ArilD ITS ]=1\ieND5 0m \ 3lLV%R BUFyjEJT ^©MPAHY %w^ PUBU5HE(\S Cornell XHntversiti^ OF THE IRew l?ork State College of Hgrkulture ..J^',...2^.f.A a.B/^/^A.. Cornelt University Library QK 49.B8 The plant baby and its friends. 3 1924 001 731 516 Cornell University Library The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 924001 731 51 6 LILACS. Miliais. THE Plant Baby and Its Friends KATE LOUISE BROWN A Nature Reader for Primary Grades SILVER, BURDETT AND COMPANY New York . . . BOSTON . , . Chicago 1899 Copyright, 1897, By Silver, Burdett and Company, TO Sarab Xouise Ernolb. O Nature ! loving Nature! The mother-side of God, We see thy faithful tending Where'er our feet have trod. There's mystery in every seed, And glory in the flower ; The meanest grass blade speaks of thee. Thy tenderness and power. So we go on, not knowing. Thy glory veils our sight. The child-heart and the child's deep faith Will guide the soul aright. PREFACE. The Plant Baby and Its Friends is the outcome of some years of happy experience in the schoolroom with a flock of country children. The need was felt of attractive reading- matter to supplement the natural-science work being performed by the classes. It is easier to interest children in simple stories about Nature than in the technical treatment of the regular schoolbook ; and the author believes that the science story- book, conscientiously prepared with accuracy and skill, should precede the more formal text-book on the same subject, up to which it will naturally lead. The subjects of the various chapters in The Plant Baby will indicate to the teacher a simple yet orderly method of pro- cedure, from the plant in germ to the full flower. There is little in the whole book that a young child may not find out for himself, with some guiding. It is earnestly urged that, so far as possible, the work of observation be carried out with the specimens in hand, before the reading is attempted, so that the book may become the confirmation of the child's original research. Where this is not altogether practicable, let the teacher furnish as many illustrations as she can of the subjects taken up in each reading lesson. As a rule, technical terms have been avoided. Experience has shown, however, that little people of six and seven can 7 8 PREFACE. learn to use such terms as cotyledons and corolla as readily and understanding^ as many other words which they appro- priate without instruction. Cotyledon, meaning the half of the plant baby's cradle, is no more difficult for them to master than Angelina, their little mate's name. To learn to see, and to give loving attention to, Nature in her various moods, — that is the ideal to be stimulated. The aim has been to furnish a good literary style, even while adopting the child's vocabulary to a considerable extent. It is better to tell the child a word now and then than, by too great simplicity, to lower the quality of what he reads. It is earnestly hoped by the author that a lively interest in the study of Nature's marvels may be first awakened in the minds of many young children by the reading of this little book, and that from this elementary training may grow so strong a love of Nature-study, in a few at least, as to make them our future best interpreters of plant life. Especial credit is due to Mrs. Constance van Diest Col- lins for the rare skill, taste, and fidelity to nature evinced in the many beautiful pictures which illustrate this work. June, i8gj. ^%l. CQM7C0S Pagb I. The Little Plant; Its Food XVI AND Home '3 II. The Little Plant . . . 14 XVII III. The Plant Baby's Feet and XVIII Hands . . . . 15 XIX IV. The King's Seeds . . 17 XX V. Seed Sowing in Egypt . 18 VI. Plant Roots . . . '9 XXI VII. The Root Servants 20 XXII VIII. The Stem .... ... 21 XXIIL IX. The Leaf Nurses . 22 XXIV. X. The Happy Leaves .... 23 XI. The Leaflets . . . 24 XXV XII. Jack Frost's Frolic 25 XXVI. XIII. The Parts of a Leap . . 27 XXVII XIV. Shapes of Leaves . . . 28 XXVIII XV. Leaf Margins 30 XXIX Page Mother Nature and the Leaves. 31 The Good Little Leaves 32 Leaf Veining 33 The Three Little Leaves 35 The Flower. The Lit- tle Cup 37 Mother Nature's Play . 38 The Little Crown . . 40 The Merry Little M«n . 41 The Pistil and Its Parts About Pollen . . . The Bee's Errand . . Bees and Butterflies How Pollen Behaves The Catkin .... 42 43 44 45 47 48 lO CONTENTS. XXX. Our Plant Baby Grown LII Up 49 XXXI. The Corn Leaf . . SI LIII. XXXII. A Sleepy Song . . S3 XXXIII. In the Pine Grove . S4 XXXIV. The Oak Leaf. . . S6 LIV. XXXV. The Oak Leaves . . 57 .XXXVI. The Grape Leaf . . S8 XXXVII. Leaves to have Fun LV. WITH .... 59 LVI. tXXVIII. Wake-Robin . . . 6o LVII. XXXIX. What a Plant is . . 63 LVIII. XL. A Very Strange Plant 65 LIX. XLI. What Happened to LX. Marion's Shoes . . 67 XLII. Marion Finds a Patient LXI. Plant .... 70 LXII. XLIII. Marion's Dream . . 72 LXIII. XLIV. Ferns ... 75 LXIV. XLV. The Fern's Story . 77 LXV XLVI. The Little Fern 78 LXVI XLVII. A Spinning Wheel Story .... 81 LXVII. XLVIII. The Cotton Plant . 85 XLIX. A Little About Stems 87 LXVIII. L. What the Forest Told LXIX Marion 89 LI. Pine Music 93 LXX Plants that Live on Others How Plants Protect Themselves from An- imals What Plants do for the Life of Our World . . . Dance of the Daisies . Wonderful .... The Evening Primrose . An Evening Visitor . . The Primrose .... Wild Flowers of Mount Washington . . . Uncle Will's Letter . What is an Animal? . What is a Mineral? Seed Food . .... Time Flowers . . The Humming Bird's Work What the Violets told Elsie Maple Seeds ... Bobby Burr and His Travels .... Bobby Burr's Story . . 94 96 100 100 102 103 104 106 109 III "3 "S 116 118 120 122 123 125 CONTENTS. II Page LXXI. Little Travelers in THE Air . . . . 128 LXXII. The Milkweed Nest . 131 LXXIII. Seeds with Wings . . 132 LXXIV. Seeds with Wings — Continued 134 LXXV. Witch-Hazel . . .136 LXXVI. Witch-Hazel— C<7«- tinued . ... . . 138 LXXVII. Mother Poppy's Chil- dren 141 Page LXXVIII. Mother Poppy's Chil- dren — Continued . 143 LXXIX. Dandelion . . . 145 LXXX. Clover .... 146 LXXXI. Daisies 147 LXXXII. Snowdrop .... 148 LXXXIII. Invitation .... 149 LXXXIV. The Crocus . . . 149 LXXXV. Gentian 150 LXXXVI. Flower Mothers . 151 A'aiuri\ tin: old juirsf, look ' _ _ ^'' The child upon her knee, ■Cj. Saving, ''Hire is a s/oiy-bool: " 4i^j> / J '^''"' Father hath '.written for thee. •' CofN(\ ii'duiftr icifh inc,^" sJie said, '■'■ Into }'egioi!s Vc-f 21 ulrod. An if read --Ljliat is still niircad 1)1 }Ji€ ?)iafn(s<.-ripis of Godi" LoNt.;FELLL)W, Birt'lday Pi'iui f.> .-iQiissiz. The Plant Baby AND ITS FRIENDS. I. THE LITTLE PLANT; ITS FOOD AND HOME. b° O you know what is in every seed ? Let us see. It is a little plant. It is like a baby. The seed is its cradle. Our baby could not live long without food. The plant baby can, but it must have food in order to grow. The real baby does not sleep many hours at a time. The plant baby can sleep for years in its seed cradle. What does the real baby live on? Why, milk of course. We have to give the milk to it. The plant baby is not so helpless. It can get its own food from the earth and the air; but not until after it has left its seed cradle. Before it leaves its cradle, its food covers it. 13 H THE PLANT BABY. Now I will tell you something very wonderful. Look at this bean, and tell me what you see. I see a little hole in it. It looks as if some one had pricked it with a pin. Did you prick it ? No, it was there before. God put it there. It is the door of the plant baby's little house. The plant baby comes through that little door to see the light. Good-morning, little plant! Come out of your house. The door is all ready and open. Noil.. — Soak some large beans in zuann zvater over niglii. Slip off the outer skin, and move the halves apart earefnlly to find the plant. II. THE LITTLE PLANT. In the heart of a seed, Buried deep, so deep, A dear little plant Lay fast asleep. " Wake ! " said the sunshine, " And creep to the light." " Wake ! " said the voice Of the raindrops bright. THE PLANT BAB Y. 1 5 . The little plant heard, And it rose to see What the wonderful Outside world might be. III. THE PLANT BABY'S FEET AND HANDS. T^HE baby presses his feet down and •^ lifts his hands up when he awakes. So does the plantlet. We call its foot the radicle. The word " radicle " means a little root. The roots grow from the radicle. The radicle goes down into the earth. We call its hand the plumule. This reaches up into the air. The leaves and flowers come from it. The word " plumule " means little plume, or feather. The real baby screams and kicks. The plant baby is very good and patient. You cannot keep its radicle from growing down, nor its plumule from going upward. 1 6 THE PLANT BABY. Teacher. Grace, dear, do you remember what we did with our bean seeds this spring? Grace. Oh, yes! Miss Gray. We put our beans in warm water, and let them soak. Teacher. What happened to them? Willie. The shiny, outside skin became loose, so that we could take it right off. Helen. We split the bean into two thick leaves. yosephine. I know what we called them. It was a hard name, but I remember it. The thick leaves are cotyledons. Teacher. What did you find in between the coty- ledons? Howard. We found a tiny radicle. Hattie. Yes, Miss Gray, and a wee, wee plumule. Teacher. The heat of the sun and the moisture of the rain woke the baby plant from its sleep. It stretched and grew big, till its cradle burst. Note. — Examine the parts of the bean, and develop terms Radicle, Plumule, and Cotyledon. Draw the parts on the board, and write names opposite them. Let the children try to draw the parts. THE PLANT BAB Y. 1 7 IV. THE KING'S SEEDS. CAR away across the sea is a country ■*• called Egypt. The best part of Egypt is just a strip of land on each side of a broad river. This river is the Nile. In this country there are great heaps of stones, called pyramids. They are higher than our church spires. What do you think they are for? They are the tombs of great kings who lived long, long ago. It was many years before any one could find the way inside these pyramids. At last, when an entrance was made, many strange things were found. The bodies of the kings were decked with gold and gems. Seeds were found in these tombs which had been there for thousands of years. What a long time for the plant baby to sleep! The story says that when these seeds were planted they sprang up and bore leaves and blossoms. The little plant heard, and it rose to see What the wonderful outside world might be. 1 8 THE PLANT BABY. V. SEED SOWING IN EGYPT. I CAN tell you another story about Egypt. Every year the river Nile overflows its banks. The low lands on either side are covered with water. It is a time of great joy. All the boats are trimmed with flags, flowers, and colored lanterns. They look very lovely at night. As the water covers the low lands, it brings with it much soft, rich mud. The men go out in boats, arid throw the seed into the water. The seed sinks into the mud, and sprouts very quickly. When the water goes away, it soon springs up and bears its fruit. Do you see why the people of Egypt love the Nile so much ? Do you see why they are so glad when it rises and overflows its banks ? • Were it not for the Nile, their country would be only a part of the hot, sandy desert beyond. When I was a little girl I learned this Bible verse, "Cast thy bread upon the waters; for thou shalt find it after many days." Do you know now what that .means ? THE PLANT BABY. 1 9 VI. PLANT ROOTS. " "\ ^ 7HAT have you, Howard, in * ^ those dirty little hands of yours ? " Howard laughed. It was vacation time, and he was running wild, like a little colt. "It is just a beet. Auntie. I got it out of the cellar. It is the very ^ The Beef' last one. I thought you would tell me something about it." "Go, bring me a daisy plant, roots and all." Howard soon came back with his daisy. "Tell me the parts of your daisy plant." Howard began, ■ — " Roots, stem, leaves, buds, flowers." "Now the beet" — "Why, Auntie, — is the beet-part the root? It grows in the ground. What a funny root ! " "We call it a fleshy root, because it is so stout. There are other fleshy roots. Can you fiame them ? " 20 THE PLANT BABY. "Why, the carrot must be one, — and the radish — yes, and the parsnip." "These are all fleshy roots. What kind of root has the daisy?" " Not a bit like the beet. There are many little roots. They spread out like threads." "Yes, Howard, we can call them thread-like roots. Now see how many fleshy roots and how many thread-like roots you can find." Note. — Let the children bring in a collection of fleshy and thread-like roots. Da^isy VII. THE ROOT SERVANTS. TITTLE roots, what are you doing? ■*--' We are getting food from the soil. Is it not dark down there ? Yes, dear child, we cannot see one ray of light. Are you not afraid ? Oh, no ! we are not afraid. What could harm us ? THE PLANT BABY. 21 Is it not very dull ? We are too busy to feel dull. Though it is dark down here, the earth is full of sweet sounds. We hear the music of the water as it seeks an outlet. It says, "To the light ! To the light!" The song of the sap, as it rises in the plant, is sweet too. Would you not like to find the light, little root ? Yes, my child ; but I am content. I can hold my plant firmly, and my leaves and flowers can see the light if I cannot. Good-by, little roots ! You are brave and true. I love you. VIII. THE STEM. STEM, what are you good for? I hold the leaves and flowers. I grow from the roots. They send up sap through me. I bend when the wind sweeps against me. If I could not bend, I should break. Then the plant would die. I grow straight up toward the sun. I would like to be a tree. As I cannot, I will be the best stem I can. I am like the trunk of your body, little child. 22 THE PLANT BABY. IX. THE LEAF NURSES. IHE big leaves are very kind to the J little ones. When they have grown as large as they can, they become nurses to the baby leaves just above. They get all the food they can from the air and the sunshine, because they are so big. Then they pass it to the wee new leaves. " Eat this and grow, dear little leaves," they say. They never forget the tiny new leaves. Let us ask the leaves to tell their own story. Pretty, pretty leaves, you are so happy, fluttering in the sunshine. Tell us your story, dear leaves. The little leaves laugh and dance in the breeze. They are so happy they cannot keep still. At last they begin to answer us in the tiniest voices. If we are very quiet we shall hear the story of what they are doing all the day. THE PLANT BABY. 23 X. THE HAPPY LEAVES. w shine. E leaves are very busy. We take in food from the air and the sun- We pass it along to the baby leaves just unfolding. Are we not good nurses ? Look at us, little child; what do you see? Why, you are just covered with tiny dots on the under side ! These dots are the mouths of little tubes. They keep drawing in food from the air. We are not greedy. It is not for ourselves alone. It is for our baby leaves. We spread out very broadly. We get all we can. Oh ! we are happy, happy leaves. We care for the baby leaves. We help man. Who would not be a leaf? Note. — Examine leaves with the children, and call attention to the dots and hairs. 