June 1, 1S6S.] 



IIARDWICKE'S SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



121 



THE SPPJNG PHENOMENA OF PLANT LIEE. 



OME one or other has 

 written that 



The merriest time of all 

 the year 



Is the time when the 

 leaves begin to fall ; 



but we cannot, by any 

 means, endorse the sentiment ; 

 for we believe it to be a far 

 merrier time when the young 

 leaves push their way out from 

 the chrysalis-like buds in 

 which they have lain all the 

 Winter, and unfold them- 

 selves to the bright sunshine 

 of Spring. The naturalist, 

 especially, finds something to 

 delight him in every season, 

 and we are quite willing to 

 allow that Autumn has its 

 charms in all the sights and 

 sounds of nature, and its 

 pleasant associations in its merrymakings and 

 harvest-homes. There is, too, a sort of linger- 

 ing of the Summer weather, as if it were loth 

 to leave us, which is very delightful; and the 

 gardens — English gardens, at any rate — are at 

 their brightest. The tints of Autumn are varied 

 and beautiful, beloved of artists ; but still we cannot 

 quite throw off a feeling of sadness when we see the 

 first tinge of brown in the foliage, like a streak of 

 grey in the hair of those we love. Is it not a fore- 

 shadowing of decay and death ? Does it not speak 

 to us of a time that is not far distant, when the 

 winds will scatter the leaves, and whirl them about 

 with a moaning sound, leaving only the bare 

 branches rattling together, and standing out, like 

 ghosts, against the cold sky ? But to us, and we 

 think to every naturalist, the sights and sounds of 

 Spring are far more pleasant, and the Spring leaves 

 far more beautiful, for they tell us hopefully of a 

 merry time that is coming — a time of sunshine and 

 flowers, and the songs of birds, and of pleasant 

 evening strolls under the chequered shade. No 

 No. 42. 



season is so much loved and lauded by the poets as 

 Spring ; no season so calculated to make us feel 

 happy and hopeful ; no season to which we look for- 

 ward with such expectation, watching for its first 

 signs. Indeed, so eager are we to believe that the 

 reign of Winter is over, that year after year we hug 

 ourselves with the belief that Spring is come long 

 before it really is. But the fact is that almost 

 every year there is an early, false Spring, for even 

 now, whilst we'are writing, at the end of February, 

 the sun is shining warmly, the birds are singing, 

 a few primroses are out here and there, and many 

 shrubs are unfolding their leaves ; and we are quite 

 content to be deceived for a time, although we 

 know full well that the leaves will be nipped with 

 the east wind when March " comes in like a lion," 

 and that in all probability there will be frost, and 

 perhaps snow, before the real Spring comes. 



But apart from all poetical associations of Spring, 

 there are certain phenomena affecting plant life that 

 are interesting to us as naturalists, and we propose 

 to direct attention to some of them. 



To those of us who live in the country, it is a 

 great source of pleasure to watch the progress that 

 Nature makes in putting on her green dress. Eirst, 

 the landscape perceptibly thickens, and we can see 

 by the swelling buds that the trees are waking from 

 their Winter sleep, and that new life-bearing sap is 

 beginning to find its way to the old branches. Day 

 by day, and week after week, the buds increase, till 

 at length a delicate green tinge spreads over the 

 face of nature, and gradually deepens into the full 

 rich verdure of Summer. In more northern coun- 

 tries, like Norway and Sweden, the transition from 

 Winter to Spring is said to be much more sudden, 

 the buds seeming to burst into leaf almost in a 

 night, — Winter, with ice and snow, to-day— Spring, 

 with sunshine and leaves and flowers, to-morrow ; 

 but here the green robe is donned by little and 

 little, and many weeks pass over before the leaves 

 are fully expanded. 



It is interesting to watch the order in which the 

 trees come into leaf, and it is curious to note how, 

 year after year, the order is the same. Eirst, the 



