scraps of meat, bones of fish or fowls, herring skins, cheese rinds, portions of fat; and I have found that the animal matters are very greedily seized upon by nearly all of them, scarcely excepting the Sparrows. And it is remarkable what large bones of fish or fowl are rapidly and entirely disposed of; whilst still larger bones from a joint are picked and cleaned to the last available particle. Like bird-cannibals that they are, I observed that some bones from my Christmas Turkey thrown out to them, appeared to be very specially and particularly relished by them. When very hungry, not only will Sparrows eat some kinds of animal food; but Robins, Starlings, and Jackdaws will all eat bread crumbs and bread crusts.
It is sad to think what a mixed world this is evenfor birds; and that even such a happy and interesting town gathering as I have described is not without its drawback, and this a very serious one.
Whilst the birds are making the most of their opportunities, gratifying their natural tastes, and exhibiting their peculiarities, a Nemesis, or vengeful fate, is constantly hanging over them, ever ready to overtake them in case of any relaxation of their habitual watchfulness, in the case of our own or neighbours’ Cats. For these fat and feline creatures seem to be on the watch for their own good Christmas bird cheer; and with crouching, stealthy steps, and wagging tails, they actually do now and again succeed in stealing upon their unsuspecting victims, and in illustrating the inexorable law, as to food, of animal-feeding creatures.
It is pitiful to see a Sparrow or a Blackbird thus hopelessly engaged in the clutches of a Cat; and it is a sad interruption or ending of the scene of joy, if not always of harmony, I have just described.
Our own pet Cat, though over fed, cannot resist the temptation of thus stealing upon these birds when the chance occurs, and its excited movements when watching them through a window, but unable to get out, are a study in themselves.
To a certain extent the Starlings have now and then a sort of sentimental revenge; for when very hungry these bold birds will descend into the kitchen yard close to the house, and carry off bones and scraps placed there for the use of the said Cat, who has been seen to watch their theft of its food through the kitchen window in a state of trembling but helpless excitement, and evidently of intense disgust.
During all the time of my feedings I could but notice the wonderful instinct which the birds exhibit, ofdiscovering the presence of food. Sparrows are everywhere, and therefore it is not surprising that our home friends should be on the alert, and should quickly descend upon the feast prepared for them. But how do their neighbours and more distant friends so quickly know of it? How do the Starlings, who are not usually so near at hand, discover the good things available for them? How does the Jackdaw in the steeple learn of the meat or bones thrown upon the garden path? Or the Rook in the distant tree or field of the large crust which the lesser birds have been unable to dispose of?
It is clear that neither sight nor sound, as we understand them, would be sufficient to inform and direct them; and that the most delicate sense of such perception would be insufficient to enable them to perceive food placed, say, behind a garden wall.
I have observed that the birds usually arrive pretty constantly in the following order:—Sparrows, Starlings, Thrushes, Blackbirds, Robins, Jackdaws, Rook; though sometimes neither Jackdaws nor Rook will appear, and often the little Robin is so extremely late in his arrival that all the suitable food is eaten up.
The Tit, or Wren, or occasional Finch, seen now and then in the garden does not condescend to join or associate with such a mixed Christmas party as I have described, but comes at his own time, and in his own way. But these little birds have lately been such rare visitors, that I have not had the opportunity of making any exact observations upon their manners and customs in the parish of St. Giles.
I should scarcely have ventured to read these very simple and very superficial notes to this Naturalists’ Society this evening had I not had reason to believe that they would form the starting-point of far morescientific information about birds from one or more of its members now present.
Note, 1907.—Some other birds have occasionally visited my garden, such as Nuthatches, Redwings, Blackheaded Gulls, and a few others. As to the Gulls, in January, 1907, after a very heavy and prolonged fall of snow, some fifty or sixty of these birds, in their winter plumage, visited my garden and greedily fed upon food (bread or animal) thrown out to them. And almost filling, as they did, the grass plot, they formed a very beautiful sight. Some of these birds in their food-hunting would come almost up to the drawing-room window.
Norwich has long been known by the designation of a “City of Gardens.” How long I know not, but we do know that Evelyn, on his visit to Norwich in 1671, spoke of the “flower gardens in which all the inhabitants excel.” He also wrote in his diary that at this visit he went to see Sir Thomas Browne, whose “whole house and garden was a paradise and cabinet of rarities.” This garden, I believe, at that time extended from his house in the Market Place (where the late Savings Bank stood) to at least as far as the present Orford Hill, but no portion of it now remains.
It is much to be regretted that so many of the old Norwich gardens have fallen a prey to the requirements or encroachments of the builder; and that where ample space and air for flowers and shrubs, and even trees, formerly existed, there is now nothing but manufactories or houses with small back premises, or at the most, little gardens so surrounded by walls as to be little more than wells, with stagnant air and frequent showers of chimney blacks. Still, in spite of the rapid increase of the city, and the gradual absorption of building spaces, we areglad to know that—even in the central parts of the city—some of the old gardens do yet remain, and that they are still able to produce much floral beauty, and in many other ways to contribute to the interest and pleasure of those who are fortunate enough to possess them.
Of course, my present reference is only to gardens situated in the older parts of Norwich. Those who live in our suburbs will doubtless be able to cultivate and utilise their present gardens as the citizens of Norwich did theirs in the “good old times.”
I am glad to say that I (in common with others dwelling in St. Giles’s Street and on St. Giles’s Plain) am still one of the residents in older Norwich with a garden of considerable size. And in my case this advantage is considerably enhanced by the immediate proximity of Chapel Field. For this large open space of seven acres not only provides a great circulation of air, and so a more healthy vegetation, but also—by its numerous and lofty trees—invites a large amount of varied and varying bird-life.
As I have now been a dweller in St. Giles’s for many years, it has occurred to me that a few current notes—however imperfect and superficial—on the capabilities and possibilities of such a central city garden, as illustrated by these, might possibly be an acceptable contribution to the proceedings of this our Norwich “Naturalists’ Society.”
