Recapitulation of the arguments in favour of the theory of transmutation of species--Their insufficiency--The difficulty of discriminating species mainly attributable to a defective knowledge of their history--Some mere varieties possibly more distinct than certain individuals of distinct species--Variability in a species consistent with a belief that the limits of deviation are fixed--No facts of transmutation authenticated--Varieties of the dog--The dog and wolf distinct species--Mummies of various animals from Egypt identical in character with living individuals--Seeds and plants from the Egyptian tombs-- Modifications produced in plants by agriculture and gardening.
 The theory of the transmutation of species, considered in the last chapter, has met with some degree of favour from many naturalists, from their desire to dispense, as far as possible, with the repeated intervention of a First Cause, as often as geological monuments attest the successive appearance of new races of animals and plants, and the extinction of those pre-existing. But, independently of a predisposition to account, if possible, for a series of changes in the organic world, by the regular action of secondary causes, we have seen that many perplexing difficulties present themselves to one who attempts to establish the nature and the reality of the specific character. And if once there appears ground of reasonable doubt, in regard to the constancy of species, the amount of transformation which they are capable of undergoing, may seem to resolve itself into a mere question of the quantity of time assigned to the past duration of animate existence.
Before we enter upon our reasons for rejecting Lamarck's hypothesis, we shall recapitulate, in a few words, the phenomena, and the whole train of thought, by which we conceive it to have been suggested, and which have gained for this and analogous theories, both in ancient and modern times, a considerable number of votaries.
In the first place, the various groups into which plants and  animals may be thrown, seem almost invariably, to a beginner, to be so natural, that he is usually convinced at first, as was Linnaeus to the last, " that genera are as much founded in nature as the species which compose them." When, by examining the numerous intermediate gradations, the student finds all lines of demarcation to be in most instances obliterated, even where they at first appeared most distinct, he grows more and more sceptical as to the real existence of genera, and finally regards them as mere arbitrary and artificial signs, invented like those which serve to distinguish the heavenly constellations for the convenience of classification, and having as little pretensions to reality.
Doubts are then engendered in his mind as to whether species may not also be equally unreal. The student is probably first struck with the phenomenon, that some individuals are made to deviate widely from the ordinary type by the force of peculiar circumstances, and with the still more extraordinary fact, that the newly-acquired peculiarities are faithfully transmitted to the offspring. How far, he asks, may such variations extend in the course of indefinite periods of time, and during great vicissitudes in the physical condition of the globe ? His growing incertitude is at first checked by the reflection, that nature has forbidden the intermixture of the descendants of distinct original stocks, or has, at least, entailed sterility on their offspring, thereby preventing their being confounded together, and pointing out that a multitude of distinct types must have been created in the beginning, and must have remained pure and uncorrupted to this day.
Relying on this general law, he endeavours to solve each difficult problem by direct experiment, until he is again astounded by the phenomenon of a prolific hybrid, and still more by an example of a hybrid perpetuating itself throughout several generations in the vegetable world. He then feels himself reduced to the dilemma of choosing between two alternatives, either to reject the test, or to declare that the two species, from the union of  which the fruitful progeny has sprung, were mere varieties. If he prefer the latter, he is compelled to question the reality of the distinctness of all other supposed species which differ no more than the parents of such prolific hybrids; for although he may not be enabled immediately to procure, in all such instances, a fruitful offspring, yet experiments show, that after repeated failures the union of two recognized species may at last, under very favourable circumstances, give birth to a fertile progeny. Such circumstances, therefore, the naturalist may conceive to have occurred again and again, in the course of a great lapse of ages.
His first opinions are now fairly unsettled, and every stay at which he has caught has given way one after another; he is in danger of falling into any new and visionary doctrine which may be presented to him; for he now regards every part of the animate creation as void of stability, and in a state of continual flux. In this mood he encounters the Geologist, who relates to him how there have been endless vicissitudes in the shape and structure of organic beings in former ages--how the approach to the present system of things has been gradual-- that there has been a progressive development of organization subservient to the purposes of life, from the most simple to the most complex state--that the appearance of man is the last phenomenon in a long succession of events--and, finally, that a series of physical revolutions can be traced in the inorganic world, coeval and coextensive with those of organic nature.
