MADRAS JOURNAL
OF
LITERATURE AND SCIENCE.
NO. 4.—NEW SERIES.
July—September, 1857.
Between the animal and plant of the higher orders there is such an apparent difference of conformation, such a contrariety of habits, that the mere casual observer will fail to recognise those secret links, by which nature binds all her works into one harmonious whole. In whatever direction however the contemplations of the naturalist tend, from race to race or from kingdom to kingdom, he discovers no rude gaps but a beautiful unison, for nihil per saltum is one of the great laws of creation. If we descend the scale of nature, reaching the extreme boundaries, the lowest forms, of the animal and vegetable kingdoms, we find members of these great divisions approximating so closely, that it becomes a matter of difficulty to draw any line of demarcation. The limits here are also hazy, because so far beyond the ken of unaided vision, and although the microscope has unveiled nature's secrets, disclosing a new world grand in the plenitude of its minutiæ, still its scientific eye is finite failing at times to decide which is the animal, and which the plant. It has been said that "stones grow, vegetables grow and live, and animals grow, live and feel," but this axiom is not sufficiently extensive in the terms of its definition. Thus plants in some instances seem capable of distinguishing between light and darkness, for
