readers are familiar with the parachutes 

 of the silk weed, dandelion' and various 

 members of the Compositae family. How 

 they sail through the air. A walk through 

 the autumn forests will make one the un- 

 conscious, perhaps unwilling, carrier of 

 numerous Spanish needles, stick tights, 

 burrs and seeds of various plants who 

 have taught their children to steal rides in 

 all sorts of provoking ways. I imagine 

 the wicked old mother laughs as her ugly 

 baby clings to your clothing, sure of a 

 safe ride to a more favorable place for 

 growing. Many plants achieve the same 

 end in a more pleasant way. They pro- 

 duce fruits and berries so luscious that 

 some bird or animal will carry it some 

 distance for the sake of the pulp. Man 

 himself, philanthropist as he is, when he 

 finds that a plant has produced a luscious 

 fruit or palatable seed, will help the dis- 

 tribution and growth, and bring his su- 

 perior intelligence to the assistance of the 

 plant's slow instinct to improve its pro- 

 duct. A book might be written upon the 

 methods of seed dissemination. In fact, 

 there is a very interesting book upon the 

 subject. 



We will just notice briefly the marvel- 

 ous adaptation of plants to their environ- 

 ment. In the dry plains of Arizona grows 



a peculiar thick-leaved, stunted, cactus- 

 like plant, suited to withstand the drouth. 

 In the forests of Central South America 

 a great vine cHmbs to the tops of the tall- 

 est trees and there flaunts its gay colors to 

 the breeze. In Damara Land, southwest 

 tropical Africa, upon a small upland sec- 

 tion, and nowhere else in the world, 

 grows the marvelous Welwitschea mira- 

 bilis, with no real leaves, but with its two 

 cotyledons, persistent and growing to 

 enormous length, living a century and ac- 

 quiring a great trunk, the flower-stalk 

 growing up from the bare trunk while the 

 two great leaves, if I may so designate 

 them, whip about in the breezes for a cen- 

 tury without change, except as they fray 

 out at the ends. These three so dissimilar 

 plants all had a common, not so remote, 

 ancestor, but have grown so unlike in 

 their effort to adapt themselves to their 

 environment, that no casual observer 

 would suspect they were akin. 



There is so much to say about the won- 

 derful intelligence displayed by plants in 

 their various activities, that a volume 

 could not do the subject justice. We 

 started with the question, Do plants have 

 instinct? We end with the question. 

 Have they? Rowland Watts. 



Still winter holds the frozen ground and fast the streams with ice are bound, 

 There's many a dreary week to come before the flowers bloom; 

 Though everything were lost in snow yet Nature's heart beats warm below 

 And Spring will build her palace gay on hoary Winter's tomb. 



— George Gee. 



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