CHAP. VIII Vitality 127 



cut a stake from the outer part of the tree, leaving the 

 bark on, and set it in the ground, it may happen that buds 

 will appear, pushing through the bark, and stretching out 

 into shoots. 



There is a mystery for us to begin with : some parts of 

 a tree may have a life of their own. Indeed, we all know 

 that gardeners do not rear geraniums and other plants from 

 seeds, but from cuttings. Potatoes, as we know, will give 

 origin to new plants, and even small parts of potatoes will 

 do so. Roses are grafted into the stems of the wild brier, 

 and in this way two life-currents are mingled. We may 

 remember, too, that all seeds are only parts that have 

 become separated from the parent plant. We ourselves, 

 formed in the darkness of the womb, were separated at 

 birth from the mothers who bore us. 



Let us think of the seeds of plants for a little. Formed 

 in the warmth and brightness of the summer sun, ripened in 

 the glow of autumn, they fall to the ground, are carried 

 hither and thither by trickling runlets of water, by the 

 winds, by animals, and scattered over new pastures. 

 Through the long chill of winter they remain asleep ; but 

 not dead, — slow preparation is being made for the new 

 day. With the warm winds of spring — when the birds 

 come back to us and sing their first songs of love and 

 courtship — the countless buds of the woods, the gardens, 

 and the hedgerows, all the seeds we sowed in the autumn, 

 all the com we scattered in the first hours of the new 

 morning, awake ; the buds burst, the tiny leaves unroll ; in 

 the seeds there is a great activity, — the slender shoots 

 stretch forth — spring passes into summer — and we await the 

 harvest. 



3. The Energy of Life. — What is the cause ot this 

 strength of life .'' How is it that in an acre of forest tons of 

 solid matter are lifted high into the air, while the branches 

 waving under the blue sky seem to enjoy the brightness of 

 the sun after the gloom of winter ? This assertion of the 

 poets of the gladness of nature at the springtime is no mere 

 wandering fancy, it is simple truth ; the intensity of life at 

 that time is due entirely to the greater warmth of the air 



