The Anemone or Wind-FlowerThe Anemone or Wind-Flower
Even the botanical names of the flowers themselves are of questionable value. The main thing is to recognize the flower as we recognize any other friend, and of course some name is necessary, but that this name be technical is, in most cases, not even desirable. "Wind-flower" is quite as good as "anemone," better, indeed, as it expresses a certain feeling about the flower that "anemone" does not convey. So, too, "mayflower" is more suggestive than "trailing arbutus," and that thanEpigæa repens. Thus at first let the children learn only the common names of the flowers, at the same time that they discover all that is interesting about them. Later, when their interest is sure, the prettyname "anemone" will give an added charm. They can be told that it comes from the Greek wordanemos, meaning wind, and that anemones grow in Greece, and all that part of the world, and are gathered by the little children there. If the children are of an age to be studying or reading the tales of mythology, or the fascinating beginnings of Greek and Roman history, they will be delighted to think that anemones were no doubt gathered by Ulysses and Hector and the other Trojan heroes when they were children in that far-away land, and that the grandson of Æneas saw them in the Campagna near the Rome he founded, as the Italian children see them to-day. Thus through his botany the child can get a more vivid sense of the life of the past, can have a link forged in that invaluable mental chain which links him, mind, body, and soul, to everything else in the universe, and the consciousness of which is one of our most precious and helpful endowments in this life.
The universality of life and mind and soul, the universality of the methods of their manifestations even, the unity oflife,—nothing by itself, everything going out into and permeating everything else,—this great truth, which ought to burst upon the young mind with controlling force at a critical period later, should have its way prepared in childhood.
So far as technical terms are concerned, the child will gladly take them—in small doses—when he understands the things they represent,—that is, when the knowledge comes before the label; and when he recognizes their convenience in grouping the different varieties and species so that their relations to themselves and to other plants can be kept in the mind with a minimum of exertion.
Wild Rose with Bees Gathering HoneyWild Rose with Bees Gathering Honey
The time comes when the analysis of the flower can be as interesting as any part of the work, if it has been preceded by other information and if it is pursued intelligently and delightfully. To illustrate again. The wild rose looked at simply as a thing of beauty and perfume becomes yet more interesting to the child who watches the bee gather its golden pollen and its luscious nectar. There is a bond of union now betweenthe fragile flower and its winged guest that begets an altruism which later becomes normally the corner-stone of character. When the graceful tribute of the bee to the flower is presently understood, and the child learns that the seeds of the flower have to thank the bee for their life, the mind expands yet more, and glows at the thought of this relationship in which each of these charming creatures practically preserves the life of the other.
The Seed, the Child of the Plant, is at the Heart of Every FlowerThe Seed, the Child of the Plant, is at the Heart of Every Flower
Now, too, the thought that the seed, the child of the plant, is at the heart of every flower, that it is for this nascent life, this new venture into the great world, that the blossom unfolds in beauty and sheds its perfume on the summer air, yet more expands the joyousinterest taken in the blossom. The mind, through a knowledge of these facts, can leap out into wider spaces of feeling and imagination. Thus every truth the child learns about the rose in those first tender years ought to add to his poetic conception of it. Thus he should learn his rose until the time comes when its relation to certain other plants will be full of meaning and full of interest. Perhaps the child has studied the apple blossom, the strawberry flower, the peach blossom in this same delightful way. With a very little help he will recognize the similarity of all three to the rose. He will be delighted to know that these are as truly related as they seem to be, that they are indeed cousins in one charming family. How they came to be so different will be a natural question, the answer to whichwill involve the latest and most valuable scientific discoveries. Indeed, in studying nature we should begin with the latest discoveries of science, which are biological and vital, and end with man's earlier efforts toward knowledge,—that is, with classification and nomenclature. When the child knows his plants he may be interested in their relationships and willing to do the necessary drudgery toward establishing them. If not, it doesn't matter, he has the really vital part of the subject, the part that will best help him toward understanding all life, his own included.
