219 
selves leaves in another form, and each one can 
become a separate plant with the help of due mois¬ 
ture and heat. Indeed, I know one leaf, the very 
notches of whose edge will throw out roots, if 
planted in the earth, thus defying all assistance 
from the seed. I know not how to account for the 
strange fact, but there are a few plants that have no 
foliage. The little Dodder that plunges its roots 
into the stems of others, around which it twines, 
you very well know. To my eye it is not so beau¬ 
tiful as it might be. But the Night-blooming Ce- 
reus, whose splendid flowers open just as our father, 
the Sun, sinks away from our sight,—did she never 
see him, do you think ?—has a dry and naked stalk, 
from which it seems impossible that such a glory 
can spring. She blooms for the stars and the moon. 
And the nightingales love her, and man forsak^ 
slumbers to watch the end like the beginning of 
