dependent on the different aspects of morning, noon, and evening; on sun and on shade; on the colours of the sky and the

A

clouds; on the clearness or haziness of the atmosphere, and its consequent powers of refraction; on opposition of colour; on the situation of the spectator; and on many other contingencies, all independent of the local colour of the object, yet all strongly affecting it. It is impossible, therefore, I repeat, to give, in any written description, with tolerable conciseness, sufficient instruction for selecting the colours necessary to depict these objects, so constantly varying in their hues. few simple tints on the pallette, and an hour's study in the forest, will be more instructive than a volume of remarks. The attention and minuteness with which a lover of nature will examine a favourite object, and the truth with which he will consequently be enabled to describe it, are so strongly evidenced in the following passage, extracted from the works of the amiable writer before quoted, that I shall make no apology for transcribing the whole passage: "I have often stood," says he, "with admiration before an old forest oak, examining the various tints which have enriched its furrowed stem. The genuine bark of an oak is of an ash colour, though it is difficult to distinguish any part of it from the mosses that overspread it; for no oak, I suppose, was ever without a greater or less proportion of these picturesque appendages. The lower parts, about the roots, are often possessed by that green, velvet moss, which, in a still greater degree, commonly occupies the bole of the beech, though the beauty and brilliancy of it lose much when in decay. As the trunk rises, you see the brimstone colour taking possession in patches. Of this there are two principal kinds; a smooth sort, which spreads like a scurf over the bark; and a rougher sort, which hangs in little rich knots and fringes. I call it a brimstone hue by way of general distinction, but it sometimes inclines to an olive, and sometimes to a light green. Intermixed with

these mosses you often find a species almost perfectly white. Before I was acquainted with it, I have sometimes thought the tree white-washed. Here and there, a touch of it gives a lustre to the trunk, and has its effect: yet, on the whole, it is a nuisance; for, as it generally begins to thrive when the other mosses begin to wither (as if the decaying bark were its proper nutriment), it is rarely accompanied with any of the more beautiful species of its kind; and, when thus unsupported, it always disgusts. This white moss, by the way, is esteemed a certain mark of age, and when it prevails in any degree, is a clear indication that the vigour of the tree is declining. We find, also, another species of moss, of a dark brown colour, inclining nearly to black; another of an ashy colour; and another of a dingy yellow. We may observe also touches of red, and sometimes, but rarely, a bright yellow, which is like a gleam of sunshine; and in many trees you will see one species growing upon another, the knotted brimstone-coloured fringe clinging to a lighter species, or the black softening into red. All these excrescences, under whatever names distinguished, add a great richness to trees; and when they are blended harmoniously, as is generally the case, the rough and furrowed trunk of an old oak, adorned with these pleasing appendages, is an object which will long detain the picturesque eye.”

As it is thus more particularly in old age that the oak is valuable to the painter, we shall conclude the present article with a description of the Cowthorpe oak, extracted from the Sylva Britannica, together with a portrait of the tree from a drawing made upon the spot. (fig. 102.)

This gigantic and venerable tree stands on the extremity of the village of Cowthorpe, near Wetherby, in Yorkshire, in a retired field, sheltered on one side by the ancient church belonging to the place, and on another by a farm-house, the rural occupations of which exactly accord with the character of the oak, whose aged arms are extended towards it with a peculiar air of rustic vigour, retained even in decay; like some aged peasant, whose toil-worn limbs still give evidence of the strength which enabled him to acquit himself of the labours of his youth. It is mentioned by the late Dr. Hunter, in his edition of Evelyn's Sylva, in the following note on a passage respecting the extraordinary size of an oak in Sheffield Park: "Neither this, nor any of the oaks mentioned by Mr. Evelyn, bears any proportion to one now growing at Cowthorpe. The dimensions are almost incredible. Within three feet of the ground it measures sixteen yards, and close by the ground twenty-six yards. Its height, in its present ruinous state (1776),

is almost eighty-five feet, and its principal limb extends sixteen yards from the bole. Throughout the whole tree the

foliage is extremely thin, so that the anatomy of the ancient branches may be distinctly seen in the height of summer. When compared to this, all other trees are but children of the forest." (Book iii. p. 500.)

