CHAPTER I 



THE BECxIXNINGS OF PLANT LIFE 



At the end of my garden, facing full south, stands 

 an old wooden fence. Nothing could appear 

 more thoroughly and completely dead than a 

 paling which is beginning to decay ; but if you 

 will come with me to the fence I will show you 

 more living plants than you could observe in a 

 bird's-eye view of the whole of Kew Gardens. 

 Many of us think of " plants " only as the flowering 

 plants which are put in our garden, and we should 

 see no absurdity in remarking that a flower-bed 

 contained " more weeds than plants ; " while very 

 few would enumerate more than trees, shrubs, 

 herbs, grasses, ferns, and mosses as classes of 

 plants. Yet only a \'ery small proportion of the 

 world's plant life, so far as numbers go, assumes 

 these prominent forms. 



The sea, for instance, is sometimes conspicuously 

 tinged in large patches, upon which inexperienced 

 passengers gaze in wonder from the steamer's 

 deck, by plants. You may till a tumbler with the 



