Scientific American Supplement, No. 841, February 13, 1892

Chapter 3

Chapter 33,881 wordsPublic domain

But it may be asked, "How could the fauna and flora propagate themselves under such conditions?" The flora itself at the quaternary age was of extreme vigor. We know this from the little which is left us, but more especially from the presence of a large number of herbivorous animals--stags, horses, elephants, rhinoceros, etc.--which animated the plains and valleys of Europe and America at the same time. Evidently they could not have lived and propagated themselves without abundant vegetation for nourishment and development.

That which has deceived the adherents of the glacial theory, as understood in its absolute sense, is, they have generally placed a too high estimate on its extent and intensity. It needs but a little effort of the reasoning powers to come to the conclusion that the earth had cooled to the degree that all animal and vegetable life could exist upon it, and that a portion of the earth's surface permanently covered with snow and ice was absolutely indispensable to the existence, perpetuity, and well-being of animal and vegetable life. Again, they have attributed to the glaciers the rocks, gravels, and other material which they have found spread here and there long distances from the mountains. The transportation of the so-called erratic rocks has appeared inexplicable in any other way, and the piles of rock and gravel have been considered so many _moraines_, that is, deposits of diverse material transported by the glaciers. They do not regard the probability of other agents taking the place of glaciers, and undervalue the moving power of water. Water in liquid state has often produced analogous effects, and it has often been the error of the glacialists to confound the one with the other. The erratic rocks and the moraines are undoubtedly the ordinary indications of the ancient gravels, but, taken isolatedly, they are not sufficient proof. In order to convince they should be accompanied with a third indication, which is the presence of striated rocks which we find in the neighborhood of our actual glaciers. When all these signs are together then there is hardly a possibility of error, but one alone is not sufficient, because it can be the effect of another cause.

No doubt the temperature was really lower at the quaternary age and at the epoch generally assigned to man's advent in European countries, but the difference was not so great as some say. A lowering of four degrees is sufficient to explain the ancient extension of the glaciers. We can look on this figure as the maximum, for it is proved to-day that humanity played the main _role_ in the glacial phenomena. The beds of rivers and the alluvia are there to tell that all the water was not in a solid state at that time, that the glaciers were much more extended than in our days, and that the courses of the rivers were infinitely more abundant. When this is understood we can reasonably reduce the extension of the ancient glaciers, the lowering of the temperature at the quaternary age, and account for the uninterrupted life of the fauna and flora. However, we must not fall into the opposite excess and assert, as some have done, that the glacial period is comparatively recent, the traces of which are too plain and fresh in some localities to assign to it an age prior to man, and that the temperature has rather lowered itself since this epoch. The ancient extension of the glaciers has been followed by a corresponding growth and extension of animal life, thus proving that the permanence of glaciers is a wise provision and absolutely essential to man and the high orders of animals and vegetation. The ancient extension does not prove alone that it was much colder than in historic times, for the animals themselves are proof of this. At that time the plains of Europe, and of France in particular, were animated by herds of reindeer, gluttons, camels, and marmots, which one does not find to-day except in the higher latitudes or more considerable heights. The mammoth and rhinoceros are no exception to this, for naturalists know they were organized to live in cold countries.

Space will not permit us to pursue this point further, or speculate on the probable climatic conditions of the ice age; but we can carry ourselves back a few thousand years and describe the climate of Europe and neighboring countries of Africa and Asia. Herodotus describes the climate of Scythia in terms which would indicate in our day the countries of Lapland and Greenland. He shows us the country completely frozen during eight months of the year; the Black Sea frozen up so that it bore the heaviest loads; the region of the Danube buried under snow for eight months, and watered in summer by the abundant rains which gave to the river its violent course. The historian adds that the ass cannot live in Scythia on account of the extreme cold which reigns there. The following century Aristotle makes the same remarks concerning Gaul. His contemporary, Theophrastes, tells us that the olive tree did not succeed in Greece more than five hundred furlongs from the sea. We can assure ourselves that both the ass and the olive thrive in these countries at the present day.

Three centuries later, Cæsar speaks frequently and emphatically of the rigor of winters and early setting in of cold in France, the abundance of snow and rain, and the number of lakes and marshes which became every moment serious obstacles to the army. He says he is careful not to undertake any expedition except in summer. Cicero, Varro, Possidonius, and Strabo insist equally on the rigor of the climate of Gaul, which allows neither the culture of the vine nor the olive. Diodorus of Sicily confirms this information: "The cold of the winters in Gaul is such that almost all the rivers freeze up and form natural bridges, over which numerous armies pass quite safely with teams and baggages; in order to hinder the passengers to slip out upon the ice and to render the marching more secure, they spread straw thereon."