It is to foster a high sentiment toward the life of the plant that the numerous so-called unscientific botanies which crowd the book-stores to-day are so valuable, and the numbers that are sold testify to the interest this side of the subject awakens. What technical botany has anything like the sale of these less technical books? So far as the real development of the world at large is concerned they are of inestimably more use than the technical works, though of course those were the stern Puritan parents whohave given rise to this flock of lovely non-puritanical children, and without which they of course could not have existed.
The technical botanies indeed have their use to-day, and it can be confidently expected that they will be more used than ever before, because of the large numbers who have had their interest quickened and a desire to know more awakened. Those who would have found botany interesting in spite of the old methods will pursue it yet more eagerly under the new. Many who would have turned away from it entirely will continue their study into the technical works, while great numbers who have no leaning toward technical study and would have had nothing to do with botany under the old methods, under the new will assimilate the best truths the study of this subject is able to give, and so far from finding a wild rose less fragrant or less beautiful because of their close scrutiny of it, they will find it infinitely more so,—infinitely more rich in affording poetical thoughts, comparisons, and images.
What is true of plant life is equally true of animal life. The first attention should be directed toward the animal itself, its life and habits, technical information coming afterwards.
In dealing with the special subject of this book too much stress cannot be laid upon the value of associating the phenomena of the renewal of life with all other vital phenomena, instead of divorcing it from them.
Two reasons why the subject of reproduction has such undue prominence in the minds of many people are, first, the manner in which it has been made conspicuous through concealment; and second, the fact that when spoken of at all, it has been treated as a unique phenomenon unrelated to anything else. These are not the only reasons, but they are strong ones, and their existence is quite unnecessary.
Education, therefore, should remove both of these stumbling-blocks. The first one is easily removed, though the value of its removal depends entirelyupon the manner in which that removal is accomplished. The second is also easily removed, the only difficulty being how to do it in the most helpful manner. The problem, then, for the instructor to solve is, how fully to acquaint the child with the phenomena of the reproductive life without making the subject unduly prominent.
This can well be done by interesting him in all the phenomena of living things, and allowing the reproductive function to take its place, not as something alone and different from everything else, but as one in a series of vital phenomena, all equally important and all interesting; not as something peculiar to human life or to the higher animals, but belonging equally to every living thing, whether animal or plant, and manifesting itself in the same way everywhere. Nor is this as difficult as at first glance it may seem. Indeed it is not difficult at all if one can begin with the young child, building little by little the foundation upon which later to erect a noble superstructure.
It is a beautiful fact that the plantworld offers illustrations of all the underlying phenomena of the reproductive life, and that through the flowers the little one can get his first introduction to the great subject. Not that he will at first understand the connection between the flower life and the human life, but the facts in the flower having been clearly perceived, there is nothing easier or more beautiful than to expand the idea when the time comes, until it embraces all life.
But what about those children who are no longer in their infancy? How are they to be taught?
In practically the same way, with some modification of method.
Since the aim here is to present the subject from the beginning, the first succeeding chapters will deal with it as applied to the young child. Following this, methods for use with older children will be discussed.
Objects to be accomplished with the younger children in the study of the plant.
(1) To make them feel that the plantsare living things with activities like other living things.
(2) To convey a clear idea of the true relation of seed to plant. This can be amplified later to cover the reproductive phenomena of human life.
(3) To give them a foundation for understanding the relation of father to child, when the time comes to explain that.
Some children naturally think of the plant as alive; they endow it with thought, feeling, and emotion; talk to it, consult it, caress it. Others do not. In both cases it is of value to the child to know the deeper truths concerning the life of the plant. In the one case it will steady sentimentality and guard against later loss of interest, in the other it will stimulate imagination and foster a high type of sentiment.