The real object of the paper is to show in a simple way what a large field these home city gardens, according to their size, may still afford for observation and intelligent amusement; and how even in the limited space and depreciated air, which naturally belong to many of them, they yet afford great opportunities for the observation of both vegetable and animal life. The simple grass-plotsthemselves, however small, when carefully tended and shaven, are in themselves a constant source of pleasurable satisfaction; whilst the very worms which inhabit them, and the birds which feed on these, afford much room for study of some of nature’s methods and instinctive tendencies.
Doubtless the larger space which I possess gives wider opportunities than smaller gardens. But these must be small indeed which do not offer full repayment for observation of the varied life which exists within them, or which may be imported into them.
My garden is about 60 yards in length, by about 26 yards in width. It runs nearly north and south. It has walls of varying height on its several sides. Near to the house these are covered on one side by trained wisteria and white and yellow jessamine, but the greater part of the other portions is covered with ivy. The area of the ground is principally laid with grass, with a broad gravel walk around it.
Under the east wall is a long terraced rockery, well covered with suitable plants; and along the west wall runs a broader bed devoted to very small shrubs and to flowers. The south end, under a stable wall, contains some very ancient and still productive apple trees, also two or three beech trees, and an old pink May-tree, under the shade of which some of the commoner ferns flourish abundantly.
A vinery, and a verandah utilised as a summer conservatory, complete this note of the arrangements of my city garden, and from this brief record it will be seen that an effort has been made to make every use of the available space and of its several possibilities.
I do not propose to detain you with any detailed account of the flowers and plants which can be grown,or which flourish fairly at the present date in this limited city garden. There are many which are hopeless by reason of the city air and city soil. And I have found the more delicate flowers to be so uncertain as to be scarcely worth the trouble of planting out. Others again fall inevitable victims to the myriads of autumn slugs. But spring bulbs, the autumn hardy flowers, and some annuals, as well as the robuster ferns, do well, and fully repay the trouble of cultivation.
As to ferns, in my former and more open garden higher up the street, I once had as many as forty different varieties growing abroad; but, of course, these gradually died out, so that at the end of four or five years only the common and hardier sorts remained. Some of these, which were removed, are still very fine specimens, and have lasted in their new home, as such, for many years.
It would have been very interesting had any list or catalogue of Sir Thomas Browne’s “paradise” of vegetable rarities been left to us, for a comparison of the possibilities of a city garden two hundred years ago with those of the present day, but none such is known to exist.
I have mentioned the fact that several old apple trees exist in my garden, possibly as old as the house itself, which is understood to have been built 160 or 170 years ago. And I would just mention here that beyond the roof of my stable buildings, and seen conspicuously from my garden, rises—nay, towers up towards the sky, that grand old Aspen-poplar, which is, perhaps, the greatest ornament of the adjacent Chapel Field, though I think scarcely adequately appreciated. This tree has a girth of some 15 feet about a yard above the ground, is 90 to 100 feet high, and was so remarkable even fifty-eight years ago as to have been then pictured by Grigor, inhis “Eastern Arboretum,” as one of the most notable trees in this district. In its later state a photographic sketch of it is given in my book on St. Giles’s parish, published in 1886, although I fear that this scarcely adequately pictures its grandeur.[57]
Blomfield states that the great avenue of elm trees in Chapel Field, also partly visible from my garden, was planted in 1746 by Sir Thomas Churchman, who is understood to have then lived in my present house, and who, I believe, then hired the open Chapel Field of the Norwich Corporation. It may be interesting to state here that some three or four years ago one of the largest of that row of elm trees was blown down in a gale. When this tree was sawn across, I took the trouble to count the rings which this section displayed. The outer ones were so thin and irregular that it was not possible to tell their number quite exactly, but as nearly as I could count the total number was between 140 and 150. This number, added to the few which would exist on the young tree when planted, would give a date approximating very closely to that assigned by Blomfield. This is an interesting historical fact, though, perhaps, somewhat irrelevant, and its mention will, I hope, be excused on this ground.
In my own garden the various trees appear to be healthy, but some of them increase very slowly. A small pear tree planted against the ivy-covered wall some twenty years ago is scarcely larger than when planted there, even although it every year sends out a full quantity of fresh green shoots. And a pink thorn tree, transplantedinto it a few years ago, actually remained perfectly quiescent, as if dead, for a whole year, and then resumed vitality and growth. It is now a vigorous healthy tree, sending forth every year its normal shoots and blossoms.
Animal Life.—Such a garden as mine affords a considerable opportunity for observing the ways, and habits, and manners of manyanimals, none of which are uninteresting. Shall I weary you by mentioning thecats, which so often make it their playground, and their afternoon as well as their nightly meeting-place? Although I cannot say thatcaterwaulingis harmonious, or equivalent to the strains of the bands which so agreeably discourse music in the adjacent Chapel Field on summer evenings, yet there is much of interest, as well as amusement, to be derived from noting the varied yet distinct language, and from watching the very curious customs of the cats themselves, familiar as these may be to all of us. I am favoured with visits of cats of all sizes and all colours—black, grey, cyprus, sandy, grey and white, and almost all intermediate shades. And it is certainly curious to watch the manifestations of their loves and their hates, their friendliness and their jealousies, their sunny enjoyments and their predatory instincts, and their methods of attack and defence. These latter, though often very noisy, by no means necessarily consist in open fighting, but are very commonly carried on by what Mr. C. Morris calls the mentality of latter-day life. These hostile cats (as you have probably observed) will very constantly settle their relative superiority, not by biting and scratching, or actual fighting, but by what is actually a “staring match,” in which the influence of mind over matter is well demonstrated. They place themselves a few feet apart, and stare at each other, until one of them confesseshimself beaten, by slowly backing away from his opponent, and then suddenly turning round and running away. This is a form of duelling which might well be copied in human life; and, still more, might properly be adopted in the case of nations, where “mental” arbitration, from a steady calculation of strength, would take the place of bullets and bayonets.
