320 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 



and the motion imparted by the wind which made 

 it so wonderful. A sheet of yellow buttercups or 

 a field thickly grown with dandelions does not 

 produce this effect owing to its want of motion. 

 The stiffer the flower on its stem the less vivid in 

 appearance is its sentient life the less does it 

 enjoy the air it breathes. These flowers, on tall 

 pliant stems, danced in the wind with a gladness 

 greater than that of Wordsworth's daffodils. It 

 was only when the first shock of wonder and delight 

 was over, that, looking closely at a flower, I made 

 the discovery that it was the goafs-beard, the 

 homely John-go-to-bed-at-noon, and the hardly 

 respectable I dare not say what! 



After that I visited the field three or four times 

 a day and found that the flower begins to open 

 some time after sunrise and comes into its fullest 

 bloom about ten o'clock; that at noon it begins 

 to close, but for an hour or two the change is 

 imperceptible, after which one notices that the 

 field is losing its lustre, the dimness gradually 

 growing until by three o'clock the field is all dark 

 green again. John's in bed, tucked up, and in a 

 deep sleep which will last quite seventeen hours; 

 then he won't wake with a start, but slowly, 

 slowly, yawning and rubbing his yellow eyes and 

 taking at least two hours to get out of bed. 



I do not know what has been said by the authori- 

 ties on the physiology of plants on this habit of the 

 flower, but it strikes the ordinary person as some- 

 thing abnormal or unnatural. We all know many 



