ILKA BLADE O’ GRASS KEPS ITS AIN DRAP O’ DEW. 
Confide ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind, 
And bear ye a’ life’s changes wi’ a calm and tranquil 
mind; 
.Though pressed and hemmed on every side, ha’e faith 
and ye’ll win through, 
For ilka blade o’ grass lceps its ain drap o’ dew. 
Gin reft frae friends or crost in love, as whiles nae doubt 
ye’ve been, 
Grief lies dee]) hidden in your heart, or tears flow frae 
your ee’n, 
Believe it for the best and trow there’s good in store for 
you, 
For ilka blade o’ grass keps its ain drap o’ dew. 
In lang, lang days o’ simmer, when the clear and cloud¬ 
less sky 
Refuses a wee drap o’ rain to Nature parched and dry, 
The genial night, wi’ balmy breath, gars verdure spring 
anew, 
And ilka blade o’ grass keps its ain drap o’ dew. 
Sae lest ’mid fortune’s sunshine we should feel' ower 
proud and hie, 
And in our pride forget to wipe the tear frae poortiths e’e; 
Some wee dark clouds o’ sorrow come, we ken na 
whence or hoo, 
But ilka blade o’ grass keps its ain drap o’ dew. 
—Selected. 
WONDERS OF THE VEGETABLE KINGDOM. 
XI. 
Plants as Manufacturers. 
[The following very interesting paper was read by 
Mr. Fish at a meeting of the Liverpool Horticultural 
Society : ] 
We have been accustomed to admire plants for their 
beauty, to love them for their sweetness, and to prize 
them for the value of their products. But few have any 
clear notions concerning the arduousness of their labors, 
or tbe importance of the work which they perform. 
The life of plants seems to us a life of ease, a season of 
quiet repose, a wa'ting for all things to be done for 
them, other than tbe doing of anything for themselves 
or others. Such views are wholly mistaken. No life 
is less selfish, none more fully occupied, than that of a 
plant. The fact is, we have treated, our plants veiy 
much as we have done our human flowers. We too 
often ignore their real life-work and sterling merits, 
and then weave a sort of fairy veil of fiction and ro¬ 
mance wherewithal to adorn them, as we think, but 
such meretricious ornaments only disfigure or conceal 
their beauty, tenderness and love. “Beauty un¬ 
adorned is adorned the most.” As well try to improve 
the suffused beauty of the blushing Rose with the 
paint-brush, as to strengthen our admiration for plants 
by a false halo of renown born of the mists of igno¬ 
rance, It is with plants as it is with Eve’s fairest 
daughters. No one can be insensible to the charms of 
a pretty face. It attracts like a magnet. But when we 
come near to confess our admiration or adore its beauty, 
and find mind and heart, voice and character, all in 
harmony with that face—then—well then we find an 
angel,and can but wish to possess, and, to use the lan¬ 
guage of tbe prayer-book, worship her. Now, every 
plant is such an angel. Its worth and its work exceed 
its beauty. What it is, and what it does, is of more 
importance to us.than what it looks. Not that I would 
decry beauty. It is a Heaven-sent boon. And I like 
to picture our great Father filling the earth with all 
things needful for His children, and then just as a 
fond mother, after packing her boy’s trunk, will put 
her own likeness, wet -with tears of love, in his Bible, 
so the Almighty, in the overflowing tenderness of His 
affection, dipped His hands in glory and strewed 
beauty broadcast over the earth and across the heav¬ 
ens, in order that we might all see it together and be 
glad. 
But my theme is not the beauty of plants, but their 
work. Of course, it is impossible to ignore the fact 
that the workers are beautiful, and like much of the 
work appointed to our daughters of beauty, the work of 
plants is mostly hidden from common eyes. We hear 
much about the rights of women; perhaps it is needful 
to extend them. But no one can rob her of her highest 
prerog itive, that of smiling her sweetest smiles, and 
doing her noblest work within the secret chamber of 
her home. Silently as the dew she refreshes all; softly 
as the sunlight falls upon the leaves, her work is done 
without noise or confusion. It is very much thus with 
plants. They are manufacturers, it is true; but we 
never hear the clink, crash, whirr, or deafening din of 
their machinery in motion. They darken the heavens 
with no reeking clouds of foul smoke, no hissing vol¬ 
umes of spent steam. They both spin and weave, but 
no rush of spindles nor sound of shuttles is heard. 
They pack up millions of tons of goods for transporta¬ 
tion to the farthest ends of the earth, without the aid 
of hydraulic pressure, or huge packing-boxes. They 
lift thousands of tons of water and produce from the 
earth into the air without the help of lifting-tackle of 
any kind. This noiselessness is the more marvellous 
when we remember that there is no division of labor in 
those plant-factories. Each does all its own work for 
itself. Finishing houses are unknown in these fac¬ 
tories: and what perfection of finish we have in each 
leaf and flower, and root and branch, timber and bark ! 
What artist could meddle with but to max the finish of 
that fine fruit, and those glorious flowers we have seen 
here to-day ? 
You can do great things in the way of manufactur¬ 
ers. The raw material of the world comes into your 
ports, and your exports are the admiration, envy, and 