As with Cats, so withSparrows; it may be said that they are constant friends that are always with us. Yet, though so common, they are a never failing source of interest in a city garden, if only because they always provide some conspicuous life and motion; and in mine, because they may nearly always be heard chirping or quarrelling in the ivy, which covers so much of the garden walls.
I am sorry that Miss Ormerod gives them such a bad character as to their appetites. But not being personally engaged in agriculture, I can only rejoice that nature has provided them with such strong constitutions, and healthy and active digestions. Beyond this, it is certainly a pleasure to a townsman to note their chatterings, their amicable, if noisy, contentions for the best places in the ivy, their demonstrative courtships, their dust-baths in the dry ground, or their water-baths in the pans provided for them for this purpose, and their evident love for the neighbourhood and companionship (at a properly regulated distance) of mankind.
What a contrast there is between the active, fluttering, often noisyHouse Sparrow, and its quiet, retiring, and gentle-mannered neighbour, theHedge Sparrow.
This was well illustrated in the early part of last December, in this way; the Hedge Sparrow (or Dunnock or Accentor) does not often visit my garden, but one of these pretty birds did come at this time, and havingincautiously entered the open door of my greenhouse, got shut up in it. Next morning, on my entering, it was, of course, somewhat frightened. But instead of violently fluttering about, and dashing itself against the window, as the House Sparrow will do in like circumstances, it very quietly and gently flew away from me, and then at once dropped down behind the brick flue, where it remained quiet and concealed, in spite of my efforts to find it, as I desired to do in order to give it its liberty. The same thing exactly happened on some following mornings; and being fed regularly, it has remained there to the present time,i.e.the date of this paper.
There are plenty of other birds whose visits and whose peculiarities would provide abundant material for a paper much longer than I can venture now to inflict upon you. But they are all welcome for the sake of the varieties of life and habits they present—as well as for what Tennyson so prettily describes as their “singing and calling.”
My grass-plot is the feeding-ground of the greedy and quarrelsomeStarlings, which will often come for their meal of worms or other food at quite regular hours, usually at ten or eleven o’clock in the morning, and three to four in the afternoon. And occasionally theJackdaws, from our neighbouring church-steeple, where they live and breed, will venture—most carefully and cautiously—to alight on the grass in search of food. Whilst even the NorwichRookswill, when hard pressed in bad weather, occasionally dart down from a tree for crusts of bread or other edible matter obtainable in the garden.
ThrushesandBlackbirdsare chiefly in evidence during the nesting season; and it is noticeable how tame orrather incautious they appear to become during this period. It would almost seem as if the sitting process produced in them (as has been noted of other birds) a dullness or partial stupor of intelligence. Whilst after hatching, the urgent and continuous calls of their young ones for food evidently renders their desire to satisfy these imperative and destructive of prudence. This very year a full-grown Blackbird ventured along the grass in search of worms almost up to the house verandah, in which, unfortunately, a cat lay basking; and, as a matter of course, the bird was instantly pounced upon. She escaped, however, almost by a miracle, but she left nearly the whole of her feathers behind her, and almost in a state of nudity.
It is curious to observe how the Blackbirds and Thrushes will not only provide worm-food for their nestlings, but how they will prepare these worms and make them fit for swallowing down the young throats. They will often, when they have tugged a worm out of the grass, proceed to peck it into small and suitable lengths, and will then carry these, arranged in their mouths in suitable bundles, to the nest.
Blackbirds appear not to gain knowledge by experience, at least in some particulars. I witness almost every year a repetition of what I may term “the tragedy of the Blackbirds.” Evidently the same old birds will yearly build a nest in almost the same portion of the ivy on one of the walls, and not more than six or seven feet from the ground. Well, this is all right so long as the old birds are merely sitting and make no noise, so as to attract feline attention. But as soon as the young birds are hatched, and begin to make vocal demonstrations, of course they fall victims to their natural enemies and “bird-fanciers,” and the nestsand their occupants are ruthlessly dragged out from their positions and destroyed. This occurs year after year. I believe that then the birds will sometimes build again elsewhere. But they certainly return to almost the same locality in the following spring, and their offspring again become victims of the inappropriateness of their selected homes.
Plenty of other birds also come to the garden at various times and seasons, and add to its life and interest—Robins,Bluetits,Nuthatches,Redwings,Missel-thrushes, and others—but of their behaviour in the winter season, and when habitually fed, I have already discoursed to this Society, so will not further trouble you now with their noticeable peculiarities.
Reptiles.—Perhaps it would scarcely be expected that theReptilerace would provide much of interest for a city garden. Yet it may be truly said that this class of creatures has done almost more than any other to provide my garden with material for this.
As this Society will know from my previous communications to its “Transactions,” I have long kept twoTortoises, and year by year noted their habits and most remarkable peculiarities. These have been already fully described in the Society’s records, and I can only now add to what I before stated, that they still continue to increase in size and weight, and at about the same rate of progression as twelve or thirteen years ago. They still gain 1½ to 2 ounces in weight in each summer, and lose about 1 or 1¼ ounce in weight during each winter hybernation. The total result is, that whilst they weighed respectively 2 lbs. 10 ozs. and 2 lbs. 5 ozs. in September, 1886, they weighed in October last 3 lbs. 13 ozs. and 3 lbs. 8 ozs., having thus each gained in weight during this period 1 lb. 3 ozs., or on an average about one ounce and a quarter in each year.
