are defended by poison, or thorns, or prickles, or some peculiar shape.
The leaves of the common holly are only prickly on the lower branches,
where it needs protection from browsing cattle.
"Then there are wonderful contrivances for keeping not only the single
plant but its kind alive, which you will learn one day.
"There are plants which bear seeds in very great numbers, like the
field-poppy, so that some of them are sure to survive. The winds carry
other seeds to great distances, because they have beautiful feathery
down attached to them, which causes them to be easily blown about--such
as thistle and dandelion seeds.
"Birds, too, are great seed-sowers: they eat the wild fruits which
contain the seed. These fruits are generally red or black, so as to
attract birds to them. Among the red ones are hips, the fruit of the
wild rose; and haws, which contain the seed of the white-thorn. Among
the black are blackberries, the fruit of the bramble; and sloes, which
are like a very small hard plum. The birds eat these, and drop the seed
which is inside of the fruit on to the ground."
Then Sarah came into the room to say that Jane had come from Woodside to
take the children back.
"We must wait for Jack," said Mary.
"Yes," said Aunt Lizzie. "I daresay the boys will be home directly. Why,
here they are.--How hot you look, Jack!"
"It is so warm to night, aunt, and we have walked fast. We've had a
splendid time of it at Charley Foster's, and we stayed till the last
minute, so we hurried home at last." Where-upon Jack drew out his
pocket-handkerchief to wipe his hot face, forgetting all about the
little frogs. The loose knot slipped, and you may guess what happened.
The frogs, delighted to get out of Jack's warm pocket, were soon hopping
about the room.
"What have you there, Jack? what does this mean?" asked Aunt Lizzie. But
she could not help laughing, for she knew what odd things boys will do.
Jack explained to her how he had caught the young frogs to put into the
Woodside pond, that he might watch them there.
"Well, you must catch them again," said his aunt, "and I will give you a
paper bag to carry them in, only you need not suppose that there are no
frogs in grandpapa's pond. Charley's pond is large and shaded, while the
Woodside pond is small and open; and the weather has been very dry
lately, so the frogs have kept in the soft mud at the bottom. You will
see plenty of young frogs after the next shower of rain hopping about
the edges of that pond."
IX.
_AFTER THE RAIN._
"The very earth, the steamy air,
Are all with fragrance rife;
And grace and beauty everywhere
Are bursting into life.
Down, down they come, those fruitful stores,
Those earth-rejoicing drops;
A momentary deluge pours,
Then thins, decreases, stops."
ANON.
"There seems likely to be a change in the weather," said grandpapa one
morning at breakfast. "The wind has got round to the west, and there are
clouds about."
"I am so glad," said Mary.
"So am I," added Annie. "It has been too hot for the last two or three
weeks."
"We shall all be glad to see a little rain," said grandpapa; "the garden
wants it badly enough, and so do the newly-mown fields."
Grandpapa was right, for sure enough during the day there were many
cooling showers, which made everything out of doors look bright and
fresh.
In the evening grandmamma sat at work in the drawing-room by the open
doors which led straight into the garden, and the children were with
her.
Jack was lying on the floor with his face to the garden, and supposed to
be reading a book; while the little girls were busy with some easy
fancy-work, making something to take home to their mother when they left
Woodside.
Jack seemed to be more interested in something out of doors than he was
in his book. At last he exclaimed, "Grandmamma, do look; isn't that a
beautiful white fleecy cloud?"
"Yes, it is indeed, Jack. Clouds _are_ beautiful and well worth looking
at."
The girls put down their work and went to the doors to look out, or
rather up, at the deep blue sky, covered with patches of downy white.
"That cloud looks as if it were made of snow mountains and caves," said
Mary. "See how it changes its shape: now there is another cloud coming
to it: now they have melted into one."
"The sky is one beautiful thing that you can watch anywhere, in town or
country, in summer or winter," said grandmamma. "It is like a
picture-book that is always open; and the pictures are always changing."
The children stood and watched the clouds as they sailed about like
majestic swans. Some moved faster than others, and came in front of
them. They mingled and they parted, and took all sorts of shapes. The
colour changed from pure white to delicate gray; and again a stormy
cloud appeared, dark with rain that would fall somewhere before long.