24 THE PLANT BABY. XI. THE LEAFLETS. ANCE, little leaflets, dance 'Neath the tender sky of spring ! Dance in the golden sun To the tune that the robins sing ! Now you are light and young, Just fit for a baby play ; So, dance, little leaflets, dance, And welcome the merry May ! Sway, little leaflets, sway In the ardent sunlight's glow ! Oh ! what a sleepy world, — For August has come, you know. Many a drowsy bird Is drooping its golden crest ; So, sway, little leaves, and rock The orioles in their nest ! Swing, little leaflets, swing ! The quail pipes in the corn ; Under the harvest sun The cardinal flower is born. THE PLANT BABY. 25 Russet and gold and red, — Little leaves, you are gayly dressed ; Is it holiday time with you. That you have put on your best ? Fall, little leaflets, fall ! Your mission is not sped ; Shrill pipes the winter wind. And the happy summer's dead. Make now a blanket warm For the flowers, till spring winds call ; You must carpet the waiting earth. So, fall, little leaflets, fall ! XII. JACK FROST'S FROLIC. ONE still night in autumn Jack Frost stole out to have some fun. First he blew among the flowers; but gently, for Jack was not the worst of fellows. How the little ladies shivered, and drooped their pretty heads ! "It's so cold!" said gentle Aster. " Tuck up your toes, and go to bed," cried Jack, as he hurried by. 26 THE PLANT BABY. When he came to the maple leaves, he gave them such a nip that they blushed quite red with anger. The chestnuts, next day, were surprised to find themselves in yellow satin gowns. " Now we can go to October's party," they cried in high glee. Jack danced around the \\alnut tree, and cracked the thick husks so that the nuts fell to the ground. But the best fun of all, Jack had ^\'ith an old gray fence. " Go away," said the fence, " you make me cold ! " " Never mind ! " said Jack, painting it up and down with his The next morning the old fence wore cr\' stal brush. a dress ot ic)' spangles, soft and fine as down. THE PLANT BABY. XIII. THE PARTS OF A LEAF. UR friend, the leaf, has more to tell about herself. The thin green part is the blade. Sometimes it is very broad, as is the maple leaf. Again it is very narrow, like the grass blade. The blade is joined to the main stem 4&^^-^ by another stem ; this is the petiole. Some leaves have no petioles. They sit on the stems as little birds sit on the telegraph wires. I think such leaves look very pretty. But they cannot flutter when the wind comes. The tip end of the leaf is its apex. Apex means a point. Some leaves are very sharp at the point. Other leaves are very blunt. The lower part of the blade is the base. The edge of the blade is the margin. Can you tell all the parts of this leaf? Draw a leaf, and mark the parts. 28 THE PLANT BABY. XIV. SHAPES OF LEAVES. Teacher. I see that you all have leaves to show me to-day. Yes, and no two are alike. I shall be glad to know about them. Nora. This little grass blade is long and narrow, almost like a line. Some call it blade- shaped, others linear. That means like a line. The needles of the pine and hem- lock are of this shape. Roy. This maple leaf is very broad. It has five points like the five fingers of a hand. We may call it a hand-shaped leaf. Some maple leaves have only three points. Mabel. This elm leaf is shaped like an We call its shape oval. Elsie. This lilac leaf is heart- shaped. Burton. The nasturtium leaf AnEimLeaj -^ y^^^ ^ shield, and the geranium is nearly round, or circular. a ui^^c lea^f. Lilian. The calla leaf is shaped like an arrowhead. A Blade oj Gra.S5 THE PLANT BABY. 29 Pansy. This funny little sorrel leaf looks at the base like an ear. A Sorrel Lea.f A. /t^sturMum Leevf AC&llaLeaJ. Teacher. Many leaves have even different shapes from these. You can find them if you keep your eyes open. You may make a list of the shapes we have already found, and learn to spell the words. Linear, or Blade- shaped ; Heart-shaped ; Hand-shaped ; Arrowhead-shaped ; Ear-shaped ; Shield-shaped ; Oval; Circular. Green leaves, what are you doing- Up there on the tree so high ? We are shaking hands with the breezes, As they go singing by. What, green leaves ! Have you fingers ? Then the Maple laughed with glee — ■ Yes, just as many as you have ; Count the'm, and you will see ! 30 THE PLANT BABY. XV. LEAF MARGINS. Teacher. What did we call the edge of the leaf? We called it a margin. Let us look at the margins of some of our leaves. Tell me about the margin of your lilac leaf, Alice. Alice. It is straight all the way round. Vernon. It isn't scalloped like some of the other leaves. Teacher. We call such an edge an entire margin. Bertha. All the lily leaves have entire margins. Dean. So have the grass blades. Teacher. What kind of a margin has r^wl^ this oak leaf? ^K^ Maud. It is scalloped. I have an apron vh^ all scalloped. Mabel. The elm leaf has a margin like AnOekkLe^f. the teeth of a saw. Teacher. There are other kinds of margins, but these are the most common. Note. — Let the children collect leaves, and sort them by margins. ALil^i Le&f. THE PLANT BABY. 3 1 XVI. MOTHER NATURE AND THE LEAVES. OTHER NATURE loves her leaf children very -^ ' *• dearly She likes to make them as beautiful as she can. She does not dress them all alike; and perhaps the leaves, like real children, sometimes fuss over their clothes. One day a little lily leaf was crying to herself, when Mother Nature passed by. "Dear me! what's the trouble now?" said the good lady. " I want to be pretty like the rose leaves," sobbed the lily. "Their margins are cut in little points. I do think that is just lovely. Now, my margin is only straight." "But you are so big," cried the rose leaves. "We are very small, and we would give anything to be as big as you are." The maple leaf stood out very straight and proud. "My edge is very curious," it said. "Mother Na- ture took her scissors and cut it out in great style. She must love me very much." 32 THE PLANT BABY. "Look here," said a horse-chestnut leaf, "don't feel too fine ! I am cut very carefully in seven parts." "Dear me!" said Mother Nature, quite vexed. "Stop such foolish talk. 'Fine feathers do not make fine birds.' A Horse-che.lnuf Le^f « J ^^^^ y^^ ^U ^5 J wanted yOU to be. The best-behaved leaf is the most beautiful one. Go to work now, and stop fussing." Do you not think the leaves were ashamed? XVII. THE GOOD LITTLE L&AVES. OCTOBER came ; each leaf was dressed In red and amber quite its best. The hills were wrapped in faint blue haze, And asters smiled in forest ways. Jack Frost -stole out in quiet hours, He breathed upon the shivering flowers ; They rubbed their eyes, and bowed full low; They nodded fast — 'twas time to go. The leaves grew sleepy ; the great tree said, " Good-night, my children, 'tis time for bed." So the little leaves did as they were told, And soon were dreaming in nightgowns gold. THE PLANT BABY. 33 d h XVIII. LEAF VEINING. ^OOK at the back of this leaf. What do r^ ^ 'I you see running from the petiole to the Jf W^ apex ? ^ ^^ I see something that looks like a stem. It is a rib. Do you see other ribs in this leaf ? Yes, there are five ribs, one running to each point. And I see tiny little ribs running from the larger ribs into every corner of the leaf. Those are veins. We have veins in our bodies. They carry blood. The ribs and veins of a leaf carry sap. But we find leaves veined in different ways. Look at this elm leaf. It has one large rib run- ning from base to apex. There are veins from this midrib running parallel with one another out to the margin. Why, it looks like a feather ! See, it is a feather- veined leaf! The rose has a feather-veined leaf. The maple is net-veined. Net-veining is sometimes very beautiful. 34 777^ PLAXT BABY. The lily leaf is parallel-veined. All leaves are veined in one of these three ways. Tell me what kinds of veining these leaves have: — walnut, chestnut, morn- ing-glory, corn, catnip, clover, geranium, willow. A vierekn Jum LeaJ' A Chestnut Leaf THE PLANT BABY. ^b XIX. THE THREE LITTLE LEAVES. THREE little leaf stalks were in a vase on . ^- Marion's table. They began to talk to- gether. "Why, isn't it queer?" said the money-plant. "My leaves are in pairs, and they are oppo- site on the stem." "We like that," said the pairs of leaves; "we can talk 'together so nicely. "We have our se- crets. If one of us does not know how much food to give to the baby-pair just above us, we ask our sister what she thinks." The leaves on the next stalk looked very sad. "We are not in pairs," said one leaf. " My sister next above me is on the other side of the stem. 30 THE PLANT BABY. " I try to talk to her, and she tries to listen. I think it would be nice to have some one next to me. But my sister peeps -around the stem, and looks down at me." The third stalk was silent. But the first one said, "Oh, look at the honey- suckle stalk! How funny her leaves are ! They grow right around the stem." none^^suckie " Ycs," Said the funny leaves. "We love the stem so much, we hug it as tightly as we can." Note. — Develop terms Opposite and Alternate with the chil- dren; and let each child make a collection of each kind of leaves. Come, little leaves,'^ said the wind, one day, ''Vlt I r 1 / J " Come over the meadows with me and play J " THE PLANT BABY 37 XX. THE FLOWER. THE LITTLE CUP. Y pretty buttercup, have you anything to show me to- day ? " "Yes, dear child; what do you see at the end of my stem ? " " Why, I see a circle of tiny green leaves. It is like a little cup. You rest in the cup." " My little cup is a calyx. How many parts do you see in my calyx ? " "I see five parts. They are long and pointed. The tips turn back toward the stem. They are pale yellow-green, and they are covered with little hairs." " Each part of my calyx is a sepal." " I like your calyx. Does every flower have a calyx? " " The lemon lily has none." " Poor lemon lily ! I am sorry for you. A calyx is very pretty." " Miss Gray," said Ethel, " I think the calyx looks as much like a little collar as a cup." 38 THE PLANT BABY. " So do I, Ethel. Miss Buttercup looks very pretty, does she. not ? " " Do you remember the story of the Bethlehem flower, that grows in such clumps in the fields ? " "Yes, Ethel; we have often had this pretty star flower in the schoolroom." "That had no calyx, but there was a green stripe in the middle of each petal on the under side." " I'm glad you remember that. It is as if Mother Nature took her brush, and painted picture sepals on each petal. Perhaps it was to comfort the little flower because it had no calyx." "How funny, Miss Gray! but I like to have you think such nice things." XXI. MOTHER NATURE'S PLAY. ONCE, Mother Nature, on her way Across the land one sunny day, Took out her paint box bright. She laughed a little to herself, — The dear, old, happy, roguish elf, — To see the pretty sight. THE PLANT BABY. 39 Her children crowded round her feet, With faces bright and perfume sweet, And called her by her name ; And, quicker even than you'd think. She put a little touch of pink. Like point of rosy flame, On apple blossom's cheek of snow. Then Mother Nature, bending- low Amone the grasses wild, Low-creeping, close upon the ground,— With many a happy laugh, soon found Another pretty child. You know the rest, — ^^and how to-day, As token of that merry play. Dear Bethlehem's Star doth wear A painted calyx softly green, — A token in its dainty sheen Of Nature's loving care. ^^'V-/^^-«r^: 40 , THE PLANT BABY. XXII. THE LITTLE CROWN. " T ITTLE buttercup, your calyx is very pretty. But- -^ I see another circle of leaves inside it. They are bright yellow. Oh, how they shine ! " The buttercup bent her pretty head low. " I will tell you something," she said ; " only do not think me proud. I am a queen. My circle of yel- low leaves is my crown. Its real name is corolla. " I like my corolla. It makes me look beautiful. It calls the bees and butterflies to visit me. They find honey in my cup. I like to have them come. They bring fine yellow dust to help ripen my seeds. " My petals are the leaves of my corolla. When my petals fall, they are like gold dollars. The chil-. dren play with them, they are so pretty." Buttercup lets fall her gold. Little hands, what riches hold Fairy dollars, free to all, By the roadside thickly fall. Buttercup, buttercup, green and gold, Give me your shining money to hold ! THE PLANT BABY. 41 XXIII. THE MERRY LITTLE MEN. Teacher. What do you see about the center of this flower, children ? Burton. I see some little threads with knobs on Daisy. They look like pins. See! the knob is like the head of the pin. Teacher. We call them stamens. The word stamen means a little thread. The knob on top is an anther. It is a tiny box full of dusty pollen. When the pollen is ripe the box cracks open. Then the pollen flies out. Flossy. I think the stamens are like little men with caps on. Teacher. Yes, you are right. We will call them the merry little men. They are standing in a ring. When the wind blows, they are dancing. " Dance ! ye merry little men!" Daisy. Doesn't the pollen fly out when they dance ? Teacher. Not until the flower is ripe. The boxes do not break before that, — remember! a.nd Pistil of the Wood Lily 42 THE PLANT BABY. XXIV. THE PISTIL AND ITS PARTS. T^HE merry little men stand up about something -^ in the very center of the flower. We call this center the pistil. It is the best part of the plant, because it holds the seeds. It is put in the center to be kept safe. The pistil is in three parts. It means a little pestle. The lowest part of the pistil holds the seeds, and is called the ovary. Running up from the ovary is a tube. This tube is named the style. The style ends in a little bunch called the stigma. The style is like a pillar or post. It is hollow. The styles of some plants are long. Often they are longer than the stamens. The stigma is like a tiny door. Its edges are sticky ; when the pollen falls there, it cannot get away- Ovary means a place for eggs. "What! Are there eggs in a plant?" Yes ; the seeds are the eggs. The ovary is the &'g%, or seed, case. It has several tiny rooms. Each room holds a seed or a row of seeds. THE PLANT BABY. 43 The seeds are very safe and happy in their rooms. They are warm, and their food is all about them. What a kind, careful mother Nature is ! She does not forget one thing that will make her children beautiful and useful. Note. — 'Let the children collect flowers, and cut them apart to find the pistil, its ovary, style, and stigma. XXV. ABOUT POLLEN. P)OLLEN is the colored dust we find in some A flowers. Usually it is yellow. In the tiger lily it is a red-brown. Do you ask me what it is good for? The seeds will not ripen without it. Some plants have no stamens, so they are without pollen. Poor little plants ! They must get pollen in some way, or there will be no new plants next year. How do they get it ? I think you will laugh when I tell you. It is one of Mother Nature's prettiest stories. 