452 THE ROLL OF THE SEASONS 



the old trees know it, and the seeds that have lain 

 dormant all through the winter know it. There are 

 the wandering bacilli, whose function it is simply to 

 transform indigestible manure into pap for the little 

 roots ; there are bacilli of prey, some eating good 

 microbes, and some bad ones, some the indifferent ; 

 and there are those waiting to fasten on some special 

 root that they have yet to meet. Dip a clover root 

 into the mould and they will flock to it, forming on 

 it the nodules that, long before the microscope and 

 the agricultural laboratory, were guessed to have the 

 power of extracting nourishment from the air. They 

 are seemingly there for no good but their own. A 

 weak plant succumbs to their too ardent attentions, 

 yet in the main it is the clover that takes the upper 

 hand. In fact, the clover cannot live without its very 

 ancient parasite, of which it has made a servant. 



Call and call again the trees, the grass, the flowers, 

 the seeds, and they cannot get up till the ferments 

 wake. The bacterium is the serving-maid, who must 

 get up and light the fire before the others can begin 

 the day. The earth is aflame underground long be- 

 fore the eye sees it. The scientist dare not liken the 

 spread of the bacterial population to, say, the breeding 

 of a flock of sheep. He cannot say even that it is a 

 phenomenon of life at all. The agricultural chemist 

 calls the swarming millions by a name that signifies 

 stuff rather than numbers. It is bacterine, even broth, 

 as though we should call a trillion sheep a broth of 

 mutton. It is not only mutton broth, but the broth 

 of everything that has been or shall be. It is the 

 indispensable beginning of life for this year, just as it 

 was after chaos. It was the bacteria, then the fungi 



