Chapter VI: Part I: Fruits and Seeds (2)

The flowers of the partridge vine always grow in twos. The seedboxes of these two flowers are joined in one. So when the flowers fade away, only the one seedbox is left. When this ripens, it becomes the partridge berry; and the two little holes show where the two flowers were fastened to the seedbox.

Try not to forget this, and early next July be sure to go to the woods and look for the little sister flowers. Perhaps their delicious fragrance will help you in your hunt for their hiding place. Then see for yourselves how the two blossoms have but one seedbox between them (Fig. 35).

Now, we must take care not to wet our feet, for the ground is getting damp. We are coming to that lovely spot where the brook winds beneath the hemlocks after making its leap down the rocks. What is that flaming red spot against the gray rock yonder?

As we draw nearer, we see that a quantity of scarlet berries are closely packed upon a thick stalk (Fig. 36).

Do you know the name of the plant which owns this flaming fruit?

If you were in these woods last May, at every turn you met one of those quaint little fellows we call “Jack-in-the-pulpit.”

Jack himself, you remember, was hidden almost out of sight by his “pulpit.” This pulpit was made of a leaf striped green or purple, or both; and this leaf curled about and above Jack (Fig. 37).

After a time the pretty leaf pulpit faded away, and Jack was left standing all alone.

The lower part of Jack is covered with tiny flowers. After these had been properly dusted by the little flies (for flies, not bees, visit Jack), just as the apple blossom began to change into the apple, so these tiny flowers began to turn into bright berries.

While this was happening, Jack’s upper part began to wither away; and at last all of it that was left was the queer little tail which you see at the top of the bunch of berries.

It is said that the Indians boiled these berries, and then thought them very good to eat.

If we were lost in the woods, and obliged to live upon the plants about us, I dare say we should eat, and perhaps enjoy eating, many things which now seem quite impossible; but until this happens I advise you not to experiment with strange leaves and roots and berries. Every little while one reads of the death of some child as the result of eating a poisonous plant.

The next picture (Fig. 38) shows you the fruit of Solomon’s seal. These dark-blue berries hang from beneath the leafy stem, just as the little flowers hung their yellow heads last May.

Next come the speckled red berries of the false Solomon’s seal (Fig. 39), a big cousin of the smaller plant. As you see, this bears its fruit quite differently, all in a cluster at the upper part of the stem. These two plants seem to be great chums, constantly growing side by side.

We have been so busy and so happy that the morning has flown, and now we must be finding our way home to dinner; for, unlike the birds, we are not satisfied to dine on berries alone.

At almost every step we long to stop and look at some new plant in fruit; for, now that we have learned how to look for them, berries of different sorts seem thick on every side.

Low at our feet are the red ones of the wintergreen (Fig. 40).

On taller plants grow the odd white ones, with blackish spots, of the white baneberry (Fig. 41), or the red ones of the red baneberry.

Still higher glisten the dark, glass-like clusters of the spikenard.

Along the lane are glowing barberries (Fig. 42) and thorns bright with their “haws” (for the fruit of the thorn is called a “haw”). These look something like little apples.

Here, too, is the black alder, studded with its red, waxy beads. But we must hurry on, not stopping by the way. And you can be sure that those birds we hear chirruping above us are glad enough to be left to finish their dinner in peace.

WHY SEEDS TRAVEL

At last I think we all understand that by the red of the apple, the purple of the plum, and the different colors worn by the berries we find in the woods, these plants are inviting us, and the birds also, to eat their fruit, and so release from prison their little seeds.

But what would happen, do you suppose, if no one should accept this invitation? What would become of their seeds if these pears and apples and berries were not eaten by boys and girls and birds?

Most of this question you can answer for yourselves.

If you leave the apple on the tree, after a time it falls off upon the ground; and unless picked up, there it lies till it decays. In the orchard every fall you see apples decaying on the ground. In a little while the fleshy part disappears, and the little seeds are thus let out of prison without help.

But many plants are not satisfied to leave their seeds so near home. Why is this, do you suppose?

Well, this is quite a long story.

All plants of the same kind need just the same sort of food. If too many apple trees grow together, they soon use up all the apple-tree food in the neighborhood.

So if a seed is to grow into a strong, hearty, well-fed plant, it ought to begin life in some place not already full of plants in search of just the food that it needs for itself.

If a plant or tree makes its fruit so good to eat that some boy or girl or bird is likely to pick it, the chances are that it will be carried at least a short distance before its seeds are dropped upon the ground.

