MOSSES 



and around hot springs in different parts of the world, 

 they flourish and continue green under a heat that is 

 fatal to all other vegetation except lichens. 



They love best the moist places, but do not refuse 

 to grow where the soil is dry. Tufts of them may be 

 seen here and there on the sandy desert. 



We find them on the mountain tops amid howling 

 winds and driving storms, as well as in the calm and 

 silent woods where scarcely a breath of wind can stir 

 their leaves. 



There is, in fact, no spot on earth so dry or wet, so 

 cold or hot, so stormy or so quiet, that these tiny flow- 

 erless plants do not find a dwelling place. They are, 

 however, most abundant in the temperate zone. Here, 

 too, they have their favorite haunts. At the foot of the 

 mountains, in rocky dells, with streamlets murmuring 

 through them, and the trees making a dim twilight, they 

 form their soft, green carpets. 



In mosses, as elsewhere in nature, uses and beauties 

 mingle together. To them is given the task of prepar- 

 ing the way for higher forms of plant life. Before we 

 can have the wheat for our daily bread, or grass for our 

 cattle, or cotton and linen for cloth, mosses and lichens 

 prepare the soil for these useful plants. 



Mosses protect the roots of trees and plants from 

 heat and cold. They make a home for insects. In 

 mountainous regions the thick mats of moss help to 

 soak up the rain and prevent floods from sudden storms. 



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