On the Acdimating Principle of Plants. 1 9 



siderable distance, and pass them uninjured by the powers of 

 digestion. 



Man, more provident than all, to whom plants are necessary 

 whose support, whose comforts, and whose pleasures connect 

 him with them, carries their choice seeds, slips and scions far 

 and wide. His interests foster their growth, his attentions en- 

 rich their products, and his skill and science preserve their ex- 

 istence, and adapt them to their new condition. In an impro- 

 ved community man's wants multiply : he has occasion for the 

 more varied and rich fruits ; more abundant and luxurious 

 clothing, and furniture of vegetable growth ; odors to regale 

 his senses, vegetable flavors to pamper his appetites, and all 

 the medicinal plants to heal his various diseases, and invigor- 

 ate his shattered constitution. He attaches himself to agri- 

 culture and horticulture ; plants becomes his companions ; 

 he carries a creative resource into those departments, and by 

 his attentions, forms new varieties and excellencies, unknown 

 to the wild state of vegetable existence. Such are the means 

 nature has provided for the propagation and extension of 

 plants ; such are the indirect locomotive powers they possess. 

 We must no longer, therefore, consider vegetables such inert 

 and sluggish beings. 



We will now treat plants as having a kind of locomotive ex- 

 istence. We know that they are very perfectly organized, have 

 sensibility and sexual intercourse. We know that they have 

 lungs, by which they breathe, and are connected with the air. 

 We know by abundant experience, how easily they are affec- 

 ted by the elements, by heat and cold, moisture and drought. 

 We know how radically soil affects their productiveness, how 

 immediately they are stinted or stimulated by the nature of the 

 extraneous circumstances with which they are surrounded. 

 Beings, therefore, that have such perfect organization, that, al- 

 though they are fixed in their places, are deeply changed by 

 every shower, and every breeze, and every stroke of the culti- 

 vator — beings, so necessary to the wants, and very existence 

 of animated nature — should possess, in a high degree, the fac- 

 ulty of changing their climate, and of accommodating them- 

 selves to circumstances, and the strong contrasts of seasons. 

 Nature else would be wanting in her usual foresight, and in 

 her adaptation of one thing to another. 



If an animal is carried by accident, or its own wanderings, 

 to a country or climate that is not congenial to its nature, it 

 can and does make use of its locomotive powers, to regain one 

 that is more suitable to it. This happens every day. Thou- 

 sands of birds and fish, and other animals, migrate regularly, to 