This description so nearly answers to the present state of the tree, that it does not appear to have suffered any considerable deprivation since the above period. In girth, indeed, it is inferior to the magnificent remains of the oak in Salcey Forest; but, altogether, it is a noble and imposing ruin, on which it is impossible to look without entering into the wish suggested to an ingenious writer by the sight of a similar object, and poetically expressed in the following lines:

"When the huge trunk, whose bare and forked arms
Pierced the mid sky, now prone, shall bud no more,
Still let the massy ruin, like the bones

Of some majestic hero, be preserved

Unviolated and revered;

Whilst the grey father of the vale, at eve
Returning from his sweltering summer task,

To tend the new-mown grass, or raise the sheaves

Along the western slope of yon grey hill,

Shall stop to tell his listening sons how far

She stretched around her thick-leaved ponderous boughs,
And measure out the space they shadowed."

The

Sylva Brit., p. 25.

THE botanical Characters of the Common Oak are as follows: Quércus (quer, fine, cuez, tree, Celtic) Ròbur (name given by the Romans to the hardest kind of oak), the Hard, or Common, Oak (fig. 103.), belongs to the class Monce cia and order Polyándria of Lin., and to the nat. ord. Amentaceæ of Jussieu. generic character is as follows; and if the inexperienced botanist will take the trouble, in this and in future examples, of comparing the description with the figure, and referring from the one to the other, letter by letter, he will gradually initiate himself in the scientific part of botany.

Male Flowers.- Amentum filiform (fig. 104. a), long, loose:

a

104

9

Perianth (b) one-leafed, subquinquefid: segments (c) acute, often bifid.

Corolla. None.

.

Stamens. Filaments (d) five to ten, very short: Anthers (e) large, twin.

Female Flowers (f).- Sessile in the bud, on the same plant with the males.

Calyx. Involucre (g) consisting of very many imbricate scales (h), united at the base into coriaceous hemispherical little cups, the outer ones larger; one-flowered, permanent: Perianth (i) very small, superior, six-cleft, permanent: Segments (k) acute, surrounding the base of the style, pressed close.

Corolla. None.

Pistil. Germ (1) very small, ovate, inferior, three-celled; rudiments of the seed double: Style (m) simple, short, thicker at the base: Stigmas (n) three, reflexed.

Seed. A nut (acorn) (0), ovate-cylindrical, coriaceous, smooth, attached at the base, one-celled, fixed in a short hemispherical cup, which is tubercled on the outside.

(To be continued.)

249

PART II.

REVIEWS.

ART. I. 1. A Geological Memoir on a Part of Western Sussex, with some Observations upon Chalk Basins, the Weald Denudation, and Outliers by Protrusion. By P. J. MARTIN. London. 4to.

2. On the Formation of the Valley of Kingsclere, and other Valleys, by the Elevation of the Strata that enclose them, and on the Evidences of the original Continuity of the Basins of London and Hampshire. By the Reverend W. BUCKLAND, &c. &c. &c. Trans. Geol. Society of London, Second Series, Vol. II.

In the prosecution of a science of investigation like geology, a division of labour tends in no slight degree towards its rapid advancement. We are happy to witness so many labourers in the field, each bringing in, by turns, some useful contribution to swell the vast store of accumulated information. During the last few years, a prodigious accession has thus been made to our stock of geological knowledge, and with it, it is presumed, has arisen a corresponding aptitude for its right application. This increasing tendency was at first derived from the exertions of an extremely limited number of enquirers; subsequently, from the combined efforts of the many whose energy was excited by the attractive nature of the science, and by the splendid discoveries of their predecessors.

When we look at the state of English geology now, ennobled by the collateral sciences, and almost essential to a liberal education, we are led to forget that it is a science of our own times, that most of its earliest professors are yet amongst us. We could refer to the period in our remembrance, and that at no very distant day, when, indeed, this department of practical knowledge was in very few hands, and under circumstances of discouragement; when it was confined almost to a solitary individual, of obscure origin, of slender resources, and inadequate patronage, who, after twenty years of laborious research, produced the first delineation of the great geological features of our island. Even prior to this VOL. I.- No. 3.

S