These views seem immediately to confirm all his preconceived doubts as to the stability of the specific character, and he thinks he can discern an inseparable connexion between a series of changes in the inanimate world, and the capability of species to be indefinitely modified by the influence of external circumstances. Henceforth his speculations know no definite bounds; he gives the rein to conjecture, and fancies that the outward form, internal structure, instinctive faculties, nay, that reason itself, may have been gradually developed from some of the simplest states of existence,-- that all animals, that man himself,  and the irrational beings, may have had one common origin; that all may be parts of one continuous and progressive scheme of development from the most imperfect to the more complex; in fine, he renounces his belief in the high genealogy of his species, and looks forward, as if in compensation, to the future perfectibility of man in his physical, intellectual, and moral attributes.
Let us now proceed to consider what is defective in evidence, and what fallacious in reasoning, in the grounds of these strange conclusions. Blumenbach judiciously observes, " that no general rule can be laid down for determining the distinctness of species, as there is no particular class of characters which can serve as a criterion. In each case we must be guided by analogy and probability." The multitude, in fact, and complexity of the proofs to be weighed, is so great, that we can only hope to obtain presumptive evidence, and we must, therefore, be the more careful to derive our general views as much as possible from those observations where the chances of deception are least. We must be on our guard not to tread in the footsteps of the naturalists of the middle ages, who believed the doctrine of spontaneous generation to be applicable to all those parts of the animal and vegetable kingdoms which they least understood, in direct contradiction to the analogy of all the parts best known to them; and who, when at length they found that insects and cryptogamous plants were also propagated from eggs and seeds, still persisted in retaining their old prejudices respecting the infusory animalcules and other minute beings, the generation of which had not then been demonstrated by the microscope to be governed by the same laws.
Lamarck has indeed attempted to raise an argument in favour of his system, out of the very confusion which has arisen in the study of some orders of animals and plants, in consequence of the slight shades of difference which separate the new species discovered within the last half century. That the embarrassment of those who attempt to classify and distinguish the new  acquisitions poured in such multitudes into our museums, should increase with the augmentation of their number is quite natural; for to obviate this it is not enough that our powers of discrimination should keep pace with the increase of the objects, but we ought to possess greater opportunities of studying each animal and plant in all stages of its growth, and to know profoundly their history, their habits and physiological characters, throughout several generations. For, in proportion as the series of known animals grows more complete, none can doubt that there is a nearer approximation to a graduated scale of being; and thus the most closely allied species will possess a greater number of characters in common.
But, in point of fact, our new acquisitions consist, more and more as we advance, of specimens brought from foreign and often very distant and barbarous countries. A large proportion have never even been seen alive by scientific inquirers. Instead of having specimens of the young, the adult, and the aged individuals of each sex, and possessing means of investigating the anatomical structure, the peculiar habits and instincts of each, what is usually the state of our information ? A single specimen, perhaps, of a dried plant, or a stuffed bird or quadruped; a shell without the soft parts of the animal; an insect in one stage of its numerous transformations; these are the scanty and imperfect data, which the naturalist possesses. Such information may enable us to separate species which stand at a considerable distance from each other; but we have no right to expect anything but difficulty and ambiguity, if we attempt, from such imperfect opportunities, to obtain distinctive marks for defining the characters of species, which are closely related.
If Lamarck could introduce so much certainty and precision into the classification of several thousand species of recent and fossil shells, notwithstanding the extreme remoteness of the organization of these animals from the type of those vertebrated species which are best known, and in the absence of so many of the living inhabitants of shells, we are led to form an exalted  conception of the degree of exactness to which specific distinctions are capable of being carried, rather than to call in question their reality.
When our data are so defective, the most acute naturalist must expect to be sometimes at fault, and, like the novice, to overlook essential points of difference, passing unconsciously from one species to another, until, like one who is borne along in a current, he is astonished, on looking back, at observing that he has reached a point so remote from that whence he set out.