"O grandmamma, look!" they all exclaimed, as the evening sun shone from
behind a cloud, gilding its edges with gold.
At last, when they had been for some time feasting their eyes with the
beauty of cloudland, something else struck Jack, and he said, "How
sweet everything smells after the rain!"
"Yes, it does, Jack. The very gravel paths and garden mould smell fresh;
and as to the flowers, they are sweeter than ever."
"I can smell mignonnette," said Mary.
"I can smell the stocks," said Jack.
"And I can smell the honeysuckle," said Annie.
"Do, grandmamma, let us walk round the garden, to smell the flowers,"
said all the children; "the gravel is almost dry."
"Very well, you may go; but don't go on the grass--keep to the path."
Jack was off at a bound, and his sisters were not much behind; and they
visited flower after flower, sniffing their sweet perfumes. The tall
white lilies gave out so strong a scent that, sweet as it was, they did
not care to bend them down to their faces; but the roses, after the
rain, were so delicious that they did not want to let them go. They
found, however, that it was not the large showy roses which had the
sweetest smell.
They went to the arch along which the honeysuckle was growing, and then
they smelled the rich carnations and the fragrant mignonnette.
Grandmamma called to them not to stay out too long; but they said, "May
we pick you a little nosegay first? the flowers are just lovely."
"Very well," grandmamma said; "but don't let it be too large."
It really was difficult to know what to leave out when all was so sweet;
but they thought mignonnette, a half-blown moss rose, some sweet-peas, a
piece of honeysuckle and of white jasmine, some pinks, and a little
stock, could not fail to be agreeable. They thought more of what would
smell sweet than of bright colour; and grandmamma was well pleased with
her nosegay.
"Grandmamma," said Jack, "there is a poor-looking flower like a small
stock in the garden; it smells so sweet."
"It is a stock--the night-flowering stock. The flower is dull-coloured
and insignificant; but it has a powerful odour. You must not suppose
that the sweet scent of flowers is for our pleasure alone. The perfumes
are of great use to the plants themselves, and to the insects that live
on honey."
"Of what use can they be to the plants?" asked Mary.
"The perfume is chiefly due to a kind of oil found in the blossoms of
plants, and sometimes in the leaves as well. Lavender, rosemary, thyme,
and herbs used in cooking, are examples of plants whose leaves as well
as flowers possess this ethereal oil, as it is called. Caterpillars do
not like the taste of these oils, and leave these highly-scented plants
alone. It is, however, generally the flowers only that smell; and now
you can guess why they are protected by their fragrance. What is the
most important part of the flower?"
"Its seed," replied Mary.
"Yes; and as the cattle will not eat the flowers, the seed is safe from
them."
"But they eat flowers in hay," said Jack.
"True; but by the time the grass is cut many seeds have ripened and have
dropped out of their husks; and when flowers are dry, as they are in
hay, they lose their particular scent and the oil with it. But the very
perfume which keeps away the enemies of the flower attracts its friends
the insects, whose sense of smell is very keen."
"Why do flowers want insects?" asked Annie.
"Because they want their yellow dust taken from one flower to another,
to ripen their seeds, or to fertilize them, as it is called. The seeds
are far better if they are ripened by the pollen or dust of another
blossom than by the pollen of their own flower. The bees, as you know,
get covered with this dust as they visit one flower after another; some
of it sticks to the bees, but a great deal of it drops off as they rub
against the flowers."
"It's give and take," said Jack. "The flowers give the honey for the
insects to eat, and the insects carry their pollen away for them."
"Yes, that's something like it," said grandmamma. "And now you can see
why flowers which bloom at night need to have a strong odour. There are
some plants which
'Keep their odours to themselves all day'
but towards evening they
'Let the delicious secret out;'
and it is that moths and insects that fly about at night may know
whereabouts the flowers are. The bees are busy in the day-time; but
there are a great many kinds of moths, in fact there are more moths than
there are butterflies, and they only fly about at night, and the honey
of flowers is their sole food. So you see the scent of flowers has a
great use."
"I never thought of that before," said Mary.