Once in a while a plant is rewarded for its pains by having its young carried thousands of miles.

Think how far from its home the peach has traveled. As I told you before, it comes to us from Persia.

Now, if the Persian peach tree had not made its fruit very juicy and delicious, it is not likely that any one would have taken the trouble to bring its seeds way over here to us.

But this peach being what it is, one of the most delicious of fruits, the tree was rewarded for its pains by having its children taken where they were petted, and made much of, and had things all their own way; for no other peach trees were on hand to do their best to crowd them out.

Then think of the little partridge berry. The fleshy part of this the birds eat and digest. But the little seeds pass unharmed from the bird’s stomach to the earth, sometimes many miles from the woods where they were born.

What is true of the peach and of the partridge berry is true of many other fruits.

Without the help of man or bird or beast, these little seeds could at last get out of their seed cases; but without such help, often they could not get the start in life they need.

So it would seem as if a fruit’s bright color and delicious flavor were saying to us not only, “Come and eat us and set our seeds free,” but also, “and carry us far away, so that we may have a fair chance in the world.”

SOME LITTLE TRAMPS

When I came home from that walk in the woods the other day, it took me some time to rid my clothes of many odd-looking little things, such as you see in the picture above (Fig. 43).

This round burr (Fig. 44) was one of the worst of my hangers-on. You know it quite well. It is the fruit of the burdock. Can some child tell me why I call this prickly burr a fruit?

Now let us look carefully at this seed case or fruit of the burdock.

Instead of being smooth to the touch, like some other fruits we know, such as the apple and the pear, it is covered with stiff hooks. By these hooks it fastened itself so firmly to my clothes, that it was difficult to pull it off without making a tear.

Why does the burdock put its seeds into such a prickly case?

Please stop reading for a moment and try to answer this question.

Cudgel well your brains for the use of such a prickly seed case as that of the burdock plant.

Now I am hoping that one of you children will be able to think out some such answer as this:—

“Of course, the burdock plant doesn’t want its seeds to fall on the piece of ground that has been used up already by other burdocks, any more than the partridge vine wishes to drop its seeds in the same little hollow where other partridge vines have eaten all the good food. As this burdock plant cannot make its seed case so bright and pretty, and good to eat, that the birds will carry it off, it must manage in some other way to send its seeds on their travels. And this is what it does: it covers the seed case with little hooks. When the seeds inside are quite ripe, this case breaks off very easily. So when the children come hunting berries, it hooks itself to their clothes, or else it catches in the hair of their dogs, or takes hold of the wool of grazing sheep, and gets carried quite a way before it is picked or rubbed off. When that happens, it is far enough from its old home to set up for itself.”

I should indeed be pleased if one of you children could give me some such answer as that.

So you see this prickly seed case does just as much for its little charges as the juicy apple and velvety peach do for theirs.

And the same thing is true of all those other hooked, or barbed, or prickly little objects that I picked off my clothes the other day, and that cling to you when you take a walk in the fall woods.

They are all fruits. They are the ripe seed cases of the different plants.

But they are dull-looking, and often quite vexing, instead of being pleasant to the sight and taste and touch.

This makes no difference, however, in their having things pretty much their own way. We do not in the least want to carry abroad these little torments, scattering far and wide their seeds, so that another year there will be more burrs and barbs and bristles than ever, to tear our clothes and worry our dogs; but they force us to do them this service, whether we will or no, and never stop to say “By your leave.”

At every turn they are waiting for us. Where we climb the fence, and cross the fields, and break through the woods, we can almost fancy that we hear them whispering together, “Here they come! Now is our chance!”

They remind us of those lazy tramps that lie along the railway, getting on the trucks of passing trains, and stealing rides across the country.

These ugly hooked fruits have one great advantage over the pretty ones that are good to eat. They do not have to wait our pleasure. But when we are most busy and hurried, without a moment to loiter in the apple orchard or among the berry bushes, then, quite as well as, if not better than, during our leisure moments, they lay hold upon us with their tiny claws, and cling closely till we set to work to get rid of them. When we pick them off and fling them to the ground, we are doing just what they most wish.

In this picture (Fig. 45) you see the seed case of the tick trefoil. This plant belongs to the Pea family; and its fruit is really a pod, something like that of the garden pea. But when this pod of the tick trefoil is ripe, it splits into five little pieces. Each piece is a separate seed case. This is covered with hooked hairs, by means of which it fastens itself to our clothing and to the hair of animals, just as the burr of the burdock did. These little seed cases go by the name of “ticks.”