44 THE PLANT BABY. XXVI. THE BEE'S ERRAND. What is that buzzing in the morning-glory cup ? "Good-morning, Mr. Bee. What is your work to-day ? " " I am gathering honey, as usual, and I am after pollen too. I make beebread out of the pollen. " I have baskets in my hind legs. When I come home to the hive they are packed full. Then I run a few errands for my little friends, the flowers. "You see, they want pollen very much. My breast and legs get well covered with it; so that, when I go to a flower for honey, I pay in pollen." Bee, bee, hasten to me ! I have an errand ready for thee ; Pollen I want, though I have no money, Yet I will pay thee well in honey. Hasten quickly to me ! THE PLANT BABY. 45 The XXVII. BEES AND BUTTERFLIES. TTOW the flowers must love the bees! -^ -^ Yes, the bees are the flowers' best friends. flowers try to get the bees to come to them. They make their petals as bright as they can. They send out sweet odors, and seem to say, " Honey is here ! honey is here ! Come, give me pollen, and I'll give you honey." Their petals are like little flags hung out to tell the bees that honey is for sale. There's an auction to-day, just over the way, And all the bees are coming. Bum ! bum ! bum ! See, now they come ! With their humming and drumming. The flags are out, 'tis a merry rout. And more and more are coming. "Clover, have you sweets to sell? Give to me, I'll pay you well," The merry bees are humming. 46 THE PLANT BABY. Some flowers have iy;tle marks on them to show the bees where to find honey. Flowers like to have butterflies bring them pollen. Butterflies like flowers having the same color as their wings. What do you think I saw to- day, Fast asleep just over the way? Three butterflies ; I counted them, Fast asleep on a bluebell stem ! Blue were they as the summer sky. On the bluebell stem as I passed by. THE PLANT BABY. 47 XXVIII. HOW POLLEN BEHAVES. "CVEN if a flower has pollen of its own, it likes ■*— ' best to have some from another plant of the same kind. The seeds ripen better. When the pollen falls, it sticks to the stigma; ^zr'^ it swells and becomes too large to V^\ ; 71 y^ reach the ovary through the style. fir- T;f^ v"^ i'/XNT But Mother Nature provides for this in a beautiful way. The pollen grain sends out a little thread, which grows down into the ovary. This thread is itself a hollow tube, and is called the pollen tube. Every dot of pollen is a sac of oil. The oil falls down through the thread-like tube to the seeds in the ovary. So the seeds have a chance to ripen. Dear Mother Nature! you are so kind and loving to your children. You never forget them. 48 THE PLANT BABY. CMkin XXIX. THE CATKIN. PRETTY little catkin, Swinging in the sun ; Pretty little catkin, Has your work begun ? You are stretching downward; Do you want to see Just how long a catkin, Growing well, may be ? Pretty little catkin, Now your blossoms part, And the yellow pollen Scatters from your heart, Other seeds to ripen : This is what you do. Growing time is pleasant Both for us and you. Pretty little catkin, Swinging in the sun ; Pretty little catkin, Then your work is done. THE PLANT BABY. 49 XXX. OUR PLANT BABY GROWN UP. EAR little plant, it is a long" time *^ ' since we first saw you. Then you were in your cotyledon cradle. You were as white as snow. Now you are a dark green. Then you were less than a quarter of an inch long. Now you are almost a little tree. You have broad, green leaves and pretty blossoms. By and by you will be hung with long pods full of fruit. And all this has come from one little seed! How wonderful to think that so much was once packed away in a tiny seed ! Your roots have been reaching out underground, holding you firmly and seeking food for you. Your stem has been a channel for sap. Your leaves have been your lungs. Your blossoms have held the seeds. Everything in you has worked to care for anc to ripen those seeds. You will soon die, dear plan, but every seed will hold a new germ of life. 50 THE PLANT BABY. Next year each plant baby will awaken and grow as you did. You have many friends ; the earth, the air, the sun- shine, and the silver rain work for you. You make us glad, because you are so lovely. Children are God's plants. He gives them air and sunshine and food for their bodies. He gives them food for their minds and hearts too. Let us grow as the flowers do. Let us make our heart-gardens beautiful with kind deeds and true words. A little plant is very lovely. More beautiful still is a happy, growing, loving little child. THE PLANT BABY. 51 XXXI. THE CORN LEAF. "\ 'K TAS it a dream Marion had ? ' * She was playing in her papa's garden, and grew very hot and tired. She sat down to rest among the corn, which rose like a green rustling forest high above her head. The wind sang a sleepy song. The corn leaves waved gently to and fro. At last they began to whisper in soft, wee voices, — "Marion has come to see us, — Marion of the dark blue eyes that see everything; Marion of the golden locks that glimmer in the sunshine. She learns about the birds and flowers, this Marion. She is always looking and learning. ' Now she has come to learn our secrets. " Oh ! we will tell her, — our Marion. She steps carefully, she handles things gently. Look, Marion ! " 52 THE PLANT BABY. " My Stalk is a simple one," said a tall corn plant. " Lilies and sugar cane have stalks very like mine." "But Marion likes leaves. I must not chatter about other things. I would like to tell her about my silk or my blossoms, but that must wait. "My leaves are very long. They clasp about the stalk without any petiole. They are something like lily leaves. My lowest leaf is alone. There is no leaf opposite it. Above my lowest leaf, there seems to be a cluster. My stalk pushes its way up through these. As my stalk grows longer, there will be many lovely leaves on it. " My leaf is something like a grass blade, only longer. Then it has a stout, green rib running through the middle. On either side I am parallel- veined. I am blade-shaped. I have a very pointed apex. My margin is entire. I have little white hairs on my upper face. I flutter in the breeze. I grow and I grow, in the warm sunshine and gentle rain. " But Marion is here. She is very tired. Come, corn leaves ! sing a sleepy song, and put the darling in the land of dreams." THE PLANT BABY. ^■2> XXXII. A SLEEPY SONG. SWING low, sway so, and so, — and so ! Maid Marion is sleepy, sleepy Oh ! Down, down From her golden crown To the tips of her dear little toes, — Oh — Oh In golden lights that gleam and gleam. And weave a dainty dream, — a dream! Sweet, slow, The soft winds blow. And tasseled corn waves to and fro. Swing low, sway so, and so, — and so ! 'Neath golden lights that come and go Down, down. From her shining crown ! She lieth asleep — sway soft and low. 54 THE PLANT BABY. XXXIII. IN THE PINE GROVE. LL one afternoon, Marion and Uncle Will were in the pine grove, gathering cones for the open fires next winter. Marion saw that he gathered a great many twigs from the pine trees as they went through. At last they sat down to rest, and Uncle Will said, — " Do you know these twigs, Marion ? " "Yes; they are pines, of course." "Look at them. Are they alike?" " Why no, they are very different. I did not know there was such a difference in pines." " Tell me about this one." " Oh, I know that. It is a scrub pine. It is a homely, little tree. There are many in our field near the hill. They ""^^rui? Pine give very little shade. The needles are e^ves. short and thick, and blunt at the ends. There are two of them in the little sheath that fastens them to the twig. "Very well, Marion. Now here is the white pine. How does it differ from the scrub pine?" THE PLANT BABY. 55 White Pine Lea.ves I can " It is more beautiful, Uncle Will. The needles are longer, and pale green. I like the cones too. They are long and narrow." " Here is a pitch pine. Look at the leaves." "They are in threes, and are very dark and stiff." "What do you think of the leaves of a pine tree?" "They are like needles see ridges in them. They grow in clusters on the twigs. Miss Gray let us each put a bunch on our desks. We stood them up, and blew them just a little. They slid over the desk, and we called it dancing." " Listen, Marion ! hear the wind sing through the pine boughs!" Marion listened, and a sweet, sad murmur came stealing to them. " Do you remember that line in yack in the Pulpit, — ' Green fingers playing Unseen on wind lyres ? ' Pitch Pine Leave's 56 THE PLANT BABY. "A lyre is a harp, and the wind playing against the slender harp strings of the pines makes sweet music." Note. — Let the children draw pine sprigs from models, and notice differences in the three kinds. N Scarlet Oa.K XXXIV. THE OAK LEAF. EAR Miss Gray's schoolhouse were many oak trees. One of them the children loved dearlN-. It was very large, and in the fali every leaf turned a beautiful terra cotta, or red-brown, color. In the winter it still held its dr\ leaves while the other trees were ban The oak would hold on to those poor old leaves until they were pushed off by the new ones in the spring. One day they had a lesson on the oak leaf. THE PLANT BABY. 57 XXXV. THE OAK LEAVES. Burton. Oak leaves grow on a tree. Max. They grow in clusters. Elsie. Sometimes the leaves grow alone. Alice. Their shape would be oval if the margin were not cut in long scallops. Nora. One of these leaves is seven inches long. Roy. The leaf stalk swells out in a bunch where it joins the stem. Maud. It has one strong mid-rib and a smaller rib running out into each scallop. Francis. It is net-veined between the ribs. Alice. The under part is much lighter than the upper. I like the oak because it gives us acorns in their little cups. Fiddle-dee-dee ! Fiddle-dee-dee ! Two fairies were quarreling over their tea. It was served in a pretty acorn cup ; One naughty fairy drank it up ; The other was vexed and ran away, Crying that she would no more play. Fiddle-dee-dee ! Fiddle-dee-dee ! The fun was gone as well as the tea. 5«- THE' PLANT BABY. XXXVI. THE GRAPE LEAF. T^HE grape leaf grows on a vine. This vine throws -*• out shoots on either side. Look, and you will see that the shoots are first on one side of the stem, and then on the other. This is what we mean by " al- ternate." The leaves grow on these shoots. Each leaf grows alone. Opposite each leaf-stalk is a long, curly tendril. The leaves are very large and soft. They would be heart-shaped if they were not cut in three lobes. The ribs join at the base, and spread out into the lobes. Each main rib is feather-veined. The margin is cut in points, — some large, some small. A vein runs to each point. There is much difference between a grape leaf and a pine needle ; but both are beautiful. THE PLANT BABY. 59 XXXVII. LEAVES TO HAVE FUN WITH. /""^ATNIP and mint leaves are good to eat. So ^-^ • thinks little pussy; so thinks Marion. "You are only a kitty, after all," says Uncle Will. "Catnip is good to eat. Pussy and I think so," Marion replies, shaking her bright curls. The lilac leaf makes pretty three-cornered bags. Fold the apex down one third of the way to the stem, and fold the sides toward the mid-rib. There is your bag, with the leaf-stalk for a handle. Tuck a lilac blossom in each of the lower corners, and see if it isn't pretty. Do you know the plant called bag-weed? It has thick, oval leaves about two inches long. There is a silvery skin on the under side. If you hold the leaf in your mouth a while, the skin will separate from the leaf. Then you can blow into it, and you will have a puffy bag. Oak, and maple, and lilac leaves make nice wreaths. Sorrel is good to eat, and is very curious on account of its funny little ears. 6o THE PLANT TABY. XXXVIII. WAKE -ROBIN. ISS GRAY'S chil- dren studied about many plants this ^ spring. The wake- robin gave them so much pleasure that I would like to tell you about it. Miss Gray. What is the name of this flower? Donald. It is wake-robin. Its true family name is Trillium. What does the blossom do? Marie. It cuddles under the leaves. Burton. The stem curves. Miss Gray. Yes, so we call this kind the nodding trillium. Where does the wake-robin grow ? Nora. In wet places. It grows wild. Miss Gray. Can you tell me anything about its roots ? The children had not brought any roots; so they were told to find some, and to examine them closely. Miss Gray. THE PLANT BABY. 6 1 Miss Gray. Alice, describe the stem. Alice. It is long; some of the stems are over seven inches in length. It is pale green, and almost like a cylinder. Miss Gray. How are the leaves arranged ? Vernon. They are in a cluster of three at the top of the stalk. The flower stalk comes up in the center, and then curls down. Miss Gray. Tell me about the leaves, Elsie. Elsie. The wake-robin leaves are a very broad oval in shape. They end in a sharp point. The edge is entire, and the veins spread out from the base. The leaves droop. Claude. I think this plant is very cunning. It has three green sepals and three white petals. Ethel. Yes, first a sepal, then a petal, and so on. Willie. I see some purple streaks on the petals. Alice. There are six stamens. They are white, and there is a stripe of purple around the edge of each. Miss Gray. Look at the pistil. What is it like ? Hattie. The pistils look like three crook-necked squashes put together. 