108 THE HUMAN SIDE OF PLANTS 
there would be no written history, and the advances 
or retreats of life would be retarded or stopped. 
All records are the results of this prompting; in all 
life it is evident. The same instinct that told the 
cave-man to cut his story into the rock surface 
prompts the small boy to whittle his initials on the 
top of his desk or on the old back fence. Each 
obeys an indefinable impulse; neither reasons in his 
act. 
And as in animals and plants we find other visi- 
ble forms of a universal nature, this purely nat- 
ural instinct, appearing in the human type, ap- 
pears in all types—if we can but discover it—in 
animal, bird, fish, and plant. 
The bear makes his mark by rubbing high upon 
the bark of a tree. Is he conscious that he is leav- 
ing a record, a guide for other bears to aim for, to 
attain, and to supermark? Whether he realises this 
or not, the record is made, and other bears do strive 
to attain and supermark it; and incidentally in the 
striving become a better, hardier, greater race of 
bears. — 
So the dog makes his mark, the wild-cat his, and 
the lion his. The birds have their records; the 
fishes theirs; and, in concession to this requirement 
of universal nature, all plant life, from the tiniest 
fern to the hardiest monarch of the forest, makes 