Here is the fruit of the stick-tight (Fig. 46). You see its two teeth that are so well fitted to weave themselves into either cloth or hair.

Fig. 47 shows you a strange and terrible fruit of this same class. It grows on an African plant, and may fasten itself so firmly into the hair of animals, that the attempt to get it out is almost hopeless. Sometimes an unfortunate lion will kill himself in his efforts to wrench this tormenting seed case from his skin. In his struggles he gets it into his mouth, and so dies.

I am glad to say we have nothing so terrifying as this among our hooked fruits.

Even if at times you are tempted to lose your patience with such impertinent little tramps as they are, I think you can hardly help admiring the clever way in which they manage to get a free ride.

SEED SAILBOATS

On your way to school these fall days, often you notice certain white, silky things floating lazily through the air. Sometimes you catch one of these little objects, and blow it away again with a message to a friend. Or perhaps you wish upon it. At least, this is what I did as a child. Life in those days was full of these mysterious “wishes.” A white horse, a hay cart, the first star, a wandering thistle down,—each promised the possible granting of one’s most secret wish.

That the thistle down comes from the thistle plant, you know. But not all the silky things that look like fairy sailboats are thistle down, for many plants beside the thistle let loose these tiny air ships.

Have you ever wondered where they come from, what they are doing? Or do they seem to you so lazy, so drifting, so aimless, that you doubt if they are going anywhere in particular, or have really anything to do?

But by this time you have learned that plants have better reasons for their actions than you had dreamed before you began to pay them some attention. You have discovered that they dress their flowers in gay colors so that the bees may be tempted to visit them and powder them with golden dust. You have learned that they make their fruits juicy and delicious so that boys and girls and birds may be persuaded to carry off their seeds; and the better you know them, the more certain you feel that they manage their affairs with much common sense, that they are not likely to take time and trouble for nothing.

So let us look closely at some of these air ships, and try to guess their errand.

I hope that some time ago you were told to get together as many different kinds as you could find, and to bring them here this morning.

In this picture you see some of the air ships of the milkweed (Fig. 49).

The lower part of Fig. 48 is a seedbox of the milkweed. To this are fastened the silky threads which make the sail that carries the seed through the air with the least wind, just as the canvas sail carries the boat across the water.

Can you think of some other plants that send abroad seed sailboats?

Perhaps some of you remember the beautiful pink or purple flowers which grew last summer in tall spikes along the road and up the mountain side. These were borne upon a plant called sometimes fireweed and again willow herb (Fig. 50). The first name was given to it because it grows freely in places that have been laid waste by fire. The latter one it owes to its leaves, which look somewhat like those of the willow.

By the end of August most of these beautiful blossoms had disappeared, leaving in their place the fruit. This fruit of the fireweed or willow herb is a long pod such as you see in the picture (Fig. 51). This pod is packed full of seeds, to each one of which is fastened a silky sail. Finally all these pods split open, letting out their little air ships (Fig. 52), and giving a beautiful, feathery look to the great patches in which they are found.

Another plant which launches air ships is the clematis. In August its pretty white blossoms clamber over the stone wall, and twist about the bushes and trees, making the lanes very lovely. In the fall this climber is almost as pretty as in summer, for its fruit clusters (Fig. 53) are made of such long-tailed seeds as you see in Fig. 54. When these open, and float away with the first light wind, you can see how well their little sails are fitted to catch the breeze.

In October and November nearly every roadside is lined with clusters such as you see in the next picture, except that the picture cannot give their soft, velvety look. These are the fruit clusters of the golden-rod (Fig. 55), made up of quantities of silky-tailed seeds such as you see above (Fig. 56).

And this is the fruit cluster of the aster (Fig. 57). Each little puffball is composed of many aster seeds (Fig. 58).

The pasture thistle is almost as beautiful in fruit as in flower. It swells up into a great silvery cushion, which finally vanishes in a cloud of floating thistle down.

And here is the fruit cluster of the dandelion (Fig. 59), and also a single seed sailboat (Fig. 60).

Hundreds of other plants attach these little sails to their seeds. You can hardly walk a step in the fall along the country roads without meeting these masses of feathery fruit made up of just such seeds. So now we come back to our questions, “Where are they going? What are they doing?”