62 THE PLANT BABY. Alice. Oh ! they are like three swans with their breasts together. Isn't this a pretty flower? Henry. It's all in threes — three leaves, three sepals, three petals ; and the pistil is in three parts. Elsie. Yes, and two threes of stamens. Nora. I call it a boat flower — no, a water flower; for it grows in wet places. It has stamens which look like oars. Miss Gray. It is indeed a dear little flower, and your eyes have been very bright. I am glad you have seen so much. Wake-robin ! Wake-robin ! O Robin dear ! Come from the marshy thicket. For spring-tide days are here. Wake-robin ! Wake-robin ! O Robin dear ! Welcome the happy children, For spring-tide days are here. Note. — Let the children make a collection of field flowers, and see if they can find any that are three-parted. THE PLANT BABY. 63 *>5f^ft*<«- XXXIX. WHAT A PLANT IS. '^wYT'"^ study about plants in our school, Uncle ^ -'^ ^ ^^ Will." "What is a plant?" Now, Marion was a little girl but eight iif-#- years old ; yet she was learning to think. fj Instead of saying, "Oh! I don't know," '*^ or " I know, but I can't tell," as some chil- dren would, she stopped a moment. " A plant grows," at last she said. " But a chicken grows ; so does a little girl." Marion kept on thinking. " It has roots and leaves, and blossoms and fruit." "Very true, dear; but let us think still more. What is the difference between a stone and a plant ? " " Why, the plant is alive, — yes, and it grows larger and larger." " We speak of a plant as a ' living body,' Marion." " But I'm not a plant, Uncle Will ; yet I am a; living body, and I grow." " We must think still more, little girl. Please hand me that book on the window seat." 64 THE PLANT BABY. Marion skipped across the room, and returned with the book. Uncle Will thanked her, and asked, — "What did you do just now that the plant does not do?" " Why, I moved away from where I was. But the plant moves. My sweet peas climb to the top of the brush." "Think a little deeper, Marion. Do the sweet peas move as you did?" " No, they don't," said she, looking rather ashamed. "Their roots stay just where they were. I left one place, and went to another. Oh! I see now, — and we have read about it too. The plant cannot move from place to place." "A growing plant has motion, but not like that of an animal. Some day you may learn about it. Can you tell me now what a plant is ? " "A plant is a living body — ^ that grows — and that cannot move from place to place. " I like to talk with you, Uncle Will. You know almost as much as Miss Gray." "Oh, thank you!" laughed Uncle Will. "You make me very proud and happy." THE PLANT BABY. 65 XL. A VERY STRANGE PLANT. WISH I could find Uncle Will," said Mar- ion one hot July morning. "Here I am in the study," called a voice over the stairs. "Come up, child; I have something to show you." Marion ran eagerly up stairs. Uncle Will was sitting at the table, his microscope before him. "Oh! has the new microscope come?" cried Mar- ion; "and may I look through it?" " I have something on the slide for you this moment." "Oh, oh! how queer! What is it. Uncle Will?" "What does it look like, Marion?" "A lot of little bubbles strung together. What are they? Of course they are not plants!" "They are plants. They are yeast plants." "Why, is yeast a plant?" " Yes, dear, one of the simplest of all plants. And it grows in such a curious manner. When one bubble is full grown, it sends out another bubble, and so on." 66 THE PLANT BABY. " That is what makes them all strung together, isn t it? " Of course. Now can you tell me what yeast is good for?" " We put it in bread to make it rise." "As the tiny plants grow, they push the dough apart. A kind of gas rises in little bubbles all through the mass, and that is what makes the bread light. Where does mamma put her bread before it goes into the oven?" " Why, in a warm place." "The yeast plants cannot grow without plenty of heat and water." Marion came to her uncle later, in great trouble. " I told Debby about yeast, and she doesn't believe it. She says, 'The idea of its being a plant!'" "Never mind," laughed Uncle Will; "don't be troubled." " And Harry's mother says it's all nonsense. You buy yeast at the store in little silver papers, — it is made." " You are both right, dear ; but do not lose one wink of sleep over it." THE PLANT BABY. 67 " And she says," — Marion's voice grew very low, — ^"that if I were her little girl I shouldn't be running wild, and getting my head full of ideas. I should have to make a patchwork quilt. Oh, dear Uncle Will! I'm so glad I'm not her girl." XLI. WHAT HAPPENED TO MARION'S SHOES. FTER Marion had come in from play one day, her mamma said, "You remember the shoes you outgrew this spring; I think they will just fit Polly Smith." "I would like to give them to her; she is a cun- ning little girl," said Marion brightly. "They are in the little closet under the kitchen stairs. You may get them for me." Marion came back with a very sober face. "Something is the matter with them. I think they are all spoiled." "Why, they are covered with mold!" said her mamma. "That closet must be very damp. It must be looked after at once. No, the shoes must not be given away." 68 THE PLANT BABY. "But I want Polly to have some shoes;" and a tear stood in Marion's dark blue eyes. " Don't feel bad, Marion. Would you like to take some of your rag money, and buy her a pair?" "I will, mamma. I don't care so much about a new doll." "May I have those shoes?" asked Uncle Will. " Oh ! you are going to show me something lovely, I know you are ! " and Marion was all smiles again. " When I call for you, come up," said Uncle Will going off with the shoes in hand. Later, Marion was again looking Mold &5 seen throujih ^ through the microscope. icroscopc . ,, How pretty ! they look like little burrs. Oh! is this really mold from my old shoes?" " Yes, indeed, Marion. Don't you think it even prettier than the yeast plants?" " Ever so much prettier! The yeast plants I didn't call pretty, but queer; and nice to look at because they were so queer. You know what I mean." "Yes, Marion, you mean curious, — wonderful, — interesting. THE PLANT BABY. 69 " Mold does not grow as the yeast does, but in a very different way. All the mold plants have little sacs on them. Some of these sacs look like anthers." "Do they have pollen in them?" "Not just that; but they do carry a dust. Every speck of this dust is like a seed. When the sacs burst open, these specks fall out into the air. They can grow wherever it is damp." " We found another kind of mold on some old bread one day," said Marion. " Yes ; and your mamma sometimes finds it on her jelly!" " Mold isn't nice to have in the house, is it ? " "No, though it is very interesting under the micro- scope. Sunshine is what we need to drive away damp, and thus prevent mold. JO THE PLANT BABY. XLII. MARION FINDS A PATIENT PLANT. MARION and Uncle Will had climbed Crotchet Mountain, and were resting on the very tiptop. About them rose the gray rocks, full of cracks and seams. "Isn't this queer moss, Uncle Will?" said Marion, fingering a greenish gray patch on the rock where she sat. " That is not moss ; that is a lichen." " I suppose that is another kind of plant, isn't it?" " Yes, Marion, and a very interesting little plant too. I call it the ' patient plant,' because it grows quietly on the rocks in winter as well as summer. The hot sun beats down, the rain and hail pelt it, the snows cover it. Still it grows on and on, a little larger each year." " You are a good plant, and I shall like you after this ; " and Marion patted the dull gray lichen. As they came down the moun- tain, Uncle Will showed her some orange-colored lichens on the trunks of the trees. THE PLANT BABY. 71 Lichcia After that, her bright eyes were always on the lookout for new kinds. She found them ^ on old walls, on tree trunks and branches, ;/|\ and on the roofs and the sides of some ./l1»^_ of the farm buildings. V^ One day they found a humming bird's nest, covered with gray lichens. "'What is the law of thy beauty?' I asked of the lichen pale, That grew like a dream of the spring-tide. Through winter's rain and hail. And its tiny shields replied to me, ' Do thy duty, and thou shalt see.' " Note. — Let c/ii/drrn collect and inoiiiit lichens for school use. |«fn»3— - ■■^^H i^^i' -"•" 1 w ^m £.^^ Eg ^^ wB^^K^^^B^^^^^^KSiS^^^^Si*"^ «H^^^^^^H^^^^^H| H H| ^^^^-^^^^^^^^^^^M Hn pjE^^i-' '2^ ij^ \ ii^i^jim m 72 THE PLANT BABY. XLIII. MARION'S DREAM. ; T was a rainy day, and Marion had been look- ing over some large books of pictures. Uncle Will was busy, writing. He was a teacher in a college, and had a good many lectures to get ready for next year. Marion curled up on the easy sofa like a little, tired kitten. Before she knew it, the blue eyes closed, and the young lady was in Dreamland. "What a strange, wild country!" she exclaimed. It was a land of snow — snow everywhere, on the mountain tops and on the forest branches. She could see no sun; but all the light came from some red streamers in the northern sky. "Where am I? I should call this Lapland if I could only see a reindeer," said the little girl. " Look around and you'll see one," said a strange, hoarse voice. Marion turned, and, sure enough, there stood a reindeer. He looked for all the world as if he had stepped out of a picture. THE PLANT BABY. 73 "Well, how do you like me?" asked the reindeer gravely. "You look — very natural," replied Marion. "Is this your home ? " " I belong to Sutelma, a little girl of Lapland. I am her pet reindeer, and when I draw her pulk my harness is very gay. The herd is out to pasture to- day. You will see my friends feeding among the trees." "What can you feed on in all this snow?" "We scrape away the snow with our hoofs, and find a lichen that grows below it." "Why, I know about lichens a little. Tell me of this one; it is new to me." " Sometimes it is called reindeer moss, because we reindeer eat it so much. I remember one year we had nothing else to eat. It was a sad time Even the people had little food. The snows were so deep that many of us could not get at the lichens. " I do not like to think of those days, when so many lay down to die." The reindeer's voice was very sad, and large tears stood in his eyes. 74 THE PLANT BABY "There is my mistress, Sutelma," said the reindeer. Marion turned, and saw a little girl of her own age. She had a round face, rosy cheeks, and dark eyes. She was dressed in a dark-red cloth gown trimmed with fur. Sutelma smiled, and stretched out her arms. Marion ran toward her, but just then found herself falling. Then she awoke on the floor, and saw Uncle Will bending over her. "Where is Sutelma? Where is the reindeer?" she cried, rubbing her eyes. "In Dreamland, where you found them," said Uncle Will, laughing. 1 1 Hi 1 in TO Si^^H IS m^KSj^^^^i(^jMg^^^^ H ll ^ Sr^ .a^K^i^^ ^^"^^SjiggfB^ cH- ,t5rowm? counting the rings, one can tell how many years old a tree is. All our best woods are out- growers. "Before we close the lesson tell me,^ — What is an in-growing stem? What is an out-growmg stemi- ingrowing THE PLANT BABY. 89 L. WHAT THE FOREST TOLD MARION. HAMMOCK swung between two great pines in the grove. Two blue eyes looked up into the green world of branches above. It was a hot day, and Marion felt lazy. Besides, she had been ill, and was just getting better. Her papa had put her in the hammock after breakfast. " You are to lie here and rest until I come to you," he said. " The breath of the pines will be good for a little sick girl who is trying to get well. If you are very still, the birds and squirrels may come near, and you can watch them." Marion was glad to be in the pine grove. She liked to watch the golden lights that stole down through the branches. She loved the breath of the pines, and the soft winds that kissed her brow. Now and then a bird voice would call from some leafy bower. Then, far away, another would answer. It seemed to Marion as if they said, "Sweet! Sweet! Sweetest! Sweet! Sweet!" 90 THE PLANT BABY. The squirrels came out on the boughs, and looked at her. They would make a funny, little, barking noise, and then scamper away, flirting their tails. The pines sang to her — such a soft, sleepy song. She felt her eyes closing — ^ closing — closing. Can trees talk? What are the pines saying? "Marion! Marion! Marion!" "Did you speak?" she asked of the tree nearest. "Yes, I spoke, and my sisters about me spoke, also. We have often spoken to you before; only you were too busy with play to listen." "If I had known," said Marion, "you .may be sure I would have listened. Are you going to tell me a story? I am never tired of hearing stories." "We can whisper many a tale," said the pines. "What will you choose?" "Tell me about yourselves." "What do you suppose we are good for?" "You give shade. You sing. Your breath is very sweet. The birds and squirrels find homes in you. You are beautiful." "All this is true, Marion, and even more. In the first place, we make the soil better. Our roots strike > 777^ PLANT BABY. 9 1 down among the rocks. Into every little crack and crevice go our tiny threads. They can even break up the rocks, because a juice comes from our roots that can crumble the rocks. " In this way we make some new earth, which helps feed the plants. When the plants fall to the ground in the fall, they decay and so make the soil richer." "I never knew that before," said Marion; "and yet, when I want rich earth for my garden, I get it under the trees in the grove." "We also help save the soil from being harmed. You know when it rains, the water takes the earth away into the brooks and rivers. It might all be washed away if it were not for one thing. "You know we break up stone into smaller bits. This covering of stone protects the earth under it, so that it is not easily moved. "When we grow along river banks, our roots form a strong network. This keeps the river in its own channel. If it -should overflow its banks, it would wash away much good soil." "Why, this is very wonderful," said Marion. "I never dreamed of such things." 92 THE PLANT BABY. "We prevent floods too. The rains fall on the thick, spongy soil which we have made by our dead leaves and branches that have fallen. "They trickle slowly through this soil into the brooks and riv- ers. If all this water rushed to 1*1 the rivers at once, vou can see what harm it would do. "Then our strong roots strike deep into the earth. They bring up rich matter, and build it into our leaves and branches. When the leaves fall and die, this rich matter goes back into the soil again. " So you see we make soil, save it, and enrich it as well. We are working all the time." " It must be a beautiful thing to be a tree," said Marion. "We give shelter to the cattle and the horses," added the trees. "When the earth is not covered ^^■ith trees, the ^vind can sweep across it with great fury. That causes cyclones. The trees break the force of the \vinds." THE PLANT BABY. 93 " It seems wicked to cut down trees," said Marion. " It is wicked to cut us down as they are doing in many places. Wherever we have been cut away in great numbers, the rivers have become smaller, and the rainfalls have been less." " Mr. Smith means to cut down his pine grove, and sell the wood. I'll tell him all you said." "Tell me, too, Marion," said Uncle Will, coming to the hammock-side ; " but come in to dinner first" LI. PINE MUSIC. 