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BOTANY.-No. XXII.

SCROPHULARIE.

To assist the mind in forming a conception of this family, we have introduced our brief account of it by a figure of the scrophularia nodosa, or figwort, which is assumed as the type and representative of the rest. The figwort is very common on the sides of ditches, and may, with the assistance of this figure, be easily detected by its deep-green leaves and its dark purple flowers. The root has a number of knot-like protuberances growing upon it, which, to an imaginative eye, bear some resemblance to the swellings which characterize scrophulous disorders; hence its Latin name scrophularia.

In this family the flower is of an irregular shape, fig. a In some instances it is so

VOL. III.

folded as to be likened to the visage of some animal, as we may see in the snap-dragon, often found growing wild upon old garden walls, or in the yellow toad-flax; in both of which names there seems to be some allusion made to the manner in which the corolla opens, as fancy might liken this to the mouth of a toad or a dragon. The stamens are, for the most part, four in number; in which case they stand inpairs of different lengths. There are occasionally only two stamens, as in the veronica of the gardens, the lady's slipper, and the various species of wild speedwell. The seed-vessel affords another mark of distinction. This is always divided into two cells or compartments, by a transverse partition, to which the numerous small seeds are attached. If the seed-vessel of the figwort, fig. b.

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be examined after it has opened at the top, these two cells will be very obvious. If the partition itself be inspected, it will be found to resemble a small flattened pillow, connecting the edges of valves, or folding pieces, which compose the cells. Upon the nature of this partition the writer is disposed to rely, as forming an important distinction in this order.

It is by no means necessary that the student should begin the study of this order by an examination of the scrophularia nodosa; for the digitalis purpurea, or foxglove, which grows in almost every garden, will answer his purpose quite as well. This flower, whose hardiness and beauty have given it so frequent a place in our cultivated grounds, is a native of this country, not unfrequently found in woods. Its generic peculiarity consists in a bellshaped corolla enlarged below, but the stamens are in pairs of two longer and two shorter ones, while the seed-vessel agrees with the general character just given of this order, in being two-celled, with a free partition in the centre.

A very pretty example for illustration is obtained in the antirrhinum linaria, or yellow toad-flax, known by its bright yellow flowers, and its narrow ash-green leaves. The blossom will be recognised by its resemblance to that of the snap-dragon; that is, in having the mouth of the corolla shut close, and resembling the mouth of some animal.

A very pleasing ornament of old walls is the antirrhinum cymbalaria, or ivy-leaved toad-flax, which we mention both for its beauty and the likelihood there is that it will be at hand when other examples are absent. A small violet-coloured flower, and a five-lobed leaf, resembling au ivy leaf, will always denote it to the collector. But all the species of antirrhinum, or snapdragon, &c., with which we are acquainted, are remarkable, not only for the curious form of the corolla, but also for the general beauty of their appearance.

Many of our country friends are familiar with the eyebright, (euphrasia officinalis) which was once esteemed of great efficacy in disorders of the eye; hence the poet Milton represents the angel as purging the visual organs of Adam with "euphrasy and rue," that is, with eyebright and the common garden rue. It has a small white flower, marked with purple lines, leaves small, pointed, and stiff, and grows on heaths and dry pastures. For further illustration, we may refer the reader to the veronica of our gardens, or to that little

plant, which is often seen by grassy roalsides, and is remarkable for its blue flower, with two stamens and four divisions of the corolla. This is the wild germander (veromica chamadrys.) The lady's slipper, (calceolaria rugosa,) so conspicuous for its yellow flowers, which in shape resemble the fore part of a shoe, will furnish a pretty example for those to whom cultivated flowers are more accessible than the denizens of the country. Some species of this interesting flower are natives of the country about Conception in Chili, where they appear in company with other plants, (bæa,) belonging to this family. To form an imaginary picture of that country, one may paint with the pencil of fancy an expanse of verdure vieing in freshness with our choicest parks, sloping delightfully into every variety of hill and dale, and studded with clumps of myrtle trees, whose roots are garnished with the lady's slipper, and other kindred plants, not less curious in form, and more pleasing for the elegance and delicacy of their colours.

In the engraving, fig. c is the germen, or unripe fruit; fig. d, seeds, which are small and numerous.

PASCHALI, THE WALDENSIAN.