It is by no means improbable that when the series of species of certain genera is very full, they may be found to differ less widely from each other, than do the mere varieties or races of certain species. If such a fact could be established, it would by no means overthrow our confidence in the reality of species, although it would certainly diminish the chance of our obtaining certainty in our results.
It is almost necessary, indeed, to suppose, that varieties will differ in some cases, more decidedly than some species, if we admit that there is a graduated scale of being, and assume that the following laws prevail in the economy of the animate creation:--first, that the organization of individuals is capable of being modified to a limited extent by the force of external causes; secondly, that these modifications are, to a certain extent, transmissible to their offspring; thirdly, that there are fixed limits beyond which the descendants from common parents can never deviate from a certain type; fourthly, that each species springs from one original stock, and can never be permanently confounded, by intermixing with the progeny of any other stock; fifthly, that each species shall endure for a considerable period of time. Now if we assume, for the present, these rules hypothetically, let us see what consequences may naturally be expected to result.
We must suppose, that when the Author of Nature creates an animal or plant, all the possible circumstances in which its descendants are destined to live are foreseen, and that an  organization is conferred upon it which will enable the species to perpetuate itself and survive under all the varying circumstances to which it must be inevitably exposed. Now the range of variation of circumstances will differ essentially in almost every case. Let us take for example any one of the most influential conditions of existence, such as temperature. In some extensive districts near the equator, the thermometer might never vary throughout several thousand centuries for more than 20deg. Fahrenheit; so that if a plant or animal be provided with an organization fitting it to endure such a range, it may continue on the globe for that immense period, although every individual might be liable at once to be cut off by the least possible excess of heat or cold beyond the determinate quantity. But if a species be placed in one of the temperate zones, and have a constitution conferred on it capable of supporting a similar range of temperature only, it will inevitably perish before a single year has passed away.
The same remark might be applied to any other condition, as food for example; it may be foreseen that the supply will be regular throughout indefinite periods in one part of the world, and in another very precarious and fluctuating both in kind and quantity. Different qualifications may be required for enabling species to live for a considerable time under circumstances so changeable. If, then, temperature and food be among those external causes, which according to certain laws of animal and vegetable physiology modify the organization, form, or faculties of individuals, we instantly perceive that the degrees of variability from a common standard must differ widely in the two cases above supposed, since there is a necessity of accommodating a species in one case to a much greater latitude of circumstances than in the other.
If it be a law, for instance, that scanty sustenance should check those individuals in their growth which are enabled to accommodate themselves to privations of this kind, and that a parent prevented in this manner from attaining the size proper to its species should produce a dwarfish offspring,  a stunted race will arise, as is remarkably exemplified in some varieties of the horse and dog. The difference of stature in some races of dogs in comparison to others, is as one to five in linear dimensions, making a difference of a hundred-fold in volume. Now there is good reason to believe that species in general are by no means susceptible of existing under a diversity of circumstances, which may give rise to such a disparity in size, and consequently, there will be a multitude of distinct species, of which no two adult individuals can ever depart so widely from a certain standard of dimensions as the mere varieties of certain other species,--the dog for instance. Now we have only to suppose that what is true of size, may also hold in regard to colour and many other attributes, and it will at once follow that the degree of possible discordance between varieties of the same species, may in certain cases exceed the utmost disparity which can even arise between two individuals of many distinct species.
The same remarks may hold true in regard to instincts; for if it be foreseen that one species will have to encounter a great variety of foes, it may be necessary to arm it with great cunning and circumspection, or with courage or other qualities capable of developing themselves on certain occasions; such for example as those migratory instincts which are so remarkably exhibited at particular periods, after they have remained dormant for many generations. The history and habits of one variety of such a species, may often differ more considerably from some other than those of many distinct species which have no such latitude of accommodation to circumstances.
Lamarck has somewhat misstated the idea commonly entertained of a species, for it is not true that naturalists in general assume that the organization of an animal or plant remains absolutely constant, and that it can never vary in any of its parts. All must be aware that circumstances influence the habits, and that the habits may alter the state of the parts and  organs. But the difference of opinion relates to the extent to which these modifications of the habits and organs of a particular species may be carried.
