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PLANTS
AND THEIR CHILDREN
BY
MRS. WILLIAM STARR DANA
AUTHOR OF “HOW TO KNOW THE WILD FLOWERS”
_ILLUSTRATED BY_
ALICE JOSEPHINE SMITH
[Illustration: Decoration]
NEW YORK [Illustration: Decoration] CINCINNATI
[Illustration: Decoration] CHICAGO
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.
DANA’S PLANTS.
W. P. 2
[Illustration: Flowers]
PREFACE
A child’s reading book, it seems to me, should secure for the
child three things,—practice in the art of reading, amusement, and
instruction. Whether my little book is fitted to attain this threefold
object, others must decide; but in laying it before the public, let me
urge careful attention to a few suggestions.
[Illustration: Flower]
1. As the book is arranged so as to begin with the opening of the
school year and to follow it to its close, the interest of pupils will
be increased by reading the different chapters during the seasons to
which they refer.
2. The teacher should exercise judgment as to the omission of any
chapter or group of chapters which may seem beyond the comprehension of
the class. With a little care, such an omission may nearly always be
made without injury to the usefulness of the rest of the book.
3. Specimens of the objects described, when these can be found in the
locality, should always be on exhibition in the schoolroom. Whenever
possible, the children themselves should collect and handle these
specimens. If for any reason this collection by the children cannot be
accomplished, the teacher should not fail to anticipate the readings,
and to provide the objects mentioned.
By the observance of these simple and practicable suggestions, it
is believed that, while the children are being trained in the art
of reading, their powers of observation and of reasoning will be
developed, and that they will be inspired with a lifelong interest in
nature. The child’s mind is peculiarly alive to the charm of nature
when she is studied in detail, and through her it can be trained to
observe accurately and to reason logically.
Through the neglect of nature study, the wits of the country child lose
just the sharpening they most need, to say nothing of a stimulus and
delight which can ill be spared by one whose mental life is apt to be
monotonous.
The wits of the city child may secure in other ways the sharpening so
essential to success in life; yet the training afforded by a logical
study of plants, and the pleasure which such a study, rightly directed,
is sure to yield, are as invaluable to him as to his country cousin.
Experience having proved to my keenest satisfaction that almost
invariably children can be interested in stories of plants and _their_
children, to the children of the land I offer this little book, in the
earnest hope that its pages may lead at least some few of them to find
in life a new joy and a deeper meaning.
The aid derived from many sources in the preparation of “Plants and
their Children” is heartily acknowledged; but more especially I wish to
extend my thanks to Messrs. Holt & Co. for their courtesy in allowing
the reproduction of several cuts from their valuable and interesting
publication, “The Natural History of Plants,” translated from the
German of Kerner von Marilaun.
[Illustration: Flower]
CONTENTS
PART I.—FRUITS AND SEEDS
PAGE
In the Orchard 9
The Story of the Bee 16
The Apple’s Treasures 19
What a Plant lives for 21
The World without Plants 24
How the Apple shields its Young 27
Some Cousins of the Apple 31
Uneatable Fruits 34
More Cousins of the Apple 36
Still more Cousins 39
In the Woods 41
Why Seeds travel 50
Some Little Tramps 52
Seed Sailboats 56
Winged Seeds 61
Shooting Seeds 63
The Chestnut and Other Seeds 67
Some Strange Stories 69
PART II.—YOUNG PLANTS
How the Baby Plant lives 75
A Schoolroom Garden 79
A Schoolroom Garden (_Concluded_) 85
Seeds as Food 89
An Impatient Plant Baby 91
A Humpbacked Plant Baby 94
PART III.—ROOTS AND STEMS
Root Hairs 99
Roots and Underground Stems 102
Above-ground Roots 106
What Few Children know 112
Plants that cannot stand alone 114
Some Habits of Stems 117
Stems and Seed Leaves 119
“Well done, Little Stem” 122
PART IV.—BUDS
Buds in Winter 125
A Happy Surprise 127
Some Astonishing Buds 129
PART V.—LEAVES
How to look at a Leaf 135
The most Wonderful Thing in the World 138
How a Plant is built 142
How a Plant’s Food is cooked 143
A Steep Climb 147
How a Plant perspires 148
How a Plant stores its Food 149
Leaf Green and Sunbeam 151
Plant or Animal? 154
How we are helped by Leaf Green and Sunbeam 156
How a Plant breathes 158
The Diligent Tree 160
Leaves and Roots 162
Leaf Veins 165
Leaf Shapes 167
Hairy Leaves 170
Woolly and “Dusty” Leaves 172
Prickles and Poison 174
Some Cruel Traps 176
More Cruel Traps 181
The Fall of the Leaf 184
PART VI.—FLOWERS
The Building Plan of the Cherry Blossom 187
Lilies 191
About Stamens 193
Flower Dust, or Pollen 196
About Pistils 197
The First Arrival 202
Pussy Willows 205
Alders and Birches 207
The Great Trees 209
The Unseen Visitor 211
Plant Packages 214
Underground Storehouses 216
Different Building Plans 217
A Celebrated Family 222
Clever Customs 225
Flowers that turn Night into Day 228
Horrid Habits 230
The Story of the Strawberry 232
A Cousin of the Strawberry 235
Another Cousin 238
Pea Blossoms and Peas 240
The Clover’s Trick 243
More Tricks 244
An Old Friend 247
The Largest Plant Family in the World 248
Robin’s Plantain, Golden-rod, and Aster 251
The Last of the Flowers 254
PART VII.—LEARNING TO SEE
A Bad Habit 257
A Country Road 261
A Holiday Lesson 264
PLANTS AND THEIR CHILDREN
PART I—FRUITS AND SEEDS
[Illustration: Fruit]
IN THE ORCHARD
Is there a nicer place in which to play than an old apple orchard?
Once under those favorite trees whose branches sweep the ground, you
are quite shut off from the great, troublesome, outside world. And how
happy and safe you feel in that green world of your own!—a world just
made for children, a world of grass and leaves and birds and flowers,
where lessons and grown-up people alike have no part.
In the lightly swinging branches you find prancing horses, and on many
a mad ride they carry you. The larger ones are steep paths leading up
mountain sides. Great chasms yawn beneath you. Here only the daring,
the cool-headed, may hope to be successful and reach the highest points
without danger to their bones.
Out here the girls bring their dolls, and play house. Nothing can make
a more interesting or a more surprising house than an apple tree,
its rooms are so many and of such curious shapes. Then, too, the
seats in these rooms are far more comfortable than the chairs used by
ordinary people in everyday houses. The doings of the Robin family are
overlooked by its windows. One is amazed to see how many fat worms
Mother Robin manages to pop down the yawning baby throats, and wonders
how baby robins ever live to grow up.
From these windows you watch the first flying lesson; and you laugh
to see the little cowards cling to the branch close by, paying little
heed to their parents’ noisy indignation. All the same, you wish that
you too might suddenly grow a pair of wings, and join the little class,
and learn to do the one thing that seems even more delightful than tree
climbing.
That you children long to be out of the schoolroom this minute, out in
the orchard so full of possibilities, I do not wonder a bit. But as the
big people have decided that from now on for some months you must spend
much of your time with lesson books, I have a plan to propose.
What do you say to trying to bring something of the outdoor places that
we love into the schoolroom, which we do not love as much as we should
if lessons were always taught in the right way?
Now let us pretend—and even grown-up people, who can do difficult sums,
and answer questions in history and geography better than children,
cannot “pretend” one half so well—now let us pretend that we are about
to spend the morning in the orchard.
Here we go, out of the schoolroom into the air and sunshine, along the
road, up the hill, till we reach the stone wall beyond which lies our
orchard.
Ah! it is good to get into the cool of the dear, friendly trees. And
just now, more than ever, they seem friendly to you boys and girls; for
they are heavy with apples,—beautiful red and golden apples, that tempt
you to clamber up into the green sea of leaves above.
Now let us “pretend” that you have had your fill, and are ready to
gather quietly about me on the long grass. But first, please, one
of you bring me an apple. Let it be well-grown and rounded, with a
rosy, sun-burned cheek; for, as we are to spend some little time with
this apple, the more perfect it is in shape, the richer in color, the
sounder all the way through, the better. It is good to be as much as
possible with things that are beautiful and wholesome and hearty, even
though they are only apples.
[Illustration: FIG. 1]
Here we have (Fig. 1) a fine specimen. What do you know, any of you,
about this apple? Perhaps this seems a strange question. But when we
see something that is fine and beautiful, is it strange that we wish to
know its history? If I see a man or a woman who seems to me all that a
man or woman should be; if he or she is fine-looking and fine-acting,
straight and strong, and beautiful and kind, and brave and generous,—I
ask, “Who is he? Where does she come from? What have they done?”
Of course, a fine apple is not so interesting as a fine man or woman,
or as a fine boy or girl. Still there is much of interest to learn even
about an apple.
None of you seems anxious to tell the apple’s story, so I shall have to
start you with some questions.
Do you remember playing in this same orchard last spring?
