YOUNGER YEARS OF A PLANT. 189 



up in a warm and damp atmosphere, though it be not 

 even in contact with any other substance. It puts out 

 buds, these become leaves, drop tiny roots into the air, 

 and soon exist as independent plants. 



And here again we cannot help observing, how quietly 

 the work of Nature is going on, unsuspected and un- 

 heeded by others. The innumerable leaves of our forest 

 and arbor trees form a vast summer laboratory, in which 

 the great work of plants is incessantly continued, and which 

 contributes, to an incalculable extent, to the support and 

 the health of all animal existence. They afford us thus 

 another of the countless proofs of creative design, which 

 we may, at a glance, obtain from the vegetable world. 

 They labor and work for themselves apparently all the 

 while, but render the earth and all life thereon invaluable 

 service. Even when they greedily draw up all moisture 

 by roots or leaves, they become our benefactors. The 

 despised mosses hold up their little cups to collect the 

 waters of heaven, and make most ample return for its 

 bounty. They clothe the steep sides of lofty hills and 

 mountain ranges, and their densely-crowded delicate leaflets 

 attract and condense the watery vapors constantly floating 

 in the air, and thus become the living fountains of many 

 a proud stream. The tall trees of the forest draw down 

 the rain-filled cloud, as the lightning-rod invites the thunder 

 storm, and the moisture so distilled is condensed into little 

 streamlets which trickle down from twig and bough, even 

 when the ground is dry and dusty. This gives fertility 

 even to adjoining fields. The heavy, damp air, gathered 

 by the woods, sinks down as fog or mist when the still 