An easy and effective way to begin the study of the plant is to watch it as it sprouts from the seed. Since a large seed, easy to see and simple in structure, is best, an ordinary bean answers the purpose admirably, particularly as thebean has the convenient habit of rising up above the ground when it sprouts, the development of the embryo proceeding in full view. Any of the common varieties will answer the purpose, though of course the larger the bean the more easily it can be observed.
A child of three or four will be interested in watching a seed grow. The first season he may get only one idea, the seed grows into a plant. The next season the experiment may be repeated with as much of the story of the plant added as the little one can understand. Thus Spring after Spring the child plants his seeds and watches them grow, constantly adding to his store of knowledge about them, until the story of the plant and its seed is as familiar to him as any fairy-tale, and has gone into his consciousness to stay there forever. Let us examine the bean, then, and see what can be learned from it, the information thus obtained to be shared with the child as fast as his age and his power of understanding permit.
The Bean, Sprouting, To Show the Two Seed-leaves And The EmbryoThe Bean, Sprouting, To Show the Two Seed-leaves And The Embryo
First let us examine the dry bean. It is hard, so hard that we can scarcelybite it. Put it to soak in tepid water, leaving it over night. Next day look at the changes that have taken place in it. The first thing we notice is that it has swollen until it is twice as large as it was, being now soaked full of water. It is also softer than it was. Its outer skin during the process of soaking has loosened, being no longer firmly attached to the body of the bean. This skin, being unable to stretch, soon splits open by the swelling of the bean inside. We can easily slip it entirely off.
The Bean—Embryo-Leaves, Seed-Leaves, and RootThe Bean—Embryo-Leaves, Seed-Leaves, and Root
Having done this let us take a good look at the bean that is now out of itsskin. We see that it is composed of two thick parts which are joined together at only one end. These two thick parts which make the bulk of the bean are called seed-leaves (cotyledons).
Just at the point where they seem to be joined together there is a tiny flat white object. Looking closely at this we discover it to be a plant consisting of two minute leaves and a little blunt tip. As a matter of fact, the two seed-leaves are not attached directly to each other, but each is attached to this tiny plant, or embryo, as it is called. The word "embryo" is a valuable one to use later, and its precise meaning can easily be fixed by always calling the young plant tucked away in the seed the embryo. The difficulty of learning new words does not lie in their length, but in not knowing what they mean. A child who has been to the circus has no trouble in remembering the word "elephant," and the child who frequently hears the word "embryo" spoken in connection with the plant concealed between the cotyledons quickly and unconsciously learns it.
Place some of the soaked beans on damp cotton, and plant others in a pot of earth, or, if it is Summer, in the garden. Those sprouted in the house in the Winter must be kept warm. In a short time the little white embryo tucked away in the bean begins to grow. We say the bean sprouts. As the embryo develops, its little blunt tip grows down into the ground and gives off roots. At the same time its two tiny white leaves grow large and green, coming out from the seed-leaves (cotyledons) into the air and sunshine. As the stem lengthens the seed-leaves are lifted up above the ground along with the embryo. The bean thus seems to come out of the ground, and children are very apt to want to cover it up. But it has not really unplanted itself. The lower part of the stem and the roots hold it firmly in the earth.
The bean on the damp cotton grows as well at first as that planted in the earth, but it cannot get food enough to continue growth unless it can thrust its roots into the earth. What enables it to grow at all on the cotton, since that doesnot supply food, but only holds the moisture, without which the bean could not sprout? There must be food somewhere, and it is found packed away in the thick seed-leaves, which contain a great deal of starch and a little of some other things.
The Bean—Embryo-Leaves, Compound Leaves, and Beginning of StemThe Bean—Embryo-Leaves, Compound Leaves, and Beginning of Stem
The young plant, under the influence of warmth and moisture, is able to draw out the nourishment from the seed-leaves. If we examine the seed-leaves after the seed has sprouted we shall find them less hard and firm; they have given part of their substance to the embryo. They have also turned greenish in color, while, as we know, the leaves of the embryo, which at first were so white and tiny, have also turned green and grown larger. Between the two embryo-leaves there is a little growing tip.