Yes, you have not forgotten those Saturdays in May. The trees were all
pink and white with apple blossoms. The air was sweet with fragrance,
and full of the voices of birds, and of bees that were bustling about
from flower to flower. No, indeed! you have not forgotten those happy
mornings. What is more, you never will. They are among the things that
will stay by you, and be a rest and help to you all your lives. I wish
there were no child living that might not carry with him always the
memory of May days in an apple orchard.
How has it come about, do you suppose, that these trees which in May
were covered with flowers are now heavy with apples?
Can any of you children answer this riddle? How have these great apples
managed to take the place of the delicate apple blossoms?
There are some children who keep their eyes open, and really see
what is going on about them, instead of acting as if they were quite
blind; and perhaps some such child will say, “Oh, yes! I know how it
happened. I have seen it all,” and will be able to tell the whole
story at once.
I should like very much to meet that boy or girl, and I should like to
take a country walk with him or her; for there are so few children, or
grown people either, who use both their eyes to see with, and the brain
which lies back of their eyes to think and question with, that it is a
rare treat to meet and to go about with one of them.
But I should be almost as much pleased to meet the child who says,
“Well, I know that first the blossoms come. Early in May they make the
orchard so nice to play in. But in a few days they begin to fall. Their
little white leaves come dropping down like snowflakes; and soon after,
if you climb out along the branches and look close, where there was a
blossom before, you find now a little green thing something like a knob
(Fig. 2). This tiny knob keeps growing bigger and bigger, and then you
see that it is a baby apple. As the weeks go by, the little apple grows
into a big one; and at last the green begins to fade away, and the red
and yellow to come. One day you find the great grown apple all ripe,
and ready to eat. But I never could see just what made it come like
that, such a big, heavy apple from such a little flower, and I always
wondered about it.”
[Illustration: FIG. 2]
Now, if we wonder about the things we see, we are on the right road.
The child who first “sees” what is happening around him, and then
“wonders” and asks questions, is sure to be good company to other
people and to himself. (And as one spends more time with himself
than with any one else, he is lucky if he finds himself a pleasant
companion.) Such a child has not lost the use of his eyes, as so
many of us seem to have done. And when the little brain is full of
questions, it bids fair to become a big brain, which may answer some
day the questions the world is asking.
Before I tell you just how the big apple managed to take the place of
the pretty, delicate flower, let us take a good look at this flower.
But in September apple flowers are not to be had for the asking. Not
one is to be found on all these trees. So just now we must use the
picture instead. And when May comes, your teacher will bring you a
branch bearing the beautiful blossoms; or, better still, perhaps she
will take you out into the orchard itself, and you can go over this
chapter again with the lovely living flowers before you.
[Illustration: FIG. 3]
Now, as you look at this picture of the apple flower (Fig. 3), you see
a circle made up of five pretty leaves. Sometimes these are white;
again they are pink. And in the center what do you see? Why, there you
see a quantity of odd-looking little things whose names you do not
know. They look somewhat like small, rather crooked pins; for on the
tips of most of them are objects which remind you of the head of a pin.
If you were looking at a real flower, you would see that these pin
heads were little boxes filled with a yellow dust which comes off upon
one’s fingers; and so for the present we will call them “dust boxes.”
But besides these pins—later we shall learn their real names—besides
these pins with dust boxes, we find some others which are without any
such boxes. The shape of these reminds us a little of the pegs or pins
we use in the game of tenpins. If we looked at them very closely, we
should see that there were five of them, but that these five were
joined below into one piece.
Now suppose we take the apple blossom and pull off all its pretty white
flower leaves, and all the pins with dust boxes, what will be left?
[Illustration: FIG. 4]
This picture (Fig. 4) shows you just what is left. You see what looks
like a little cup or vase. The upper part of this is cut into five
pieces, which are rolled back. In the picture one of these pieces is
almost out of sight. In the real blossom these pieces look like little
green leaves. And set into this cup is the lower, united part of those
pins which have no dust boxes on top.
I fancy that you are better acquainted with the apple blossom than
ever before, never mind how many mornings you may have spent in the
sweet-smelling, pink and white orchard. You know just what goes to make
up each separate flower, for all the many hundreds of blossoms are made
on the one plan.
And only now are you ready to hear what happened to make the apple take
the place of the blossom.
[Illustration: Flowers]
THE STORY OF THE BEE
This is what happened. And it is a true story.
One morning last May a bee set out among the flowers on a honey hunt.
Perhaps it would be more true to say that the bee set out to hunt for
the sweet stuff of which honey is made; for while this sweet stuff
is still in the flower cup it is not honey, any more than the wheat
growing in the field is bread. The wheat becomes bread later, after it
has been cut and gathered and threshed and ground, and brought into the
kitchen and there changed into bread; and the sweet stuff becomes honey
only after the bees have carried it home and worked it.
As the bee left home this particular morning, it made up its mind that
it would devote itself to the apple blossoms; for did you know that
when a bee goes flower visiting, usually it gives all its attention to
one kind of flower till it has finished that special round of visits?
So off the bee flew; and in a few moments it saw hundreds of little
pink and white handkerchiefs waving at it from the apple orchard.
What do you suppose these were, these gay little handkerchiefs?
They were the flower leaves of the apple blossoms. I call them
handkerchiefs, because, just as boys and girls sometimes wave their
handkerchiefs when they wish to signal other boys and girls, so the
apple tree uses its gay flower leaves to attract the attention of the
bee, and persuade it to visit the flowers. Of course, really, they are
not handkerchiefs at all. They would hardly be large enough for any but
fairy noses, would they?
When the bee saw so many bright handkerchiefs waving it welcome, along
it hurried; for it knew this was a signal that material for honey
making was at hand. Another minute, and it had settled upon a freshly
opened flower, and was eagerly stealing the precious sweet.
You children know, that, when you are given permission to go to the
closet for a piece of candy or cake, you are not apt to set about it
very gently. You are in too much of a hurry for that. Often you come
very near knocking everything over, in your haste to get hold of what
you want.
And bees are quite as greedy as any boy or girl could be. So our friend
dived right into the pretty flower, brushing rudely against the little
dust boxes. These, being full to overflowing with golden dust, spilled
their contents, and powdered the bee quite yellow.
Having made sure that nothing more was to be found just there, off
flew the dusty bee to the next blossom. Into this it pushed its way,
and in so doing struck those pins which have no dust boxes; and upon
their broad, flat tips fell some of the yellow dust grains with which
its body was powdered.
Now there began to happen a strange thing.
But before I tell you more, I must stop one moment to remind you that
these pins without dust boxes are joined below into one piece, and that
this piece is set deep into the green cup which holds the rest of the
flower (see Fig. 4); and I must tell you, that, if you should cut open
this cup, you would find a number of little round objects looking like
tiny green eggs.
The strange thing that began to happen was this:—
Soon after the yellow dust from the bee fell upon the flat tips of the
pins without dust boxes, the little green objects deep within the green
cup became full of life, and began to get larger. And not only this:
the green cup also seemed to feel this new life; for it too grew bigger
and bigger, and juicier and juicier, until it became the fine juicy
apple we have before us this morning.
So now you understand a little of what happened to make the great apple
take the place of the delicate blossom.
THE APPLE’S TREASURES
If we lift our apple by its stem, it hangs in the same position as when
growing on the tree (Fig. 5).
But the blossom whose place in the world is taken by this apple held
its little head proudly in the air. So let us put the apple in the same
position, and see what is left of the flower from which it has come
(Fig. 6).
[Illustration: FIG. 5]
We see the apple stem, which last May was the flower stem. This has
grown thick and strong enough to hold the apple fast to the tree till
it ripens and is ready to drop.
The upper part of the stem you cannot see, because the apple has
swelled downwards all about it, or upwards we should say, if it were
still on the tree.
[Illustration: FIG. 6]
On the top of the apple, in a little hollow, we see some crumpled
things which look like tiny withered leaves.
You remember that when the bee left the yellow dust in the apple
blossom, the green cup began to grow big and juicy, and to turn into
the apple. And these little crumpled things are all that is left of the
five green leaves into which the upper part of the cup was divided.
These little leaves have been out in all kinds of weather for many
weeks, so no wonder they look rather mussy and forlorn.
It is hard to realize that from the center of this now crumpled bunch
grew the pretty apple blossom.
Now where are those tiny round things that were packed away inside the
green cup?
Well, as that cup is now this apple, the chances are that they are
still hidden safely away within it. So let us take a knife and cut the
apple open.
[Illustration: FIG. 7]
What do you find in its very heart? If you cut it through crosswise,
you find five brown seeds packed as neatly as jewels in their case
(Fig. 7); and if you cut it through lengthwise, you discover only two
or three seeds (Fig. 8).
Probably I need not say to you that these seeds were once the little
round things hidden within the green cup.
[Illustration: FIG. 8]
Some day I will tell you a great deal more about the wonderful golden
dust which turns flowers into apples as easily as Cinderella’s fairy
godmother turned rats into ponies, and pumpkins into coaches.
But all this will come later. Just now I want to talk about something
else.
[Illustration: Grass]
WHAT A PLANT LIVES FOR
When you go for a walk in the country, what do you see all about you?
“Cows and horses, and chickens and birds, and trees and flowers,”
answers some child.
Yes, all of these things you see. But of the trees and plants you see
even more than of the horses and cows and birds. On every side are
plants of one kind or another. The fields are full of grass plants. The
woods are full of tree plants. Along the roadside are plants of many
varieties.
