26 The Romance of Wild Flowers 
writing every time one wishes to refer to a particular 
thing. It is like the international agree- 
ment upon the symbols used to denote 
the notes, compass, and marks of expression 
in writing music. A Turk or a Russian 
may compose a piece of music, and an 
English schoolgirl who knows nothing of 
the Turkish or the Russian language can play opening bud 
that musical composition as easily as if it 
had been written by an Englishman. These technical 
terms to denote the floral organs will be used on 
every page of this book, and if I were not to use 
them, I should have constantly to indulge in the 
repetition of such phrases as the “pink-coloured 
leaves of the Rose-flower” and “the green leaves of 
the Rose-flower,’ to avoid confusion between these 
and the ordinary foliage of the plant. But even this 
would be simplicity compared with the task of 
frequently referring to some of the other organs for 
which no English synonym ean be found. 
Let us proceed further in our investigation of the 
Rose-flower, and get rid of this tedious business of 
terminology - explaining. In the centre of the 
(( receptacle there is a little cushion, and sur- 
rounding it a large number of what look like 
yellowish pins with oval heads, and the points 
appearing to be stuck into the edges of the 
Stamen central cushion. If I take one of these pins 
away and lay it upon my dark coat-sleeve you 
can look at it through this pocket-lens, and you 
will see that the head is divided into two little 
pouches, which split along their edges and set free 
a quantity of what looks like yellow flour. These 