Other reptilians which I have tried to domesticate (for observation) in my garden areToadsandFrogs. But I am bound to say that I have not been successful in preserving them in any numbers for more than a brief period. Their appearance and disappearance has at times been very mysterious and inexplicable, but on the whole those which I have imported have, as a rule, soon either died or been otherwise disposed of. Is it not probable, I would suggest, that they, or at least the smaller ones, have fallen a prey to Jackdaws, Rooks, or even Starlings?
Of theFrogswhich I brought home, only one survived the second year. But this one appeared to thrive in a remarkable degree for several years. It would apparently lie dormant for many months, and would then reappear, lively, fat, and much grown, for a few weeks in the late summer or early autumn; after which he would be no more seen until the following year.
Toadsare more interesting than Frogs; and, indeed, in a city garden, by no means produce that feeling of loathing which is popularly supposed to be inherent in them. On the contrary, they quickly become tame, and almost assume thestatusof garden pets. And as a matter of fact, I entirely disagree with Shakespeare, who calls them “ugly and venomous.”
At first the Toads which I imported would come out regularly on suitable evenings, and sit or hop about on the damp grass or flower-borders. And they exhibited a most special tendency (as has been observed by others) to come down to the house as if desiring an entrance. Indeed, when the door was open they would not unfrequently walk in. And I have more than once found one of them in my study or other room, sitting up in a corner, looking happy and comfortable, andquietly staring at me with its bright eyes, as if I were the real intruder.
The direction of my rooms from the garden is from south to north. I do not know if this was possibly expressive of any migratory instinct.
Like the Frogs, of a number of Toads which I introduced into my garden, only three or four remained in the following year; and soon all disappeared, except one, whose end was peculiar and of dramatic interest. It occurred in this way: A neighbour kept in his adjacent garden some other reptiles, namely, some non-poisonous snakes. One of these seems to have escaped from its cage and got over the dividing wall into my garden, and on one summer morning was discovered by me on my grass-plot, with this Toad (about a half-grown one) in his mouth, which he was trying to kill or swallow. I suppose the Toad was too large or too lively, for the snake was making very serious exertions, and was actively agitating its body in a linear direction. When seen at a distance, it looked like a stout piece of cord or fine rope agitated by the wind, with a movement like that of a carpet when it is flapped and shaken. The Toad had been seized by the hinder part of its back, as shown by the two bleeding punctures afterwards found.
When the snake saw me advancing towards it, it rapidly wriggled or undulated away towards the ivy-covered wall, where it was lost. But it retained its hold of the Toad almost to the last, and until I had got quite close up to it.
This incident is not only interesting, but it also shows that these reptiles must have some instinctive power of knowing of the neighbourhood of comparatively distant prey; for the rockery stones from which it was takenmust have been at least thirty to forty yards from its own domicile. Such an instinct would seem to be the equivalent of that well known to be possessed by birds of prey. I regret that this poor Toad did not long survive his fright and bad usage.
My Toads have exhibited the usual tendency of these animals to hide away beneath stones or earth, and in unfrequented corners. When discovered it is curious to watch their half-frightened expression, and their peculiar mode of breathing by their under jaw, which appears at once to increase in rapidity. They do not resist much when handled, but it is curious to note how they continue to swell their sides out, until they produce a very prominent rotundity of their body. After the episode of the Snake and my Toad, the idea suggests itself that this is intended to make themselves as large as possible, not from envy of the Ox, as stated in the fable with reference to the Frog, but to make themselves too large a morsel to be swallowed by the lesser of those animals which prey upon them.
These “Toads in holes” would come out from their retreat in dry weather, a few hoursbeforerain, after which they would again disappear, often for a long season.
Insects.—There are plenty of these in every garden, however small; and Bees, Flies, Beetles, and especially Spiders, would afford a never ending source of interest. The only insects which I have specially watched areAnts, nests and colonies of which appear and reappear every summer upon my garden paths, or upon the adjacent portions of the grass-plots.
We all know of the very numerous observers of and writers upon these little creatures; and their works, from Huber down to Sir John Lubbock, will be moreor less familiar to us all. Their industry, their building powers, their gregarious nature, their division of labour, their apparent working for the common good, their devotion to the young, their colonizing instincts, as well as some of the changes which their insect forms undergo, are all there recorded.
And many of these things are easily to be observed by anyone who takes the trouble.
I can only venture here to make one or two brief notes on their proceedings in St. Giles’s Street.
Both the small brown and the small black Ants are to be here seen, but they occupy different positions; and not only do not seem to be on neighbourly terms with each other, but fight at once if experimentally placed together.
The brown Ants are the more numerous, and in the summer months display an enormous amount of activity. Doubtless there is a good reason for their incessant movements, but to the ordinary observer these often seem to be purposeless and merely the result of restlessness and excess of energy.
The favourite situation for their little Ant-hills is decidedly along the edge of the gravel path, where this abuts upon the grass sward, and it is noticeable that almost the whole of these are placed on the easterly edge of this. From these nests, or centres, very little use is made of the adjacent grass territory, but from nearly all a track is made across the gravel path to its opposite (westerly) side, where either a hole is made into a small fresh home, or a semi-tunnel is made through the grass edging on to and into the earth of the flower-border beyond. There appears to be no attempt to tunnel in the firm gravel path, but the incessant racing backward and forward in the sameline very soon (as Sir John Lubbock, now Lord Avebury, has pointed out) makes a well-trodden road, along which they follow each other in rapid succession.
As to their hour of rising in the morning for work, I cannot speak from personal observation. But as Solomon holds them out as an example to those inclined unduly to keep their beds, I conclude that their motto is, “Early to rise.” But I can say that the opposite half of this proverb, namely, “Early to bed,” does not apply to them, for, at least in the warm weather, they do certainly often work until late at night.
