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tures, called plants, are made the grand elaborators of 

 organic matter for the whole creation ; and this first, though 

 lowest manifestation of life becomes in this view as grand as 

 any, perhaps, to be found in higher spheres. 



Life, overwhelming in its mystery, is never deficient hi 

 self-sustaining power. It is a gift that none of its recipients 

 have the least power to value. Yet it is given with a differ- 

 ence. One well says, " animals have, breathed into them, 

 the breath of life ; while plants are breathed upon." But 

 both streams rise from one fountain, and are fanned by the 

 same mysterious wing. 



Life is not mere organism ; implying growth certainly 

 implies motion ; and while the motion of animal life is full 

 of evidences of what we, too blindly perhaps, call instinct, 

 plants, confined and restricted, are not without something 

 of the same kind. 



The vegetable economy is full of motion. Roots move 

 downward, seeking darkness and moisture, stems upward 

 for air and light. An Indian grass no larger than a quill, 

 climbs the highest trees to gain these two essentials. So of 

 roots. The author of the Studies of the Essex Flora says of 

 Bidens connata, " I have found vigorous plants growing in. 

 the crevices of the bark of trees, three or four feet from the 

 ground, where the seed had been deposited by the water, 

 when the pond by which they stood was unusually full, and 

 a persevering root had in every case followed the retreating 

 water till it had finally reached the earth." 



While most motions of plants are apparently mechanical, 

 others are as evidently spontaneous and voluntary. Some 

 may be explained by the principles of endosmose and the 

 peculiar laws that control the transmission of fluids. Setting 

 all these distinctions aside, however, we only stop now to con- 

 template the wisdom that has adapted each to the special 

 end in view. 



By one of these spontaneous motions, everywhere to be 

 seen, the upper side of the leaf is always turned to the light. 

 This position is rigidly adhered to, even by a severe twisting 

 of the petiole when the leaf has been designedly reversed, and 

 whole fields of clover will thus turn their leaves to, and with 

 the sun. Another of these movements has gained the nam 

 of " the sleep of plants," as it mostly occurs on the with- 