Now, what are all these plants trying to do? “To grow,” comes the
answer. To grow big and strong enough to hold their own in the world.
That is just what they are trying to do.
Then, too, they are trying to flower.
“But they don’t all have flowers,” objects one voice.
You are right. They do not all have flowers; but you would be surprised
to know how many of them do. In fact, all of them except the ferns and
mosses, and a few others, some of which you would hardly recognize as
plants,—all of them, with these exceptions, flower at some time in
their lives.
All the trees have flowers, and all the grasses (Figs. 9, 10); and all
those plants which get so dusty along the roadside, and which you call
“weeds,”—each one of these has its own flower. This may be so small
and dull-looking that you have never noticed it; and unless you look
sharply, perhaps you never will. But all the same, it is a flower.
But there is one especial thing which is really the object of the
plant’s life. Now, who can tell me this: what is this object of a
plant’s life?
Do you know just what I mean by this question? I doubt it; but I will
try to make it clear to you.
[Illustration: FIG. 9]
If I see a boy stop his play, get his hat, and start down the street, I
know that he has what we call “an object in view.” There is some reason
for what he is doing. And if I say to him, “What is the _object_ of
your walk?” I mean, “For what are you going down the street?” And if he
answers, “I am going to get a pound of tea for my mother,” I know that
a pound of tea is the _object_ of his walk.
So when I ask what is the _object_ of a plant’s life, I mean why does a
plant send out roots in search of food, and a stem to carry this food
upward, and leaves to drink in air and sunshine? What is the object of
all this?
A great many people seem to think that the object of all plants with
pretty flowers must be to give pleasure. But these people quite forget
that hundreds and thousands of flowers live and die far away in the
lonely forest, where no human eye ever sees them; that they so lived
and died hundreds and thousands of years before there were any men and
women, and boys and girls, upon the earth. And so, if they stopped long
enough quietly to think about it, they would see for themselves that
plants must have some other object in life than to give people pleasure.
[Illustration: FIG. 10]
But now let us go back to the tree from which we took this apple, and
see if we can find out its special object.
“Why, apples!” some of you exclaim. “Surely the object of an apple tree
is to bear apples.”
That is it exactly. An apple tree lives to bear apples.
And now why is an apple such an important thing? Why is it worth so
much time and trouble? What is its use?
“It is good to eat,” chime all the children in chorus.
Yes, so it is; but then, you must remember that once upon a time, apple
trees, like all other plants and trees, grew in lonely places where
there were no boys and girls to eat their fruit. So we must find some
other answer.
Think for a moment, and then tell me what you find inside every apple.
“Apple seeds,” one of you replies.
And what is the use of these apple seeds?
“Why, they make new apple trees!”
If this be so, if every apple holds some little seeds from which new
apple trees may grow, does it not look as though an apple were useful
and important because it yields seeds?
And what is true of the apple tree is true of other plants and trees.
The plant lives to bear fruit. The fruit is that part of the plant
which holds its seeds; and it is of importance for just this reason,
that it holds the seeds from which come new plants.
THE WORLD WITHOUT PLANTS
We have just learned that the fruit is important because it holds the
plant’s seeds; and we know that seeds are important because from them
come the new plants for another year. Let us stop here one moment, and
try to think what would happen if plants should stop having seeds, if
there should be no new plants.
We all, and especially those of us who are children, carry about with
us a little picture gallery of our very own. In this gallery are
pictures of things which our real eyes have never seen, yet which
we ourselves see quite as plainly as the objects which our eyes rest
upon in the outside world. Some of these pictures are very beautiful.
They show us things so wonderful and delightful and interesting, that
at times we forget all about the real, outside things. Indeed, these
pictures often seem to us more real than anything else in the world.
And once in a great while we admire them so earnestly that we are able
to make them come true; that is, _we turn our backs upon them_, and
work so hard to bring them about, that at last what was only a picture
becomes a reality.
Perhaps some of you children can step into this little gallery of your
own, and see a picture of the great world as it would be if there
should be no new plants.
This picture would show the world some hundreds of years from now; for,
although some plants live only a short time, others (and usually these
are trees) live hundreds of years.
But in the picture even the last tree has died away. Upon the earth
there is not one green, growing thing. The sun beats down upon the
bare, brown deserts. It seems to scorch and blister the rocky mountain
sides. There are no cool shadows where one can lie on a summer
afternoon; no dark, ferny nooks, such as children love, down by the
stream. But, after all, that does not matter much, for there are no
children to search out such hidden, secret spots.
“No children! Why, what has happened to them?”
Well, if _plants_ should stop having children (for the little young
plants that come up each year are just the children of the big,
grown-up plants), all other life—the life of all grown people, and of
all children, and of all animals—would also come to an end.
Did you ever stop to think of this,—that your very life depended upon
these plants and trees? You know that they are pretty to look at, and
pleasant to play about; but I doubt if you ever realized before, that
to them you owe your life.
Now let us see how this can be. What did you have this morning for
breakfast?
Bread and milk? Well, of what is the bread made? Flour? Yes, and the
flour is made from the seeds of the wheat. If the wheat stopped having
seeds, you would stop having bread made from wheat seeds. That is plain
enough.
Then the milk,—where does that come from?
“That comes from the cows, and cows are not plants,” you say.
True, cows are not plants, but what would happen to the cows if there
were no plants? Do not cows live in the green meadows, where all day
long they munch the grass plants? And would there be any green meadows
and all-day banquets, in years to come, if the grass did not first
flower, and then seed? So then, no grass, no cows, and you would be
without milk as well as without bread for breakfast.
And so it is with all the rest of our food. We live on either plants
or animals. If there were no plants, there would be no animals, for
animals cannot live without plants.
It is something like the house that Jack built, isn’t it?
“We are the children that drink the milk, that comes from the cows,
that eat the grass, that grows from the seeds in the meadow.”
“If there were no seeds, there would be no grass to feed the cows that
give us our milk for breakfast.”
And so it is everywhere. Plants give us a kind of food that we must
have, and that only they can give. They could get on well enough
without animals. Indeed, for a long time they did so, many hundreds of
years ago. But animals cannot live without plants.
I think you will now remember why seeds are of such great importance.
HOW THE APPLE SHIELDS ITS YOUNG
Some time ago you noticed that apple seeds were packed away within the
apple as neatly as though they were precious jewels in their case.
When we see something done up very carefully, surrounded with cotton
wool, laid in a beautiful box, and wrapped about with soft paper,
we feel sure that the object of all this care is of value. Even the
outside of such a package tells us that something precious lies within.
[Illustration: FIG. 11]
But what precious jewels could be laid away more carefully than these
apple seeds? And what jewel case could boast a more beautiful outside
than this red-cheeked apple (Fig. 11)?
Pass it around. Note its lovely color, its delicate markings, its
satin-like skin. For myself, I feel sure that I never have seen a jewel
case one half so beautiful.
Then cut it open and see how carefully the soft yet firm apple flesh is
packed about the little seeds, keeping them safe from harm (Fig. 12).
[Illustration: FIG. 12]
But perhaps you think that anything so good to eat is not of much use
as a protection. It takes you boys and girls about half a minute to
swallow such a jewel case as this.
But here comes the interesting part of the story.
When you learn how well able this apple is to defend from harm its
precious seeds, I think you will look upon it with new respect, and
will own that it is not only a beautiful jewel case, but a safe one.
All seeds need care and wrapping-up till they are ripe; for if they
fall to the ground before they are well grown, they will not be able to
start new plants.
You know that you can tell whether an apple is ripe by looking at its
seeds, for the fruit and its seeds ripen together. When the apple seeds
are dark brown, then the apple is ready to be eaten.
But if, in order to find out whether an apple was ripe, you were
obliged always to examine its seeds, you might destroy many apples and
waste many young seeds before you found what you wished; so, in order
to protect its young, the apple must tell you when it is ready to be
eaten in some other way than by its seeds.
How does it do this? Why, it puts off its green coat, and instead
wears one of red or yellow; and from being hard to the touch, it
becomes soft and yielding when you press it with your fingers. If not
picked, then it falls upon the ground in order to show you that it is
waiting for you; and when you bite into it, you find it juicy, and
pleasant to the taste.
While eating such an apple as this, you can be sure that when you come
to the inner part, which holds its seeds, you will find these brown,
and ripe, and quite ready to be set free from the case which has held
them so carefully all summer.
But how does the apple still further protect its young till they are
ready to go out into the world?
Well, stop and think what happened one day last summer when you stole
into the orchard and ate a quantity of green apples, the little seeds
of which were far too white and young to be sent off by themselves.
In the first place, as soon as you began to climb the tree, had you
chosen to stop and listen, you could almost have heard the green skins
of those apples calling out to you, “Don’t eat us, we’re not ripe yet!”
And when you felt them with your fingers, they were hard to the touch;
and this hardness said to you, “Don’t eat us, we’re not ripe yet!”
But all the same, you ate them; and the sour taste which puckered up
your mouth said to you, “Stop eating us, we’re not ripe yet!”
But you did not pay any attention to their warnings; and, though they
spared no pains, those apples were not able to save their baby seeds
from being wasted by your greediness.