Virgil and Ovid insist on the severity of cold in the regions of the Danube. The first describes the inhabitants of these miserable countries withdrawing themselves into caves dressed with the skins of wild beasts. Ovid, who had passed several years of his life in that region, is more precise in his description. He says the wine has changed itself here (Black Sea) into a solid frozen mass; one gives it to drink by pieces. Fearing of being accused of poetic exaggeration he appeals to the testimony of two ancient governors of Moesia, who could establish the facts like himself. The author who would give such accounts of the Black Sea in our days would risk his reputation for veracity.

Italy, too, experienced its part of the cold in early days. Virgil tells us of the snows being, heaped up, rivers which carried ice along, the sad winter which split the stone and bound up the course of large streams, and all this in the warmest part of Italy, at the base of the walls of Taranto. Heratius affirms that the Soracte, a neighboring mountain of Rome, was whitened with thick snow, rivers frozen, and the country covered with snow. To-day the snow stays very little upon the Soracte and never in the country around Rome. During the four or five centuries which followed, writers speak of the severity of climate in Northern Italy, the lagoons on the Adriatic being frozen over. Algiers was much colder then than now. The Danube, Rhine, and other rivers in Europe, the Nile in Africa, the Amazon in South America, the Mississippi and Missouri in North America, had quite different volumes two thousand years ago than their present actual ones, and they especially rolled much greater masses of water.

There is everything to show a modification of climate in our own days. If this goes on in the future as in the past, there will be a marked difference in the temperature two or three hundred years from now. Even a degree in a thousand years would effect a great change in the course of time. The lowering of four degrees established the ancient extension of glaciers, though it did not interrupt animal or vegetable life. Fifty-four of the fifty-seven species of _Mollusca_ have outlived the glacial age, and all our savage animals--even a certain number which have disappeared--date equally from the quaternary, and were contemporary with the great extension of the glaciers.--_Popular Science News_.

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THE ERUPTION OF KRAKATOA.

Before the year 1883 physical geographers, in speaking of the most disastrous volcanic eruption on record, referred first, in point of time, to the celebrated eruption of Vesuvius, in A.D. 79, when the cities of Herculaneum, Pompeii and several smaller towns on the slope of the mountain were destroyed by lava or buried under a mass of pumice stones and ashes; second to that of Hecla and Skaptar Jokull, contiguous mountains in Iceland, in 1783, when two enormous lava streams, one 15 miles wide and over 100 ft. deep and the other scarcely inferior, flowed, the first, 50 miles and the other 40, till they reached the sea, pouring a flood of white hot lava into the ocean, destroying everything in their paths and killing in the waters of the ocean the fish, the mainstay of the inhabitants, who were reduced by the disaster, directly or indirectly, to less than five-sixths of their former strength; and third to that of Galungung, in 1822, which devastated such an immense area in Java; but all the eruptions known besides were as mere child's play to the terrible one of Krakatoa in 1883.