Now let us first inquire what positive facts can be adduced in the history of known species, to establish a great and permanent amount of change in the form, structure, or instinct of individuals descending from some common stock. The best authenticated examples of the extent to which species can be made to vary, may be looked for in the history of domesticated animals and cultivated plants. It usually happens that those species, both of the animal and vegetable kingdom, which have the greatest pliability of organization, those which are most capable of accommodating themselves to a great variety of new circumstances, are most serviceable to man. These only can be carried by him into different climates, and can have their properties or instincts variously diversified by differences of nourishment and habits. If the resources of a species be so limited, and its habits and faculties be of such a confined and local character, that it can only flourish in a few particular spots, it can rarely be of great utility.
We may consider, therefore, that in perfecting the arts of domesticating animals and cultivating plants, mankind have first selected those species which have the most flexible frames and constitutions, and have then been engaged for ages in conducting a series of experiments, with much patience and at great cost, to ascertain what may be the greatest possible deviation from a common type which can be elicited in these extreme cases.
The modifications produced in the different races of dogs, exhibit the influence of man in the most striking point of view. These animals have been transported into every climate, and placed in every variety of circumstances; they have been made, as a modern naturalist observes, the servant, the companion, the guardian, and the intimate friend of man, and the power of a superior genius has had a wonderful influence, not only on  their forms, but on their manners and intelligence. Different races have undergone remarkable changes in the quantity and colour of their clothing: the dogs of Guinea are almost naked, while those of the Arctic circle are covered with a warm coat both of hair and wool, which enables them to bear the most intense cold without inconvenience. There are differences also of another kind no less remarkable, as in size, the length of their muzzles, and the convexity of their fore heads.
But if we look for some of those essential changes which would be required to lend even the semblance of a foundation for the theory of Lamarck, respecting the growth of new organs and the gradual obliteration of others, we find nothing of the kind. For in all these varieties of the dog, says Cuvier, the relation of the bones with each other remain essentially the same; the form of the teeth never changes in any perceptible degree, except that in some individuals, one additional false grinder occasionally appears, sometimes on the one side, and sometimes on the other. The greatest departure from a common type, and it constitutes the maximum of variation as yet known in the animal kingdom, is exemplified in those races of dogs which have a supernumerary toe on the hind foot with the corresponding tarsal bones, a variety analogous to one presented by six-fingered families of the human race.
Lamarck has thrown out as a conjecture, that the wolf may have been the original of the dog, but he has adduced no data to bear out such an hypothesis. " The wolf," observes Dr. Prichard, s; and the dog differ, not only with respect to their habits and instincts, which in the brute creation are very uniform within the limits of one species; but some differences have also been pointed out in their internal organization,  particularly in the structure of a part of the intestinal canal."
It is well known that the horse, the ox, the boar and other domestic animals, which have been introduced into South America, and have run wild in many parts, have entirely lost all marks of domesticity, and have reverted to the original characters of their species. But the dog has also become wild in Cuba, Hayti, and in all the Caribbean islands. In the course of the seventeenth century, they hunted in packs from twelve to fifty, or more in number, and fearlessly attacked herds of wild-boars and other animals. It is natural, therefore, to enquire to what form they reverted ? Now they are said by many travellers to have resembled very nearly the shepherd's dog; but it is certain that they were never turned into wolves. They were extremely savage, and their ravages appear to have been as much dreaded as those of wolves, but when any of their whelps were caught, and brought from the woods to the towns, they grew up in the most perfect submission to man.
As the advocates of the theory of transmutation trust much to the slow and insensible changes which time may work, they are accustomed to lament the absence of accurate descriptions, and figures of particular animals and plants, handed down from the earliest periods of history, such as might have afforded data for comparing the condition of species, at two periods considerably remote. But fortunately, we are in some measure independent of such evidence, for by a singular accident, the priests of Egypt have bequeathed to us, in their cemeteries, that information, which the museums and works of the Greek philosophers have failed to transmit.