1AST night, within my dreaming, _j There somehow came to me The faint and fairy music Of the far-off, singing sea. This morning, 'neath the pine tree, I heard that song once more ; And I seemed to see the billows, As they broke against the shore. Oh, wandering summer breezes ! The pine harps touch again, — For the child who loves the ocean. And longs for it in vain. 94 THE PLANT BABY. Bitter- sweet . LII. PLANTS THAT LIVE ON OTHERS. WHY did papa scrape his apple trees this spring?" asked Marion one day. " He wanted to clean away all the little lichens and plants that were living on the trees," said Uncle Will. " Do plants live on each other?" — and Marion's eyes were very eager. " Yes, indeed. You remember the bitter-sweet on the cedar trees at the foot of the garden ? " " You mean the vine that has the pretty, light-red berries in the fall?" " Yes, the same. Have you seen what the vine is doing to the trees?" "No, I haven't; but I'll go and look now." When Marion came back, she had quite a story to tell. " O Uncle Will ! the trees are dying. The old vine is like a snake. It is hugging them just as tight ! " THE PLANT BABY. 95 " It is not only hugging, but fairly strangling them," replied Uncle Will. " What a mean plant ! " said Marion ; " I hope there are not many like it." " But there are. We call the lichens parasites, because they live on other plants. Some plants prepare a part of their own food, and steal the rest from others. I know one that joins its roots with others underground. In some countries these plants spoil the flax, clover, and hop fields. They wind about the stalks of the plants, and squeeze all the life out of them." " I liked the pretty lichens so much," said Marion, sorrowfully. "They are pretty to look at, but we have to clear them away from the tree-trunks," replied Uncle Will. 'V ' 96 THE PLANT BABY. LIII. HOW PLANTS PROTECT THEMSELVES FROM ANIMALS. MANY animals feed upon growing plants. The poor little plants have a hard time of it. If they lose all their green leaves, they lose all their food store. So they try to protect themselves. Some poison plants throw out an odor that the animals do not like; so they let such plants alone. Others take in hard matter from the soil. This makes them very tough, and the animals cannot eat them. Some plants cover their leaves with soft, furry hairs, which the animals do not like. The mullein that grows in the pasture has very furry leaves. Some plants send out thorns and prickles. The blackberry vines and the rose bushes do this. The Blackberry THE PLANT BABY. 97 I am going to tell you a curious thing. Some plants have these thorns only down low. Up above, where the animals cannot reach, there are no thorns. The holly is like this. In some countries we find a very stiff grass. The poor sheep often cut their noses on it. The thistle and the burdock are covered with long sharp spines. The nettle is covered with stinging hairs. Did you ever try to pick a pur- ple thistle blossom? Do you remem- ber the clusters of thorns on the bar- berry bush? The plant says, " I will not give my leaves away. I will fight for them, and whoever tries to take them must look out!" Thistle Note. — Let the children collect plants and branches which protect themselves. Bjvfberry. 98 THE PLANT BABY. LIV. WHAT PLANTS DO FOR THE LIFE OF OUR WORLD. jClTTLE plant, they tell me you are very helpful. You can do many things for the world." " I try to do my part, dear child." " Please tell me about yourself." "What do you think I eat?" • " Oh, you must have air and sunshine and water in order to live." " I get something else from the ground. You know my roots can break up stone." "So my teacher told us. I suppose it must be so, but it seems very wonderful to me." " It is true. Now, a part of my food comes from that broken stone. It runs through my veins, and is changed into food for my leaves and fruit. These become food for the animals. All things that keep life in the animal, I prepare." " That's a pretty large story, little plant." "But it is true. There are just two things you eat that I do not prepare for you." THE PLANT BABY. 99 "What are they?" " Salt and water ; these will not sustain life. My great use is to make food that will support life." " I should think that was enough. But I suppose you do other things as well." "Yes, I help keep the air pure. Animals breathe out poisonous gas that would make the air unsafe. I take it in, for it does me good. Then, too, I help pre- pare clothing. I give you cotton from which to make cloth, and flax for your linen. Man uses every part of plants. Out of our trunks and branches, he makes his houses, and his ships, and many other useful and necessary things. "Our bark, even, is not lost; it is used in tanning hides, knd some kinds, like cinnamon bark, are good for food. Medicines are made from many barks. Our sap is sometimes used for food; the maple sugar is made from it. Some trees have pitch that is very useful. "The world owes much to the plants. God has made us all to serve one another." Note. — Let the children name the parts of the plant, and give some uses to which each part is put. lOO Pr^NVTX V^^^.^S]^l,AJVT BAbW^^*^^^ ^ ^' LV. DANCE OF THE DAISIES. AISIES are dancing, dancing, dancing, — Daisies are dancing ! list to the call Sung by the katydid, gay little fiddler, - " Come, all ye flowers, and dance at the ball ! " Daisies are dancing, .dancing, dancing, — Daisies are dancing all in a row. Clad in their caps of white, tied round their faces bright, Nodding and laughing, they sway to and fro. What makes the daisies dance, daisies dance, daisies dance? What makes the daisies dance ? Say, can you tell ? South Wind steals after, with music and laughter ; I/e knows why daisies dance, he knows full well. LVI. WONDERFUL. ISN'T it wonderful when you think, How a little seed asleep. Out of the earth new life will drink, And carefully upward creep ? " — A seed we say is a simple thing. The sferm of a flower or weed, — THE PLANT BABY. lOI But all Earth's workmen, laborincr^ With all the help that wealth could bring, Never could make a seed. Isn't it wonderful when you think. How a little baby grows. From his big round eyes, that wink and blink, Down to his tiny toes ? Common thing is the baby though. All play the baby's part ; But all the whirling wheels that go, Fl)'ing round while the ages flow. Can't make a bab)''s heart. Julian S. Cutler I02 THE PLANT BABY. LVII. THE EVENING PRIMROSE. A yf ARION ran chattering down the garden walk. iVl "You dear little flowers," she said, "how you love the warm sunshine! The sun's rays kiss you in the morning, and you open your pretty eyes. All day long you turn your cheeks toward him. When he sets at night, you close your petals." Still chattering, she ran on, but stopped before a tall plant whose blossoms were tightly folded. "This is very strange! Why don't these little buds open ? Perhaps if I come again I shall find them open." Every little while, Marion ran to the plant; but the yellow buds hardly changed. At last she ran in to Uncle Will, and exclaimed : " There's a plant out in the garden that I don't understand. It will not blossom out, and I don't see why." "Where is it, Marion?" "Down by the lily-of-the-valley bed." "Don't trouble your head any more about that plant. Before you go to bed we will look at it." It was almost dusk when Marion and Uncle Will THE PLANT BABY. IO3 went out to look at the flower. The stars were peep- ing down from the sky, and the young moon hung low, like a silver horn in the west. Marion gave a little cry of delight. The buds had opened, and pale yellow stars gemmed the tall stalk. "This is the evening primrose, Marion, ^ — a plant that blossoms only in the night." " Like mamma's night-blooming cereus," she re- plied softly ; " how strange ! " LVIII. AN EVENING VISITOR. HEY stood looking at the prim- rose a moment, when they heard a whirring sound. "Keep still, Marion!" whis- pered Uncle Will. "Keep still!" The sound came nearer, and something hovered over the primrose stars. For a moment it went from blossom to blossom, and then flew whirring away. "What is it. Uncle Will?" cried Marion. "That was a moth. It comes to the primrose for 104 THE PLANT BABY. honey, and at the same time gives it pollen. Now let us go to the honeysuckles." The same whirring sound was heard as they drew near. Uncle Will shook the bush lightly, and a cloud of moths flew up about their heads and away. "Will there always be new things for me to learn?" asked Marion. "Just as long as you live." " And the oldest man who knows the most cannot know everything, can he?" " I think not," replied her uncle, laughing. LIX. THE PRIMROSE. LOOK at the four stages in the young life of a primrose. J First confined as tightly as the poppy within five pinching green leaves, whose points close over it, the little thing is content to remain as a child, and finds its nursery large enough. The green leaves unfold their parts, — the little yellow ones peep out like little ducklings. They find the light delicious, and open wide to It, and grow and grow, and throw themselves wider at last into their perfect rose. But they never leave their old nursery, for all that ; It and they live on together, and the nursery seems a part of the flower. — John Ruskin. THE PLANT BABY. 105 'v ( -^ i> ( i \ ! \'~-' / ' Some little nook or sunny bower, God gives to every little Jlower." io6 THE PLANT BABY. LX. WILD FLOWERS OF MOUNT WASHINGTON. XA/: E were climbing up the old Crawford bridle path through the thick woods, when whom should we meet but our old friend, Miss Anemone. We did not expect to see the little lady. Two months before we had said good-by to her in Massachusetts lowlands. But here she was again, looking as dainty and *demure as ever, in her green cloak and white bonnet tipped with pink. Another old friend was not far behind. It was the false Solomon's seal, with its glossy green leaves and spike of faintly sweet, white blossoms. Here it was nearly August, and yet these early spring visitors of our own home were still lingering. After we left the line of trees behind us, great patches of mountain daisy peeped up among the rocks. It is a sweet little flower with golden heart and white fringed rays. And it is always dancing and nodding in the stiff mountain breeze. THE PLANT BABY. 107 It was a delight to turn from the wall of fog on either side, and find this dainty child of Nature at our feet. We found another lovely flower ^ — the mountain cranberry. It was shaped like a blueberry blossom, just a tiny bell, and pink as a rose. It crept close to the ground, its dainty blossoms peep- ing up from the mat of reddish-brown leaves. As we sat down to rest by the dreary little "Lake of the Clouds," quite an army of hardy shrubs were behind us. The leaves were like laurel, and the woolly white blossoms looked like azaleas, only very tiny. These brave little mountain flowers, with their pert, cheery faces, growing where nothing else could, gave courage to our tired feet. F&lse Solomon's Se&l io8 THE PLANT BABY. In Tuckerman's Ravine we found the most beau- tiful flowers. There were shy violets in sheltered nooks, and dainty bits of maidenhair fern. It was a glorious day of sunshine. An immense bed of mountain buttercups nodded and danced by the Stream of a Thousand Cascades. In another place the bank was fairly blue with spikes of blos- soms like the small larkspur. More beautiful than any lowland blossoms were the little Alpine dwellers of the heights. Mother Nature has given to the stern, barren mountains and the snow-covered lands the sweetest flowers that bloom, only for the birds and the casual traveler to see. These little flowers live as faithfully in their far-away and lofty homes as the bright garden flowers that are tended so lovingly and carefully. THE PLANT BABY. 109 LXI. UNCLE WILL'S LETTER. Camp Walden, Aug. 6, 1897. My dear Marion, — I have been watching a little flower lately, and more than once have said to myself, "What would Marion think of you, you blood- thirsty creature ? " It is one of the sundew fam- ily. Its leaves are like a rosette covered with wee drops of dew. Some of them were rosy pink under this veil of dew. You will want to know what harm such a pretty plant can do. As I watched it, some thirsty flies came to drink. Alas ! poor flies ! They were caught by the sticky drops. How they did struggle ! Then I saw long hairs on the leaves which curved over the poor flies, and held them down fast. The slimy juice poured over them, and, after struggling ten minutes, they were dead. Round- leS.ved Sundew no THE PLANT BABY. What the Can you think what the plant wants of the fly? Why, it wants him for food. Now do not be astonished, Miss Marion. Is that any worse than for you to eat chicken ? This liquid prepares the fly for food, plant can eat it takes in through its skin. The rest is left on the leaf. It dries up and blows away. When one fly is eaten, the sundeW-goes to work to catch more. y There is a long-leaved sundew which grows in ponds and bogs. It even catches large flies, small butterflies, and moths. It will roll its leaves entirely around them. Do you remember the curious pitcher plant we have in the swamps near your- house? That is just as great a fly-catcher as the sundew. What do you think of that? Your loving Uncle Will. Pitcher Pla.nl THE PLANT BAB Y. Ill LXII. WHAT IS AN ANIMAL? " T TARRY and I want to ask you something if you ^ -'■ are not too busy." Mr. Vane laid down his pen, and turned to them with the smile that made all children love him. " Marion says I'm an animal, sir," and Harry looked very sober. "What are you, my boy, if not an animal? Are you a plant ? " "Why, no, of course I am not a plant." " Perhaps you may be a mineral, then," replied Uncle Will gravely, though his eyes twinkled. " I am not a mineral." "You must be either animal, plant, or mineral, — there's no help for it." " But I am not like a dog or a horse." "Of course not. You belong to the highest order of animal life, to the order, Man." " I don't like to think of it. I'm fond of horses and dogs for pets, but — but — " "You do not wish to think of them as your rela- tions." 112 THE PLANT BABY. "Hiawatha called the beasts his 'brothers,'" broke in Marion. " Now, I like to think I belong with other things God has made." "Let us ask ourselves what an animal is. How does it differ from a mineral, Harry ? " " It is alive," said the boy slowly. " It is a living body; you know we said that about a plant," and Marion looked pleased to be able to help. " Oh, Uncle Will! it can move about of itself too." " What else does it do that the mineral does not, Harry? " " It grows." "There are other things about the animal that we will learn by and by. Is the plant anything like the animal, Marion ? " " It is a living body and grows ; but it cannot move of itself. That is where it is different." " If I am an animal, I am not much like a dog or a horse, am I ? " "You have a mind that thinks and reasons. You have a will that makes you firm in doing things. " Let us not forget that, plant, beast, or man, we still belong to God." THE PLANT BABY. I 13 LXIII. WHAT IS A MINERAL? 