It is very interesting to watch these Ants at work, and to note their activity and energy and strength. An Ant is “but a little creature,” but he is certainly able to perform a large amount of physical work. And especially is this seen in the way he builds up those little heaps of earth known as Ant-hills. I have had many of these under observation, and the rapidity with which they reappear after injury by pressure or a heavy rain-storm is very remarkable. Twenty-four hours, or even less, being often sufficient for their complete restoration. They are of varying form, but some are perfectly conical, with a circular hole at the top exactly like that of some Norfolk “kilns” used for the burning of bricks. Others are irregular, or flattened and spongy, with several holes. But it would seem that the varying shapes are largely due to the special conditions under which they are made.
* 1907. I have noted that this year the brown Ants have varied in colour, or have been replaced in their more usual spots on my gravel walk by others that are nearly if not quite black. And I have also noticed that their habits are somewhat different. The little conical Ant-hills which they make are much smaller, but more numerous, than those of their predecessors, and they seem to burrow more in theadjacent grass lawn. But they keep to almost the same spots. In their daily workings and activities also there is a decided difference. They are very active in the early mornings, but often can scarcely be seen all the mid-day or afternoon, instead of racing about above ground almost the whole day, as the others did. But they may have been influenced in this by the continued cool and showery weather of the season.
One very warm day about noon, in the early part of September, I witnessed some of the proceedings at one of the well-known “wedding ceremonials” of Ants. The whole body of the Ants were swarming on the grass above the nest, and racing about in evidently a great state of excitement. Amongst these were five large winged (Queen) Ants, constantly moving about, though more quietly, and in and out of the nest opening. Also in the group were some forty or more smaller winged (Male) Ants, also moving about upon the ground. None of the winged Ants were flying far about. I watched this state of commotion for some time, then left, and returned in about an hour, when the whole body of these insects had disappeared, presumably into the nest. Whether the brides and bridegrooms were about to take their wedding flight, or whether (as appears most probable) they had just returned, I am unable to state; but I saw no further commotion outside later on in the day.
I have often watched these little creatures at work upon their “heaps,” and have noted how these are gradually built up of aggregations of single grains of earth or sand, which evidently have been dug out grain by grain from the earth, where the excavation is going on, and are then brought in the Ant’s mouth to the surface, and to the top of the rising earth-heap. They are then dropped over its edge, and the Carrier Ant at once races back into the hole presumably for a fresh burden. This process is a very remarkable one, and the way the Ant brings his grain of earth in his mouth and drops it over the edge of the rising Ant-hill, irresistibly reminds one of a railway navvy who wheels his barrow full of earth and tilts it over the edge of the embankment upon which he is at work. The number of single grains in even a small Ant-heap must be very large, and must amount to manythousands, or perhaps to hundreds of thousands. What, then, must be the untiring energy of a small Ant colony, which can reproduce such a granular heap in less than twenty-four hours?
It does not always seem clear what the streams of Ants from the parent nest are so constantly occupied in. They may be, to a certain extent, colonizers, but they certainly do not, with me, raise secondary Ant-hills to any great extent at the end of their runs. They make holes in the ground there, and possibly they may be engaged in their proverbial custom of securing and storing up food for the winter. To the uninstructed eye these holes look very much like Colonial outposts.
The activity of these Ants entirely ceases with the advent of autumn, and their Ant-hills in my garden entirely disappear until the following season.
As we all know, this instinct of storing up food for winter use has been largely denied, but from Sir John Lubbock’s account it certainly exists in some species, though its extent varies greatly. As he says that many of the Ants live through the winter, some food would seem to be required.
Speaking of Ants generically, we all doubtless accept King Solomon’s authority upon this point, and we shall not forget that the Roman poet, Virgil, writing just before the Christian era, expressed himself to the same effect.
“Ac veluti ingentem formicæ farris acervumCum populant, hyemis memores, tectoque reponunt.”
“Ac veluti ingentem formicæ farris acervumCum populant, hyemis memores, tectoque reponunt.”
Whilst Cicero says:
“In formica non modo sensus, sed etiam mens, ratio, memoria.”
“In formica non modo sensus, sed etiam mens, ratio, memoria.”
Lastly, did time and inclination permit, I might have found endless interest in observing the habits of the vast quantities ofWorms(again with the aid of Sir John Lubbock) which inhabit my grass-plot; or those of theSnails; or of theSlugs, which exist in equally innumerable quantities in the garden soil. Both these latter classes of animals appear to be made to be eaten, as they largely furnish food for the birds. They prefer damp or wet weather, and to some degree are excellent weather-glasses or weather prophets. As we all know, they roam or sail about on rainy evenings. But it is curious to observe also the special instinct by which in dry periods the Snails will become aware of watered or damp earth at a considerable distance, and how they will in the night cross a large breadth of dry, or even dusty earth, to reach a spot of ground where plants have been watered on the previous evening. I need scarcely remind you that these land mollusks, the Snails, and still more the Slugs, are creatures with super-excellent appetites for the garden plants.
I have now, in conclusion, not only to apologize to this Society for the length of my paper, but, perhaps, also for having brought it before you at all.
I did not venture to do so until I had asked our excellent and experienced Secretary whether he considered that a few such popular or surface notes, even if containing little that is new, would be acceptable, or even appropriate, to such a learned body. My real object has been less to state what I have personally observed than to show what a large field still exists in our city centres (as indeed everywhere) for a naturalistic use of whatever out-door opportunities are present; and to illustrate the principle that even in thesmallest and least promising city gardens or spaces, the materials for interest and self-instruction are ever present, and practically inexhaustible; that here, as elsewhere, and everywhere, we may “read, and read again, and still find something new; something to please, and something to instruct.”
Ladies and Gentlemen—Another of our Society’s years has come to a close this day, and it devolves upon me to say a few final words before yielding up this presidential chair. In doing so, my chief desire is to repeat my thanks to the members for having placed me in so honourable a position, and for their kindness in sustaining me throughout the various evening meetings of the session.