MR. BLAIR relates the following particulars :-Negrino and Paschali exercised their ministry in Calabria, in comforting the persecuted people among the woods and mountains. But when the sufferers were so closely hunted, we could hardly expect the preachers to escape. At the instance of the inquisitor, they were both apprehended. Negrino was starved to death in prison at Casueza. At this place Paschali was detained in confinement eight months, whence he was sent prisoner to Naples, with the view of being conducted to Rome. The patience with which he endured the cross, appears from the sensible and ardent letters which he addressed to the persecuted church of Calabria, to his afflicted spouse Camilla, and to the church of Geneva. In one of these he thus describes his journey from Cosenza to Naples : "Two of our companions had been pre vailed on to recant, but they were no better treated on that account, and we know not what they will suffer at Rome, whither they are to be conveyed, as well as Marquet and myself. The Spaniard, our conductor, wished us to give him money to be relieved from the chain by which we were bound to one another; yet, in addition to this. he put on me a pair of handcuffs, so strait that they entered into the flesh, and deprived

me of all sleep; and I found that, if at all, he would not remove them until he had drawn from me all the money I had, amounting only to two ducats, which I needed for my support. At night the beasts were better treated than we, for their litter was spread for them, while we were obliged to lie on the hard ground, without any covering; and in this condition we remained for nine nights. On our arrival at Naples we were thrust into a cell, noisome in the highest degree, from the damp, and the putrid breath of the prisoners.'

He was next sent in bonds to Rome, at which place his brother arrived from Coni, with letters of recommendation, to ask his liberty. With difficulty this brother obtained an interview with him, in the presence of a judge of the inquisition. He gives the following description of this first interview: "It was hideous to see him, with his bare head, and his hands and arms lacerated with the small cords with which he was bound, like one to be led to the gibbet. On advancing to embrace him, I sunk to the ground.

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"My brother!' said he, if you are a christian, why do you distress yourself thus? Do you know that a leaf cannot fall to the ground without the will of God? Comfort yourself in Christ Jesus, for the present troubles are not to be compared with the glory to come.'

"No more talk!' exclaimed the judge. "When we were about to part, my brother begged the judge to remove him to a less horrid prison.

"There is no other prison for you than this.'

"At least show me a little pity in my last days, and God will show it to you.' "There is no pity for such obstinate and hardened criminals as you.'

"A Piedmontese doctor, who was present, joined me in entreating the judge to grant this favour; but he remained inflexi

ble.

"He will do it for the love of God,' said my brother.

"All the other prisons are full,' replied the judge.

"They are not so full but that a small corner can be spared for me.'

"You would infect all who are near you by your smooth speeches.'

"I will speak to no one who does not speak to me.'

"Be content, you cannot have another place.'

"I must then have patience,' replied my brother."

In Paschali we see an instance of the power of the gospel supporting the soul in the most protracted sufferings. In a letter to his former hearers, like another Paul in his second epistle from Rome to Timothy, and like him, when about "to be offered," he thus expresses himself: "My state is this I feel my joy increase every day as I approach nearer the hour in which I shall be offered as sweet-smelling sacrifice to the Lord Jesus Christ, my faithful Saviour; yea, so inexpressible is my joy, that I seem to myself to be free from captivity, and am prepared to die, not only once, but many thousand times, for Christ, if it were possible; nevertheless, I persevere in imploring the Divine assistance by prayer, for I am convinced that man is a miserable creature when left to himself, and not upheld and directed by God." Shortly before his death he thus addressed his brother :—

"I give thanks to my God, that, in the midst of my long-continued and severe affliction, there are some who wish me well; and I thank you, my dearest brother, for the friendly interest you have taken in my welfare. But as for me, God has bestowed on me that knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ, which assures me I am not in an error, and I know that I must go by the narrow way of the cross, and seal my testimony with my blood. I do not dread death, and still less the loss of my earthly goods; for I am certain of eternal life, and a celestial inheritance, and my heart is united to my Lord and Saviour." When his brother urged him to yield in some degree, with a view of saving his life and property, he replied, "Oh! my brother, the danger in which you are involved gives me more distress than all that I suffer or have the prospect of suffering; for I perceive that your mind is so addicted to earthly things as to be indifferent to heaven."

At last, on the 8th of September, 1560, he was led to the conventual church of Minerva, to hear his process publicly read; and the next day, the 9th of September, he appeared, with the greatest fortitude, in the court adjoining the castle of St. Angelo, where he was burnt in the presence of the pope and a party of cardinals. Pius IV. wished to feast his eyes with the punishment of that man who had maintained the pope to be antichrist; but he and his cardinals could have wished either that they had been in another place, or that Paschali had been mute, or the people deaf; for the martyr expressed many sentiments from the word of God against the pope, which caused him considerable uneasiness. In the

midst of the flames, he courageously censured his persecutors, summoning them to appear before the throne of the Lamb, to give an account of their cruelties and barbarities, and of their heresies, superstitions, and idolatries, with which they have defiled the church. The martyr caused these dignitaries to gnash their teeth with rage; he deeply affected all the other witnesses, and died fervently calling upon God.

THE TELESCOPE.-No. II

HAVING remarked that the image of an immensely distant object will be formed by a convex lens in its focus, it is neces

sary to show, that for objects situated near to us, the case will be different; for with such objects the place of the image will vary with its distance from the lens; and not only so, but what is of great importance, the magnitude of the image will also depend upon the same distance: we will endeavour to explain our meaning.

