WE have now to speak of the benefits derived, in a medicinal point of view, from the aquatic productions; for not here even has all-bounteous Nature reposed from her work. Amid waves and billows, and tides of rivers for ever on the ebb and flow, she still unceasingly exerts her powers; and nowhere, if we must confess the truth, does she display herself in greater might, for it is this among the elements that holds sway over all the rest. It is water that swallows up dry land, that extinguishes flame, that ascends aloft, and challenges possession of the very heavens: it is water that, spreading clouds as it does, far and wide, intercepts the vital air we breathe; and, through their collision, gives rise to thunders and lightnings,[1] as the elements of the universe meet in conflict.
What can there be more marvellous than waters suspended
aloft in the heavens? And yet, as though it were not enough to
reach so high an elevation as this, they sweep along with them
whole shoals of fishes, and often stones as well, thus lading
themselves with ponderous masses which belong to other
elements, and bearing them on high. Falling upon the earth,
these waters become the prime cause of all that is there produced; a truly wondrous provision of Nature, if we only consider, that in order to give birth to grain and life to trees and
to shrubs, water must first leave the earth for the heavens, and
thence bring down to vegetation the breath of life! The
admission must be surely extorted from us, that for all our
resources the earth is indebted to the bounteousness of water.
1. totally independent of
water. Still, Pliny would appear to be right in one sense; for if there
were no water, there would be no clouds; and without clouds the electric
fluid would probably take some other form than that of lightning.