The young plant now no longerdepends upon the seed-leaves for its food. Down in the earth the roots are taking in nourishment, and up in the air the little green leaves are also busy supplying food to the growing plant. The little growing tip lengthens into a stem from which a leaf is seen unfolding. This new leaf is not shaped like the embryo-leaves nor like the seed-leaves. It has three leaflets. The stem continues to lengthen, and soon another compound leaf appears. Thus the stem lengthens and leaves keep coming, the little growing tip at the end of the stem always pushing upward.
Very soon the stem becomes too long and slender to stand upright. Then it does a strange thing. It circles about as though in search of something. It moves very slowly, but if you notice which way it is pointing in the morning, and again at noon, and again at night, you will see that it has changed its position. Why does it do this? It wishes to twine about a support, and will continue circling about until it finds one. If there is none, the slender stem, unable to stand upright as it lengthens,will in time bend to one side or even lie on the ground; but the end still continues to circle about, and when at last it touches a stick or the stem of another plant or anything else about which it can twine, it continues its circling motion about the new support, and the vine as it lengthens finally becomes twined about it.
How does the food which the plant takes from the earth and the air find its way to the different parts of the plant to nourish them?
The plant food is in a liquid form called sap, which runs through channels in the roots and stems and leaves, and is thus carried to all parts of the plant. To a certain extent it is like the blood of animals, which finds its way all through the body and supplies food to the tissues.
The plant is alive; it eats, it breathes; sometimes it even moves. It breathes the same air that we do, only it takes it in through tiny pores in the leaves. Eating and breathing, the plant continues to grow, leaf after leaf unfolding. At last, in the axil of one of the leavesthere comes a little bud that does not unfold into a leaf but into a flower.
The appearance of this first blossom on the plant the child has himself raised from the seed will be watched with eagerness, and its advent can be made a subject of general pleasure and notice in the home. The child's pleasure in his flower will be greatly increased if he finds that others are also watching and enjoying it.
Here, too, is a chance to develop a certain respect or reverence for the beautiful and fragile flower. It is not to be picked. We are to leave this flower and see what becomes of it. If we pick it, it will soon wither and die. If we leave it where it is, it will continue to grow, and something very interesting will happen. After a few days the pretty white or red flower-leaves or petals will fall off; but any disappointment which the child may feel at the falling of the petals can be quickly changed into interest about what remains, for not all the flower fell. The centre of it is still there. It is a little green pod. It is so delicate that by holding it against thelight one can easily see the little seedlets, or ovules, inside. "Ovule" is a good word to learn, and the easiest way is to use it at once, always referring to this little seedlet in the young flower-pod as the ovule. The word "ovule" means little egg; later, a word almost identical will be used for the eggs of animals.
The Bean—the Seedlets, or Ovules, in the Young PodsThe Bean—the Seedlets, or Ovules, in the Young Pods
Thus by a use of carefully chosen, well-understood terms the child has from the very beginning a dawning sense of the oneness of all life. He can be told that "ovule" means little egg, and that the seed of the plant is the egg of the plant, which hatches—sprouts—into the plant we see.
It is better not to break the tender little pod to show the ovules, even if there are plenty of flowers. Look at the pod against the light and see the ovules dimly outlined. Each ovule is attachedto the pod by a little stem which can also be seen with the light shining through the pod. The stem the child can look for when the peas are being shelled for dinner, or when lima beans are being shelled. If the pea or bean pod is opened carefully, the whole row of seeds will be seen attached to the pod, each by its exceedingly short stem.
The ovary is a part of the plant in which grow the ovules. The perfect and clear understanding of just what the ovary is will be very helpful later, and the word "ovary" will be found extremely useful.