But there was still one thing they could do to prevent your eating many
more green apples, and wasting more half-ripe seeds. They could punish
you so severely for having disobeyed their warnings, that you would not
be likely very soon to do the same thing again.
And this is just what they did.
When feeling so ill and unhappy that summer night from all the unripe
fruit you had been eating, perhaps you hardly realized that those
apples were crying out to you,—
“You would not listen to us, and so we are punishing you by making you
ill and uncomfortable. When you saw how green we were, we were begging
you not to eat us till our young seeds were ripe. When you felt how
hard we were, we were trying to make you understand that we were not
ready for you yet. And, now that you _have_ eaten us in spite of all
that we did to save ourselves and our seeds, we are going to make you
just as unhappy as we know how. Perhaps next time you will pay some
heed to our warnings, and will leave us alone till we are ready to let
our young ones go out into the world.”
So after this when I show you an apple, and ask you what you know about
it, I fancy you will have quite a story to tell,—a story that begins
with one May day in the orchard, when a bee went flower visiting, and
ends with the little brown seeds which you let fall upon the ground,
when you had finished eating the rosy cheeks and juicy pulp of the
apple seed case. And the apple’s story is also the story of many other
fruits.
[Illustration: Flower]
SOME COUSINS OF THE APPLE
The pear (Fig. 13) is a near cousin of the apple.
But perhaps you did not know that plants and trees had cousins.
As you learn more and more about them, you will begin to feel that in
many ways plants are very much like people.
Both the pear and the apple belong to the Rose family. They are cousins
to all the garden roses, as well as to the lovely wild rose that you
meet so often in summer along the roadside.
[Illustration: FIG. 13]
We know some families where the girls and boys look so much alike that
we could guess they were brothers and sisters, even if we did not know
that they all lived in the one house and had the one family name. If we
look carefully at the plants we meet, at their leaves and flowers and
fruits, and even at their stems and roots, often we may guess rightly
which ones belong to the same family.
If we place side by side an apple blossom and a pear blossom, we see
that they are very like each other. Both have the green outside cup
which above is cut into five little green leaves. Both have five white
or pinkish flower leaves. Both have a good many pins with dust boxes,
and from two to five of those pins without dust boxes.
If we place side by side a pear and an apple, we see in both cases that
it is the green cup, grown big and juicy and ripe, which forms the
delicious fruit.
If we cut these two fruits open lengthwise, we can see just how the
pins without dust boxes are set into the green cup; and we can see that
the lower, united part of these pins makes a little box which holds the
seeds.
In the picture (Fig. 14) the shading shows you where this seedbox ends,
and the green cup, or what once was the green cup, begins. This is
rather hard to understand, I know; but your teacher can make it clear
to you with a real pear.
So it ought to surprise you no longer to learn that the apple and the
pear are cousins.
[Illustration: FIG. 14]
Now, I want you to look at the picture at the head of this chapter.
This is the wild rose, the flower from which the great Rose family
takes its name.
This rose is a much larger flower than either the apple or the pear
blossom. Its flower leaves are deep pink. These bright flower leaves
make gay handkerchiefs for signaling when the rose plant wishes to
attract the attention of the bees.
But there are five of them, just as there are in the apple and the pear
blossom; and there are the pins with dust boxes,—so many of them, in
the rose, that it would take some time to count them all. And in the
center are the pins which have seedboxes below; for these pins in the
rose are quite separate one from another, and each one has its own
little seedbox.
So, though different in some ways, in others the flower of the rose is
very much like those of the apple and the pear.
[Illustration: FIG. 15]
In this picture (Fig. 15) you see its fruit. This is called the “rose
hip.” When ripe, it turns bright red. In late summer you see the
rosebushes covered with these pretty hips. At times this fruit does
not look altogether unlike a tiny apple or pear; but if we cut it open
lengthwise, we see that its inside arrangements are quite different.
The lower parts of the pins without dust boxes do not grow into one
piece with the green cup (now the red cup), as in the apple and the
pear. Instead, this cup (Fig. 16) is hollow. To its inner sides are
fastened the little seedboxes, as you will see if you look carefully
at the picture. This hollow case with its separate seedboxes shows you
that the rose plant is not so closely related to the pear and the apple
trees as these trees are to each other.
[Illustration: FIG. 16]
UNEATABLE FRUITS
Perhaps one day you bit into the fruit of the rose, and found it sour
and unpleasant to the taste. You may have forgotten that not long ago
you learned a new meaning for the word “fruit.” Possibly you still
fancy that a fruit must be something good to eat. So many people have
this idea, that once more I wish to make clear to you that _the fruit
is the seed-holding part of the plant_.
[Illustration: Leaves]
Whether this part is good to eat or not, makes no difference as to its
being a fruit.
The apple is a fruit, you remember, not because it is good to eat, but
because it holds the seeds of the apple tree.
And for this same reason the pear is a fruit. It is the case in which
is laid the seedbox of the pear tree. This case, when ripe, happens to
be juicy and delicious; but it would be quite as much a fruit if it
were dry and hard, and without taste.
And so the rose hip is a fruit, because it is the case which holds the
little seedboxes of the rose flower.
What is the fruit of the milkweed?
All country children know the milkweed plant, with its big bright
leaves, and bunches of pink or red or purple flowers (Fig. 17). And
you know the puffy pods that later split open, letting out a mass of
brown, silky-tailed seeds. There! I have given the answer to my own
question; for if the plant’s fruit is the seed-holding part, then the
milkweed’s fruit must be this pod stuffed full of beautiful, fairy-like
seeds.
[Illustration: FIG. 17]
Then you know the burdock (Fig. 18) which grows along the country road.
But perhaps you do not know that the fruit of this is the prickly burr
which hooks itself to your clothes on your way to school. This burr
(Fig. 19) is the case which holds the little seeds of the burdock, and
so it must be its fruit.
[Illustration: FIG. 18]
[Illustration: FIG. 19]
[Illustration: FIG. 20]
The fruit of the dandelion is the silvery puffball (Fig. 20) or
“clock,” by blowing at which you try to tell the time of day. If you
pull off one of the feathery objects which go to make up the puffball,
at its lower end you see a little dandelion seedbox (Fig. 21).
And these fall days, along the roadsides and in the woods, everywhere
you see fruits which you will hardly know as such unless you keep in
mind the true meaning of the word.
Many of these I am sure you would not care to eat. The burr from the
burdock would not make a pleasant mouthful. Neither would you like to
breakfast on a milkweed pod. And a quantity of dandelion puffballs
would hardly add to the enjoyment of your supper.
[Illustration: FIG. 21]
If you should tell your mother you had brought her some fruit, and
should show her a basket of burrs and pods, she would think you were
only joking, and perhaps a little foolish; and I dare say she would be
greatly surprised to find you were using the word quite rightly.
MORE COUSINS OF THE APPLE
[Illustration: FIG. 22]
The apple has three cousins, all of whom are very much alike. These
cousins are the cherry, the plum, and the peach (Figs. 22, 23, 24). All
three belong to the Rose family.
Have you ever noticed the great family likeness between these three
fruits?
Look at them in the pictures. To be sure, they are of different sizes,
but they are almost alike in shape.
And if you should cut them open lengthwise, right through the stony
center, all three would look much like the next picture, which is taken
from a peach (Fig. 25). All these fruits have the soft outer part which
you find so pleasant to the taste.
[Illustration: FIG. 23]
[Illustration: FIG. 24]
Within this, in all of them, is a hard object, which we call the stone
or pit; and inside this stone or pit, in each case, lies the seed.
These next pictures show you two views of the flower of the cherry
(Figs. 26, 27).
Here you see a likeness to other members of the Rose family, to the
blossoms of the apple and the pear.
[Illustration: FIG. 25]
You see that the green cup is cut into five little leaves (in the
picture these are turned back and downward). You see also the five
white flower leaves, and ever so many of the pins with dust boxes. But
you find only one of those pins without dust boxes; and this, as you
now know, has a seedbox below.
[Illustration: FIG. 26]
[Illustration: FIG. 27]
Well, that is all right. The cherry blossom has but one of these pins,
and the flowers of the peach and of the plum have only one.
Figure 28 shows you a cherry blossom cut open. Here you see plainly the
single pin with a seedbox.
This seedbox with its case is what grows into the cherry. The white
flower leaves, and the pins with dust boxes, fall away. In the cherry
flower the green cup also disappears, instead of making the best part
of the fruit, as it does with the apple and the pear. And the upper
part of the seedbox pin withers off; but the seedbox below grows juicy
and ripe and red, at least its outer case does.
[Illustration: FIG. 28]
By the end of June you take out the long ladder and place it against
the cherry tree. Seating yourself on one of its upper rungs, you
swallow the outside of the shining little ball we call the cherry,
letting the stony seedbox inside drop down upon the ground, where all
ripe seeds belong.
The story of the plum and of the peach is almost the same as the story
of the cherry. If you understand how the single seedbox of the cherry
blossom turns into the cherry fruit, then you understand how the same
thing happens with the single seedboxes of the plum and the peach
blossom.
You know that in the flowers of the pear and the apple there were
several of these pins without dust boxes; and although these were
joined below into a single seedbox, this had separate compartments for
the many seeds.