'OMETIMES things do not seem quite fair," and Marion's small face wore a sober look. "What is the trouble now?" " I'm sorry for the minerals." " Sorry for the minerals ! " ex- claimed mamma. " You see," replied Marion, " plants and animals have life. They grow and can feel; but minerals are not alive. So of course they cannot grow, and they cannot feel. They can't have any good times, either. They are just dead — dead!" " I read once that minerals were not the dead masses they seem to us, — ■ that they have a life of their own, — not an animal nor a plant life, though. You know the pretty crystals that you like so much? They formed themselves out of a liquid, and no mis- takes were made. You must remember we know very little about such things. The dead, cold rocks may have ways of enjoyment that man will never know. At any rate, they miss nothing." 114 ^^^ PLANT BABY. "Is it wrong to think about it, and be sorry?" " I think it would be better to remember that God, who has made everything, always does right." " But I do not like a statement that is so full of nots." "O Marion! what do you mean now?" "Why, a mineral is not a living body, it does noi grow, it can not move." "We have to have some nots in life, Marion. Re- member what I told you, that God cares for every- thing he has made." "Yes, mamma, I will remember that." Marion went out into the sunshine. She looked up into the deep blue sky where little fleecy clouds were sailing. The trees waved their branches toward her. The flowers nodded from their stalks. In the grasses the insects were chirping, and a bold robin looked at her from the lawn. Such a sweet love filled the little girl's heart. She was glad to live in so beautiful a world. She was glad to feel that God, who made her, made all the creeping, flying, blossom- ing things of earth, — yes, and the dull, cold stones. So her trouble fled away. THE PLANT BABY. 115 LXIV. SEED FOOD. 'E have seen all along what a kind, care- ful mother Nature is to her plant children. She packs the bean full of food, so that the little plant can grow roots and leaves before it steps from its cradle. In some seeds the germ is very tiny, and can hardly be seen. The rest of the space is filled with food. This is true of the nutmeg and the date. In the morning-glory there is a larger germ, and there is less food. In beans and peas we find a great deal of starch ; also in wheat, oats, rye, and barley. Rice is four fifths starch. This starch is much like sugar. Peanuts and cotton seed are full of oil instead of starch. Walnuts have oil, also. We get linseed oil from flax seed. This, you know, is used in mixing paints. Out of the cocoanut we get two kinds of fat. One is used in making candles, the other can be burned in lamps. Some seeds give out an oil or a perfume which ii6 THE PLANT BABY. prevents animals from eating them. This is true of mustard, nutmeg, coffee, and the seed that gives us cocoa. The very things that drive the animals away make these seeds useful to man. Some seeds can harden their food, like the ivory nut. This grows so hard that knobs, buttons, and toys are made of it. Note. — Let the children make a good and varied collection of seeds, and note the different kinds of seed food. LXV. TIME FLOWERS. ^WN in the grass plot of a pretty garden grew a little dandelion. He wore a green doublet, and his head was covered with sunny, yellow curls. In the morning he stood up boldly, lifting his jolly little face to catch the dewdrops. That was his morning bath, and he found it very refreshing. At dusk he put on a green nightgown, and went to bed right early. THE PLANT BABY. I17 The nurses said, as they called the children from their play, " See, now, there is the good dandelion ! He knows when it is time to go to bed." As the dandelion grew older, his yellow curls turned to white. Then the children would blow — one, two, three times. How the white hairs would flit away ! If all went, it was a sign that mother wanted them at once. If any were left, the children counted them; and if ten hairs were left, they said, " Mother wants us at ten o'clock;" while if but two remained, they said, " Mother will look for us at two o'clock." When Bessie awoke in the morning, she would see the morning-glory cups peeping in at her window, saying, "Six o'clock; time to get up." The little portulaccas opened in the morning, but shut up their buds very tightly before noon. Bessie used to watch the four-o'clocks open every afternoon. They told her that papa's train had just started from Boston. Before bedtime, she would run out and see the evening primrose opening its pale yellow stars in the fast-gathering twilight. Do you know any more time flowers? ii8 THE PLANT BABY. LXVI. THE HUMMING BIRD'S WORE. RACIE came running into the house as red as a cherry, her breath coming in quick gasps. " I saw a little humming bird flying round," she said, as soon as she could speak. " I tried to catch it, but I couldn't. It was a pretty little humming bird." " What do you suppose it was doing?" said Aunt Edith, swinging the child up on her knee. "Oh, just flying round and eating honey, and having fun," replied Grace, laughing. "The humming, bird has its own work to do. It has a nest to build and baby birds to care for. Then it works for its friends, the flowers. It does errands for the honeysuckle and the trumpet blossoms." Grade's eyes grew very large and bright. "You know the pollen in some flowers, Gracie?" " Yes, I get it on my nose lots of times." THE PLANT BABY. 1 19 "Now the humming bird flies into a flower that has pollen, and gets his little breast covered with it. By and by, he flies to a flower that needs pollen. " ' Please, dear flower, I have come for honey,' he says. "'Take all you like, my little friend, but give me some pollen to pay for it.' " So the humming bird drops the pollen into the flower, gets his honey, and goes away happy." Gracie thought that a nice story. What do you think?" \Read and explain to the children.^ " 11 yi Y lady rubythroat was a canny bird : she had chosen i V 1 her position with judgment. The silver poplar of her choice was covered with knobs so exactly copied by the nest that no one would have suspected it of being any thing dif- ferent. It was on a dead branch, so that foliage could not trouble her. while leafy twigs grew near enough for protection. No large limb afforded rest for a human foe, and it was at the neck-breaking height of twenty feet from the ground." — Olive Thorne Miller {^Atlantic). I20 THE PLANT BABY. LXVII. WHAT THE VIOLETS TOLD ELSIE. ELSIE was sitting in her chair by the south win- dow. On the sill was the pot of violets that Ray and Frank had brought her. The poor little girl felt very dull and unhappy. It took so long to get well. The least thing made her head ache, or brought back the old tired feeling. Sometimes she wanted to cry, just for nothing. This was one of the times. As she bent forward, the tears fell upon the pretty blue heads peeping from the green leaves. Then a low, sweet voice said to her, — "Don't cry, darling; we have come to cheer you, and to tell you stories of our woodland home." "Can violets talk?" cx'i^A the child. " We are talking to you now, Elsie. We know how hard it is for you to be shut up so long away from the happy world. JVe were buried in the ground for long months. It was dark, and we could see nothing. But we waited till our time came to lift our faces to the sun. We could not find the light all at once. It was not easy to push our way up through the hard earth. We had to work around THE PLANT BABY. 121 Other roots and stones. You are in the dark now, dear Elsie, but God will let you find the light. Every day will make you a little stronger. We will stay with you and blossom for you." Just then mamma came, and Elsie told her what the violets had said. "What a nice nap you have had!" said mamma. " What modest thoug-h'ts the violet teaches, What gracious boons the violet preaches, Bright maiden, ne'er forget ! But learn, and love, and so depart, And sing then with thy wiser heart, ' Long live the violet ! ' " 1122 THE PLANT BABY. LXVIII. MAPLE SEEDS. UNDER the green leaves Somebody swings, Stretching and straining Two Httle wings. " Wait," pleads the mother tree, Coaxing and mild, " You must not leave me, Rash little child ! " Under the red leaves Somebody swings ; Stout is the little heart. Strong are the wings. " Come ! " shouts the trumpet wind, " Cold days are nigh." Cheerily calls he, " Mother, good-by ! " Brave little maple-seed Soars to the sky. THE PLANT BABY. 123 LXIX. BOBBY BURR AND HIS TRAVELS. AVE you ever seen Madam Bur- dock? She lives out in the country by the roadside. Her broad, green leaves are spread wide in the sunshine. Under- neath these great leaves many families of ants and crickets find a pleasant home. Such bowers of shade and coolness as Madam Burdock makes for the baby members of these fami- lies! In the early morning great toads hop slowly up and down the dusty way. Once in a while they stop and catch a fly or two for breakfast. But let a cow, or a horse, or a whistling boy come along, — and hop goes Mr. Toad down among the burdocks ! How glad he is for this kind shelter ! Madam Burdock has many children of her own. In the summer time they are quite splendid. They wear suits of bright green, tipped with purple. But every round burdock child is covered with little prickles. Every green frock is set thick with wee 124 THE PLANT BABY. hooks, SO that the young burrs fairly bristle. Why do the burdock babies wear such warlike suits? Are they little soldiers and always in fighting trim, or is there another reason? When the burrs are young, and their suits are the gayest, they are the prettiest things in the world to play with. The children like to pick the burdocks, and stick them together in many forms. Did you never make burdock baskets ? You can make such pretty baskets, and put real handles on them. The children make beds and chairs for the smallest dolls, and wee tables on which to put their acorn teapots, cups, and saucers. But when the fall comes, the burrs lose their splendid clothes, and grow brown and dry. Browner and browner grow the dresses, and stiffer and harder the prickles. Ah, Bobby Burr ! you are not the same person now; you are an ugly little fighter. You were so pretty in the summer time, prettier by far than the red berries of the mountain ash or the blue cedar berries the birds love so well. Why have you changed ? Let Bobby Burr tell his own story. THE PLANT BABY. 1 25 LXX. BOBBY BURR'S STORY. ES, I know I'm not pretty; just at present I have something else to do than to try to look pretty. Andy Ash hangs out his scar- let berries, and they make a fine show on a dull day. The apple turns a red or yellow cheek and says, " Oh, do come and eat me ! I have some dear, little, brown seed children that must be set free to find growing places for themselves." Now, I have seed children, too, underneath this rough, brown coat. No one will eat me, and surely I don't put on all these prickles to keep the birds and other creatures away. You see, I want to put my seed children where they will grow. If all the burdocks were to let their seeds drop in the same place, there would not be food enough to go around. Our Mother Nature has all kinds of food in the soil ; some for the grass, some for the clover, some for the wayside dandelion. 126 THE PLANT BABY. We have our share of room and food, but, dear me! we cannot have the whole creation just for our burdock bread and butter. These prickles of mine do look rather warlike, I own, but I do not have them for fighting. As the weather grows colder, I grow browner and dryer, but I do not like to open my seed case until I find a new home for my children. When I get a good chance, I fasten myself to something that will carry me away, and then I hold on tight! I like to get on people's clothes, but better still on the wool of some strolling sheep, picking up a stray dinner by the roadside. I have been known to fastens myself to the under- side of a horse's tail. Poor fellow ! I'm sorry for him, but we burdocks must live. A very fussy and curious little dog came down among us one day. He had no business here, but small dogs are not noted for minding their own affairs. When his master tried to pull the burrs from his curly coat, you should have heard Fido yelp ! Oh, we burrs travel about the world a good deal ! THE PLANT BABY. 1 27 We fasten ourselves to anything that is handy, and just stick ! Often, when we open our cases, our seeds roll out in other towns, other States, and sometimes even in other countries from those where our burrs grew. We are not handsome ; but we know what our work is, and stick to it until it is done. " ' Good for play ! ' said a child, perplext To know what frolic was coming next ; So she gathered the burrs that all despised, And her city playmates were quite surprised To see what a beautiful basket or chair Could be made, with a little time and care. They ranged their treasures about with pride, And played all day by the burdock's side. Nothing is lost in this world of ours; Honey comes from the idle flowers ; The weed which we pass in utter scorn May save a life by another morn. Wonders await us at every turn ; We must be silent and gladly learn. No room for recklessness or abuse, Since even a burdock has its use." 128 THE PLANT BABY. LXXI. LITTLE TRAVELERS IN THE AIR. DANDELION FLUFF. vo}'ager a-sailing Across the stainless blue ! O happy little traveler ! I long to go with you ; To dance beneath the sunshine One golden summer hour, Then seek the brown earth's waiting breast, And some day be a flower. MILKWEED. I SEE you, little traveler! The wind blows your brown boat along by its shining sails. You rise higher and higher until I can hardly see you. Now you float lower and lower until you brush my cheek. What are you, dear, lovely wanderer, and where are you going? Do stay a moment and tell us. " I am milkweed seed," whispers a tiny voice. "All summer long have I lain, with my hundreds THE PLANT BABY. 1 29 of brothers and sisters, packed tightly away in our pretty case. But the cold autumn days came, and the case split open. A ray of sunshine peeped in at us. West Wind sang at our door : "'Come, little prisoners 1 come! roam and dance! come and roam!' "One of us went just a little way, and was caught in West Wind's embrace. We saw his joyous move- ments, and heard him call: "'Come! come, my brothers! Come float, come dance with me 1 Come dance in the free air, and under the deep blue of the autumn sky.' " So, one by one, we crept out, and joined the merry dance. By and by, we shall sink to earth. Some careless foot will tread on us, little knowing that it is pressing us down into our warm bed. The soil will cover us, — cover the brown hearts and silken wings. "All winter long we shall lie sweetly asleep under the pattering raindrops and softly falling snowflakes. But when the springtime comes, we shall awaken and push our way up through the earth, and be — Do you know what we shall be? 130 THE PLANT BABY. "We meet many friends as we sail over the sunny meadows. Clematis sends up her delicate, filmy clusters. Little dandelion, who once wagged a crop of golden curls among the grasses, now has a trem- bling, snowy head. Goldenrod and aster are send- ing out wee, fairy sailboats. "Whenever West Wind comes humming this way, up rise crowds of little travelers to float under the sunshine, and join the merry dance." "Why do they all leave the old home for the new and far away land?" I asked. "It is for the sake of the dear little seed children they carry. For their sakes they find the new home, where there will be room and food for the seed babies." Mother Nature has been most kind to the plants. She knows the desire of their hearts, and so she gives them beautiful silvery sails, that they may float, — float under the deep blue sky and the golden sun- shine. Note. — Encourage the children to see how many varieties of winged seeds they can find. Let a branch of milkweed pods open gradually in the schoolroom. THE PLANT BABY. 13I LXXII. THE MILKWEED NEST. HEN other song birds South have flown, And colored banners deck the trees, 'Tis then the pretty milkweed nest Is rocked by crisp October breeze. The milkweed nest, so full of birds, — Bend low, and you may hear them say, " Cold winter hours are coming on, 'Tis time that we should fly away." " Lie still, my little children dear," The milkweed nest makes soft reply ; " How can I bear to let you go? 