If the reader will examine the map of the East Indies he will find represented in the straits of Sunda, which lie between Sumatra and Java, the little island of Krakatoa. In maps made before 1883 he will hunt in vain for the name, for like Bull Run before 1861, it was then unknown to fame, though navigators who passed through the straits knew it as a beautiful tropical isle, with an extinct volcanic cone in the center. In the beginning of 1883, however, the little well behaved island showed symptoms of wrath that boded no good to the larger islands in the vicinity. Noted for the fine fruits with which it abounded, it was a famous picnic ground for towns and cities even 100 miles away, and when the subterranean rumblings and mutterings of wrath became conspicuous the people of the capital of Java, Batavia, put a steamboat into requisition and visited the island in large numbers. For a time the island was constantly in a slight tremor, and the subterranean roar was like the continued but distant mutterings of thunder, but the crisis was reached August 23, at 10 o'clock A.M. It was a beautiful Sunday morning and the waters of the straits of Sunda were like that sea of glass, as clear as crystal, of which John in his apocalyptic vision speaks. The beauty that morning was enhanced by the extraordinary transparency of the tropical air, for distant mountain ranges seemed so near that it seemed possible to strike them with a stone cast from the hand. Only the mysterious rumblings and mutterings of the pent up forces beneath the island disturbed the breathless calm and silence that lay on nature--the calm before the terrible storm--the mightiest, the most awful on record! It burst forth! Sudden night snatched away day from the eyes of the terrified beholders on the mainland, but the vivid play of lightnings around the ascending column of dust penetrated even the deep obscurity to a distance of 80 miles. This awful darkness stretched within a circle whose diameter was 400 miles, while more or less darkness reigned within a circle with a diameter three times as great. Within this latter area dust fell like snow from the sky, breaking off limbs of trees by its weight miles distant, while in Batavia, 100 miles away from the scene of the disaster, it fell to the depth of several inches. The explosions were so loud as to be distinctly heard in Hindostan, 1,800 miles away, and at Batavia the sound was like the constant roar of cannon in a field of battle. Finally the whole island was blown to pieces, and now came the most awful contest of nature--a battle of death between Neptune and Vulcan; the sea poured down into the chasm millions of tons, only to be at first converted into vapor by the millions of tons of seething white hot lava beneath. Over the shores 30 miles away, waves over 100 ft. high rolled with such a fury that everything, even to a part of the bedrock, was swept away. Blocks of stone, of 50 tons weight were carried two miles inland. On the Sumatra side of the straits a large vessel was carried three miles inland. The wave, of course growing less in intensity, traveled across the whole Indian Ocean, 5,000 miles, to the Cape of Good Hope and around it into the Atlantic. The waves in the atmosphere traveled around the globe three times at the rate of 700 miles per hour. The dust from the volcano was carried up into the atmosphere fully twenty miles and the finest of it was distributed through the whole body of air. The reader doubtless remembers the beautiful reddish or purple glow at sunrise and sunset for fully six months after August, 1883--that glow was caused by volcanic dust in the atmosphere interfering with the passage of the sun's rays of the upper part of the solar spectrum, more manifest at sun rising and setting than at other times during the day, because at these periods the sun's rays have to travel obliquely through the atmosphere, and consequently penetrating a very deep layer, were deprived of all their colors except the red.

The loss of life was appalling. The last sight on earth to 35,000 people was that of the awful eruption. Engulfed in the ocean or covered with heaps of ashes, a few hours after the eruption commenced the awful work was done, and that vast multitude had vanished from off the face of the earth. The fact that in the neighborhood of the mountain there was a sparse population accounts for there not being even a far greater loss of life.

Notwithstanding the awfulness of volcanic and earthquake phenomena, there is some silver lining to the dark clouds. They prove that the earth is yet a _living_ planet. Centuries must pass away before it will become like the moon--a dead planet--without water, air or life. Our satellite is a prophecy indeed of what the earth must eventually become when all its life forces, its internal energies, are dissipated into space.--_Granville F. Foster, Min. Sci. Press_.

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PENTAPTERYGIUM SERPENS.

This is one of five species of Himalayan plants which, until recently, were included in the genus vaccinium. The new name for them is ugly enough to make one wish that they were vacciniums still. Pentapterygium serpens is the most beautiful of the lot, and, so far as I know, this and P. rugosum are the only species in cultivation in England. The former was collected in the Himalayas about ten years ago by Captain Elwes, who forwarded it to Kew, where it grows and flowers freely under the same treatment as suits Cape heaths. Sir Joseph Hooker says it is abundant on the Sikkim mountains at from 3,000 to 8,000 feet elevation, and that it usually grows on the stout limbs of lofty trees. In this it resembles many of the rhododendrons of that region, and it has been suggested that they are epiphytic from force of circumstances, not from choice. On the ground they would have no chance against the other vegetation, which would strangle or starve them out. Remove them from this struggle for existence, and they at once show their preference for rich soil and plenty of it. All the pentapterygiums have the lower part of the stem often swelling out into a prostrate trunk, as thick as a man's leg sometimes, and sending out stout branching roots which cling tightly round the limbs of the tree upon which it grows. These swollen stems are quite succulent, and they serve as reservoirs of moisture and nourishment. In the wet season they push out new shoots, from which grow rapidly wands three or four feet long, clothed with box-like leaves, and afterward with numerous pendulous flowers. These are elegant in shape and richly colored. They are urn-shaped, with five ribs running the whole length of the corolla, and their color is bright crimson with deeper colored V-shaped veins, as shown in the illustration of the flowers of almost natural size. They remain fresh upon the plant for several weeks. The beautiful appearance of a well grown specimen when in flower may be seen from the accompanying sketch of the specimen at Kew, which was at its best in July, and remained in bloom until the middle of September.

