122 LEAVES FROM THE BOOK OF NATURE. 



totle, it is true, had a curious idea, that they were buried 

 in deep slumber, out of which nothing could awake them, 

 and that thus, by a kind of enchantment, they were spell- 

 bound, until the great word should be spoken, that was 

 to restore them to life and motion. Modern science also 

 teaches that the characteristic of organic bodies is inde- 

 pendent motion, that of inorganic, rest. But plants have 

 both life and motion ; we dare not, as yet, say whether 

 it be the effect of a mere dream, of a mechanical pressure 

 from without, or of instinctive life within. For what do 

 we as yet know of the simplest functions of the inner 

 life of plants'? Who has not, however, observed how the 

 pale sap courses now through the colossal stems of gigantic 

 trees, and now through the delicate veins of a frail leaf, 

 as rapidly and marvellously as through the body of a 

 man 1 ? Take a microscope and you will see the plant full 

 of life and motion. All its minute cells are filled with 

 countless little currents, now rotary and now up and down, 

 often even apparently lawless, but always distinctly marked 

 by tiny grains which are seen to turn in them or to rise 

 without ceasing. In this world nothing is motionless, says 

 a modern philosopher. Let the air be so still, that not a 

 breath shall be felt to creep through it, and yet the forest 

 leaves will seem stirred as if in silent prayer. The earth 

 moves small things and great, all obey the same law, and 

 the little blade of grass goes around the sun as swiftly 

 as the tallest pine. The very shadow dances, as if in idle 

 mockery, around the immovable flower, and marks the 

 passing hours of sunshine. 



But plants move not only where they stand they travel 



