22 
To grow big and strong enough to hold their own in 
the world. That is just what they are trying to do. 
Then, too, they are trying to flower. 
’ 
“But they don’t all have flowers,” objects one voice. 
You are right. They do not all have flowers; but 
you would be surprised to know how many of them 
do. In fact, all of them except the ferns and mosses, 
and a few others, some of which you would hardly 
recognize as plants,—all of them, with these excep- 
tions, flower at some time in their lives. 
All the trees have flowers, and all the grasses (Figs. 
9, 10); and all those plants which get so dusty along 
the roadside, and which you call “ weeds,” — each 
one of these has its own flower. This may be so 
small and dull-looking that you have never noticed 
it; and unless you look sharply, perhaps you 
never will. But all the same, it is a flower. 
But there is one especial thing which is really 
the object of the plant’s life. Now, who can tell 
me this: what is this object of a plant’s life? 
Do you know just what I mean by this ques- 
tion? I doubt it; but I will try to make it clear 
to you. 
FIG. 9 
If I see a boy stop his play, get his hat, and start 
down the street, I know that he has what we call “an 
object in view.” There is some reason for what he is 
doing. And if I say to him, “ What is the odject of your 
walk?” I mean, “For what are you going down the 
street?”’ And if he answers, “I am going to get a 
pound of tea for my mother,” I know that a pound of 
tea is the object of his walk. 