P. rugosum is also grown as a greenhouse plant at Kew, where it has been in cultivation about twenty years. It has larger leaves and a more bushy habit than P. serpens, while the flowers are produced in fascicles on the old wood. They are as large as those here figured, but differ in color, being whitish, with brown-red V-shaped marks. Both species may be propagated from cuttings. The plants thrive in sandy peat, and they like plenty of moisture at all times.--_W. Watson, in The Gardeners' Magazine_.

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THE PERFORATION OF FLOWERS.

The subject of the relations and adaptations which exist between flowers and insects does not appear to excite as much popular attention as many other branches of natural science which are no more interesting. Sprengel, Darwin, and Hermann Muller have been the chief authors in giving us our present knowledge and interest in the study; Sir John Lubbock has helped to popularize it, and Prof. W. Trelease and others have carried on the work in this country.

The perforation as well as the fertilization of flowers has received attention, but there is a wide field for further study for those who have leisure to pursue it, as it requires much time and patience, as well as closeness and accuracy of observation.

The accompanying figures, from drawings by Mr. C.E. Faxon, show a few characteristic perforations and mutilations, and also represent two of the principal kinds of insects which make them.

Any one interested in the subject will find an excellent brief review of the work already done, a fair bibliography, and a list of perforated flowers in Professor L.H. Pammel's paper on the "Perforation of Flowers," in the _Transactions of the St. Louis Academy of Science_, vol. v., pp. 246-277.

The general beauty of flowers is usually not greatly marred by the perforations except in a few cases, as when the spurs of columbines and corollas of trumpet creepers are much torn, which frequently happens.

The great object of the perforations by insects is the obtaining of the concealed nectar in an easy way. Very naturally, flowers which depend on insect agency for fertilization rarely produce seed when punctured if they are not also entered in the normal way. Perforating is only practiced by a small number of species of insects, and many but not all of the perforators do so because their tongues are too short to reach the nectar by entering the flower. Some obtain nectar from the same kind of flower both in the normal way and by perforating.

The chief perforators of flowers, in this part of the continent at least, appear to be some kinds of humble bees (Bombus) and carpenter bees (Xylocopa). These insects have developed an unerring instinct as to the proper point to perforate the corollas from the outside, in order to readily get at the nectar. The holes made by the humble bees and by the carpenter bees are usually quite different and easily distinguished.

The humble bees have short, stout, blunt jaws, ill adapted for cutting, and the perforations made by them are apparently always irregular in shape, and have jagged edges. It has been stated that the humble bees often bore through the tubes of their corollas with their maxillæ, but in all cases observed by me the mandibles were first brought into use in effecting an opening. The noise caused by the tearing is often audible for a distance of several feet.

The true jaws of the carpenter bees are not any more prominent or better adapted for making clean-cut perforations than those of the humble bees; but behind the jaws there is a pair of long, sharp-pointed, knife-like, jointed organs (maxillæ) which seem to be exclusively used on all ordinary occasions in making perforations. The inner edges of these maxillæ are nearly straight, and when brought together they form a sharp-pointed, wedge-shaped, plow-like instrument which makes a clean, narrow, longitudinal slit when it is inserted in the flower and shoved forward. The slits made by it are often not readily seen, because the elasticity of the tissues of some flowers causes them to partially close again. When not in use the instrument can be folded back, so that it is not conspicuous. The ordinary observer usually sees no difference between the humble bees and the carpenter bees, but they may be readily distinguished by a little close observation.

No doubt, in some of the recorded cases of perforations, carpenter bees have been mistaken for humble bees. The heads of all our Northern humble bees are rather narrow, retreating from the antennæ toward the sides, and with a more or less dense tuft of hair between the antennæ. The abdomen, as well as the thorax, is always quite densely covered with hair, which may be black or yellowish or in bands of either color. With possibly one or two exceptions, the only species I have seen doing the puncturing is Bombus affinis, Cresson.

The carpenter bees (Xylocopa Virginica) of this region have the head very broad and square in front, and with no noticeable hair between the antennæ. The heads of the male and female differ strikingly. In the male the eyes are lighter colored and are hardly half as far apart as in the female, and the lower part of the face is yellowish white. The female has eyes smaller, darker, and very far apart, and the whole face is perfectly black. The abdomen is broad, of a shining blue-black color, very sparsely covered with black hairs, except on the first large segment nearest the thorax. On this segment they are more dense and of the same tawny color as those on the thorax. But it is particularly from the character of the head that the amateur observer of the perforators may soon learn to distinguish between a Xylocopa and a Bombus as they work among the flowers. It is also interesting to know that the Xylocopas are not so inclined to sting as the humble bees, and the males, of course, being without stinging organs, may be handled with impunity.