Garden Revelations. 47 



umbrella with you, for you will need it before night. Try me, and 

 prove me, for the Chickweed is the soul of truth and honor." 



As we enter the summer house the California Sedum is discov- 

 ered by my friend, whose interest now is greatly awakened as the 

 little plant relates its own history. " I belong to the stone crop fam- 

 ily, a family that delights in growing over old walls and stones. I 

 was fastened to this lattice two months ago by my mistress, and in a 

 few days I delighted her with signs of life, for I began to develop 

 my tiny plants on the edges of the leaf. Slowly the work went 

 on, until three perfect plants, with roots, leaves and stem appeared, 

 that are now objects of great wonder to all beholders. Some old 

 people avoid me because they believe I am drawing my nourish- 

 ment from the animal life surrounding me, but they are mistaken, 

 for the elements of my growth are obtained from air and moisture." 



My friend inquires of the Agave (American Century plant) if that 

 too is of use to mankind, when it boldly steps forward, bristling 

 with thorns, and makes the following characteristic speech: " I am 

 one of the tropic's favorite sons. You seem to forget how deeply 

 you are indebted to the tropics for the beauty of your green house 

 and garden. I thrive and enjoy most perfect life where it would 

 be suicide for others to attempt to live. Nature has refused to 

 give my family of five hundred species beautiful forms of body, 

 but we are content, as she has more than compensated us by giving 

 us the most beautiful flowers in the vegetable kingdom. Some of 

 my family have caught the glory of the flame, others the rosy sun- 

 set, and again some reflect such a pure, tranquil beauty that we 

 could almost fancy it akin to the moon. Nearly all my family 

 develop the full blossom about midnight; therefore we are looked 

 upon with superstitious awe in the east; and one of my family is 

 planted as a symbol of the resurrection when the dead is laid away. 

 The multiplicity of curious flowers in my family exceeds imagina- 

 tion. Some creep upon the ground, others live upon trees, and 

 some varieties are trees themselves. We are at home in the desert 

 where no other vegetation is found; at the mouth of the volcano; in 

 the low valley and on the mountain top, sometimes mounting to the 

 line of snow. And one of my family makes its home in Wisconsin, 

 even growing as far north as Lake Superior. Many varieties have 

 edible fruits, as delicious as figs. Of myself, individually, I can say 

 when I reach an advanced age, anywhere from twenty to seventy, 