"If the flowers which keep open late in the evening have not a very
strong perfume, they are generally white or pale yellow, so as to be
seen easily. There is one of these plants called the evening
primrose--not that it is like a primrose except in colour--at the bottom
of the garden walk."
"Do let us go and see if there is a moth on it, grandmamma."
Grandmamma smiled and said, "Jack might go and look, and then he could
tell his sisters what he saw."
Jack scampered away, and after a minute or two he was back with the
report that he had counted seven winged flies and moths all busy feeding
upon the honey of the different blossoms of the plant!
"Insects can smell things at a far greater distance than we can," said
grandmamma. "The sense of smell seems to be their strongest sense."
"Do you think it is a good thing to be able to smell so very much,
grandmamma?"
"Certainly I do. I know a keen sense of smell is sometimes disagreeable
for its owner; but as a rule, when a smell is unpleasant it is
unwholesome, and the nose is like a sentinel that gives warning of
danger, so that we may either get out of the way or remove the cause.
Some people really seem to have no noses, considering what they will
endure in the way of bad smells, and how careless they are about keeping
windows shut that ought to be opened to let in the fresh air and
sunshine.
"You must remember, children, that your five senses are but doors which
the mind must keep open. It is the mind that perceives. We say, 'I
perceive this apple is sour;' 'I perceive this cloth is rough;' 'I
perceive a smell of roses;' 'I perceive this flower is white;' 'I
perceive the birds are singing.' So the word 'perceive' will do for
tasting, feeling, smelling, seeing, and hearing."
X.
_THE SIX CLOSED DOORS._
"Say what is it, Eyes, ye see?
Shade and sunshine, flower and tree;
Running waters swift and clear,
And the harvests of the year.--
Tell me, Ears, what ye have heard?
Many and many a singing bird;
Winds within the tree-tops going,
Rapid rivers strongly flowing;
Awful thunder, ocean strong,
And the kindly human tongue.--
These and more an entrance find
To the chambers of the mind."
ANON.
The end of the visit had come at last. Tom and Katey were at Woodside
spending the last day with their cousins. It was evening: the long
shadows were falling over the lawn, and the summer air was still.
Grandmamma was sitting under a tree on the lawn knitting, when the
children clustered around with the old request, "Please, grandmamma,
tell us a story."
Grandmamma looked a little gravely upon the dear, eager faces, and
began:--
"A little boy found himself one day, he could not tell how, in a cell,
or rather a small room, which was very comfortable. He could not
remember anything that had happened before he came there, nor did he
feel frightened although he was quite alone.
"For some time he was content to pass the time without taking any
particular notice of anything. At last he saw that there were several
doors--five--in the walls of his room. He noticed that two were high and
wide, the rest seemed smaller; and he thought, 'I will open one of these
first. Doors must be meant to lead somewhere, and I am rather tired of
this little room, although it is comfortable.'
"He opened the door very easily, and he found himself in a large room.
In the middle of it was a table covered with things that seemed good to
eat.
"He did not see any one, but he heard a voice say, 'Come in and
_taste_.'
"So he took up one nice thing after another, according to his will; and
after awhile he heard the voice say, 'This is enough for once; you may
come again.'
"He turned to go back to his room, but the door was gone. The way to his
cell was open, and this beautiful room was added to his smaller one.
"Now he had plenty of amusement. He learned how different were the
tastes of the objects before him;--some sweet, some sour; others were
bitter, or salt, or spicy; some with flavours that cannot be put into
words, they were so delicate and varied. As soon as he had had enough he
could taste no longer; so he always knew when to leave off.
"He was satisfied for a long time with this room, for fresh objects were
daily added. At last he looked longingly at the door by the side of the
opening where the late door was.
"He opened it and walked out, not into a room, but into a lovely
garden. The walls were high, but the garden was very broad and long.
"There were the fruits whose delicious flavour he knew: now he found
that some of them at least had a fragrant _smell_. However, he scarcely
noticed them; for a strange, sweet odour of flowers greeted his
newly-found sense. After awhile he felt almost overpowered by this fresh
pleasure, and turned to go back for awhile into his little room, when he
found that this door had also vanished. He was glad of this, for the
delicate perfume of the garden freely came into his cell.