'Twill be so lonely, by and by." So still she holds her precious brood ; And yet there comes another morn. When, swinging in a colder breeze. The nest hangs empty and forlorn. But, underneath the autumn sun, A host of joyous, dainty things Are drifting down the western wind Upborne by shining, silken wings. 1 he mother-nest must let them go; They sail o'er field and hill and dell. And down the breeze we catch one note, — One airy whisper of farewell. 132 THE PLANT BABY. LXXIII. SEEDS WITH WINGS. \\ ARION, on her way home from school, was look- ^^ *- ing up into the faint green of budding branches. " Look, Daisy ! " said she to the friend by her side, "the tips of the elm twigs are covered with bits of silver." "Yes, I see," said Daisy, jumping up and down, and clapping her hands. "Aren't they pretty? What makes them so, Marion?" "I don't know," replied Marion. "If I could get a little branch and carry it home, Uncle would tell me." " But they are up so high," said Daisy sadly. "We can reach up pretty high, Marion, but not high enough for that." " I know it," said Marion, still gazing up at the little silver studs on the elm twigs. Then a sudden thought came to her. " I'll tell you what we will do, Daisy. We will run home, and ask Uncle Will to climb up and get us a branch. Then he'll tell us all about it." Uncle Will was out on the lawn watching a pair of orioles build their stocking-like nest. THE PLANT BABY. 1 33 " Haven't we an elm on our place?" he asked, as Marion told her story. "Why yes, — here is one," said Marion, "and the branches droop lower than the other elm branches we saw before. You can reach up and break off a twig." " So I can," said her Uncle, stretching up a long arm. " Here's your branch. Pussy." " But there isn't any silver on it," cried Daisy. " Hold it up high, and let the light strike through the buds," said her kind Uncle. "You can't see the silver well unless the buds are up high on the trees." "Is it the light that makes the silver. Uncle Will?" " Look at the tips of the twigs, and tell me what you see there, Marion." "I see little flat, greenish things, — seeds, I think, — with a thin skin all about the edge. You can see through the edge. What is the edge for?" " By and by the seed will want to leave the tree, and this edge will help to carry it along." " It isn't a sail like the milkweed seed, which we studied about in school last fall. It is like a wing." "Yes, and you can see how bravely the little seed will float away when the right time comes." 134 ^^^ PLANT BABY. LXXIV. SEEDS WITH WINGS (Continued). DO you know any more seeds with wings, Marion?" Marion was silent and thoughtful for a moment, but little Daisy said, " Don't you remember, Marion, about the maple seed and the card we sewed?" "Oh, yes!" cried Marion, "we call them the maple keys. They are just as thick as can be every year on the big maple by the gate. They hang on all summer, and in the fall I think they fly away, too." " There are two little brother seeds cuddled closi together, and each has a thin, flat wing that grows dry and brittle after the frosts come. What fun they will have flying away ! " " Why do they fly away ? " asked Daisy. " They want to find a place to rest in for the winter. They will sleep under the brown earth, and what will happen next spring, Marion?" " They will grow up into baby maples," said Marion. "Do many seeds have wings. Uncle Will?" " What did you find on your bureau one day at Grandmamma's ? " THE PLANT BABY. 1 35 " I found a lot of the tiniest brown seeds, each with a thin wing like tissue paper. I didn't know where they came from until I knocked a hemlock cone on the floor, and a lot of seeds just like the others tumbled out." "There are a good many winged seeds floating about," said Uncle Will. "Just think! the mother tree has her cone fruit, and in the cones are her seed children. The mother tree loves her children so much that she wants them to have a good home. Some of them fall, and spring* up close by her, but there is not room for all; so she sends them out with wings, that they may fly away where there is a place for them to get a living." " Do the seeds' children ever fly back and visit the old tree, as we go to see grandma?" asked Daisy. "Perhaps so," replied Uncle Will, laughing. 136 THE PLANT BABY. LXXV. WITCH - HAZEL. WE were taking a walk one late fall day, — Mar- ion, Pompey, and I. Pompey is a little black dog who likes very much to go wherever Marion goes. To-day he was so delighted to be with us that he ran up and down the road, barking joyfully. "Do keep still, Pompey!" said Marion, "you will scare all the birdies." " They are going South very soon, any- way," barked Pompey. "Wha't does it mat- ter if they go a little sooner? I am so happy to be with you, my dear little mis- tress, that I cannot keep still." Marion was looking for flowers, but found only a few hardy clovers and bits of late goldenrod in the hollows where the sun had lain all day. We left the road, and followed a little path that ran across the meadow. A brook was at our right, whis- pering softly to itself as it slipped over the rounded pebbles. This brook was bordered with clumps of tall bushes, in and out of which Pompey ran barking at some water he thought he saw there. THE PLANT BABY. 1 37 " Why, what are these funny yellow things on the bushes ? " asked Marion, trying to break off a spray. On the branch were little clusters of brown nuts, and in among them were strange blossoms. They were bunches of long yellow threads, cheerful bits of color on a dull day. "That is witch-hazel, Marion," I replied. "Why, witch-hazel is what mamma rubs me with when I fall and hurt myself," replied Marion in great surprise, still looking at the brown branch with its clustered nuts and yellow flowers. " Witch-hazel extract is made from this bush, Marion, and it is one of the most interesting shrubs we have." " How funny it is to see blossoms and fruit at once! You remember we found the flowers of the chestnut tree, but that was in the spring, and they faded long, long before the nuts were ripe." " That is one of the reasons why witch-hazel is so interesting. Let us carry some of the branches home, and see what else we can find out about it." So Marion and I gathered as much witch-hazel as we could carry, and started on our way back. 138 THE PLANT BABY. We decorated the sideboard in the dining room, and also stuck a branch over the cuckoo clock. The next day a cold rain set in, and we were kept in the house. We made a fire on the hearth, and sat there, — I with my work and Marion lost in a book. LXXVI. WITCH-HAZEL (Continued). SNAP ! snap ! came very suddenly from the side- board. "What's that?" said Marion, dropping her book. Snap ! snap ! snap ! went on the noise, like the firing out of so many small shot. "Look on the marble of the sideboard, dear, and see if you find anything," I said. " Only some large black seeds," replied Marion. " Where did they come from ? " " I thought Mother Witch-hazel would be shooting out her seed children before long." "What do you mean, Miss Kate?" exclaimed the child, her great blue eyes full of wonder. "Bring me a branch of the hazel, and I'll show you. Do you see any difference in the nuts ? " THE PLANT BABY. 1 39 " Why, some of them are broken," replied the child, after looking them over carefully. "That is because Mother Witch-hazel has opened them to let out her children." " Oh ! I know there's a story about that ; please tell it to me." And Marion climbed up in my lap. "You see, Marion," I began, "our Mother Witch- hazel is a good, kind, careful mother, who wants to place her children well in life, as other good mothers try to do. Her nuts are brown and homely. They have no bright hues to tempt others to pick them. They have no wings to fly away with, no silken sails to waft them through the air as the pretty dandelioJi fluff is carried. " Poor Mother Witch-hazel has no one to help her, so the good creature tries to help herself. When her seeds are ripe, she splits her nut, and sends her wee black children out into the world. We have heard them go, — a pleasure few people have." " Uncle Will told me that the elm seeds fly away to find places where there is more room and food," said Marion. " Do many plants shoot their seeds out, like the witch-hazel ? " 140 THE PLANT BABY. " Not many, Marion ; at least not in this country. Do you remember the wild geranium that comes in early summer? That is a plant mother that shoots out its children." "Yes, I remember; we had a lesson about it, and my teacher called it 'crane's-bill.' We had a verse about it in our 'Jack in the Pulpit' ' Wildwood geraniums All in their best, Languidly leaning, In purple gauze dressed.' " "Next summer we must study the crane's-bill." Marion and I listened a long time, hoping we might hear some more seeds pop, but in vain. Mother Witch-hazel must have found that our dining-room was not a good place in which to plant her seed children. M ^ M ^^t ^^. 4m. 3- ^k n/ THE PLANT BABY. 141 LXXVII. MOTHER POPPY'S CHILDREN. I WAS lying on the grassy ram- parts that overlooked distant Salisbury. Below me lay the cornfields, golden in the sun- shine. Through the gold ran streaks and splashes of blood red. Thousands and thou- sands of poppies were growing there. It was a lovely July day. Tiny white clouds were floating over the soft English sky. All about me the sheep were feed- ing on Salisbury Plain, and in the distance the ca- thedral spire lifted its finger to heaven. Hundreds of years ago a city had been built on these heights. Old Sarum, or Old Salisbury, it was called. Even to-day a few fragments of its great church wall are to be seen. Old Sarum had been a strong place, with a great wall built about it. To-day this wall has vanished, and only the earth ramparts remain. I had been walking around the city on the ramparts, and w^s very tired. Down below, the red poppies waved in the golden grain. They seemed to ask me to come and talk to them. 142 THE PLANT BABY. " I'm too tired to go," I said to rnyself, " and yet the poppies are very tempting. Shall I go or shall I not? Perhaps if I go, I shall not be so sleepy." Mother Poppy stood up very tall and straight on her long, light-green stem. She wore a dress of bright red satin, just as if she were going to a party every night, instead of doing her duty as a careful mother. For Poppy is a good mother in spite of her gay clothes, and she loves her seed children as dearly as any flower mother. Underneath the scarlet skirts her stalk swelled into a rounded bulb. This was Mother Poppy's seed box, or the warm, soft chamber where her wee chil- dren were packed away, sleeping quietly. Near the top of this seed box was a row of little holes, — tiny doors out of which the seed babies could pop when the right time came. Mrs, Poppy- does not shoot her babies out into the world after the manner of the witch-hazel. She is not anxious for her children to leave the old home too quickly. If they should all fall near her in the wheat, there would not be enough room nor food for all the family. THE PLANT BABY. 1 43 LXXVIII. MOTHER POPPY'S CHILDREN (Continued). "TUCY will come out into the fields some day to -*— ' gather a handful of my blossoms," thought Mother Poppy to herself. As she pulls us up, a few seeds may shake out if they are ripe enough. She will pull off our petals, and make satin linings for her moss baskets. She will cut off the stalk below our seed-box, stick in a spout and handle made from the stem, and there's a dear little teapot! She will slice us in two for cups and bowls, and set her table otit in the sunshine. " When Lucy runs off we shall lie there on the garden bench, to be blown about by the wind, or thrown away by some neat person. After a little, all our seeds will spill out, and be buried some dis- tance from the old home. " But this is not our best fate, after all. Some fall day comes, full of sunshine, a brisk wind blow- ing. We poppies have lost our gorgeous satin dresses; but our tall stalks are as stiff as ever, and our seed- boxes are stout and strong. West Wind comes tear- ing along through the fields. 144 THE PLAXT BABY. "'Oh ho! Madam Poppy, you are not so fine as of old,' he shouts. 'Where is your satin dress. Madam Poppy? Ah! pride must have a fall.' "Then West Wind shakes my stalks, and bumps my seed boxes against one another, and out roll my dear children. West Wind does not know what ser- vice he is doing me. He only means to tease me a little. But I do not care, for he is helping me as nothing else could. " I send my chil- dren far and wide. Some of them may bloom in neighbor Elinor's garden next year. They will not know that they were born among the golden grain under the ramparts of Old Sarum. Am I not as good a mother as if I wore a plain dress, and did not love to spread my crimson skirts in the sunshine?" I opened my eyes suddenly; the poppies were still waving and beckoning to me. Had I been dreaming? THE PLANT BABY. 145 LXXIX. DANDELION. SAW him peeping from my lawn, A tiny spot of yellow, His face was one substantial smile. The jolly little fellow. I think he wore a doublet green, His golden skirt tucked under; He carried, too, a sword so sharp That I could only wonder. "Are you a soldier, little man. You, with your face so sunny?" The fellow answered not a word, I thought it very funny. I left liim there to guard my lawn From robins bent on plunder, — The soldier lad with yellow skirt. His doublet green tucked under. The days passed on, — one afternoon, As I was out a-walking. Whom should I meet upon the lawn But soldier-lad a-stalkingf. 