tlbe Stori2 ot tbe IRoot 21 



against a wall ; here, along the garden path, 

 are our rows of raspberry and blackberry vmes, all 

 well provided with prickles, which we carelessly call 

 "thorns." Real thorns, however, are woody, will 

 not come off with the skin, and are, in fact, hardened, 

 undeveloped branches. The prickles strip off with 

 the epidermis, and are really included properly 

 under the general term of hairs. 



These prickles keep cows, sheep, and other grazing 

 animals from eating up the bushes, which have a 

 sweetish, aromatic taste, and are sufficiently tender to 

 afford very tempting morsels to browsing beasts in 

 winter, hungering for something fresh, as we humans 

 long for the first crisp salads, radishes, and other 

 spring vegetables. Were it not for these blessed 

 prickles, not a rose nor a berry would greet our eyes 

 next summer, but nature, having thoughtfully de- 

 tailed this army of sharp pikesmen to defend her 

 sleeping children, they will awaken in the spring in 

 health and beauty. 



Wandering a little farther afield in search of veg- 

 etable hairs, Ave see a tall, rough, dead rod, set with 

 seed vessels at the top — the dried stalk of a mullein. 

 At its l)ase we shall find a large rosette of greenish- 

 gray, thick leaves ; some dry and dead, after a sum- 

 mer's expansion ; some young and still succulent, 

 havinQT unfolded late in the autumn. All these 



