3 VEGETABLE LIFE. 
By Artuur F. RIcE. 
He is indeed poor who has no part or inter- 
est in the riches of Nature; who sees in the 
graceful elm and sturdy oak only the thousands 
of feet of boards they will yield ; who reckons 
in the fragrant field of clover no value save the 
tons of hay it will produce; who catches the 
scent of the hemlock only with the thought of 
stripping off its bark for the tan yard. Ofsuch 
an one it has been written : 
“The primrose on the river’s brim 
A yellow primrose was to him, 
And it was nothing more.” 
It would be better for us if we could sometimes 
forget the fulness of the harvest to listen to the 
rustle of the corn; better if we could leave the 
table, the market and the town behind us to 
get a breath from the fields and a tonic from 
the forest. 
The path that leads to a knowledge of the 
vegetable world is so enticing that the wonder 
is so few follow it. We go about the earth 
trampling under foot the delicate gifts placed 
here for our instruction and enjoyment, taking 
little note of the beauties and wonders of our 
woods and meadows, or gardens and orchards, 
our walls and fences. The mosses and lich- 
ens—those delicate couches of the tairies— 
adorn the trees and rocks, but to our dull eyes 
they are but stains or spots of mold. The 
bloom creeps up the stalk of the foxglove, but 
we do not notice it. The flowers and grasses 
are wet with dew, but wé are not interested to 
know whence or how it came. The pansies 
and sunflowers each morning face the god of 
day, and their eyes follow him in his course 
until he sinks in the west, but this delicate act 
of homage is lost on us. We recognize in the 
substance of our bedsteads and bureaus the 
ash, the walnut or the cherry, but in the forest 
where they are growing we cannot distinguish 
them or enumerate their charming character- 
istics and differences. We attend the flower 
shows in the city and go into raptures over the 
orchids and chrysanthemums, but fail to real- 
ize that the blossom of the common potato is 
perhaps as beautiful as anything that grows. 
It is said that every man should have a 
hobby of some sort. If this is true, could our 
leisure time be more innocently or profitably 
employed than in replacing our ignorance of 
these things with an intelligence concerning 
them ? 
«Tf thou wouldst read a lesson that will keep 
Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep, 
Go to the woods and hills! No tears 
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.” 
Robbed of the similes and metaphors drawn 
from the vegetable kingdom, literature in gen- 
eral, and poetry in particular, would lose much 
of its grace and significance. The scriptures 
are full of allusions to the trees and flowers. 
The Cedars of Lebanon, the Rose of Sharon, 
the Lilies of the field and the Hyssop on the 
wall, are but familiar examples of the many 
instances where these fair creations have 
helped to crystallize historic facts or aid the 
imagination in its flights. Scarcely less dear 
to us are the daisy of Wordsworth and the pine 
tree of Emerson. Many of the most charming 
poems of Bryant, Lopgfellow, Lowell and 
Whittier have laid the meadows and the groves 
under heavy tribute for the thoughts and fan- 
cies they contain. What a mutilation of their 
fair pages it would cause to efface what they 
have written of the trees and shrubs, the ferns 
and flowers, and even the grasses and the 
weeds. 
A volume might be written on the poetic 
customs, the traditions and superstitions con- 
nected-with certain trees and plants. It would 
tell how it was customary among certain Indian 
tribes to plant a shrub to keep in remembrance 
absent children and to show the state of their 
health ; how the Iroquois believed that there 
were Spirits of the corn and squashes who must 
be propitiated to insure good crops; how the 
Upas tree of Java was supposed to be deadly 
in its influences, so that it was fatal to sleep 
under it, and even the birds that alighted in it 
were overcome by its poisonous exhalations ; 
how the Lotus of the Nile had so potent an ef- 
fect upon those who ate of its leaves that they 