146 THE PLANT BABY. His head, alas ! was white as snow, And it was all a-tremble. Ah ! scarce did this old veteran My bonny lad resemble. I bent to speak with pitying word. Alas for good intention ! His snowy locks blew quite away ; The rest — we will not mention. LXXX. CLOVER. ARLING little clover, With your leaflets three. You must stand for father, For mother, and for me. You are clover three-leaves, — Now I'll find another ; Here's an extra leaflet. That's my baby brother. Any one who finds you Wina good luck, they say. Baby is the best luck That ever came my way. THE PLANT BABY. 147 LXXXI. DAISIES. HE South Wind told the secret first To the velvet-coated bee, And, drowsing in a lily cup. My jolly friend told me ; 'Twas this : down in the meadow grass, Some one was taking- tea. It seemed that none had granted leave, So I went down to see ; And there, within the tallest grass, As if the field were free, Full many a score of ladies old Were havin"- early tea. Oh, full and white, above each face. Their caps were waving free ; And, though I gave them sternest look, Not much they minded me ; " If you had been polite," I said, "/ should have joined your tea." My ladies stared, and not a word Did they address to me ; I only heard the scolding A'oice Of my good friend. Sir Bee ; But, as I turned from out the grass, There came a soft " Tee-hee ! " 148 THE PLAXT BABY. LXXXII. SNOWDROP. ITTLE Miss Snowdrop Has come o'er the way ; She wears a white gown // d On a cold, stormy day. Miss Snowdrop is seen In a bonnet of green, Over the way. Hark ! how the North Wind Goes waiHng around ! See how the snow hes In drifts on the ground. Witli sleet in her face, She stands in her place, Over the wa)-. Little Miss Snowdrop, So brave and so true, Would that we all Were as faithful as you. When dwtx is nigh, To say, " Here am I," Day after day ! THE PLANT BABY. 149 LXXXIII. INVITATION. COME, little bee, to the wild rose cup ; Bring her some pollen, and then you shall sup! Come where the five pink petals hold A world of sweets in a heart of eold ! LXXXIV. THE CROCUS. WVAS a little aimless snowflake That the jeering- north wind blew, Very lonely, quite discouraged. Undecided what to do. So it iell beneath my window. On our Mother Earth's brown breast ; Glad to think its journey over, Happy in its thought of rest. From the gray cloud's sullen border Crept a little beam of gold ; Just a patch of blue sky shimmered As it kissed the frozen mold. Did the blue sky and the sunbeam Weave a spell of magic power ? In the morning, 'neath my window. Smiled a fairy crocus flower! 150 THE PLANT BABY. I LXXXV. GENTIAN. N spring I found the violet And rosy mayflower sweet ; And next white-fingered daisy Was courtesying at my feet. Then wild rose swung her censer, And, in a secret hour. The lonely meadow flamed abroad \Vith gorgeous cardinal flower. Some golden-rod close followed, And aster's gentle eye ; Now withered leaves and dying sod Beneath a somber sky. I start ! among the grasses What eyes of heaven-blue gleam, All darkly fringed with lashes, Beside the quiet stream ! Oh, glance of true affection ! The gentian still is here ; The promise set 'mid fading, The darling of the year. THE PLANT BABY. 151 LXXXVI. FLOWER MOTHERS. 'F I should ask almost any little boy or girl whom they loved best in all the wide world, I'm very sure there would be just one answer, — " Why, my mother, of course." Then, if I should say, " How does it happen that you love your mother best ? " what a stare of astonishment would greet me ! Marion or Philip might have some reason to think that their friend was trying to puz- zle them. But I am quite in earnest. "Why ^(9 you love your mother best of all, little one ? " "Why, because she's my mother!" replies the child. "She loves me, she takes care of me. She will not let any thing hurt me. She plays with me, and gives me things. She is mother!'' Yes, that is just it. In every mother's heart there is that strong love and care for the child who is a part of herself. We call this feeling in the mother, motherhood. Can you tell me what this same feeling in the father would be called? 152 THE PLANT BABY. But you must not think that only hunlan hearts have this beautiful, self-forgetting love for their chil- dren. There are thousands and thousands of dumb brute mothers who would give their lives for their young. Did you never read of the stork who refused to leave her children on the roof of a flame-wrapped house? The little ones were too frightened to stir; and after trying in vain to persuade them to fly over onto another roof, the poor mother gathered them about her, and awaited death. But some kind fire- man, seeing her trouble, climbed up on the roof and rescued the little family. There is a fish mother who opens her mouth and lets her babies swim inside when danger is nigh. If anyone tries to harm her kittens, how mother puss will growl and bristle and prepare for a grand fight! Oh, yes ! the mother-love is very strong and tender in many a brute heart. But there are also millions of flower mothers whose care for their babies is fully as strong and lovely. The flower mother carries her seed children in her very heart, and the snug little cham- bers where they sleep are the cosiest, prettiest nests imaginable. THE PLANT BABY. 1 53 Do you remember the dear clusters of flowers in the horse-chestnut bud ? They are wrapped in fuzzy blankets, and about the whole are waterproof coats to keep out the cold and wet, — so wise and loving is Mother Horse-chestnut in the care of her leaf and flower children. The mother plant sends her roots deep into the soil to drink in the food that has been put there for her. She spreads her leaves to the sunshine and air, all for the sake of the future seed children. She spreads her silken flower petals, inviting the bees and butterflies to come and eat the honey feast she has prepared for them. Wise little mother ! she knows that some bustling, brown-jacketed bee will give her, in return, the pollen she needs to ripen her seeds. When her seeds are ready to go out into the wide world, with what care does she prepare for their journey! Sometimes they are carried on silken wings like the dandelion fluff or the brown milkweed birds. Sometimes they are shot out like the wild geranium's wee children. They may have prickly coats like Bobby Burr, or the wind may beat them out of their seed chambers as it dojes the poppy children. 154 THE PLANT BABY. In some way Mother Plant has prepared her chil- dren to find the right homes, and, when she has sent . them there, her work is done; the pretty, bright-colored petals fade away, and the stalk and leaves die down. Yes, the mother dies, — she has given the strength of her life for her family. So your mother and father are day by day giving their lives for you. All the reward they ask is that their children grow strong and good and happy. But there is one Life above all, in all, and through all ; one Life that gives all the parents in the world the power to love and work for their children. Do you know what that Life is, and the dear name by which we love to call it ? It is God, the great Maker of every thing, whom we call Our Father because that is the sweetest name we know for Him. God is Our Mother, too, because He cares for us, and cherishes us most lovingly. He cares for the, plant baby and all its friends as truly as for His human children. We are all children together, little THE PLANT BABY. 1 55 brothers and sisters of the sunshine and the soil, — all equally held in His heart of love. The first bluebird, as he skims over the brown fields in March, — who is he, but our little feathered brother of the air? Let us bless him in our hearts because he can give us such a cheery song in the sleet and snow. The wee green blades peeping up between the bricks of the city pavements, the early dandelion shaking his dear curly head, the violets lifting their sweet blue eyes to heaven : — they, too, are our brothers and sisters. The tiny fly dancing in the spring sunshine, the patient cart-horse bending beneath his heavy load, the pussy who rubs her soft coat against your feet, — all these are a part of the great family ; and the kindest heart is the one that will open to let them all in. " He prayeth best who loveth best All things both great and small, For the dear God who loveth us. He made and loveth all." Two Delightful Nature Poetry Readers For supplementary use in schools in connec- tion with nature work, and for home reading. Compiled by Mary I. Lovejoy. Nature in Verse. For Pfimar y Grades. i2mo. 319 pp. Illustrated. Bound in choice cloth. 60 cents. The need of a choice collection of nature poems adapted to young children and intended to supplement the nature work done in the lower classes had been frequently noted. It was to meet this demand that Nature in Verse was prepared, and its success in the schoolroom has been repeatedly confirmed by teachers who have found it an aid and an inspiration. It was planned to cover the first four years of school work, and the selections have thus a wide range, from simple rhymes, such as the younger pupils tan easily learn, to treasures of the master poets, vhich are not too abstruse for older children to read and enjoy. The scheme of nature work in the schools has been carefully followed, and from the many diverse poems the teacher can readily select such as are best adapted to her grade and to the lesson of the day. In the 272 selections that make up the book, a most attractive coterie of authors is presented. The lesser poets contribute many charming bits of verse, while gems from Wordsworth, Shakespeare, Tennyson, Bryant, Longfellow, Whittier, and other famous writers adorn this beautiful poetry reader for children. Poetry of the Seasons. For Gfammar Grades. i2mo. 336 pp. Exquisitely illustrated and bound. 60 cents. What Nati;re in Verse does for young children, in stimulating a love of nature, is deepened and intensified by its companion volume for higher grades. Poetry of THE Seasons contains 300 of the choicest short poems on nature, representing her in all her changing phases, from the fresh loveliness of spring to the wild delights of winter. The greatest poets have glorified nature in eloquent numbers, and the reader of Poetry of the Seasons not only learns to appreciate all these varying moods, — he is also made familiar with some of the choicest forms of pastoral and lyric poetry. Over 160 leading English and American poets are represented, so that the book becomes a true means of literary culture. Its value to teachers is much enhanced by a full Index of Authors. Silver, Burdett & Company, Publishers. New York. Boston. Chicago. The World and Its People. A Series of Eight Geographical Readers, Charmingly Illustrated, for Supplementary Work in Schools, and for the Interest of the Family at Home Under the Editorial Supervision of Larkin Dunton, LL.D., Head Master of Boston Normal School. Introductory prices to schools Book I. First Lessons ... 36 cts. Book II. Glimpses of the World . . 36 cts. Book III. Our Own Country . . .50 cts. Book IV. Our American Neighbors 60 cts. Book V. Modern Europe . 60 cts. Book VI. Life in Asia . . . .60 cts. Book VII. Views in Africa .72 cts. Book VIII. Australia and the Islands of the Sea ... 68 cts. This series of fascinating books makes geography a study of absorbing interest. The maps, the boundaries, the spots called cities, begin to be alive as the pupil reads these graphic and ample descriptions of the coun- tries of the world, their individual characteristics, their people's ways. Behind the map he sees a real world, tangible and bright-hued as his own surroundings. This circling picture of the wo.rld comes, not as a task, but as a wise direction of the home reading, in which all the family are often impelled to join. Of peculiar and timely interest just now is Book VIII., which vividly describes, among the " Islands of the Sea," those new possessions over which our gallant sail- ors and soldiers have raised the Stars and Stripes. " 'Australia and the Islands of the Sea ' is one of the best and most helpful aids to geograpical study. It presents such a wealth of usable material and arranges it in such a pleasing manner that one iinds it diffi- cult to put away the book before it has been read through." — Brooklyn Standard Union, Silver, Burdett and Company, Publishers, Boston. New York. Chicago. 5l^PiN6 Slopes To Ln^RAfdi^e A NEW SERIES OF READING BOOKS PROJECTED UPON AN ENTIRELY NEW PLAN. BY Sarah Louise Arnold ato Charles B. Gilbert Supervisor of Schools, Boston, Mass. SapU of Schools, Newark, N.J. A NEW era in school reading books is signalized by this series, which embodies pro- ^■^ gressive ideas, the outgrowth of long and successful experience in very many schoolrooms in various parts of our country. The name of the series is indicative of the fundamental purpose which underlies each book, — highest literary quality, combined with a thorough provision for all collateral aids requisite to the best instruction in reading. Reproductions from masterpieces, artistic illustrations, original ideas for seat work, study, etc., form especial features of great value. For the convenience of city schools, this series is planned to give a separate book for each of the eight reading grades. A First Reader. 128 pp. Over 120 bea^iti- ful illustrations, including 8 color pages, repro- ductions of masterpieces, etc. Introductory price, 32 cents. A Second Reader. 160 pp. Over 100 illus- trations, including 8 color pages, reproductions of masterpieces, etc Introductory price, 40 cents. A Third Reader. 224 pp. 70 illustrations, including copies of famous paintings, portraits of authors, fancy initials, headpieces, etc. !n*ro- ductory price, 50 cents. A Fourth Reader. 320 pp. 70 illustrations, including many fine full-page reproductions, por- traits of authors, and choice originals. Intro- ductory price, 60 cents. A Reader for Fiftli Grades. 320 pp. Beautifully illustrated with portraits of authors, copies of famous paintings, etc. Introductory price. 60 cents. A Reader for Sixth Grades. 320 pp. lieautifully illustrated with fine originals, por- traits, and reproductions of masterpieces. Intro- ductory price, 60 cents. A Reader for Seventh Grades. 320 pp. Beautifully illustrated with portraits