other matters; and from those materials it
prepares not only all that is necessary to the life
of the plant itself, but all that is necessary to
the life of man. It produces starch, sugar, gum,
oil; and, in addition, all those nutritious
substances upon which depends the power of
vegetable products to form animal tissue, and
therefore their nutrient power in relation to
man. Out of the few materials mentioned,
the cell elaborates the whole of the
substance upon which we feed and live; and
not only these, but very many of the
conveniences and comforts of life—caoutchouc and
gutta percha, to wit; while our organic drugs
are almost without exception derived from
this source. We cannot stay to enumerate
the thousand and one materials with which
the cell itself supplies us independently of the
secretions, some of which we have mentioned;
although among these are included cotton,
flax, wood and coal—four great sources of
the prosperity of this country.

The operations of the cell in the formation
of coal are so highly interesting and important
that we must devote a minute to
explaining the relation of the living cell to
fossil coal. This is connected with the
influence of light and heat on the cell—that
is, the action of the sun upon the plant.
Except under the influence of light and
heat, the cell will not perform its great
function of purifying the air we breathe and
rendering it fit for respiration by decomposing
the carbonic acid, retaining the carbon and
restoring the oxygen to the atmosphere. The
manner in which light and heat act in the
cell, is well explained by a theory supported
by Dr. Edwin Lankester. He supposes that
this important operation is effected by the
combination of light and heat, with the
carbon in the plant-cell; and that by this
combination the plant is very slowly fossilised.
Two thousand years after the
commencement of that process it is dug up as
coal and burnt. Now burning we know
to be merely a process of oxidation. We
oxidise the contents of the fossil cell; and
what is the result? Our fires give off carbonic
acid and give out light and heat; that is, by
supplying the oxygen given off before, we
have the old combination of carbon and
oxygen. Can anything give us a higher
idea of the marvellous beauty and simplicity
of the operations of nature? Carbonic acid
gas, which we give off in enormous quantities
from our lungs in the process of respiration,
and which, if allowed to accumulate in the
atmosphere, would destroy human life, is
absorbed by the coal-making plant, and
becomes the chief element of its nutrition:
the oxygen of which it is partly composed,
and which is necessary to human life, is
restored to the atmosphere. The carbon, being
retained, is converted, on the one hand, by
the plant-cell into nourishment for the animal
creation; and on the other, it is made into a
fuel, which becomes the great civiliser of the
universe. This fuel man raises from the
bowels of the earth for his own comfort and
convenience; and never dreams that in doing
so he is doing anything more than availing
himself of the wonderful power of the plant-
cell to store up light and heat for his use. But
here we may see a new relation of the cell
to the great laws of the universe; it is necessary
that, for the purpose of respiration, the
atmosphere should be temporarily purified of
that carbonic acid gas which is fatal to
animal life; but if this gradual abstraction
of carbon were to go on unbalanced by any
returning source, the increase of animal and
vegetable organism would be impossible, for
the great bulk of both plants and animals is
pure carbon; we ourselves are walking
masses of carbon. Notwithstanding that
fresh masses of carbon are supplied from
volcanic and other sources, still these would
be insufficient to counterbalance the quantity
abstracted; and there can be no doubt that
in digging up the coal, men are furnishing the
means under a natural law, which they
unconsciously obey, of the increase of their species.
We cannot refuse to see in this an instance of
the beautiful adaptation of the laws of
nature to created beings; of the complete
subservience to man of the great organic laws
of the universe; of their instrumentality in
promoting his comfort; and the necessity he
is under of acting in accordance with and
support of those laws.

We have but dipped into the great sea of
wonders, which the history of this small
vesicle, the cell, presents in its vegetable
existence only. Hereafter we may speak of
the further history of the cell.

THE ROVING ENGLISHMAN;
AND THE PRINCE DE VENDOME.

At the beginning of the Turkish troubles
a very singular personage arrived at the
court of the Sultan to take part in them; for
there is nothing your true knight-errant loves
like troubled waters. He called himself
Louis de Valois, Duke of Vendôme, and
haughtily asserted that he descended from
the last scion of an ancient race of French
kings, and that he was in reality heir to the
throne of France. He said indeed that he and
His Sublimity the Sultan of Constantinople
were the only two legitimate sovereigns in the
world with whom he was acquainted.

His arrival created an immense sensation.
Selim Pasha assured Hamed Bey, in a
confidential whisper, that he came to entreat the
protection of the Sultan of Constantinople
against the attacks of the Russians and
Chinese—a race of barbarian infidels who lived
near a place called London, of which he had
often heard from a Christian dog of a merchant,
who bought the figs and olives of his Pashalik.
He assured the listening Hamed, with many
wise wags of his venerable beard, that His