For the careful investigation of these documents, we are greatly indebted to the skill and diligence of those naturalists who accompanied the French armies during their brief occupation of Egypt: that conquest of four years, from which we may date the improvement of the modern Egyptians in the arts  and sciences and the rapid progress which has been made of late in our knowledge of the arts and sciences of their remote predecessors Instead of wasting their whole time as so many preceding travellers had done, in exclusively collecting human mummies, M. Geoffroy and his associates examined diligently and sent home great numbers of embalmed bodies of consecrated animals, such as the bull, the dog, the cat, the ape, the ichneumon, the crocodile, and the ibis.
To those who have never been accustomed to connect the facts of Natural History with philosophical speculations, who have never raised their conceptions of the end and import of such studies beyond the mere admiration of isolated and beautiful objects, or the exertion of skill in detecting specific differences, it will seem incredible that amidst the din of arms, and the stirring excitement of political movements, so much enthusiasm could have been felt in regard to these precious remains.
In the official report drawn up by the Professors of the Museum at Paris, on the value of these objects, there are some eloquent passages which may appear extravagant, unless we reflect how fully these naturalists could appreciate the bearing of the facts thus brought to light on the past history of the globe.
"It seems," say they, " as if the superstition of the ancient Egyptians had been inspired by Nature, with a view of transmitting to after ages a monument of her history. That extraordinary and whimsical people, by embalming with so much care the brutes which were the objects of their stupid adoration, have left us, in their sacred grottoes, cabinets of zoology almost complete. The climate has conspired with the art of embalming to preserve the bodies from corruption, and we can now assure ourselves by our own eyes what w as the state of a great number of species three thousand years ago. We can scarcely restrain the transports of our imagination, on beholding thus preserved with their minutest bones, with the smallest portions of their skin, and in every particular most perfectly recognizable, many  an animal, which at Thebes or Memphis, two or three thousand years ago, had its own priests and altars."
Among the Egyptian mummies thus procured were not only those of numerous wild quadrupeds, birds, and reptiles, but, what was perhaps of still greater importance in deciding the great question under discussion, there were the mummies of domestic animals, among which those above mentioned, the bull, the dog, and the cat, were frequent. Now such was the conformity of the whole of these species to those now living, that there was no more difference, says Cuvier, between them than between the human mummies and the embalmed bodies of men of the present day. Yet some of these animals have since that period been transported by man to almost every variety of climate, and forced to accommodate their habits to new circumstances, as far as their nature would permit. The cat, for example, has been carried over the whole earth, and, within the last three centuries, has been naturalized in every part of the new world, from the cold regions of Canada to the tropical plains of Guiana; yet it has scarcely undergone any perceptible mutation, and is still the same animal which was held sacred by the Egyptians.
Of the ox, undoubtedly there are many very distinct races; but the bull Apis, which was led in solemn processions by the Egyptian priests, did not differ from some of those now living. The black cattle that have run wild in America, where there were many peculiarities in the climate not to be found, perhaps, in any part of the old world, and where scarcely a single plant on which they fed was of precisely the same species, instead of altering their form and habits, have actually reverted to the exact likeness of the aboriginal wild cattle of Europe.
In answer to the arguments drawn from the Egyptian mummies, Lamarek said that they were identical with their living descendants in the same country, because the climate and  physical geography of the banks of the Nile have remained unaltered for the last thirty centuries. But why, we ask, have other individuals of these species retained the same characters in so many different quarters of the globe, where the climate and many other conditions are so varied ?
The evidence derived from the Egyptian monuments was not confined to the animal kingdom; the fruits, seeds, and other portions of twenty different plants, were faithfully preserved in the same manner; and among these the common wheat was procured by Delille, from closed vessels in the sepulchres of the kings, the grains of which retained not only their form, but even their colour, so effectual has proved the process of embalming with bitumen in a dry and equable climate. No difference could be detected between this wheat and that which now grows in the East and elsewhere, and similar identifications were made in regard to all the other plants.
