BICENTENARY OF LINN^US 49 



exotic plants. He became so proficient in his knowledge of the local plants 

 that the neighbors all called him "the little Botanicus." 



The story goes, that one day his mother found that he had even appro- 

 priated her much-treasured Bible in which to press some new-found flowers, 

 and she began gently rating him for this. 



"Dear child," she said, "you must not put herbs and flowers in my 

 beautiful book. It would be quite a sin to spoil the Holy Bible." 



"Pray forgive me, mother! But these are the most beautiful flowers I 

 have ever seen, so I thought I would preserve them best of all, for I have 

 heard both you and father say that the Bible is the Book of Life; and 

 surely, if I put the flowers between its leaves, they will retain their color, 

 the Bible keeping them alive forever." 



"Child, v/hen we call the Bible the Book of Life, we mean by that, not 

 the life we see before us, but the spiritual growth of our souls, for ever}- 

 thought we think is a flower culled in the garden of our soul. There, as 

 on earth, grow many various plants, some of Avondrous beauty, and others 

 stained with sin. But every time we humbly read in the Sacred Writ, a seed 

 is sown in our heart, which some day will bloom, and bear holy fruit." 



"How beautifully you talk, mother! " 



"Well, you must diligently read your Bible, and in your heart will grow 

 the seed of goodness and humility; but I fear" — 



"What do you fear, mother?" 



"I fear you love the fair flowers of the earth too much to care for the seeds 

 that were watered with tears in the Garden of Gethsemane." 



"O mother! no, I won't forget my Bible. But when I see a flower 

 I think this way, ' Why does God make the cold, damp earth grow such 

 lovely creatures with such beautiful colors ? Why, if not to make us happy 

 with the sight?' And then I almost fancy the flowers saying with their 

 petal lips, 'Look at us, and think how kind and good is God.' O mother! 

 every flower must have been a thought by God." 



"Why, how you speak, child! W^ell, yes, you are right: it must be so." 



When Carl was ten years old, after an unfortunate experience with a 

 private tutor, he was sent to Wexio, the capital of the diocese, to the grammar 

 and higher grades. But here he failed because there was no teacher to lead 

 and inspire him, but only those to drive. The boy mentally refused to be 

 driven. Shortly he v/as put again under a tutor somewhat better than the 

 former one; but in every subject except Nature he was considered a dunce. 



In eight years his father, with sorrow in his heart, became convinced that 

 Carl never would make a preacher. His mother, realizing this also, rued 

 the love she had felt for the flowers and the interest on his part which she 

 sadly had fostered, and with pique declared to her second son, Samuel, that 

 he never should devote himself to so useless and wasteful a study as flowers. 



