PLANT-MUMMIES. 227 



them, they rise year after year. Gradually they afford a 

 footing and food for numerous water-worts, in whose moul- 

 dering remains mosses and rushes begin to settle. These 

 bind their roots firmly, they join hand in hand, and arm 

 in arm, until at last they form a soft green cover of peaty 

 mould, far and near, over the dark, mysterious waters. 



The older the moor, the firmer and stronger is, of 

 course, this turf cover over the brownish pool, that gives 

 out a faint but piercing fragrance. Near the sea-shore, 

 and in rainy regions, larger quantities of water frequently 

 remain between the firm ground and the felt-like cover, 

 so that the surface breathes and heaves like the waves 

 of the great ocean. In drier countries, heath, hair-grass, 

 and even bilberry bushes grow in the treacherous mould. 

 But the moisture beneath gnaws constantly at their roots, 

 so that they die off, whilst the herb above clings per- 

 tinaciously to life, and sends out ever -new shoots a faint, 

 false semblance of life, like the turf on the moor itself, 

 in its restless, unstable suspension above the dark-brown 

 water beneath. 



This turf-cover, consisting of countless partly decayed 

 plants and their closely interwoven roots, is our peat; 

 those vegetable masses that have accumulated at the bot- 

 tom of the moor are bog-earth, and below them, as the 

 oldest layer of all, lies the so-called black peat. As early, 

 even, as the thirteenth century, these remnants of minute 

 mosses were used as fuel ; but it was not until the six- 

 teenth century that the Dutch especially, who know no 

 other kind of fuel, devised a systematic mode of making 

 these treasures permanently available. Now, the upper turf 



