several species or varieties of Sarracenia—yellow
green, red, purple, and pimpled. The pimpled
Sarracenia, is called variolaris, suggesting the
notion that it has variola, and would be the
better for a dose of the Squaw's decoction.
The plant used by the Squaw is the purple one,
or purpurea. A decoction of the rhizome of
this plant has been found useful in helping the
patient through every stage of variola. A large
wine-glassful of an infusion of the rhizome is no
sooner administered than the irruption is
promoted, and the sufferer "feels the medicine
killing the malady." The second wine-glassful
allays the fever; after the third, when the
disease is in its subsiding epoch, the pustules
die away, leaving no pits. The Red Indians,
when in health, occasionally drink a weak infusion
of the plant, to prevent the disease by "keeping
the antidote in the blood." The plant contains
the qualities of a good febrifuge. Chemically
analysed, this Sarracenia is found to contain
binoxalate of potash—which is a poison likely to
counteract the virus or poison of the pustules—
soda, and malic acid, this last element being the
acid which makes fruits refreshing. Variola,
moreover, is a disease in which the patient dies
from exhaustion, and not from the destruction
of any essential organ. It is precisely one of
those maladies in which hope and courage,
infused into the mind through the imagination,
are invaluable aids to recovery.

Pronouncing no opinion on the value of the
Squaw's decoction as a sovereign remedy, I can,
however, indulge the hope that the renewed
attention attracted to this vegetal curiosity will
end in giving us at least some satisfactory
explanation of the functions of the pitchers and
their hairs. "The pitchers," says Dr. Lindley,
"appear to be secreting organs, for they are lined
by hairs of a very singular nature, as is
mentioned by Mr. Bentham in his memoir on
Heliamphora; but their physiological action remains
to be ascertained."

Scientific truth is obtained by bringing guesses
to the test of observation and experiment; I
therefore venture to submit the guesses which
have occurred to me. The leaf, as I have
said, is fastened on sideways to its support,
and appears to perform the functions of a leaf,
being an organ of respiration and transpiration.
The plant is amphibious, and its leaves are
adapted both for aquatic and aërial breathing.
The whole of the outside of the pitcher, and
the smooth portion of the inside, appear to
me to be adapted for extracting carbonic gas
from water, consisting as they do of mere
cellular tissue; whilst the hairy portions of the
inside, at the bottom and under the hood,
contain air-holes. There are hairs on plants, like
shields, scales, stars, beads; there are branched
and forked hairs; and there are hairs ending in
clubs and stings; but the hairs of the Squaw's
pitcher-plant seem to be composed of only simple
elongated cells: those under the hood being short,
hook-like, and rough: those at the bottom long and
silky. No other function, then, need be sought
for these hairs than the general one of protecting
the orifices which admit the gases essential
to life. If an examination under a powerful
lens of fresh specimens of the plant should
reveal air-mouths or stomata, which I believe
I have seen even in dry ones, the physiological
functions of the pitcher would be clearly
shown.

Fishes liable to be left high and dry by the tide
are provided with means of moistening their
gills when out of water. The sepoy crab, who
generally lives in a hole full of water, every
other day climbs palm-trees in search of nuts;
and he is provided, in the cavity in which his
gills work, with sponges which moisten them in
the sunny air of the tropics. M. Adolphe
Brogniart ingeniously compares the respiration
of submerged leaves to the respiration of fishes.
The gills of fishes extract the air or oxygen gas
which vivifies their blood, from the water, by
direct contact; and the cellular or parenchymatous
tissue of submerged leaves, there being no
epiderm to go through, extracts from the water
directly, the carbonic acid needful to nourish
their life. This gas of course abounds
wherever there is decaying vegetable matter in
water.

Respecting the pouches or pitchers of
Sarracenia, Professor Schleiden says: "It is the lower
part of the leaf which exhibits a form resembling
a cornucopia, while at the upper border
runs out a flat expansion (the lamina of the
leaf), separated from the pouch by a deep
incision on each side. The lower half of the
internal surface is clothed with hairs directed
downwards, the upper part is smooth." The
closed base of the pouch corresponds to the base
of the leaf. Leaves perform the functions of
respiration and transpiration. The parts then of
the pitchers consisting of cellular tissue (parenchyma)
are adapted for obtaining carbonic gas
from water, and the parts covered with hairs for
obtaining it from air. Living a double life, the
plants have a double respiration, aquatic and
aërian. If the leaves consisted of nothing but
cellular tissue, they would dry and shrivel up
quickly in the air; but, to provide for this
emergency, they form themselves into pitchers, and
take water into the air with them, and the hairs
of the hood economise this water by catching it
as vapour and conveying it through purple
conduits down towards the rhizome and roots.
This evaporation is one of the chief causes of the
ascension of the sap. Through the purple canals
either moisture or gas may reach the internal
organs of the plant. But this is not the place
for the discussion of microscopical minutiæ.

I may, however, mention, that the gardeners
call these plants "side-saddle flowers"—why,
I cannot guess, unless it be because the stalk-
leaves sit upon the rhizomes, like saddles.
Where the hood-like blade or lamina rises
above half the rim or lip of the pitcher, it curls
with a pretty ram's-horn-like curl. On the