It is a matter of much congratulation that these meetings have continued to be well attended, and that the Society itself has continued thoroughly to fill that position of scientific usefulness which was hoped for it at its first inauguration, now eighteen years ago. Such a lapse of time gives the opportunity of seeing how much good work has in the aggregate been done. And though, no doubt, in looking back through our volumes it will be found that different years have produced a varying amount of work judged by its importance, yet on the average we have reason to be well satisfied with what the successive numbers show us, seeing that the total represents a veryimportant collection indeed of natural history facts and information. The work of the present year has, I think, fully maintained the good average attained in other sessions.
The Society too, has, as a whole, continued to prosper, and appears to be effectually carrying out the initial programme set forth on the first page of each volume of its “Transactions.”
On looking back to some of our earliest annual reports, I find that our numbers have doubled and trebled themselves since that time; and further that the list now embraces the names of many both at home and afar off, whose reputations are well known to science, and who are powerful additions to our Society’s strength. As compared, too, with those earlier times, the increased plumpness of our yearly volume tells of the greater amount of matter that is now every year contributed.
So, too, if prosperous finance is any test of success, we may look to the larger figures in our balance sheet, and the sufficiently satisfactory state of our “balance at the bank” further to fortify the favourable position which I desire to point out to you.
We have had an accession of twenty-one new members during the year, whilst seventeen have been removed by death, resignation, or other causes. But though the total losses from these causes have been but few, and those from death not above the average, yet these latter include some well-known names—the names of members of valued attainments, and of men whom the Society could ill spare.
Especially do we note with regret the premature loss, in only middle life, of one who had been a member of this Society from its commencement, who was also a life member of the Zoological Society, and whose death wouldhave claimed attention from us as Norwich men, were it for no other reason than that he bore a name the very sound of which is instinct with ideas of Norfolk Natural History; one who was also a member of a family to which this Society, and the neighbouring Museum, owe a long and ever-increasing debt of gratitude.
Although the late Mr. John Gurney’s talents were never, I believe, especially directed to our class of study, yet his tastes for the bright and the beautiful were well known. And though his affliction had of late years debarred him from the complete visual enjoyment of the beauties of nature, yet his devotion to the improvement of the rural charms of his own home, and his public-spirited expenditure upon the scheme for the laying out of Mousehold Heath, and its appropriate development, showed that he had in him that form of mind out of which the true lover of nature’s creatures, as well as nature’s charms, necessarily arises.
But this side of Mr. Gurney’s mind will come home to us as naturalists much more forcibly when we recall the great act of his life, in which he was so heartily and so earnestly engaged when death removed him so suddenly in the midst of his useful and public-spirited career. I, of course, allude to his great Castle-Museum scheme for the removal of our grand Museum collection, with its surroundings, to a new and larger and more appropriate position on the Castle Hill. We all know the generous liberality with which he sought to ensure this grand scheme being carried out. We have all noted the quiet and business-like sagacity with which the various steps necessary for the effective doing of this work were taken under his inspiration. And I am sure we recognise how he was actuated not only by a desire to raise the scientificstatusof the county and city generally, but also to assist thoseNorfolk workers in nature’s fields whose accumulated results are now to be seen under this roof.
His large and increasing views for the good of this city, and its general welfare, have been so thoroughly and so publicly appreciated on all sides, that it is not necessary for me to add one word more. His name will remain as that of a public man at once generous and right-minded. And I can only hope on behalf of this Society, and that of other kindred ones, that nothing will occur to prevent the full development and carrying out of that Castle scheme, which, if effected, will, in my opinion, have a large and important influence not only upon the future scientific progress of Norfolk generally, but also upon the intellectual position which our famous old city will hold in the time to come.
Mr. Hampden G. Glasspoole, who has also recently died, had been a member of this Society from its commencement, and had contributed two papers to its proceedings. These were entitled “Biographical Memoirs of some Norwich Botanists,” and “Memoir of Lilly Wigg.” He had also published several papers inScience Gossip. He was for several years a member of the late Norwich Microscopical Society; and of the London Quekett Club.
Mr. Glasspoole was an accomplished botanist. For many of the later years of his residence at Ormesby, he was honorary curator of Botany at the Norwich Museum; and after his removal to London he held, for a short period, the office of botanist to the Alexandra Palace.
He will be remembered by us all as kindly, gentle, and genial; ever ready to help others with his time or his knowledge; and with all his stores of information, modest and unassuming.
He added one species to the British Flora,Carex trinervis, Devgl; and two species to our county list, namely,Ammophila Baltica, Leak, andSparganium neglectum, Beeby.
As is well known, he was the eldest son of the late Capt. R. Glasspoole of Ormesby, who had himself presented manycuriosto our Museum, and who published a most interesting account of his experiences whilst a prisoner in the hands of Chinese pirates.
The Ornithology of Scotland has, in the death of Mr. Robert Gray, which took place at Edinburgh in February last, lost one of its ablest exponents. Commencing with “The Birds of Ayrshire and Wigtonshire,” which appeared in 1869, Mr. Gray, two years later, published the more important “Birds of the West of Scotland,” and at the time of his death was engaged on a similar work treating of the birds of the Eastern district of his native country. In this latter work he was, I believe, associated with Mr. William Evans of Edinburgh, who, it is to be hoped, will bring their joint labours to a successful issue.
Mr. Gray commenced public life in the City of Glasgow Bank, and it was whilst acting as Inspector of Agencies for that establishment that he was enabled to collect the information which so enriched his work on the “Birds of the West of Scotland.” Subsequently Mr. Gray entered the Bank of Scotland, and at the time of his death occupied the position of its chief cashier. Since his residence in Edinburgh, he has taken a prominent position in the scientific institutions of that city, and was a Vice-President of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, and Secretary of the Royal Physical Society. He did not become a member of our Society until 1884, but has been long known by several of its members, and highly valued as a correspondent or friend.
