The time varies from one to seven or 

 eight days. 



Easily dissolved and readily absorbed 

 food in too large an amount seems to 

 cause overexcitementand overtaxation, 

 and frequently results in the death of 

 the leaf. 



The large number of insects, espe 

 cially flies, captured by these plants 

 would lead one to believe that they are 

 attracted by the odor of the plant, or 

 the purplish color of the tentacles, 

 rather than by the desire to use the 

 leaves as a resting-place. 



The sundew belongs to the natural 

 order Droseracece. This contains about 

 one hundred and twenty-five species, of 

 which one hundred and ten belong to 

 the genus Drosera, and are chiefly na 



tives of Australia, though the round- 

 leaved species is common throughout 

 the United States, Europe, and Asia. 



Closely related to the sundew is the 

 Venus fly-trap (Dioncea muscipula, El 

 lis). This is a native in the eastern 

 part of North Carolina only. 



The leaf of this plant is provided 

 with two lobes, which close quickly 

 when the sensitive hairs, which are sit 

 uated on the upper surface of the leaf, 

 are irritated by an insect. The acid 

 secretion flows out and the leaves re 

 main closed till digestion and absorp 

 tion are completed. 



Dr. Asa Gray has referred to this 

 species as "that most expert of fly 

 catchers." 



TREES AND ELOQUENCE. 



W. E. WATT. 



PORTY years in the pulpit of Ply 

 mouth Church in Brooklyn 

 Henry Ward Beecher stood and 

 poured forth a stream of elo 

 quence which shook the world. Dur 

 ing the stress of civil war he stemmed 

 the current of English sentiment with 

 his peculiar powers and brought about 

 a change of feeling which was the sal 

 vation of our Union. This greatest of 

 our pulpit orators was a lover of trees, 

 and some of his finer passages were in 

 spired by them. 



Without doubt, better trees there 

 might be than even the most noble and 

 beautiful now. I suppose God has, in 

 his thoughts, much better ones than he 

 has ever planted on this globe. They 

 are reserved for the glorious land. Be 

 neath them may we walk ! 



To most people a grove is a grove, 

 and all groves are alike. But no two 

 groves are alike. There as as marked 

 a difference between different forests 

 as between different communities. A 

 grove of pines without underbrush, 

 carpeted with the fine-fingered russet 

 leaves of the pine, and odorous of res 

 inous gums, has scarcely a trace of 

 likeness to a maple woods, either in the 

 insects, the birds, the shrubs, the light 



and shade, or the sound of its leaves. 

 If we lived in olden times, among young 

 mythologies, we should say that pines 

 held the imprisoned spirit of naiads 

 and water-nymphs, and that their 

 sounds were of the water for whose 

 lucid depths they always sighed. At 

 any rate, the first pines must have 

 grown on the seashore, and learned 

 their first accents from the surf and the 

 waves; and all their posterity have in 

 herited the sound, and borne it inland 

 to the mountains. 



I like best a forest of mingled trees, 

 ash, maple, oak, beech, hickory, and 

 evergreens, with birches growing along 

 the edges of the brook that carries 

 itself through the roots and stones, 

 toward the willows that grow in yonder 

 meadow. It should be deep and som 

 bre in some directions, running off into 

 shadowy recesses and coverts beyond 

 all footsteps. In such a wood there is 

 endless variety. It will breathe as 

 many voices to your fancy as might be 

 brought from any organ beneath the 

 pressure of some Handel's hands. By 

 the way, Handel and Beethoven always 

 remind me of forests. So do some 

 poets, whose numbers are as various as 

 the infinity of vegetation, fine as the 



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