198 
the y.ADJES lFZOBAZ CAB im 
it withei-s all the covers of the pitchers standing 
^The Tillandsia Utriculata, or Wild Pine, of 
Indies, has every leaf terminated nem" j, 
hollow bucket, which contains ficm half V . 
quart of water, which is kept in store until r q 
for the sustenance of the plant. - 
The joints of the Silpimim peii-cliatwii are eacu « 
them siuTOUuded with a cup, wliich serves as ® , , 
of water. It gi'ows during the summer to the i » 
of twelve or fourteen feet, these cups of water keepi b 
tlie plant continually green. 
The swamps of the Bay of Campeachy, whic i a 
a level with the sea, become to ccmpletely parched du - 
ing the heat of summer, that the huntsmen w lo o 
themselves in the extensive forests with which they are 
covered would be in danger of perishing with thirst, 
were they not provided uith living fountains in the 
wilderness. The trunks of a kind of pine, indigenous 
to the soil, are covered with a species of fungus, callec, 
from their pi culiar form, pine-apples. They resemb e a 
packet of leaves piled one upon the other, and are so 
full of sap, that, on making an incision in them with a 
knife at tte base, nearly a pint of clear and wholesome 
juice inunediately distils. 
What a wonderful provision is made fer a regular 
supply of piu-e water, to an island destitute of that bless¬ 
ing. is found in the raining-tree of the Canaries. Every 
morning a nnst arises from the sea, which rests on the 
thick leaves ar d wide spreading branches of the tree, 
and distils in dr-ops, dm-ing the remainder of the day, 
tOl it is at length exhausted. The peculiar situation of 
the tree enables it more readily to attract the mist, as 
it stands on a rook at the termination of a long and nar- 
r-ow valley. This interesting tree is an evergreen, of 
considerable size, with leaves resembling the laurel. 
The water which distils from it furnishes every family 
on the island with what is sufflcieirt for domestic pm-. 
poses, and per-sons are apporiited by the council to dis- 
tribute the necessary supplies- 
The Artocaipus, or bread-fiuit tree, offers to the in, 
habitants of the South Sea Islands a valuab e substitute 
for bread It enables the happy islanders, by the labor 
of a few hours in planting the bread-fruit tree, to fulfli 
then- duty to then- own and future geneiations, as effec¬ 
tually as the natives of less temperate chmates, by 
ploughing in the spring-time and reaping m the sum¬ 
mer’s heat; providing a supply for present wants, and 
converting the surplus into money. 
Never was the bountiful provision of nature more 
wonderfully evinced than in furnishing mankind with 
bed and bedding in the savage wilderness of Lycksele, 
L-ipland The Polytrichnum Coviiumie, or great hair- 
inoss giws luxuriantly in their damp forests, and is 
used for this purpose. They clicose the starry-headed 
plants out of the tufts of which they cut a surface as 
laro-e as they please, for a bed and bolster; separating it 
from the earth beneath, and although the roots are 
scarcely branched, they are, nevertheless, so much en- 
t-ino'led at the roots as not to be separated from each 
other. This mossy covering is very soft and elastic, not 
v-rowing hard by pressm-e; and, if a similar poi-tion of 
it be made to sei-ve as a coverlet, nothing can be more 
warm and comfortable. If it becomes too dry and com 
pressed, its former elasticity is restored by a little mois- 
tru-e. Nature, in providing for the wants of man, has 
not forgotten to defend the capsule of the hair-moss 
from the injury of the weather. It is covered udth an 
umbrella, in the form of a cone, wliich, as the seeds 
begin to ripen, loosens from the capsule to which it had 
before adhered, and at length falls off. The stem, which 
supports the seed-vessel, previously reverses its position, 
and, turning the capsirle towar-ds the eai-th, completely 
empties the seeds as from a pitcher 
VIOLETS. 
We walked beside the brook. 
I gathered violets growing in the moss, 
And said, “ If fah-ies should come here to look 
For blossoms, they would never note the loss 
Of those I took.” 
“I’ve read in poet’s lore,” 
He said, and looked away toward the west, 
“That when a mortal’s life on ear-th is o’er. 
He changes to the flower he loves the best 
And lives once more, 
“ Immortal thenand he - _ 
Broke one sweet blossom from its slender stalk. • 
And gave it as an offering to me, ’ 
To keep in memory of that April walk- 
Along the lea. 
“ Flowers are immortal things; 
And when I die”—I could not help but start— 
“I’ll change into a violet, and the springs 
Will drop their gold in my uplifted heart; 
And fairy wings 
“ Will fan me as I blow 
In mossy places close beside the brook. 
And you will often come that way, and lo ! 
Blue violets’ eyes in your dear eyes will look ; 
My eyes you’ll know ; 
“And every bloom shall be— 
Believe me, dear, these words of mine are ti-ue 
A tender thought borne from my heai-t of thee. 
So you shall know how much I think of you 
Whene’er you see 
“Tlie violets on my grave 
In Spring. And underneath the Winter’s snow, 
Wlien over me the stormy north winds rave. 
If you but seek, some blooms you’ll find, I know. 
Upon my gi-ave.” 
Oh, few brief months ago 1 
To-day I wandered by the little brook. 
And from his grave beneath the feathery snow 
Some violets, sweet as were his eyes, I took. 
He thought of me, I know. 
Eben E. ReXFOBP- 