The only other member of this Society whose death we have to deplore is Captain Philip Hamond, who has for some time left this city, but who will be well remembered as having resided for awhile at Mousehold House, Thorpe. He showed much interest in the natural history of Norfolk, and also in its antiquities; and he left a valuable collection of books relating to Norfolk.
During the past session we have had many valuedpaperscontributed to our Society; besides some notes—shorter, but not necessarily less interesting, or of less value.
We have also had several specimens exhibited. And, in addition, we have had a considerable number of members who have taken part in the various discussions.
I need scarcely remind you how varied these contributions have been; and how birds, beasts, fishes, insects, and smaller creatures; as well as seeds and plants, great and small; have all received illustrations during the year. Distant parts of the globe, too, have helped to supply us with the material which has been brought before us, notably by our late President, Colonel Feilden.
Many of the papers will be published in the forthcoming “Transactions” of the Society; and to these I need scarcely allude, as they can all be read by us very shortly. But I should scarcely like to omit to mention the beautiful botanical specimens exhibited by Mr. Long, of Wells, at our last meeting. The rarity and interest of some of them, the beauty and finish of the mountings, and the true scientific intelligence displayed in all, can but make us desire that so competent a collector would not only further explore his district, but also enrich this Society by the exhibition of the fruit of his researches.
As to the contributions which will not appear in our “Transactions”:—At the May meeting, Mr. F. Sutton read some interesting notes on Strawberry growing. In October,Mr. Southwell read extracts from the records of the Whaling s.s. “Eclipse” in the Greenland seas. Mr. Southwell’s notes referred more particularly to the natural history occurrences of the voyage; the birds and animals met with. And he exhibited several forms of Whale and Seal food, consisting of Crustacea and various minute organisms; as well as the skulls of two Greenland Seals, two Ringed Seals, and a Polar Bear, sent him by Mr. Robert Gray—all which latter he has presented to the Norwich Museum. He also exhibited a very rare little fish of the genusScopelus, likewise taken by Mr. Gray.
At the same meeting, our most valued and efficient member, Mr. Geldart, read a paper on theCalanus finmarchicusor Rice Food of Whales, from the West Coast of Spitzbergen, and illustrated by it the natural law of gradation in feeding, showing that whilst some Whales themselves eat this food, others devour the Cod and Herring, which eat these little crustaceans, which again eat the diatoms, found floating in such enormous numbers on the surface of those seas.
My own humble contribution to the proceedings of our last meeting, in the shape of a paper on the habits of some of our town birds, entitled “My Christmas Garden Party,” has been recently published inextenso, and therefore need not be further alluded to here.
There has been only oneExcursionmade during the year, but this appears to have been full of interest and enjoyment. I have received a lively and detailed account of the day’s proceedings from Mr. Bussey, but I regret that time only permits me to note the principal features of the occasion.
The visit was made to the Salhouse and Wroxham Broads, and the neighbouring district, including the Broomhills, St. Benedict’s Abbey, and portions of theriver Bure. It is unnecessary to say how ample is the material in this district for the study of both the animal and vegetable kingdom; and as the day was fine, the opportunities afforded were fully availed of. As usual, this occasion for field study fully repaid those who took part in it, for their devotion of the day to this pleasant combination of research and recreation.
The field over which “Natural History” extends is a very wide one, and properly includes the study of all organised beings, living and dead. At one end the ground is, to a very considerable extent, occupied by the Geological Society, which exists in Norwich; yet even in this department we have had, as I have said, some very valuable contributions during the year. But at the other end, which embraces the study of minute or microscopic life, not only have we had no contributions during the past session, but I find, on looking over the past numbers of our “Transactions,” that the papers dealing with this part of the world’s life have been both few and far between. There have been, as we know, some great and valuable exceptions, such as the papers read by Mr. Kitton, the address by Mr. Plowright, a portion of the address read by the President, Mr. Sutton, two years ago, and, perhaps, one or two others. Still the small part which microscopical records and observations play in our annals is both noticeable and regrettable—the more so, because in consequence of the decease of the old Norwich Microscopical Society, I believe that no public or systematic work in this direction is now being carried on in this city. And yet, partly in consequence of the larger forms of life having now been so largely studied, but still more in consequence of the new views as to the universality and far-reaching importance of microscopic living beings—there is probably no phase of natural history which is now more engaging generalattention, or which is being more eagerly studied and investigated elsewhere.
Mr. Sutton, in his presidential address of 1884–85, gave a most learned and interesting description of some of the microscopical researches which had been carried on up to that time, and further gave us a most lucid account of the influence which micro-organisms had been shown to exert in the process of nitrification in soils, an influence which had formerly been considered to be due to purely chemical action.[80]
I trust I may be forgiven if I recall your attention for a few moments to this subject of Germ life, more particularly as it branches out and develops in a more vital direction; in other words as it affects human and animal life.
This portion of the subject has, during the past two or three years, deepened and strengthened in interest; our knowledge of it has largely increased; and the recognition of its vital importance has called forth, both in Europe and America, a host of eager and capable workers. It is scarcely too much to say that its wide and far-reaching issues are probably the most important to mankind of any that have been studied in recent times. Foremost amongst the workers in this department may be recalled to you the well-known names of Koch and Pasteur, abroad; and of Lister, Watson-Cheyne, and Crookshank, in this country. But the names of other eminent investigators will almost necessarily occur to your minds.
It has long been known what potent factors were microscopic Germs in producing changes in the constitution of decaying matter; and how they were, in all probability, the useful scavengers of nature, definitely resolving into their constituent elements failing and dying organic tissues. But it has become more and more a matter of knowledge, that by their parasitic habits and their power of invading and living upon and within other living tissues, they are also the sources of many so-called diseases of both vegetables and animals.