"What a growing pleasure was this garden! Every flower had its own
special odour--the rich rose, the tall, queenly lily, and the lowly
violet--each in its way the sweetest.
"At first he thought that only the flowers had perfume, but he soon
found this was a mistake. By taking more careful notice he perceived
that leaves as well as flowers were sometimes scented, as in the musk
plant, the geranium, and even those of black-currant bushes.
"As he walked down an avenue of lime trees, he noticed a most delicious
scent, which he found came from the small blossoms of the trees high
above his head. He turned into a shrubbery, and was greeted by the fresh
fragrance of the pine trees, and found that even the resinous buds of
other trees had a pleasant scent. The very earth too, after a shower of
rain, had a refreshing smell.
"By-and-by he looked at the high walls of the garden, for there seemed
to float over them a blended sweetness of something, he knew not what;
but in after days he knew it as that of new-mown hay.
"Again, the wind would bring him a smell of something that certainly did
not belong to flowers or fruit. It seemed to make him strong, and long
to know what was over the wall. It was the sea-breeze that came to him
from the vast ocean, and made him feel that his lovely garden was, after
all, too bounded.
"He turned the handle of another door. It was that of _touch_, and he
found himself in a passage. He walked along a little way, and saw an
open archway on his right, through which he went, and there he was in
the room of taste. He took up a cherry, and it felt smooth; a peach, and
it felt soft and downy; a pine-apple, and it was rough. He looked toward
the archway through which he had come, when, behold! the whole passage
wall had vanished, making the old room larger.
"He went into his garden: the gravel path felt hard and firm, the lawn
felt soft and springy under his tread. He touched a rose-stalk and he
felt its prickles, while the leaves of the flowers were soft. Some
flower-stalks felt sticky, others smooth, and the bark of the oak tree
was rough.
"The bright sunshine felt warm to his cheek, and the marble of the
fountain felt cold.
"There were now two large doors left, and he resolved to open that of
_hearing_.
"All was dark as he stepped into a room or passage, he knew not which.
He walked on a little way, then he stopped, for he faintly heard the
sound of music. The sweet strains grew longer and louder, drawing him
along till he came to a large hall where an organ was being played by a
master. Here he stayed to listen and to wonder, spell-bound by the
strange high music;--now swelling to a triumph, now sinking to a soft
echo; now it told of gladness, and again of sorrow. Then it changed to a
solemn, stately march; then there was a sound of rippling sweetness,
ending in a lullaby so soothing that he fell fast asleep.
"When he awoke he was in his cell; the door was gone and the mystic hall
had vanished. He went into his garden, and heard for the first time the
sweet song of birds, the hum of insects, and the soft sound of flowing
water from the marble fountain. He heard the swaying of the wind among
the leaves and branches of the trees, and the sound of his own footsteps
on the path.
"'Now for the last door,' he said, as he opened it, and was dazzled by a
flood of light which nearly blinded him. _Sight_, which had been before
but faint and dim, now became clear and open. He found himself in his
old room of taste; but instead of the walls were crystal windows, and
his table of fruits and food looked small in the midst of the vast
space. He turned into his garden: what a change was there! He saw that
the roses were a deep, deep red, and pink, and yellow, and white; that
the flowers were of every hue and shade of colour, and the trees of
varying green.
"Now he saw the birds whose sweet songs he had often heard, some in
bright plumage, and others of graver colours.
"He saw the insects flying about with whose soft hum he was familiar;
some too of whose existence he knew nothing before--the noiseless
butterflies of brown and gold, of deep orange or pale yellow, of azure
blue or cream and brown and crimson.
"He saw the darting dragon-fly, shining in black and blue, with gauzy
wings of pearly tints; and other insects brilliant with many colours,
shining or dusky, flitting by or crawling along the ground.
"Tired out at last with all these wonders, he went back to his cell and
slept.
"He awoke thinking, 'There are now no new doors to open;' but when he
turned to the wall on the opposite side, he saw a door that he had not
noticed before.
"He went up to it, but it was bolted and barred from without, and the
key was in the lock on the outside. 'That door is not meant for me to
open,' he said; and he went once more into his garden. The high walls
were gone, the room with the crystal windows had vanished, but the
senses of taste, of smell, of touch, of hearing, and of sight remained.