In the adjoining figure, suppose a B to represent a convex lens, and c an object at an infinite distance, as a star; thus all the rays of light which fall upon the lens from such object may be considered as parallel to each other, and will, after passing through the glass, meet in the focus h on the other side; let i be a point

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in front of the lens, at the same distance from it as the focus h, this point would be the focus, if the object c was transferred to the right hand, and placed at c. Now if the object c be brought near to the glass, as at D, then the image, instead of being formed at h, will recede from the lens, and be formed about d; if the object c be placed at i, then the image will be formed at an infinite distance, as shown by the dotted lines; or, in other words, the rays on leaving the glass will move on in parallel lines. In short, the distance of the object on one side of the lens, and that of the image on the other, reciprocally correspond; that is, if you put the object in the place of the image, the image will be formed in the place of the object.

The magnitude of the image thus formed must next be considered. When ¦ such a lens represents to us the image of the sun, of the moon, or of a star, at a few inches distant, it must be evident that these images must be incomparably smaller than the objects themselves. A star being much greater than the whole earth, how is it possible that an image of such magnitude should be represented to us at the distance of a few inches? But the star appearing to us only as a point, the image, represented by the lens, likewise resembles a point, and, consequently, is infinitely smaller than the object itself.

The nearer the image is to the lens, the smaller will it be; and the more re

B

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image was formed at D, it would be smaller than if it was formed at E or F ; and when the distance of the image is equal to that of the object, as at G, then both the object and its image are of the same magnitude; this takes place wheu the distance of the object c is double that of the focus of the lens. Thus, suppose the man to be placed at forty feet from the glass, and that the focus of the glass is twenty feet, then the image of the man will be formed forty feet behind the lens, and of the same size as the object itself. If this image is looked at from a few inches distant, it will be seen exceedingly distinct, and nearly as well as if the man had been suddenly transported from the distance of eighty feet to that of a few inches, and we should say that the man is apparently magnified; for instead of

B

mote it is, the greater will be its magni- appearing under the small angle ABC,

which he would do with the naked eye, his image would, by means of the lens, appear under the much larger angle D C E. If the image of the man was formed twice farther from the lens than the object, it would appear double the size of the object; and in general as many times as the image is farther from the lens than the object, so many times will it be greater.

In all the above remarks we have supposed the object to be placed farther from the glass than the distance of its focus: : we must now show what will be the effect if we place the object nearer to the lens than its focal distance.

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gent, as marked by the lines B E and DF, though much less so than before; if these lines be produced backward, they will meet at i. The rays BE and DF will, after having passed through the lens, preserve the same direction as if they had come from the point 1, though they have not actually done so, it being only in the lens that they have taken this new direction. A person whose eye receives these rays, will imagine that the object of its vision is placed at 1, where an imaginary image of the real object a will appear to be formed, and the spectator will receive the same impression as if the object itself was at I instead of A. The object at a will not only appear to be removed further off to 1, but its apparent magnitude will also be greatly increased by as many times as the apparent image is further from the lens than the object is; as shown in our diagram, where the real obat a is apparently magnified to the size at I.

In doing this we shall explain the principle upon which convex lenses, when mounted in frames called spectacles, become so serviceable to our more aged friends. It is well known, that as youth gives place to age, the eye which formerly was quick at discerning minute objects,ject and reading the smallest print, gradually fails; this arises from a change in the crystalline humour, of which the eye is in part composed. In youth the eye is very globular, being full of such humour; but as age advances, the eye flattens by its deficiency, when, of course, its refractive power is diminished: small objects, which are best seen at short distances, are no longer discernible; and to be seen at all they must be placed further off, (the eye having become longer-sighted,) where from their minuteness they will not be visible, and therefore the convex lens is applied in the form of spectacles to produce a distant magnified image of a near and small object. This is accomplished by placing the object to be viewed, or the paper to be read, at a shorter distance from the glass than its focal distance. Thus, let A be

E

The reader may now easily comprehend the benefit derived from the use of spectacles containing convex lenses, to persons whose sight is not adapted to view near objects, but who can see them to more advantage at a distance, or what is commonly known by the term longsighted. Such defect of sight usually occurs in aged people, some of whom require spectacles of a very near focus, and others more distant; but the foregoing remarks may give a general idea of the use of such spectacles. Of the assistance required by short-sighted persons, we shall speak hereafter, in describing the nature and properties of the concave lens.

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the object; and as its distance A c is less than the distance of the focus, the rays A B and A D, &c., which fall upon the lens from the object, diverge too much to be parallel to each other, by the refraction they undergo in passing through the glass; they will, therefore, be still diver

Suppose A B to represent a concave lens, and suppose the parallel rays a b c to pass through the glass; in doing which, they will be so refracted, that on leaving it, they will diverge, taking a new direction, as if they had proceeded from the point c, the focus of the lens, which is the centre of the glass's concavity; thus the ray a will proceed on to d, taking the direction cd; the ray b, which passes through

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