But the single seedboxes of the cherry, the plum, and the peach, have
but one hollow. Usually in this hollow we find only one seed. So you
see that these three fruits make a little group by themselves because
of their great likeness to one another.
STILL MORE COUSINS
Cherries and plums we find growing wild in the woods and fields. While
in many ways the wild trees are unlike those we grow in our orchards,
yet, if you look closely at their flowers and fruits, you will find
they answer generally to the descriptions you have been reading.
[Illustration: FIG. 29]
Early in May, when the orchard is still gray and dreary, suddenly we
notice that the upper branches of the cherry tree look as though a
light snow had fallen. It seems as if the lovely blossoms had burst
forth in an hour. One’s heart gives a joyful jump. Summer is really
coming. The flowers of May promise the fruit of June.
But when we find the blossoms of the wild cherry, it is several weeks
later. Some of the little wood flowers have already come and gone. The
trees are thick with leaves before we discover the fragrance of its
slender, drooping clusters; for, though in other ways these blossoms
are almost exactly like those of the cultivated cherry, they are much
smaller, and grow differently on the branches.
This same difference in size and manner of growing you will find
between the wild and the cultivated fruits. You country children
know well the little chokecherries (Fig. 29) that are so pretty and
so plentiful along the lanes. These hang in bunches that remind you
somewhat of the clusters of the currant. They are much smaller than the
market cherry; yet if you cut one through, you will see that in make-up
it is almost exactly like its big sister.
Those of you who live near the sea find wild beach plums (Fig. 30)
growing thickly along the sand hills. These are hardly larger than
good-sized grapes; yet if you cut them open, you see that they are
really plums.
In our woods and fields we do not find any wild peaches. The peach was
brought to us from far-away Persia. Only in the garden and orchard do
we meet its beautiful pink blossoms. To see these growing naturally we
must go to their Persian home.
[Illustration: FIG. 30]
So, while we remember that the cherry, the plum, and the peach belong
to one little group because of their likeness to one another, let us
not forget that the peach is one of the foreign members of the Rose
family.
IN THE WOODS
What do you say this morning to going to the woods rather than to
either garden or orchard?
Not that I am ready to take back anything I said at the beginning of
this book about the delights of the orchard as a playground. For actual
play I know of no better place. An apple tree is as good a horse as
it is a house, as good a ship as it is a mountain. Other trees may be
taller, finer to look at, more exciting to climb; but they do not know
how to fit themselves to the need of the moment as does an apple tree.
But for anything besides play, the woods, the real woods, are even
better than the orchard. The truth is, in the woods you have such a
good time just living, that you hardly need to play; at least you do if
you are made in the right way.
So now we are off for the woods. We have only to cross a field and
climb a fence, and we are in the lane which leads where we wish to go.
Through the trees comes a golden light. This is made partly by the
sunshine, but mostly by the leaves turned yellow. These yellow leaves
mean that summer is over. It is in summer, when we are having our
vacation, that the leaves work hardest; for leaves have work to do, as
we shall learn later. But now they are taking a rest, and wearing their
holiday colors.
Twisting in and out over the rails of the fence are clusters of
berries which are very beautiful when you look at them closely. Each
berry is an orange-colored case which opens so as to show a scarlet
seedbox within (Fig. 31). A little earlier in the year you could not
see this bright-colored seedbox. It is only a short time since the
outer case opened and displayed its contents. These are the berries of
the bittersweet. Last June you would hardly have noticed its little
greenish flowers, and would have been surprised to learn that they
could change into such gay fruit.
[Illustration: FIG. 31]
Do you see a shrub close by covered with berries? These berries are
dark blue. They grow on bright-red stalks. If we wait here long enough,
it is likely that we shall see the birds alight upon some upper twig
and make their dinner on the dogwood berries; for this is one of the
Dogwood family,—the red-stalked dogwood, we call it (Fig. 32). When its
berries turn a very dark blue, then the birds know they are ready to be
eaten, just as we know the same thing by the rosy cheeks of the apple.
[Illustration: FIG. 32]
You can be pretty sure that any fruit so gayly colored as to make us
look at it twice, is trying to persuade some one—some boy or girl, or
bird, or perhaps even some bear—to come and eat it.
You have not forgotten, I hope, why these fruits are so anxious to be
eaten? You remember that when their seeds become ripe, and ready to
make new plants, then they put on bright colors that say for them,
“Come and eat us, for our little seeds want to get out of their prison!”
Once upon a time these seeds did not find their cozy seed cases a
prison. So once upon a time the baby robins were content to stay safe
in their nest. And once upon a time all the playground you needed was
a little corner behind your mother’s chair. But seeds, like birds and
babies, outgrow their surroundings, and need more room.
[Illustration: FIG. 33]
Here is a tall shrub with bright-colored leaves, and clusters of dark
red fruit that grow high above our heads (Fig. 33). It looks something
like certain materials used in fancywork. This shrub is called the
sumac; and if you pick and pull apart one of its fruit clusters, you
find that it is made up of a quantity of seeds that are covered with
little red hairs. There is nothing soft and juicy about the fruit of
the sumac. Whether it is ever used as food by the birds, I do not know.
I wish some child would make it his business to find out about this.
Some of you are sure to live near a clump of sumacs. By watching them
closely for a few weeks, you ought to discover if any birds feed upon
their fruit.
If you do make any such discovery, I hope you will write a letter
telling me of it; and then, if another edition of this book is
published, I shall be able to tell other children more about the fruit
of the sumac than I can tell you to-day.
There are many interesting things about plants yet to be found out; and
you children will find it far pleasanter to make your own discoveries,
using your own bright eyes, than to read about the discoveries of
other people. Every field, each bit of woods, the road we know so well
leading from home to the schoolhouse, and even the city squares and
parks, are full of interesting things that as yet we have never seen,
even though we may have been over the ground a hundred times before.
Now let us leave the lane, and strike into the woods in search of new
fruits. This morning we will look especially for those fruits which
by their bright colors and pleasant looks seem to be calling out to
whomsoever it may concern, “Come and eat us!”
Close at hand is one of our prettiest plants. Its leaves look as though
they were trying to be in the height of the fall fashion, and to outdo
even the trees in brightness of color. These leaves are set in circles
about the slim stem. From the top of this grow some purple berries
(Fig. 34).
[Illustration: FIG. 34]
This plant is the Indian cucumber root. If one of you boys will dig
it up with your knife, you will find that its root is shaped a little
like a cucumber. Though I have never made the experiment myself, I
am told that it tastes something like the cucumber. It is possible,
that, as its name suggests, it was used as food by the Indians. To hunt
up the beginnings of plant names is often amusing. So many of these
are Indian, that in our rambles through the woods we are constantly
reminded of the days when the red man was finding his chief support in
their plants and animals.
In June we find the flower of the Indian cucumber root. This is a
little yellowish blossom, one of the Lily family. Small though it is,
for one who knows something of botany it is easy to recognize it as
a lily. Indeed, the look of the plant suggests the wood and meadow
lilies. This is partly because of the way in which the leaves grow
about its stem, much as they do in these other lilies.
Now look at the beautiful carpet which is spread beneath your feet.
Here you will wish to step very lightly; for otherwise you might crush
some of those bright red berries which are set thickly among the little
white-veined leaves.
These are called “partridge berries,”—a name given them because they
are eaten by partridges. But the bare winter woods offer few tempting
morsels for bird meals; and it seems likely that the nuthatch and
snowbird, the chickadee and winter wren, hail with delight these bright
berries, and share with the partridges the welcome feast.
Please look closely at one of the berries in Fig. 35, and tell me
whether you see anything unusual.
“There are two little holes on top.”
Yes, that is just what I hoped you would notice. I do not know of any
other berries in which you could find these two little holes; and as I
do not believe it would be possible for you to guess what made these
holes, I will tell you about them.
[Illustration: FIG. 35]
The flowers of the partridge vine always grow in twos. The seedboxes
of these two flowers are joined in one. So when the flowers fade
away, only the one seedbox is left. When this ripens, it becomes the
partridge berry; and the two little holes show where the two flowers
were fastened to the seedbox.
Try not to forget this, and early next July be sure to go to the
woods and look for the little sister flowers. Perhaps their delicious
fragrance will help you in your hunt for their hiding place. Then see
for yourselves how the two blossoms have but one seedbox between them
(Fig. 35).
Now, we must take care not to wet our feet, for the ground is getting
damp. We are coming to that lovely spot where the brook winds beneath
the hemlocks after making its leap down the rocks. What is that flaming
red spot against the gray rock yonder?
As we draw nearer, we see that a quantity of scarlet berries are
closely packed upon a thick stalk (Fig. 36).
Do you know the name of the plant which owns this flaming fruit?
If you were in these woods last May, at every turn you met one of those
quaint little fellows we call “Jack-in-the-pulpit.”
[Illustration: FIG. 36]
Jack himself, you remember, was hidden almost out of sight by his
“pulpit.” This pulpit was made of a leaf striped green or purple, or
both; and this leaf curled about and above Jack (Fig. 37).
After a time the pretty leaf pulpit faded away, and Jack was left
standing all alone.
The lower part of Jack is covered with tiny flowers. After these had
been properly dusted by the little flies (for flies, not bees, visit
Jack), just as the apple blossom began to change into the apple, so
these tiny flowers began to turn into bright berries.