And as you have learned why the apple tree and the partridge vine pack their seeds in pretty cases, and why the burdock and the stick-tight cover theirs with hooks and bristles, you ought to answer these questions very easily. You found that those plants wished to send their little seeds abroad, so that they might get a better foothold in some piece of earth that was not used already by plants hungry for the very food that they most needed.

This is just what the thistle and milkweed and dandelion and aster want for their seeds; and this is why they fasten them to little sails, and send them far away on a voyage of discovery.

WINGED SEEDS

Many of the trees also send their seeds on air voyages, in the hope of finding some piece of land that will give them a chance to grow into new, strong trees.

The seeds of the willow (Fig. 62) have silky white sails such as we have found already in the plants of the milkweed and willow herb; and the cottonwood tree is so called because its tufted seeds remind one of the famous cotton seeds from which we get our cotton thread (Fig. 63).

There are other trees which use wings instead of sails when they send their seeds flying through the air.

Here you have the winged fruits of the maple (Fig. 64). In summer you see these winged fruits hanging in clusters from the trees; and later in the year they are thickly scattered along the village street and in the city squares.

You can understand how easily the maple seeds inside these cases would be carried upon the breeze by their wings.

Each seed of the elm tree is winged nearly all the way round. The picture (Fig. 65) shows you a cluster of these as they look upon the tree.

Here is a bunch of the long-winged seeds of the ash (Fig. 66). Next comes a fruit cluster from the hop hornbeam (Fig. 67), and above is a single fruit (Fig. 68).

The seeds of the pine tree are hidden away in the pine cone (Fig. 69) you know so well, and those of the hemlock in the hemlock cone (Fig. 61). When they are quite ripe, they break away from these cones. In so doing, each one carries with it a little piece of the cone, which acts as a wing to the seed (Fig. 70).

Nearly all of these seeds you can find for yourselves when you wander about the country. Indeed, if you have eyes that are good for anything, many of them you cannot help seeing. It is all very well to read about these plants and trees, and to look at pictures of their flowers and fruits, and to have your teacher bring into the schoolroom specimens for examination. If this is all the city children can do (although even in the city one can do more than this), why, surely it is far better than nothing.

But best of all is it to go right into the woods and fields where these strange, interesting creatures are living, and to see for yourselves their manners and customs.

SHOOTING SEEDS

Down by the brook and along the sides of the mountain grows a tall shrub which is called the witch-hazel. I hope some of you know it by sight. I am sure that many of you know its name on account of the extract which is applied so often to bruises and burns.

This picture (Fig. 71) shows you a witch-hazel branch bearing both flowers and fruit; for, unlike any other plant I know, the flower of the witch-hazel appears late in the fall, when its little nuts are almost ripe. These nuts come from the flowers of the previous year.

It is always to me a fresh surprise and delight to come upon these golden blossoms when wandering through the fall woods.

Often the shrub has lost all its leaves before these appear. You almost feel as if the yellow flowers had made a mistake, and had come out six months ahead of time, fancying it to be April instead of October. In each little cluster grow several blossoms, with flower leaves so long and narrow that they look like waving yellow ribbons.

But to-day we wish chiefly to notice the fruit or nut of the witch-hazel.

Now, the question is, how does the witch-hazel manage to send the seeds which lie inside this nut out into the world? I think you will be surprised to learn just how it does this.

If you have a nut before you, you see for yourselves that this fruit is not bright-colored and juicy-looking, or apparently good to eat, and thus likely to tempt either boy or bird to carry it off; you see that it is not covered with hooks that can lay hold of your clothing, and so steal a ride; and you see that it has no silky sails to float it through the air, nor any wings to carry it upon the wind.

And so the witch-hazel, knowing that neither boy nor girl, nor bird nor beast nor wind, will come to the rescue of its little ones, is obliged to take matters into its own hands; and this is what it does. It forces open the ripe nut with such violence, that its little black seeds are sent rattling off into the air, and do not fall to the ground till they have traveled some distance from home. Really they are _shot_ out into the world (Fig. 72).

If you wish to make sure that this is actually so, gather some of these nuts, and take them home with you. It will not be long before they begin to pop open, and shoot out their little seeds.

Did you ever hear of Thoreau? He was a man who left his friends and family to live by himself in the woods he so dearly loved. Here he grew to know each bird and beast, each flower and tree, almost as if they were his brothers and sisters. One day he took home with him some of these nuts, and later he wrote about them in his journal,—

“Heard in the night a snapping sound, and the fall of some small body on the floor from time to time. In the morning I found it was produced by the witch-hazel nuts on my desk springing open and casting their seeds quite across my chamber.”

