THE COTTON-PLANT 
17 
Oft, perhaps, he thought of Nature 
When the gentle breezes stirred, 
Wondering much, but questioning never, 
Why she uttered not a word. 
This the treetops seem to murmur 
In their song of ancient tone 
While I sit so far beneath them 
In the woodlands all alone. 
Here, perhaps, their old admirers— 
Men with skin of redder hue— 
Fished and hunted all the day long 
As their custom was to do; 
But today not e’en the traces 
Of their wanderings canj be seen, 
Though we know they oft have trampled 
Where the grass now grows so green. 
Listen! heard ye not that whisper? 
Came it from yon old oak-tree? 
“Pray, do tell me, white-faced stranger, 
Where those pilgrims now can be?” 
Ah, they’re resting, calmly resting 
Far beneath their native sod, 
Waiting yet to learn the meaning 
Of the voice of Nature’s God. 
—Elsie E. Egermeier. 
THE COTTON-PLANT 
D OUBTLESS many of the young folks have never seen a cotton- 
plant when it was growing. I was brought up where cotton 
grows, so I will tell you about the plant. In February or March the 
ground is plowed and marked off in rows three or foui feet apart, 
then fertilizer is put in. Next the seeds are planted by means of a 
planter, which strows the seeds along the rows. They are put in rather 
thickly in order to insure a good stand. So when the plants come up, 
they may he very close together and have to he thinned. Then the 
ground has to be'plowed and hoed to keep the weeds out. There is a 
great deal of work about growing cotton. 
At first the plant looks like a weed. Soon buds begin to form, and 