While this was happening, Jack’s upper part began to wither away; and
at last all of it that was left was the queer little tail which you see
at the top of the bunch of berries.
[Illustration: FIG. 37]
It is said that the Indians boiled these berries, and then thought them
very good to eat.
If we were lost in the woods, and obliged to live upon the plants about
us, I dare say we should eat, and perhaps enjoy eating, many things
which now seem quite impossible; but until this happens I advise you
not to experiment with strange leaves and roots and berries. Every
little while one reads of the death of some child as the result of
eating a poisonous plant.
[Illustration: FIG. 38]
The next picture (Fig. 38) shows you the fruit of Solomon’s seal. These
dark-blue berries hang from beneath the leafy stem, just as the little
flowers hung their yellow heads last May.
Next come the speckled red berries of the false Solomon’s seal (Fig.
39), a big cousin of the smaller plant. As you see, this bears its
fruit quite differently, all in a cluster at the upper part of the
stem. These two plants seem to be great chums, constantly growing side
by side.
We have been so busy and so happy that the morning has flown, and now
we must be finding our way home to dinner; for, unlike the birds, we
are not satisfied to dine on berries alone.
[Illustration: FIG. 39]
At almost every step we long to stop and look at some new plant in
fruit; for, now that we have learned how to look for them, berries of
different sorts seem thick on every side.
Low at our feet are the red ones of the wintergreen (Fig. 40).
On taller plants grow the odd white ones, with blackish spots, of the
white baneberry (Fig. 41), or the red ones of the red baneberry.
[Illustration: FIG. 40]
[Illustration: FIG. 41]
Still higher glisten the dark, glass-like clusters of the spikenard.
Along the lane are glowing barberries (Fig. 42) and thorns bright with
their “haws” (for the fruit of the thorn is called a “haw”). These look
something like little apples.
Here, too, is the black alder, studded with its red, waxy beads. But we
must hurry on, not stopping by the way. And you can be sure that those
birds we hear chirruping above us are glad enough to be left to finish
their dinner in peace.
[Illustration: FIG. 42]
[Illustration: Berries]
WHY SEEDS TRAVEL
At last I think we all understand that by the red of the apple, the
purple of the plum, and the different colors worn by the berries we
find in the woods, these plants are inviting us, and the birds also, to
eat their fruit, and so release from prison their little seeds.
But what would happen, do you suppose, if no one should accept this
invitation? What would become of their seeds if these pears and apples
and berries were not eaten by boys and girls and birds?
Most of this question you can answer for yourselves.
If you leave the apple on the tree, after a time it falls off upon the
ground; and unless picked up, there it lies till it decays. In the
orchard every fall you see apples decaying on the ground. In a little
while the fleshy part disappears, and the little seeds are thus let out
of prison without help.
But many plants are not satisfied to leave their seeds so near home.
Why is this, do you suppose?
Well, this is quite a long story.
All plants of the same kind need just the same sort of food. If too
many apple trees grow together, they soon use up all the apple-tree
food in the neighborhood.
So if a seed is to grow into a strong, hearty, well-fed plant, it ought
to begin life in some place not already full of plants in search of
just the food that it needs for itself.
If a plant or tree makes its fruit so good to eat that some boy or girl
or bird is likely to pick it, the chances are that it will be carried
at least a short distance before its seeds are dropped upon the ground.
Once in a while a plant is rewarded for its pains by having its young
carried thousands of miles.
Think how far from its home the peach has traveled. As I told you
before, it comes to us from Persia.
Now, if the Persian peach tree had not made its fruit very juicy and
delicious, it is not likely that any one would have taken the trouble
to bring its seeds way over here to us.
But this peach being what it is, one of the most delicious of fruits,
the tree was rewarded for its pains by having its children taken where
they were petted, and made much of, and had things all their own way;
for no other peach trees were on hand to do their best to crowd them
out.
Then think of the little partridge berry. The fleshy part of this the
birds eat and digest. But the little seeds pass unharmed from the
bird’s stomach to the earth, sometimes many miles from the woods where
they were born.
What is true of the peach and of the partridge berry is true of many
other fruits.
Without the help of man or bird or beast, these little seeds could at
last get out of their seed cases; but without such help, often they
could not get the start in life they need.
So it would seem as if a fruit’s bright color and delicious flavor were
saying to us not only, “Come and eat us and set our seeds free,” but
also, “and carry us far away, so that we may have a fair chance in the
world.”
SOME LITTLE TRAMPS
[Illustration: FIG. 43]
When I came home from that walk in the woods the other day, it took me
some time to rid my clothes of many odd-looking little things, such as
you see in the picture above (Fig. 43).
This round burr (Fig. 44) was one of the worst of my hangers-on. You
know it quite well. It is the fruit of the burdock. Can some child tell
me why I call this prickly burr a fruit?
Now let us look carefully at this seed case or fruit of the burdock.
[Illustration: FIG. 44]
Instead of being smooth to the touch, like some other fruits we know,
such as the apple and the pear, it is covered with stiff hooks. By
these hooks it fastened itself so firmly to my clothes, that it was
difficult to pull it off without making a tear.
Why does the burdock put its seeds into such a prickly case?
Please stop reading for a moment and try to answer this question.
Cudgel well your brains for the use of such a prickly seed case as that
of the burdock plant.
Now I am hoping that one of you children will be able to think out some
such answer as this:—
“Of course, the burdock plant doesn’t want its seeds to fall on the
piece of ground that has been used up already by other burdocks, any
more than the partridge vine wishes to drop its seeds in the same
little hollow where other partridge vines have eaten all the good food.
As this burdock plant cannot make its seed case so bright and pretty,
and good to eat, that the birds will carry it off, it must manage in
some other way to send its seeds on their travels. And this is what it
does: it covers the seed case with little hooks. When the seeds inside
are quite ripe, this case breaks off very easily. So when the children
come hunting berries, it hooks itself to their clothes, or else it
catches in the hair of their dogs, or takes hold of the wool of grazing
sheep, and gets carried quite a way before it is picked or rubbed off.
When that happens, it is far enough from its old home to set up for
itself.”
I should indeed be pleased if one of you children could give me some
such answer as that.
So you see this prickly seed case does just as much for its little
charges as the juicy apple and velvety peach do for theirs.
And the same thing is true of all those other hooked, or barbed, or
prickly little objects that I picked off my clothes the other day, and
that cling to you when you take a walk in the fall woods.
They are all fruits. They are the ripe seed cases of the different
plants.
But they are dull-looking, and often quite vexing, instead of being
pleasant to the sight and taste and touch.
This makes no difference, however, in their having things pretty much
their own way. We do not in the least want to carry abroad these little
torments, scattering far and wide their seeds, so that another year
there will be more burrs and barbs and bristles than ever, to tear our
clothes and worry our dogs; but they force us to do them this service,
whether we will or no, and never stop to say “By your leave.”
At every turn they are waiting for us. Where we climb the fence, and
cross the fields, and break through the woods, we can almost fancy that
we hear them whispering together, “Here they come! Now is our chance!”
They remind us of those lazy tramps that lie along the railway, getting
on the trucks of passing trains, and stealing rides across the country.
These ugly hooked fruits have one great advantage over the pretty ones
that are good to eat. They do not have to wait our pleasure. But when
we are most busy and hurried, without a moment to loiter in the apple
orchard or among the berry bushes, then, quite as well as, if not
better than, during our leisure moments, they lay hold upon us with
their tiny claws, and cling closely till we set to work to get rid of
them. When we pick them off and fling them to the ground, we are doing
just what they most wish.
[Illustration: FIG. 45]
In this picture (Fig. 45) you see the seed case of the tick trefoil.
This plant belongs to the Pea family; and its fruit is really a pod,
something like that of the garden pea. But when this pod of the tick
trefoil is ripe, it splits into five little pieces. Each piece is a
separate seed case. This is covered with hooked hairs, by means of
which it fastens itself to our clothing and to the hair of animals,
just as the burr of the burdock did. These little seed cases go by the
name of “ticks.”
[Illustration: FIG. 46]
Here is the fruit of the stick-tight (Fig. 46). You see its two teeth
that are so well fitted to weave themselves into either cloth or hair.
Fig. 47 shows you a strange and terrible fruit of this same class. It
grows on an African plant, and may fasten itself so firmly into the
hair of animals, that the attempt to get it out is almost hopeless.
Sometimes an unfortunate lion will kill himself in his efforts to
wrench this tormenting seed case from his skin. In his struggles he
gets it into his mouth, and so dies.
[Illustration: FIG. 47]
I am glad to say we have nothing so terrifying as this among our hooked
fruits.
Even if at times you are tempted to lose your patience with such
impertinent little tramps as they are, I think you can hardly help
admiring the clever way in which they manage to get a free ride.
SEED SAILBOATS
On your way to school these fall days, often you notice certain white,
silky things floating lazily through the air. Sometimes you catch one
of these little objects, and blow it away again with a message to a
friend. Or perhaps you wish upon it. At least, this is what I did as
a child. Life in those days was full of these mysterious “wishes.” A
white horse, a hay cart, the first star, a wandering thistle down,—each
promised the possible granting of one’s most secret wish.