Now, I do not want any of you children to go off by yourselves to live in the woods; but I should like to think that you could learn to love these woods and their inmates with something of the love that Thoreau felt. And if you watch their ways with half the care that he did, some such love is sure to come.

Although the witch-hazel’s rough way of dealing with its young is not very common among the plants, we find much the same thing done by the wild geranium, or crane’s bill, and by the touch-me-not.

The wild geranium is the pretty purplish, or at times pink flower which blossoms along the roads and in the woods in May and early June.

Its seedbox has five divisions. In fruit this seedbox tapers above into a long beak, which gives the plant its name of “crane’s bill.” When the fruit is quite ripe, it splits away from the central part of this beak in five separate pieces, which spring upward so suddenly that the seeds are jerked out of the five cells, and flung upon the earth at a distance of several feet. The picture (Fig. 73) shows you how this is done. But a little search through the summer woods will bring you to the plant itself; and if you are patient, perhaps you will see how the wild geranium gets rid of its children. But though this habit may at first seem to you somewhat unmotherly, if you stop to think about it you will see that really the parent plant is doing its best for its little ones. If they should fall directly upon the ground beneath, their chances in life would be few. About plants, as about people, you must not make up your minds too quickly.

Another plant that all of you country children ought to know, is the touch-me-not, or jewelweed. Sometimes this is called “lady’s eardrop,” because its pretty, red-gold, jewel-like flowers remind us of the drops that once upon a time ladies wore in their ears. These flowers we find in summer in wet, woody places. In the fall the fruit appears. This fruit is a little pod (Fig. 74) which holds several seeds. When this pod is ripe, it bursts open and coils up with an elastic spring which sends these seeds also far from home (Fig. 75).

This performance of the touch-me-not you can easily see; for its name “touch-me-not” comes from the fact that if you touch too roughly one of its well-grown pods, this will spring open and jerk out its seeds in the way I have just described.

In Europe grows a curious plant called the “squirting cucumber” (Fig. 76). Its fruit is a small cucumber, which becomes much inflated with water. When this is detached from its stalk, its contents are “squirted” out as if from a fountain, and the seeds are thus thrown to a distance of many feet.

THE CHESTNUT AND OTHER SEEDS

At the head of this chapter you see the fruit of the chestnut tree (Fig. 77).

What fine October days this picture brings to mind,—clear, cold mornings when we arm ourselves with baskets and a club, and go chestnuting.

Usually the boys climb the tree, and shake the branches till the open burrs rattle out their contents. But sometimes a teasing cluster refuses to set loose its treasure. Then the club comes into play. If it strikes the great burrs, and raps out their fat chestnuts, a shout of joy follows.

What a delight it is to hunt in the long grass for the glossy brown beauties just after a sudden shower from above! No one speaks. All are bent low in breathless search.

I know of nothing much more perfect in its way than an open chestnut burr, still holding its two or three fine nuts. Its green, prickly outer covering makes a fine contrast to the velvety brown lining; and within this beautiful case the plump, shining nuts are laid with the daintiest care.

Perhaps the chestnut burr is even safer as a seed case than the apple. While its seeds (the chestnuts) are young and unripe, it does not stop to plead, “Pray; don’t destroy my baby nuts!” but it seems to call out sternly, “Hands off!” and promptly punishes the boy or girl who disobeys this rough command.

But when the chestnut seeds are quite ripe, then it opens as wide as it knows how; and very tempting it looks as it unfolds its contents. A chestnut tree in October looks like one great invitation.

The acorn (Fig. 78), the seed of the oak tree, is pretty enough as a plaything, but less pleasing than the chestnut. Only the squirrel seems to find it fair eating.

The trees which hide their seeds in nutshells contrive in different ways to send them abroad.

Many of these nuts are hoarded as winter food by the squirrels. Often in a moment of fright these little creatures drop them by the way. Again, they forget just where they deposited their hoard, or for some other reason they leave it untouched. Thus many nuts are scattered, and live to change into trees.

Others may fall into the water, and float to distant shores. The cocoanut, for example, has been carried in this way for hundreds of miles. Its outer covering protects the seed from being soaked or hurt by water; and when at last it is washed upon some distant shore, it sends up a tall cocoanut tree.

SOME STRANGE STORIES

When I began to tell you children about the different ways in which plants send their young out into the world, I had no idea that I should take so much time, and cover so many pages with the subject. And now I realize that I have not told you one half, or one quarter, of all there is to tell.

