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第48章

madam how and lady why(豪夫人和怀女士)-第48章

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     You   must   answer   that   yourself。     You   have   seen   it   a   hundred   times 

before。 

     Why; it is London Pride; that grows in the garden at home。 

     Of course it is:     but the Irish call it St。 Patrick's cabbage; though it got 

here a long time before St。 Patrick; and St。 Patrick must have been very 

short of garden…stuff if he ever ate it。 

     But how  did   it   get here   from London?         No;  no。     How  did it get   to 



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London      from   hence?     For   from   this   country   it  came。   I   suppose    the 

English brought it home in Queen Bess's or James the First's time。 

     But if it is wild here; and will grow so well in England; why do we not 

find it wild in England too? 

     For the same reason that there are no toads or snakes in Ireland。 They 

had not got as far as Ireland before Ireland was parted off from England。 

And St。 Patrick's cabbage; and a good many other plants; had not got as far 

as England。 

     But why? 

     Why; I don't know。       But this I know:       that when Madam How makes 

a new sort of plant or animal; she starts it in one single place; and leaves it 

to take care of itself and earn its own livingas she does you and me and 

every oneand spread from that place all round as far as it can go。               So St。 

Patrick's cabbage got into this south…west of Ireland; long; long ago; and 

was such a brave sturdy little plant; that it clambered up to the top of the 

highest   mountains;   and   over   all   the   rocks。  But   when   it   got   to   the   rich 

lowlands to the eastward; in county Cork; it found all the ground taken up 

already with other plants; and as they had enough to do to live themselves; 

they would not let St。 Patrick's cabbage settle among them; and it had to 

be content with living here in the far…westand; what was very sad; had no 

means of sending word to its brothers and sisters in the Pyrenees how it 

was getting on。 

     What do you mean?         Are you making fun of me? 

     Not   the   least。 I   am   only   telling   you   a   very   strange   story;   which   is 

literally true。    Come; and sit down on this bench。             You can't catch that 

great butterfly; he is too strong on the wing for you。 

     But oh; what a beautiful one! 

     Yes; orange and black; silver and green; a glorious creature。              But you 

may see him at home sometimes:             that plant close to you; you cannot see 

at home。 

     Why; it is only great spurge; such as grows in the woods at home。 

     No。     It   is  Irish   spurge    which     grows    here;   and    sometimes     in 

Devonshire; and then again in the west of Europe; down to the Pyrenees。 

Don't touch it。      Our wood spurge is poisonous enough; but this is worse 



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still; if you get a drop of its milk on your lip or eye; you will be in agonies 

for   half   a   day。 That   is   the   evil   plant   with   which   the   poachers   kill   the 

salmon。 

     How do they do that? 

     When the salmon are spawning up in the little brooks; and the water is 

low; they take that spurge; and grind it between two stones under water; 

and let the milk run down into the pool; and at that all the poor salmon 

turn up dead。       Then comes the water… bailiff; and catches the poachers。 

Then comes the policeman; with his sword at his side and his truncheon 

under   his   arm:    and   then   comes   a   〃cheap   journey〃   to   Tralee   Gaol;   in 

which those foolish poachers sit and reconsider themselves; and determine 

not to break the salmon lawsat least till next time。 

     But why is it that this spurge; and St。 Patrick's cabbage; grow only here 

in the west?      If they got here of themselves; where did they come from? 

All outside there is sea; and they could not float over that。 

     Come; I say; and sit down on this bench; and I will tell you a tale;the 

story of the Old Atlantis; the sunken land in the far West。              Old Plato; the 

Greek; told legends of it; which you will read some day; and now it seems 

as if those old legends had some truth in them; after all。            We are standing 

now on one of the last remaining scraps of the old Atlantic land。                   Look 

down the bay。       Do you see far away; under; the mountains; little islands; 

long and low? 

     Oh; yes。 

     Some of these are old slate; like the mountains; others are limestone; 

bits of the old coral…reef to the west of Ireland which became dry land。 

     I know。     You told me about it。 

     Then that land; which is all eaten up by the waves now; once joined 

Ireland to Cornwall; and to Spain; and to the Azores; and I suspect to the 

Cape   of   Good   Hope;   and   what   is   stranger;   to   Labrador;   on   the   coast   of 

North America。 

     Oh!    How can you know that? 

     Listen; and I will give you your first lesson in what I call Bio… geology。 

     What a long word! 

     If you can find a shorter one I shall be very much obliged to you; for I 



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hate    long    words。    But     what    it  means    is;Telling   how    the   land   has 

changed   in   shape;   by   the   plants   and   animals   upon   it。   And   if   you   ever 

read (as you will) Mr。 Wallace's new book on the Indian Archipelago; you 

will see what wonderful discoveries men may make about such questions 

if   they  will   but   use   their   common   sense。   You   know   the   common   pink 

heatherling; as we call it? 

     Of course。 

     Then   that   ling   grows;   not   only   here   and   in   the   north   and   west   of 

Europe;   but   in   the  Azores   too;   and;   what   is   more   strange;   in   Labrador。 

Now;  as   ling   can   neither swim  nor   fly;  does not   common   sense tell   you 

that all those countries were probably joined together in old times? 

     Well:     but it seems so strange。 

     So   it   is;   my   child;   and   so   is   everything。 But;   as   the   fool   says   in 

Shakespeare … 

       〃A long time ago the world began; With heigh ho; the wind and the 

rain。〃 

       And the wind and the rain have made strange work with the poor old 

world ever since。        And that is about all that we; who are not very much 

wiser than Shakespeare's fool; can say about the matter。                   But againthe 

London Pride grows here; and so does another saxifrage very like it; which 

we call Saxifraga Geum。            Now; when I saw those two plants growing in 

the    Western    Pyrenees;     between     France    and   Spain;    and   with   them    the 

beautiful   blue   butterwort;   which   grows   in   these   Kerry   bogswe   will   go 

and find somewhat could I say but that Spain and Ireland must have been 

joined once? 

     I suppose it must be so。 

     Again。     There is a little pink butterwort here in the bogs; which grows; 

too; in dear old Devonshire and Cornwall; and also in the south…west of 

Scotland。      Now; when I found that too; in the bogs near Biarritz; close to 

the Pyrenees; and knew that it stretched away along the Spanish coast; and 

into   Portugal;   what   could   my   common   sense   lead   me   to   say   but   that 

Scotland;   and   Ireland;   and   Cornwall;   and   Spain   were   all   joined   once? 

Those   are   only  a   few   examples。      I   could   give   you   a   dozen   more。  For 

instance; on an island away there to the west; and only in one spot; there 



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