THE ORIGIN OF FRUITS. 607 



our own case, the long habituation of our frugivorous ancestors to this 

 particular stimulant has rendered us peculiarly sensitive to its effects. 

 But even from the first, there can be little doubt that a body so spe- 

 cially fitted to arouse sensation in the gustatory nerve must have 

 afforded pleasure to the unspecialized palates of birds and rodents : 

 for we know that even in the case of naturally carnivorous animals, 

 like dogs, a taste for sugar is extremely noticeable. So, then, the sweet 

 juices of the fruit were early added to its soft and nutritive pulp as an 

 extra attraction for the animal senses. 



Perfume, of course, follows in the wake of sweetness. Indeed, the 

 difference between taste and smell is much smaller than most people 

 imagine. When tiny floating particles of a body, in the gaseous state, 

 affect certain exposed nerves in the cavity of the nose, we call the 

 resulting sensation an odor ; when larger particles of the same body, 

 in the liquid or dissolved state, affect similar exposed nerves in the 

 tonerue, we call the resulting; sensation a taste. But the mechanism of 

 the two senses is probably quite similar, while their exciting causes 

 and their likes or dislikes are almost identical. As our great psycho- 

 logical teacher, Mr. Herbert Spencer, well puts it, " smell is anticipa- 

 tory taste." So we need not be surprised to find that the delicate fra- 

 grance of peaches, strawberries, oranges, and pineapples, is a guide to 

 their edibility, and a foreshadowing of their delicious flavor, leading 

 us on by an instinctive action to place the savory morsels between our 

 lips. 



But the greatest need of all, if the plant would succeed in enticing 

 the friendly pai*rot or the obsequious lemur to disperse its seed, is that 

 of conspicuousness. Let the fruit be ever so luscious and ever so laden 

 with sweet sirups, it can never secure the suffrages of the higher ani- 

 mals if it lies hidden beneath a mass of green foliage, or clothes itself 

 in the quiet garb of the retiring nut. To attract from a distance the 

 eyes of wandering birds or mammals, it must dress itself up in a gor- 

 geous livery of crimson, scarlet, and orange. The contrast between 

 nuts and fruits is exactly parallel to the contrast between the wind- 

 fertilized and the insect-fertilized flowers. An apple-tree laden with its 

 red-cheeked burden, an orange-bough weighed down with its golden 

 spheres, a rowan or a holly-bush displaying ostentatiously its brilliant 

 berries to the birds of the air, is a second edition of the roses, the rho- 

 dodendrons, and the May-thorns, which spread their bright petals in 

 the spring before the fascinated eyes of bees and butterflies. Some 

 gay and striking tint, which may contrast strongly with the green foli- 

 age around, is needed by the developing fruit, or else its pulpiness, its 

 sweetness, and its fragrance, will stand it in poor stead beside its 

 bright-hued compeers. 



How fruits began to acquire these brilliant tints is not difficult to 

 see. We found already in the case of flowers that all external portions 

 of a plant, except such green parts as are actually engaged in assimi- 