[Illustration: Seeds]
That the thistle down comes from the thistle plant, you know. But not
all the silky things that look like fairy sailboats are thistle down,
for many plants beside the thistle let loose these tiny air ships.
Have you ever wondered where they come from, what they are doing? Or do
they seem to you so lazy, so drifting, so aimless, that you doubt if
they are going anywhere in particular, or have really anything to do?
But by this time you have learned that plants have better reasons for
their actions than you had dreamed before you began to pay them some
attention. You have discovered that they dress their flowers in gay
colors so that the bees may be tempted to visit them and powder them
with golden dust. You have learned that they make their fruits juicy
and delicious so that boys and girls and birds may be persuaded to
carry off their seeds; and the better you know them, the more certain
you feel that they manage their affairs with much common sense, that
they are not likely to take time and trouble for nothing.
[Illustration: FIG. 48]
So let us look closely at some of these air ships, and try to guess
their errand.
I hope that some time ago you were told to get together as many
different kinds as you could find, and to bring them here this morning.
In this picture you see some of the air ships of the milkweed (Fig. 49).
The lower part of Fig. 48 is a seedbox of the milkweed. To this are
fastened the silky threads which make the sail that carries the seed
through the air with the least wind, just as the canvas sail carries
the boat across the water.
Can you think of some other plants that send abroad seed sailboats?
[Illustration: FIG. 49]
Perhaps some of you remember the beautiful pink or purple flowers which
grew last summer in tall spikes along the road and up the mountain
side. These were borne upon a plant called sometimes fireweed and again
willow herb (Fig. 50). The first name was given to it because it grows
freely in places that have been laid waste by fire. The latter one it
owes to its leaves, which look somewhat like those of the willow.
[Illustration: FIG. 50]
By the end of August most of these beautiful blossoms had disappeared,
leaving in their place the fruit. This fruit of the fireweed or willow
herb is a long pod such as you see in the picture (Fig. 51). This pod
is packed full of seeds, to each one of which is fastened a silky sail.
Finally all these pods split open, letting out their little air ships
(Fig. 52), and giving a beautiful, feathery look to the great patches
in which they are found.
[Illustration: FIG. 51]
[Illustration: FIG. 52]
[Illustration: FIG. 53]
[Illustration: FIG. 54]
Another plant which launches air ships is the clematis. In August its
pretty white blossoms clamber over the stone wall, and twist about
the bushes and trees, making the lanes very lovely. In the fall this
climber is almost as pretty as in summer, for its fruit clusters (Fig.
53) are made of such long-tailed seeds as you see in Fig. 54. When
these open, and float away with the first light wind, you can see how
well their little sails are fitted to catch the breeze.
[Illustration: FIG. 55]
[Illustration: FIG. 56]
In October and November nearly every roadside is lined with clusters
such as you see in the next picture, except that the picture cannot
give their soft, velvety look. These are the fruit clusters of the
golden-rod (Fig. 55), made up of quantities of silky-tailed seeds such
as you see above (Fig. 56).
And this is the fruit cluster of the aster (Fig. 57). Each little
puffball is composed of many aster seeds (Fig. 58).
[Illustration: FIG. 57]
[Illustration: FIG. 58]
The pasture thistle is almost as beautiful in fruit as in flower. It
swells up into a great silvery cushion, which finally vanishes in a
cloud of floating thistle down.
And here is the fruit cluster of the dandelion (Fig. 59), and also a
single seed sailboat (Fig. 60).
Hundreds of other plants attach these little sails to their seeds. You
can hardly walk a step in the fall along the country roads without
meeting these masses of feathery fruit made up of just such seeds. So
now we come back to our questions, “Where are they going? What are they
doing?”
[Illustration: FIG. 59]
[Illustration: FIG. 60]
And as you have learned why the apple tree and the partridge vine pack
their seeds in pretty cases, and why the burdock and the stick-tight
cover theirs with hooks and bristles, you ought to answer these
questions very easily. You found that those plants wished to send their
little seeds abroad, so that they might get a better foothold in some
piece of earth that was not used already by plants hungry for the very
food that they most needed.
This is just what the thistle and milkweed and dandelion and aster want
for their seeds; and this is why they fasten them to little sails, and
send them far away on a voyage of discovery.
WINGED SEEDS
Many of the trees also send their seeds on air voyages, in the hope of
finding some piece of land that will give them a chance to grow into
new, strong trees.
[Illustration: FIG. 61]
The seeds of the willow (Fig. 62) have silky white sails such as we
have found already in the plants of the milkweed and willow herb; and
the cottonwood tree is so called because its tufted seeds remind one of
the famous cotton seeds from which we get our cotton thread (Fig. 63).
[Illustration: FIG. 62]
There are other trees which use wings instead of sails when they send
their seeds flying through the air.
[Illustration: FIG. 63]
Here you have the winged fruits of the maple (Fig. 64). In summer you
see these winged fruits hanging in clusters from the trees; and later
in the year they are thickly scattered along the village street and in
the city squares.
[Illustration: FIG. 64]
You can understand how easily the maple seeds inside these cases would
be carried upon the breeze by their wings.
Each seed of the elm tree is winged nearly all the way round. The
picture (Fig. 65) shows you a cluster of these as they look upon the
tree.
[Illustration: FIG. 65]
[Illustration: FIG. 66]
Here is a bunch of the long-winged seeds of the ash (Fig. 66). Next
comes a fruit cluster from the hop hornbeam (Fig. 67), and above is a
single fruit (Fig. 68).
[Illustration: FIG. 67]
The seeds of the pine tree are hidden away in the pine cone (Fig. 69)
you know so well, and those of the hemlock in the hemlock cone (Fig.
61). When they are quite ripe, they break away from these cones. In so
doing, each one carries with it a little piece of the cone, which acts
as a wing to the seed (Fig. 70).
[Illustration: FIG. 68]
[Illustration: FIG. 69]
[Illustration: FIG. 70]
Nearly all of these seeds you can find for yourselves when you wander
about the country. Indeed, if you have eyes that are good for anything,
many of them you cannot help seeing. It is all very well to read about
these plants and trees, and to look at pictures of their flowers and
fruits, and to have your teacher bring into the schoolroom specimens
for examination. If this is all the city children can do (although even
in the city one can do more than this), why, surely it is far better
than nothing.
But best of all is it to go right into the woods and fields where these
strange, interesting creatures are living, and to see for yourselves
their manners and customs.
[Illustration: Berries]
SHOOTING SEEDS
Down by the brook and along the sides of the mountain grows a tall
shrub which is called the witch-hazel. I hope some of you know it by
sight. I am sure that many of you know its name on account of the
extract which is applied so often to bruises and burns.
[Illustration: FIG. 71]
This picture (Fig. 71) shows you a witch-hazel branch bearing both
flowers and fruit; for, unlike any other plant I know, the flower of
the witch-hazel appears late in the fall, when its little nuts are
almost ripe. These nuts come from the flowers of the previous year.
It is always to me a fresh surprise and delight to come upon these
golden blossoms when wandering through the fall woods.
Often the shrub has lost all its leaves before these appear. You almost
feel as if the yellow flowers had made a mistake, and had come out six
months ahead of time, fancying it to be April instead of October. In
each little cluster grow several blossoms, with flower leaves so long
and narrow that they look like waving yellow ribbons.
But to-day we wish chiefly to notice the fruit or nut of the
witch-hazel.
Now, the question is, how does the witch-hazel manage to send the seeds
which lie inside this nut out into the world? I think you will be
surprised to learn just how it does this.
If you have a nut before you, you see for yourselves that this fruit is
not bright-colored and juicy-looking, or apparently good to eat, and
thus likely to tempt either boy or bird to carry it off; you see that
it is not covered with hooks that can lay hold of your clothing, and
so steal a ride; and you see that it has no silky sails to float it
through the air, nor any wings to carry it upon the wind.
And so the witch-hazel, knowing that neither boy nor girl, nor bird nor
beast nor wind, will come to the rescue of its little ones, is obliged
to take matters into its own hands; and this is what it does. It forces
open the ripe nut with such violence, that its little black seeds are
sent rattling off into the air, and do not fall to the ground till they
have traveled some distance from home. Really they are _shot_ out into
the world (Fig. 72).
If you wish to make sure that this is actually so, gather some of these
nuts, and take them home with you. It will not be long before they
begin to pop open, and shoot out their little seeds.
Did you ever hear of Thoreau? He was a man who left his friends and
family to live by himself in the woods he so dearly loved. Here he grew
to know each bird and beast, each flower and tree, almost as if they
were his brothers and sisters. One day he took home with him some of
these nuts, and later he wrote about them in his journal,—
“Heard in the night a snapping sound, and the fall of some small body
on the floor from time to time. In the morning I found it was produced
by the witch-hazel nuts on my desk springing open and casting their
seeds quite across my chamber.”
[Illustration: FIG. 72]
Now, I do not want any of you children to go off by yourselves to live
in the woods; but I should like to think that you could learn to love
these woods and their inmates with something of the love that Thoreau
felt. And if you watch their ways with half the care that he did, some
such love is sure to come.
