TIIE LADIES' FLORAL CABINET. 
51 
“I don’t want yon to talcs 'em back, Jerry Rouse,” 
said Dan. “ I know they were true.” 
“Then, Dan Harroway, though I can’t take them 
words back, I can tell you this, and that is as this yer 
thing you’ve done this yer Christmas eve has made me 
feel tliat for you I never felt for mortal man afore. 
You ain’t only spread them fine wittles in there, but 
there’s a somethin’ you’ve brought anigli me as I’ve 
hungered for without knowin’ it this many a year. I 
don’t arst you to come in, I ain’t worthy as you should 
come in; but, Dan Harroway, I should like to shake your 
hand, and I should like the little uns to thank you.” 
There ! I suppose you guess the rest. 
Of course Dan didn't go in then, nor let Jerry show 
him olf to the children as the angel in top-boots that 
had been sent to make these wonderful things out of the 
Crust. Of course he didn't sit at the end of the table 
by Mercy all the time of the feast, and have those bright 
top-boots smeared all over afterwards by thankful dirty 
little hands. And of course Jerry got turned out by his 
landlord next day! 
They were married, Dan and Mercy, when the blue 
hyacinths came round again, and you could smell noth¬ 
ing else from Gadshill-in-the-Fields to the church, and 
Mercy wore them in her hair .—Katherine Saunders. 
THE MODE OF LIFE OE ROOTS. 
As the duties of the roots differ in the various plants, 
so do their modes of life vary. Some live wholly in the 
water, others (and these by far the greater number) live 
iu the obscurity of the soil, while others, again, fasten 
upon the trunks and branches of plants larger than 
themselves. In the shape of the roots we find a cor¬ 
responding diversity. Some are short and thick-set, as 
witness those of the beet and radish, from which fine, 
thread-like rootlets shoot out, iu order to feed the main 
root; others are long and slender; some creep along 
near the surface of the ground, while others, again, dive 
deep down into the earth, as though seeking to pene¬ 
trate its innermost secrets. But all. great and small, 
thick-set and slender, are provided with a wonderful 
amount of energy and perseverance, never failing, if 
unmolested, to perform the work allotted them with no 
small degree of intelligence. 
Let us here give you an instance of this intelligence, 
which we learned but a few days since, from the lips of 
an eye-witness. 
Most of our readers have doubtless seen descriptions 
of that beautiful Orchid of the Isthmus of Panania, the 
Espiritu Santo, or Flower of the Holy Ghost, so called 
because of the wonderful representation of a dove, with 
bowed head and folded wings, which forms the centre 
of the pulpit-like flower. For some years, the natives, 
regarding the plant with superstitious reverence, care¬ 
fully concealed the knowledge of its existence from all 
foreigners; but at length it was discovered, and several 
bulbs were carried into the city of Panama, where they 
were planted in boxes, and assiduously nursed, but 
without success. The bulbs withered and died, and 
were at last thrown away in despair—a despair that 
proved their salvation. Cast out upon a heap of rub¬ 
bish and stones, the bulbs, no longer buried in the earth 
by an ignorant master, exulted iu their freedom, and 
striking down their roots through the stones, came back 
to life and vigor. Those bulbs knew (what their captor 
did not) that if buried, or even 7iaZ/-buried in the earth, 
they must die; but note with what cogence and intelli¬ 
gence they seized upon the chance of life the moment 
it was accidentally thrown in their way! They knew, 
as the “lord of creation” did not, that then- long, 
slender rootlets alone could be sunken into the earth. 
Says my informant, a scientific gentleman: “ The bulb 
should be supported aboveground by stones until the roots 
have taken sufficient hold to steady it. This is the natural 
condition of the Espiritu Santo, and only thus will it 
flourish.”— Helen Harcourt in “ To-Day 
Diurnal Rest for Plants. 
No one doubts that plants require periodical or annual 
rest, and up to the present time the necessity of diurnal 
rest has also been fully acknowledged, but it indicates 
uncertainty of their convictions in such matters that 
botanists and physiologists now tacitly admit that the 
necessity of diurnal rest is an open question. The re¬ 
cent experiments with the electric light have led to this r 
but meanwhile gardeners will do well to hold on by 
Lindley, and others of the same school, who affirm that 
“diurnal repose is as necessary to plants as to animals.” 
Should it be discovered that Lindley was wrong, we 
shall be prepared to believe anything afterwards, and 
doubt everything, in regard to plant life. Orchids liv¬ 
ing and growing without the old bulbs and the like 
would be nothing to the discovery that plants thrive as 
weU without diurnal rest as with it, for that would in¬ 
volve changes in the physiological creed of the most 
momentous description. The report of the Paris experi¬ 
ments states that they afford “ no grounds for suppos¬ 
ing that nocturnal rest is necessary to the assimilation 
of the food imbibed in the daytime,” which may be true! 
but nothing has been more confidently asserted hitherto 
than that the organs of plants perform quite different 
functions during the day and night respectively. “ The 
processes of assimilation are suspended ; no digestion of 
food and conversion of it into organized matter takes 
place; and instead of decomposing carbonic acid by the 
extrication of oxygen, plants part with carbonic acid 
and rob the air of its oxygen.” Changes that are going 
to completely upset this arrangement of nature must, it 
appears to common sense, exert a corresponding influ¬ 
ence upon plant life, and produce changes something 
akin to what would happen if human beings were to 
begin to inhale carbonic acid instead of oxygen, and ex¬ 
hale the latter instead of the former. The changes sug¬ 
gested by the no-re3t hypothesis in plant growth am 
strictly analogous to this.— Journal of Chemistry. 