And here we may observe, that there is an obvious answer to Lamarck's objection, that the botanist cannot point out a country where the common wheat grows wild, unless in places where it may have been derived from neighbouring cultivation. All naturalists are well aware that the geographical distribution of a great number of species is extremely limited, and that it was to be expected that every useful plant should first be cultivated successfully in the country where it was indigenous, and that, probably, every station which it partially occupied, when growing wild, would be selected by the agriculturist as best suited to it when artificially increased. Palestine has been conjectured, by a late writer on the Cerealia, to have been the original habitation of wheat and barley, a supposition which appears confirmed by Hebrew and Egyptian traditions and by tracing the migrations of the worship of Ceres, as indicative of the migrations of the plant.
If we are to infer that some one of the wild grasses has been  transformed into the common wheat, and that some animal of the genus canis, still unreclaimed, has been metamorphosed into the dog, merely because we cannot find the domestic dog, or the cultivated wheat, in a state of nature, we may be next called upon to make similar admissions in regard to the camel; for it seems very doubtful whether any race of this species of quadruped is now wild.
But if agriculture, it will be said, does not supply examples of extraordinary changes of form and organization, the horticulturist can, at least, appeal to facts which may confound the preceding train of reasoning. The crab has been transformed into the apple; the sloe into the plum: flowers have changed their colour and become double; and these new characters can be perpetuated by seed,--a bitter plant with wavy sea-green leaves has been taken from the sea-side where it grew like wild charlock, has been transplanted into the garden, lost its saltness, and has been metamorphosed into two distinct vegetables as unlike each other as is each to the parent plant--the red cabbage and the cauliflower. These, and a multitude of analogous facts, are undoubtedly among the wonders of nature, and attest more strongly, perhaps, the extent to which species may be modified, than any examples derived from the animal kingdom. But in these cases we find, that we soon reach certain limits, beyond which we are unable to cause the individuals, descending from the same stock, to vary; while, on the other hand, it is easy to show that these extraordinary varieties could seldom arise, and could never be perpetuated in a wild state for many generations, under any imaginable combination of accidents. They may be regarded as extreme cases brought about by human interference, and not as phenomena which indicate a capability of indefinite modification in the natural world.
The propagation of a plant by buds or grafts, and by cuttings, is obviously a mode which nature does not employ; and this multiplication, as well as that produced by roots and layers, seems merely to operate as an extension of the life of an individual,  and not as a reproduction of the species, as happens by seed. All plants increased by the former means retain precisely the peculiar qualities of the individual to which they owe their origin, and, like an individual, they have only a determinate existence; in some cases longer and in others shorter. It seems now admitted by horticulturists, that none of our garden varieties of fruit are entitled to be considered strictly permanent, but that they wear out after a time; and we are thus compelled to resort again to seeds; in which case, there is so decided a tendency in the seedlings to revert to the original type, that our utmost skill is sometimes baffled in attempting to recover the desired variety.
The different races of cabbages afford, as we have admitted, an astonishing example of deviation from a common type; but we can scarcely conceive them to have originated, much less to have lasted for several generations, without the intervention of man. It is only by strong manures that these varieties have been obtained, and in poorer soils they instantly degenerate. If, therefore, we suppose in a state of nature the seed of the wild Brassica oleracea to have been wafted from the sea-side to some spot enriched by the dung of animals, and to have there become a cauliflower, it would soon diffuse its seed to some comparatively steril soils around, and the offspring would relapse to the likeness of the parent stock, like some individuals which may now be seen growing on the cornice of old London bridge.
But if we go so far as to imagine the soil, in the spot first occupied, to be constantly manured by herds of wild animals, so as to continue as rich as that of a garden, still the variety could not be maintained, because we know that each of these races is prone to fecundate others, and gardeners are compelled to exert the utmost diligence to prevent cross-breeds. The intermixture of the pollen of varieties growing in the poorer soil around, would soon destroy the peculiar characters  of the race which occupied the highly-manured tract; for, if these accidents so continually happen in spite of us, among the culinary varieties, it is easy to see how soon this cause might obliterate every marked singularity in a wild state.
