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content with our own knowledge, with onr own .studies, tliere ii5 

 no ditticultj- as regards names ; we can call the parts of a plant, of 

 a flower, or the j)lant and flower itself, b}' whatever name we 

 choose, and the English language is certainly rich enough to 

 supply our every want. But when we wish to s])eak to others 

 about them, or to understand what they say or write, it becomes 

 necessary to use the same terms for the interchange of ideas, and 

 we must learn their names or they ours. AVe may speak of the 

 root-leaf, the stem-leaf, or the flower-leaf, while another may say 

 the cotyledon, leaf, or petal ; one word is as good as another, 

 except for purposes of interchange of ideas, and there we must 

 adopt some uniformly recognised system of nomenclature. You 

 can become an excellent botanist without knowing the scientific 

 name of any one flower or part of a flower, but your knowledge 

 will be only of use to yourself. Always get into the habit of 

 naming everything, but don't call it by its scientific name unless 

 you are. sure of its identity. I don't like the question so often 

 put, " What is the scientific name of this plant ? " as if that were 

 the aim and object of all our botanical stvidy. Call it what you 

 like, but get to know it. In a delightful book called the " Seven 

 Dreamers " a story is told of a lady who had lost her only child, 

 the last of her familj', and it pathetically paints her blank, 

 desolate life M'hen this the last object of her love and care was 

 taken from her. One day she was attracted by the movements of 

 a caterjiillar, and on examining it closer she seemed to see some 

 resemblance, singularly enough, to the head of the lost child. 

 This caused her to watch it and care for it, bringing it fresh leaves 

 for food, and .somehow it seemed to console her a little. In course 

 of time she noticed that it seemed to get uneasy and dissatisfied, 

 and at last began to Imrrow in the soil of the flower-pot on which 

 •she had placed it. She dug it out, but again and again it buried 

 itself, until at last she had to leave it, as Avith sad heart she 

 recognised that another of those she cared for had gone. She 

 seemed now almost resigned to her sad and lonely life, and had 

 now one more grave to attend to. One bright morning some 

 time after she thought she noticed a movement of the earth in the 

 pot, and on closely M-atching, observed a brownish shell emerge, 

 from which there burst a glorious moth, which, after drying itself, 

 fluttered round her. She seemed to see in this the living 

 representation of the fact that her own loved ones should rise 

 transformed to a glorious life, and found once more consolation 

 and comfort. She became an ardent student, and the writer 

 describes visiting her and enquiring after the various specimens 

 that she had reared. "AVhat is that butterfly I see flying about 

 there?" asked the enquirer. "Well, that's ]Mary Ann Tough. 