You have learned that seeds are scattered abroad by animals that eat the bright cases in which they are packed, and by animals into whose hair or clothing they manage to fasten themselves.

You know that sometimes seeds are blown through the air by means of silky sails to which they are fastened, or else by their little wings.

You discovered that certain plants actually pushed their young from their cozy homes in no gentle fashion, much as a mother bird shoves her timid little ones from the edge of the nest.

And in the last chapter you read that occasionally seeds were floated by water to distant shores.

Now, these are the chief ways in which plants contrive to dispose of their seeds; but they are not the only ways. Before leaving the subject altogether, I will mention a few plants which use other contrivances.

This picture (Fig. 79) shows you the fruit of the poppy. Many of you know it well. In the fall you find in the garden these pretty seedboxes. They answer famously as pepper pots, if one chances to be playing house in the orchard.

Just below the top of the poppy seedbox the picture shows you a circle of little openings; and inside the seedbox are many poppy seeds (Fig. 80).

But how can seeds get out of these openings, do you suppose?

If they were lower down, it would be an easy matter for the seeds to drop out, right on the ground. But perhaps it is well that this cannot happen. Did such a quantity of seeds fall upon one small bit of earth, they would have a poor chance for life.

Well, then, you ask, must they wait patiently in the seedbox till some child comes along and pulls it off for a pepper pot?

No, they are not obliged to wait always for you children. This is fortunate for the poppy plants that are so unlucky as to live in lonely gardens where no children ever play.

Then what _does_ happen?

If you will go out into the garden the next windy fall day, you will see for yourselves. You will see the tall poppy plants swaying to and fro with every gust of wind; and you will see how the seedboxes are tossed from side to side, and that every now and then a very violent toss sends the little seeds tumbling head over heels out of the little openings just as effectively as if the wind too were playing house and using them as pepper pots.

When the seeds are let loose in this way, the tall poppy plants are swayed so far to one side, and the wind is blowing so hard, that they land upon the ground much farther from home than would have been the case had they fallen through openings cut in the lower part of the seedbox.

In the East grows a strange plant called the “rose of Jericho.” Its fruit is a pod. When this plant is nearly ready to get rid of its seeds, what do you think it does? It lets go its hold upon the earth, curls itself up into a little ball, and is driven here and there by the wind. When it finds a nice damp place, it stops and uncurls itself; and the little pods split open, and drop their seeds on the earth.

Some plants bear fruit that look very much like insects. It is believed that sometimes these are taken for such, and snapped up by birds, and thus succeed in getting away from home.

This picture (Fig. 81) shows you a pod which, as it lies upon the ground, looks like a centiped.

Here you have a seed which is shaped and marked like a beetle (Fig. 82).

The next picture (Fig. 83) shows you a seed from the castor-oil plant. You can see that it might easily be mistaken for some insect.

Think how disappointed the bird must be, after having greedily snapped up and carried off one of these little objects, to discover that for all his pains he has secured nothing but a dry, tough pod or seed.

But if the mother plant really does any thinking at all, cannot you fancy how she chuckles with delight over the trick she has played, and the clever way in which she has started her young on its travels?

There is still another way in which birds help to scatter seeds. They alight in wet places, covering their little feet with mud. Now, a clot of mud may contain many different seeds; and for days this clot may stick to the bird’s foot, and thus cause the seeds it holds to be carried for hundreds of miles.

Have you ever heard of Darwin? He was a great man who spent most of his life in studying plants and animals.

How many years do you suppose he was interested in the study of those long, brown worms which you find in quantities in the lawn and after heavy rains along the sidewalk? At intervals for forty-four years he studied these little creatures which you girls think ugly and uninteresting enough, although the boys know they make fine fish bait.

Well, Darwin once raised eighty-two plants from seeds contained in a clot of earth which was clinging to the leg of a partridge. So you can see that when a bird gets his feet wet, he may really be doing the world a service. And it is not likely that he takes cold himself.

Now, I want you children to see how many different ways you can recall in which plants scatter abroad their little seeds; and later I want you to go out into the garden, or into the woods, and see if you cannot discover many of the seeds about which you have been reading. But better still it would be if you could find others of which I have told you nothing.

I should like you to make a list of the different plants which you find in fruit, putting after each name a slight description of the way in which it gets rid of its seeds. This will not be a stupid task at all if you set your mind to it. It will give your walks a new pleasure, and it will bring to your school work something of the freshness and joy which belong to the woods.