Besides, it is well known that although the pampered races which we rear in our gardens for use or ornament, may often be perpetuated by seed, yet they rarely produce seed in such abundance, or so prolific in quality, as wild individuals; so that, if the care of man were withdrawn, the most fertile variety would always, in the end, prevail over the more steril.
Similar remarks may be applied to the double flowers which present such strange anomalies to the botanist. The ovarium, in such cases, is frequently abortive, and the seeds, when prolific, are generally much fewer than where the flowers are single.
Some curious experiments recently made on the production of blue instead of red flowers in the Hydrangea hortensis, illustrate the immediate effect of certain soils on the colours of the petals. In garden-mould or compost, the flowers are invariably red; in some kinds of bog-earth they are blue; and the same change is always produced by a particular sort of yellow loam.
Linnaeus was of opinion that the primrose, oxlip, cowslip, and polyanthus, were only varieties of the same species. The majority of modern botanists, on the contrary, consider them to be distinct, although some conceived that the oxlip might be a cross between the cowslip and the primrose. Mr. Herbert has lately recorded the following experiment:--" I raised from the natural seed of one umbel of a highly-manured red cowslip, a primrose, a cowslip, oxlips of the usual and other colours, a black polyanthus, a hose-in-hose cowslip, and a natural primrose bearing its flower on a polyanthus stalk. From the seed of that very hose-in hose cowslip I have since raised a hose-in-hose primrose. I therefore consider all these to be only local varieties depending upon soil and situation. Professor  Henslow, of Cambridge, has since confirmed this experiment of Mr. Herbert, so that we have an example, not only of the remarkable varieties which the florist can obtain from a common stock, but of the distinctness of analogous races found in a wild state.
On what particular ingredient, or quality in the earth, these changes depend, has not yet been ascertained. But gardeners are well aware that particular plants, when placed under the influence of certain circumstances, are changed in various ways according to the species i and as often as the experiments are repeated similar results are obtained. The nature of these results, however, depends upon the species, and they are, therefore, part of the specific character; they exhibit the same phenomena again and again, and indicate certain fixed and invariable relations between the physiological peculiarities of the plant, and the influence of certain external agents. They afford no ground for questioning the instability of species, but rather the contrary; they present us with a class of phenomena which, when they are more thoroughly understood, may afford some of the best tests for identifying species, and proving that the attributes originally conferred, endure so long as any issue of the original stock remains upon the earth.
[*] Charles Lyell (1832). Principles of Geology, Being an Attempt to Explain the Former Changes of the Earth's Surface, by Reference to Causes Now in Operation (London: John Murray), Book II, ch. 2, pp. 18-35. [As Lyell only numbered his chapters in the first edition, and this chapter was deleted once Lyell reconciled to Darwin's theory of evolution, the chapter title, though descriptive of the contents, is due to the present editor, and is so indicated by parantheses.]
 Sir J. Smith's Introduction to Botany.
 Cuvier, Disc. Prelim., p. 128, sixth edition.
 Phil. Zool., tom. i p. 266.
 Dureau de la Malle, Ann. des. Sci. Nat. tom. xxi. p. 63. Sept. 1830.
 Disc. Prel., p.129,sixth edition.
 Prichard, Phys. Hist. of Mankind, vol i. p 96 who cites Professor Güldenstädt.
 Ann. du Museum, d'Hist. Nat., tom, i. p. 234. 1802. The reporters were MM. Cuvier, Lacépède, and Lamarck.
 Phil. Zool., tom. i., p. 227.
 "L'Origine et la Patrie des Céréales, &c". Ann. des Sci. Nat. tom. ix, p. 61.
 Smith s Introduction to Botany p. 138. Edit. 1807.
 See Mr. Knight' s "Observations", Hort. Trans., vol. ii., p. 160.
 Hort. Trans., vol iv., p. 19.
 Loudon's Mag. of Nat. Hist., Sept. 1830, vol. iii, p 408.
 Hort Trans., vol. iii., p. 173.