14 THE VOICES OF FLOWERS. 



that permits no life, not even of an insect. Yet I have seen 

 little leaves and mosses and tiny blossoms as if they condescended 

 to cast a veil of beauty over the dark rocks of that dismal cave, 

 because they could live where all else died. Sulphurous fumes 

 of the lake not far from this cave penetrate the mud on its 

 margin, and bubble up in a gas which has rapidly tarnished the 

 silver coin I have placed on the shore near its waters; and 

 yet even there, amid those volcanic vapors, as on the island of 

 Ischia not far off, can be seen mosses and ferns beautiful and 

 graceful, bending before those breezes which, as they pass over 

 them, gently shake out from their bright petals the poisonous 

 air they endure that they may line with life and verdure the 

 shore which suggested to the Greek poets the idea of the 

 infernal lake. Now let us pass to the east, up the rugged 

 heights of Vesuvius, and over the crumbling crags of lava, 

 which have left a wild desolation triumphing over the soil, 

 and covering the land for miles with the ragged mantle of 

 volcanic fury. Even here we shall find that some little modest 

 plant has preceded us, and, springing from a winged seed wafted 

 up in the wind or carried on the dress of some traveller, has 

 dared to plant its roots and spread out its mottled covering 

 as a moss or lichen, or to erect its peaceful standard upon 

 some rock, and, drinking in the moisture of the passing clouds, 

 has set up for itself in that desolate region. And there it 

 will grow, and, when its joyous mission is over, will droop and 

 die ; and after its death, in obedience to a wonderful chemical 

 law, its little microscopic roots (or basis, if a lichen) will send 

 forth an acid which shall eat into the desolate rock until it 