With regard to vegetable parasitic growth I will not now detain you. The blights, and the mildews, and the ergots, as well as minuter forms, such as algæ and micrococci, are well known; and no doubt much more is still to be learned from their further investigation; whilst by analogy it seems highly probable that the circulating fluids of higher members of the vegetable kingdom may be found to be invaded by parasitic beings in the same way as their animal compeers.
But it is to Germ life in animal bodies that I wish now specially to allude. I have said that our knowledge in this direction has, even in the last two or three years, made enormous strides, and it is now almost a matter of certainty that all contagious or infectious disorders, as well as many others, are but the expression of the fact that minute living bodies have made a resting-place for themselves in or upon other living tissues; and that the development of the phenomena of these morbid states is but an indication of their presence and reproductive activity—either as cause, or as an accompaniment of these disease manifestations. And this applies not only to the human species, but to lower classes of animals, between whom and man many of these diseases are interchangeable.
Such knowledge necessarily invests the life history ofthese minute Germs with intense interest, seeing that it is probably one step, and that a long one, towards the discovery of the means of prevention, if not also of cure, of many of our most fatal and dreaded diseases.
Examples of such diseases are:—Scarlet Fever, Diphtheria, Small Pox, Cholera, Yellow Fever, Tuberculous Disease, Ague, Hydrophobia, Cattle Plague, Anthrax; and many others might be enumerated whose dependence upon parasitic Germs is almost conclusively proved. But these are sufficient to show the deep interest of this branch of study.
Not only are these Germs found in the solids of the body in some of these diseases, but in others their presence is easily and constantly recognisable in the blood or other fluids, and even within the corpuscles which the blood so largely contains. And not only so, but the forms which these micro-organisms present are so constant and so definite in the different disorders, that it is now almost possible in some instances to diagnose what diseased condition we have to deal with by an examination of the fluid or tissue in which they are contained.
It is, perhaps, but right here to say that some of our most cautious observers consider that it is as yet hardlyproventhat the differing Germs found in the various diseases are their actual and efficient cause; but their definiteness in the various disorders, and the constancy of their presence, leave little doubt that this will hereafter be conclusively shown to be the case.
Some of these Germs seem to have a short life and rapid development, and then we have acute disease. Others seem to have a more prolonged or continuing career, and then we have chronic disease. Whilst others seem to have an intermitting development, and then we have paroxysmal disease.
Many curious facts have been observed in reference to the forms, or multiplication, or life-history of some of these parasitic beings. Thus, for example, in one class (Filaria sanguinis) it was noticed that the minute embryos of this little blood-worm could only be discovered in the evening or during the night, and not during the day; and the reason of this has appeared to be that it is necessary that they should come within reach of the Mosquito Gnat, which is a night-feeding animal, in whose bodies one stage of their development appears to take place.
One of the latest discoveries in this department of natural history is that of the blood germs, which co-exist with the various forms of ague and malarious disease, and upon which they would appear to depend. Dr. Osler, of Pennsylvania (now Regius Professor of Medicine, at Oxford), has recently described and figured these little bodies in an elaborate paper full of interest.
Such facts as these, when regarded merely from the point of view of a member of the Medical Profession have their deep andspecialsignificance. But I am here to-night as a member of the Naturalists’ Society, and by all of us, in that capacity, they are first to be regarded, not as illustrations of disease, but of the life history of some of nature’s creations—creations which are no doubt as important, as definite, and which play as large a part in the general scheme of life, as do many of the larger forms of animated beings.
Some of these little bodies, especially those of the bacillary and bacterial class, are extremely minute, and are best examined with powers ranging from one-tenth to one-twenty-fifth of an inch; and it is impossible to ignore the fact that their study requires not only good instruments, but much patience and skilled attention. Nevertheless, such study fairly comes within the scopeof this Society’s work, and will most certainly repay any of its members who may be induced adequately to undertake it.
Nor let it be said that minuteness is any reason for lack of interest on the part of the naturalist. For many of these micro-organisms have already been shown to be as varied, and to have as definite a structure, and as special a life history, as any of the larger types of beings; whilst, of course, we all recognise that apparent size is as nothing, that it is a mere accident, a question of the construction of our enquiring eyes, a condition that is at once altered and rectified by a magnifying glass.
If it be true that the invasion and presence of various small organisms in the blood or tissues is the cause of the various specific diseases to which I have alluded, then the application of such knowledge as naturalists can obtain, as to the food and other conditions necessary to their existence; their mode of ingress to the body; their development and multiplication, becomes clear and obvious. It opens up to our minds possibilities both of prevention, and of either mitigation or cure. For it is evident that if we can starve these Germs of their necessary nutriment, or make their new habitation unsuitable for their healthy and vigorous development, their career as invaders will necessarily either be cut short, or be rendered feeble and impotent; and therefore the disease-changes which they can produce less violent and less lethal.
Something of this kind appears naturally to have taken place in those persons in whom some of the zymotic diseases (of which Measles, Scarlet Fever, Whooping Cough, etc., may be taken as familiar types) have once run their course; in those, that is, who are popularly said to have already had these diseases. And although theexact abiding change which is produced has not been ascertained, yet it is well known, and quite understood, to be one which renders the fluids or tissues partially or wholly unsuitable for their future healthy growth.
This theory, too, is the well-known explanation of the protective power of the Cow Pox, which once having permeated a human system, has rendered it unsuitable for the future healthy and vigorous development of its greater relation—the Small Pox.
In default of available means of destroying the Germs of other malignant diseases, prolonged efforts have been made (and notably by the great French pathologist, Pasteur) so to diminish the intensity of the destructive force of some of these specific Germs, that they may be safely inoculated into human bodies without danger to life, and yet be potent enough in their effects to anticipate and render abortive the invasion of the more virulent diseases. This has been attempted by repeated cultivations of the Germs in proper media, until after several of such generations the broods shall have acquired the requisite diminished vitality—in fact, until that diminution of virulence which the Small Pox Germ has sustained in passing through the Cow has been obtained by these artificial means.