JANUARY 23 



with a snap upon any intrusive object, such as a small 

 winged insect. 



But it is when one comes to examine the functions 

 of hairs and bristles in such plants as the common 

 sundew (Droaera) in our peat-bogs, and the Venus's fly- 

 trap in those of North America, that the conviction 

 becomes almost irresistible that not only are such plants 

 sentient, but that they are conscious of sensation ; that 

 they are not mere mechanical automata, but are actually 

 capable of purpose. Venus's fly-trap is an extreme ex- 

 ample on a considerable scale, but the sundew is more 

 easily accessible for most people in this country. The 

 little circular leaves of this plant are thickly set with 

 red hairs, each tipped with a highly sensitive glandular 

 head. These hairs quickly close upon any minute object 

 that touches them. If that object be an insect, it is 

 closely held till all the nutritive parts and juices of the 

 insect are absorbed by the plant. But instead of an 

 insect, drop a morsel of grit or dry wood upon the leaf ; 

 the hairs close as before, but presently they will unclose 

 and drop the indigestible object. The plant has detected 

 the imposture, and declines to be deceived. In this action 

 there is something very suggestive of intelligence and 

 will. Nor does Professor Slater of Harvard University 

 shrink from the suggestion. 'We are in no position,' 

 says he, 'to say that intelligence cannot exist among 

 plants, for, in fact, all that we can discern supports the 

 view that throughout the organic realm the intelligence 

 that finds its fullest expression in man is everywhere at 

 work.' 



One more example let me cite, and a familiar one, of 

 the apparent intelligence of plants. The common holly 