"He could now go where he liked. He saw the meadows whose sweet smell of
newly-mown grass had delighted him in his garden; and he wandered down
to the shore, where he felt again the strength of the sea-breeze. He
heard with awe the sound of many waters as myriad waves dashed against
the rocky coast--those same waves which farther along, as the shore
became sandy, rippled out in the lowest murmurs. In the caves, too, he
saw new forms of life--the many-coloured sea-anemones, sea-weeds,
shells; and in the sea itself fishes shining like mother-of pearl.
"There were some mountains in the distance, and he went towards them.
While climbing up their sides, the sky, which had been bright blue, now
became overcast. Black, thick clouds quickly gathered, till day seemed
turned into night. Then there shot through the darkness a swift, bright
flash, lighting everything up for a moment, then leaving all darker than
before. He had not recovered from his astonishment when he heard a
sudden crash, as if the mountain were splitting into pieces, followed by
a long deep roll of boundless sound. Again and again he saw the
lightning's flash and heard the thunder's roar. Then the raging ceased,
the blue sky began to re-appear, the sun shone through the rain-drops,
and on the departing clouds he saw an arch of many colours, beautiful in
form and brilliancy--the lovely rainbow. He gazed at it with strange new
feelings till it all melted away.
"At night he always returned to his cell. This night, however, he was so
full of the wondrous scene he had witnessed on the mountain that he
stayed out of doors, walking up and down his familiar garden path with
downcast eyes. He was deep in thought, when at last he raised his eyes,
and instead of a clear sky he saw tiny points of light shining through
the gray twilight. As the darkness deepened he saw myriads and myriads
of these bright points--the stars. He wondered at the mystery.
"He now began to meet with beings like himself, at first one or two,
then many more. He found the difference in human beings was very great
indeed. Some of them kindly came to him, and told him many things about
the world in which he now daily lived. They taught him how to read books
in which was written the wisdom of men who had lived long ago. Here was
a new, wide opening, as he looked back into the past, into the times so
very far away. But the books were not all old; some were written by
living men, into which they had put their choicest thoughts, and they
gave him an insight into the best part of a man--his soul and mind.
Others told him of the wonderful discoveries made by clever men. They
brought him a telescope, to look through to the stars at night; which
stars, they told him, were other worlds, and that this little world
where he lived was but a speck compared with the rest of creation. In
looking through the telescope he saw into great depths--stars beyond
stars, in number far exceeding his powers of thought. They showed him a
microscope; and in looking through it he saw undreamt-of beauty in
familiar flowers and insects, and in all natural objects. They told him
of the useful and beautiful things that men had found under the
ground--coal, metals, and precious stones. Some of these they showed him
when polished;--the diamond, which seemed to have taken the rainbow to
itself and given it back in a flash, now of pure, now of many-coloured
light; the delicate opal, which looked like a rainbow vanishing; the red
ruby, the green emerald, the violet amethyst, the clear crystal, and
many more besides. They showed him lovely forms, that men had sculptured
in white marble; and paintings representing many things--now a stormy
sea with waves lashed into fury against the rocks--again a summer
evening landscape whose calm soothed his spirit. Scenes from the old
books were made to live again; and then, again, were painted familiar
objects. Wherever he looked, he saw more to see; whenever he listened,
he found there was more to hear. What surprised him most of all was,
that there were some men who did not care to find out and learn more
about the wonders in them and around them; and then he noticed that
those who would not use their eyes, and ears, and other senses, became
dim of sight and hard of hearing, gradually shrinking back into the
state they were before they had opened the doors of their cells.
"He thought of the barred door, and sometimes through its chinks he felt
something steal as once the sea-breeze stole over his garden wall. The
thought of that something followed him more and more.
"By this time he knew that all sights were not fair to look upon, nor
all sounds delightful; and whenever he saw and heard the sad and wrong,
he seemed to be most conscious of the something beyond his cell. He felt
that he was in the world not alone to learn its wonders, but also to
teach the ignorant, to help the weak, to be kind, and true, and brave,
and patient to all.
"Knowledge was a good thing, but goodness was better. The longer he
lived, he felt the less he knew; and the reason was, that he saw more
and more clearly the vast extent of creation.