Although the witch-hazel’s rough way of dealing with its young is not
very common among the plants, we find much the same thing done by the
wild geranium, or crane’s bill, and by the touch-me-not.
The wild geranium is the pretty purplish, or at times pink flower which
blossoms along the roads and in the woods in May and early June.
Its seedbox has five divisions. In fruit this seedbox tapers above into
a long beak, which gives the plant its name of “crane’s bill.” When
the fruit is quite ripe, it splits away from the central part of this
beak in five separate pieces, which spring upward so suddenly that the
seeds are jerked out of the five cells, and flung upon the earth at a
distance of several feet. The picture (Fig. 73) shows you how this is
done. But a little search through the summer woods will bring you to
the plant itself; and if you are patient, perhaps you will see how the
wild geranium gets rid of its children. But though this habit may at
first seem to you somewhat unmotherly, if you stop to think about it
you will see that really the parent plant is doing its best for its
little ones. If they should fall directly upon the ground beneath,
their chances in life would be few. About plants, as about people, you
must not make up your minds too quickly.
[Illustration: FIG. 73]
[Illustration: FIG. 74]
Another plant that all of you country children ought to know, is the
touch-me-not, or jewelweed. Sometimes this is called “lady’s eardrop,”
because its pretty, red-gold, jewel-like flowers remind us of the drops
that once upon a time ladies wore in their ears. These flowers we find
in summer in wet, woody places. In the fall the fruit appears. This
fruit is a little pod (Fig. 74) which holds several seeds. When this
pod is ripe, it bursts open and coils up with an elastic spring which
sends these seeds also far from home (Fig. 75).
This performance of the touch-me-not you can easily see; for its name
“touch-me-not” comes from the fact that if you touch too roughly one of
its well-grown pods, this will spring open and jerk out its seeds in
the way I have just described.
[Illustration: FIG. 75]
[Illustration: FIG. 76]
In Europe grows a curious plant called the “squirting cucumber” (Fig.
76). Its fruit is a small cucumber, which becomes much inflated
with water. When this is detached from its stalk, its contents are
“squirted” out as if from a fountain, and the seeds are thus thrown to
a distance of many feet.
[Illustration: Decoration]
THE CHESTNUT AND OTHER SEEDS
At the head of this chapter you see the fruit of the chestnut tree
(Fig. 77).
What fine October days this picture brings to mind,—clear, cold
mornings when we arm ourselves with baskets and a club, and go
chestnuting.
[Illustration: FIG. 77]
Usually the boys climb the tree, and shake the branches till the open
burrs rattle out their contents. But sometimes a teasing cluster
refuses to set loose its treasure. Then the club comes into play. If
it strikes the great burrs, and raps out their fat chestnuts, a shout
of joy follows.
What a delight it is to hunt in the long grass for the glossy brown
beauties just after a sudden shower from above! No one speaks. All are
bent low in breathless search.
I know of nothing much more perfect in its way than an open chestnut
burr, still holding its two or three fine nuts. Its green, prickly
outer covering makes a fine contrast to the velvety brown lining; and
within this beautiful case the plump, shining nuts are laid with the
daintiest care.
Perhaps the chestnut burr is even safer as a seed case than the apple.
While its seeds (the chestnuts) are young and unripe, it does not stop
to plead, “Pray; don’t destroy my baby nuts!” but it seems to call
out sternly, “Hands off!” and promptly punishes the boy or girl who
disobeys this rough command.
But when the chestnut seeds are quite ripe, then it opens as wide as
it knows how; and very tempting it looks as it unfolds its contents. A
chestnut tree in October looks like one great invitation.
The acorn (Fig. 78), the seed of the oak tree, is pretty enough as a
plaything, but less pleasing than the chestnut. Only the squirrel seems
to find it fair eating.
[Illustration: FIG. 78]
The trees which hide their seeds in nutshells contrive in different
ways to send them abroad.
Many of these nuts are hoarded as winter food by the squirrels. Often
in a moment of fright these little creatures drop them by the way.
Again, they forget just where they deposited their hoard, or for some
other reason they leave it untouched. Thus many nuts are scattered, and
live to change into trees.
Others may fall into the water, and float to distant shores. The
cocoanut, for example, has been carried in this way for hundreds of
miles. Its outer covering protects the seed from being soaked or hurt
by water; and when at last it is washed upon some distant shore, it
sends up a tall cocoanut tree.
[Illustration: Decoration]
SOME STRANGE STORIES
When I began to tell you children about the different ways in which
plants send their young out into the world, I had no idea that I should
take so much time, and cover so many pages with the subject. And now I
realize that I have not told you one half, or one quarter, of all there
is to tell.
You have learned that seeds are scattered abroad by animals that eat
the bright cases in which they are packed, and by animals into whose
hair or clothing they manage to fasten themselves.
You know that sometimes seeds are blown through the air by means of
silky sails to which they are fastened, or else by their little wings.
You discovered that certain plants actually pushed their young from
their cozy homes in no gentle fashion, much as a mother bird shoves her
timid little ones from the edge of the nest.
And in the last chapter you read that occasionally seeds were floated
by water to distant shores.
Now, these are the chief ways in which plants contrive to dispose of
their seeds; but they are not the only ways. Before leaving the subject
altogether, I will mention a few plants which use other contrivances.
[Illustration: FIG. 79]
This picture (Fig. 79) shows you the fruit of the poppy. Many of
you know it well. In the fall you find in the garden these pretty
seedboxes. They answer famously as pepper pots, if one chances to be
playing house in the orchard.
Just below the top of the poppy seedbox the picture shows you a circle
of little openings; and inside the seedbox are many poppy seeds (Fig.
80).
But how can seeds get out of these openings, do you suppose?
If they were lower down, it would be an easy matter for the seeds to
drop out, right on the ground. But perhaps it is well that this cannot
happen. Did such a quantity of seeds fall upon one small bit of earth,
they would have a poor chance for life.
Well, then, you ask, must they wait patiently in the seedbox till some
child comes along and pulls it off for a pepper pot?
[Illustration: FIG. 80]
No, they are not obliged to wait always for you children. This is
fortunate for the poppy plants that are so unlucky as to live in lonely
gardens where no children ever play.
Then what _does_ happen?
If you will go out into the garden the next windy fall day, you will
see for yourselves. You will see the tall poppy plants swaying to and
fro with every gust of wind; and you will see how the seedboxes are
tossed from side to side, and that every now and then a very violent
toss sends the little seeds tumbling head over heels out of the little
openings just as effectively as if the wind too were playing house and
using them as pepper pots.
When the seeds are let loose in this way, the tall poppy plants are
swayed so far to one side, and the wind is blowing so hard, that they
land upon the ground much farther from home than would have been the
case had they fallen through openings cut in the lower part of the
seedbox.
In the East grows a strange plant called the “rose of Jericho.” Its
fruit is a pod. When this plant is nearly ready to get rid of its
seeds, what do you think it does? It lets go its hold upon the earth,
curls itself up into a little ball, and is driven here and there by the
wind. When it finds a nice damp place, it stops and uncurls itself; and
the little pods split open, and drop their seeds on the earth.
Some plants bear fruit that look very much like insects. It is believed
that sometimes these are taken for such, and snapped up by birds, and
thus succeed in getting away from home.
[Illustration: FIG. 81]
This picture (Fig. 81) shows you a pod which, as it lies upon the
ground, looks like a centiped.
Here you have a seed which is shaped and marked like a beetle (Fig. 82).
The next picture (Fig. 83) shows you a seed from the castor-oil plant.
You can see that it might easily be mistaken for some insect.
[Illustration: FIG. 82]
Think how disappointed the bird must be, after having greedily snapped
up and carried off one of these little objects, to discover that for
all his pains he has secured nothing but a dry, tough pod or seed.
[Illustration: FIG. 83]
But if the mother plant really does any thinking at all, cannot you
fancy how she chuckles with delight over the trick she has played, and
the clever way in which she has started her young on its travels?
There is still another way in which birds help to scatter seeds. They
alight in wet places, covering their little feet with mud. Now, a
clot of mud may contain many different seeds; and for days this clot
may stick to the bird’s foot, and thus cause the seeds it holds to be
carried for hundreds of miles.
Have you ever heard of Darwin? He was a great man who spent most of his
life in studying plants and animals.
How many years do you suppose he was interested in the study of those
long, brown worms which you find in quantities in the lawn and after
heavy rains along the sidewalk? At intervals for forty-four years
he studied these little creatures which you girls think ugly and
uninteresting enough, although the boys know they make fine fish bait.
Well, Darwin once raised eighty-two plants from seeds contained in a
clot of earth which was clinging to the leg of a partridge. So you
can see that when a bird gets his feet wet, he may really be doing the
world a service. And it is not likely that he takes cold himself.
Now, I want you children to see how many different ways you can recall
in which plants scatter abroad their little seeds; and later I want you
to go out into the garden, or into the woods, and see if you cannot
discover many of the seeds about which you have been reading. But
better still it would be if you could find others of which I have told
you nothing.
I should like you to make a list of the different plants which you find
in fruit, putting after each name a slight description of the way in
which it gets rid of its seeds. This will not be a stupid task at all
if you set your mind to it. It will give your walks a new pleasure, and
it will bring to your school work something of the freshness and joy
which belong to the woods.