in size, and——Need we bring the water into
your mouth, at this time of year, by eloquently
describing a ripe, aromatic, luscious,
strawberry?

In the fig, as in the strawberry, the eatable
part is formed by a thick, fleshy, and succulent
receptacle, of gourd-like shape. The real
fruits, which are also achænia, are inserted in
the inner surface of the receptacle. But there
is this difference between the fig and the
strawberry: all the fruits of a strawberry result from
one single flower, whereas in a fig all the fruits
are the produce of different flowers. Some one
has called the fig a fruit turned outside in;
and although the definition will not bear strict
criticism, as a popular description it is not
bad.

An interesting and instructive portion of
Figuier's work is that which sketches (with
characteristic portraits) the fathers and grandfathers
of botany—a science which, as we understand
it, is not yet a couple of centuries old.
The fame of Linnæus overshadows that of all
his predecessors. He reigned supreme in botany
till the close of the eighteenth century.

Linnæus was shrewd, sanguine, self-complacent.
(What is the sprig in his button-hole?
Is it his favourite "Geum," or the furze he
so admired at landing on our shore?) His
system was hailed with admiration. It is
founded on the numbers of the stamens and
pistils in a flower, their disposition amongst
themselves, and their distribution on the plants
that bear them. Thus we have Class I.
Monandria, one stamen; Class II. Diandria, two
stamens, &c. Class XII. Icosandria, twenty
stamens or more, inserted upon the calyx;
Class XIII. Polyandria, twenty stamens or
more, inserted upon the receptacle; and so on.
Diæcia, two houses, is the class which includes
species in which all the pistils grow on one plant
and all the stamens on another. Of this, familiar
examples are hemp, the herb mercury, date
palms, willows. His twenty-fourth and last
class, Cryptogamia, flowerless plants, was
evidently only a provisional receiving-house, to
shelter them in until science should assign their
fixed place and habitation. It is clear, at least,
that he was obliged to separate them from all
plants with visible flowers. At first, indeed, he
divided all known vegetables into two great
groups: those in which the stamens and pistils
are apparent, which he called Phanerogamous;
and those in which those organs are hidden,
which he called Cryptogamous.

Of late years, the Linnæan system has been
trampled under foot by botanists, who, although
men of eminent ability and learning, lorded it
over the science they professed with something
approaching to tyranny. Nobody knew
anything but they and theirs; all the rest of the
world were in outer darkness. Linnæus was
an old woman, who had had her day; Withering
and Smith were poor creatures, who had never
had any day at all. But, in their contempt
for Linnæus's skill and simplicity, they forgot
to remember, or remembered to forget,
that he sent forth his method, not as an
explanation of the various forms displayed in
the vegetable kingdom, but as an artificial
alphabet to help the inquirer in his reference
to the dictionary of the plants which
overspread the earth. Like Ray, he guarded his
followers against the supposition that his
classification was anything more than a means
of identification; nor did he pretend to be the
author of a system which should be, in every
respect, perfect and complete in all its parts.
His natural orders suffice to save him from
that reproach. He did try to distribute plants,
according to a natural classification, into
families.

Linnæus was a man of genius as well as an
industrious labourer. Amongst other reforms,
he reduced the name of each plant to two
words, the first a substantive, designating the
genus, the second an adjective, designating the
species. Thus, Viola odorata is quite sufficient
to denote to us the sweet-smelling violet, as
distinct from all other violets and pansies. But,
before his time, the name of a genus was
followed by a whole sentence describing the
species. In proportion as the number of species
was larger, the length of the sentences
increased, until you feared they would never come
to an end. It was absolutely the confusion
that would be introduced into society, if,
instead of mentioning each individual by a
surname and a christian name, we were to suppress
the latter, substituting for it the enumeration
of that person's distinctive peculiarities. As
if, for instance, instead of saying Peter Durand,
Louis Durand, Augustus Durand, we were to
call them Durand, the tall light-haired fellow;
Durand, the young man with a high tenor voice;
or Durand, the ragamuffin with a pimpled
nose.

The Linnæan, or binary, nomenclature has
opened its doors to, and received, every plant
discovered since his departure—an unquestionable
proof of the real merit of his mode of
naming vegetable genera and species.

Of the natural system of botany, founded
by Bernard de Jussieu, the best praise is that
it is a hearty endeavour to follow nature. If
Darwin's theory of the origin of species be
true, the natural system, when perfected, will
be a correct genealogy, as well as an accurate
description, of plants. But to make use of it,
as a reference, for the identification of novel
plants, the student must have already made
progress. It is at present, however, quite in the
ascendant as a method of teaching botany.

The editor, therefore, of the English
translation of the Histoire des Plantes, after a
civil word to Robert Brown, who "was no
systematist," adheres to the botanical arrangement
of the late Dr. Lindley, whose "knowledge
of vegetable structure was extensive and
profound. His Vegetable Kingdom remains
a monument of immense learning, technical
knowledge, and vast industry. The modern
school of botanists may be said, one and all, to
have been his pupils; the system he has framed
is probably the nearest to perfection which the
world has yet seen; and M. Figuier must