The interest should not be concentrated on the ovary to the exclusion of other flower parts. The bright petals should have their share of attention. They form a nest, or home, or covering, to enfold or wrap about the delicate seed-pod. The thought that they are fragrant and beautiful because of the young life they cherish, and that they never appear excepting where there are young seeds to be cared for, and that every flower has the little pod or seed-cradle at its centre, can be made to cast a lovely glow overthis side of the flower-life, which will later reflect more or less strongly upon all life.
When the child discovers that the ovules are attached to the ovary by little stems, this very important question can be answered,—How are the ovules nourished? They must have food, or they cannot develop into seeds.
The sap, which is the food of the plant, runs through the little stems that hold the ovules to the ovary, and thus, entering the ovules, nourishes them. The ovule has no embryo. It is a very simple little seedlet indeed. But after a while its little embryo begins to form and its seed-leaves to develop. When the ovule has developed in this way we call it a seed. It remains attached to the ovary, receiving nourishment from the sap until it is quite ripe. As the seed forms in its little pod, its thick sturdy seed-leaves become larger and fuller. The sap constantly stores up in them plenty of good food. Thus the parent plant provides for the seed, so that when it goes out into the world alone it may not perish until it has learned to care foritself. The food in the seed-leaves is the bank account which starts the young plant in life.
When the seed is fully formed, its seed-leaves full of food, its embryo perfect, then we say it is ripe. It no longer needs to draw nourishment from the sap of the parent-plant. It is able to start in the world on its own account. When the seed ripens, its little stem withers away, so that the seed lies loose in the pod. In the case of the bean-pod, when the seed becomes free the pod opens, and the seed or bean, as we call it, falls out.
If we look at a ripe bean or pea or any seed we shall find upon one edge of it the scar where the little stem was attached. The scar is the umbilicus or "navel" of the seed. The seed does not become free from its attachment to the pod until it is able to live alone. As long as it continues to grow it remains attached and receives the sap. As soon as it has its growth and no longer needs the sap it separates from the pod. This separation is easy and natural. There is no tearing apart, no mutilation. It is exactly like the falling of the leaves inthe Autumn. It is, in short, the birth of the seed or infant plant.
Some mothers talk of the mother-plant and the seed-babies from the beginning. They show how the little seeds are fed and protected, how they are literally a part of the mother-plant. Other mothers prefer to tell only the botanical story, leaving all application to animal life for later consideration. In either case the essential points are a clear understanding of the growth of the ovule in the ovary, the manner in which it is nourished and protected, and its final separation from the ovary to enter into the outer world as an individual provided with everything necessary to its needs.
Some mothers use the words "sprout" and "hatch" interchangeably, speaking sometimes of the hatching of the seeds, in order to make more vivid the realization of the similarity of processes in the plant and the bird. They also speak of the birth of the seed. Clearly to understand the relation of the seed to the mother-plant is to understand accurately and scientifically the relation of every living creature to its mother.
The child who enjoys planting the bean one season will want to plant it the next, for there is nothing children more delight in than planting things and watching them grow. This interest can be encouraged in any home, for where there is no available yard a few flower-pots of earth, or a box of it, will afford opportunity for a good deal of pleasure and instruction. The child can be encouraged to collect seeds that are formed like the bean, and plant them too. He will quickly discover that a peanut is made essentially like a bean, and he will be interested to plant some raw peanuts. The pea, too, he will soon add to his list. As the season advances he will discover the cucumber, melon, and squash seeds, and, with a little help, the apple, pear, and quince seeds, as well as those of the cherry, plum, and peach. The latter have very hard outer coats, but are formed in all essentials like the bean. Indeed he can have a very long list by the end of Summer. But he cannot make these green seeds grow. That is, many of them will not sprout until they have lain a certain length of time. Soeven where they are ripe and fall from their pods, he had better keep them until toward Spring before planting, even in the house.
Morning-Glory Seed, Showing Seed-Leaves and EmbryoMorning-Glory Seed, Showing Seed-Leaves and Embryo
If he takes pleasure in examining his seeds, he will find in each one the tiny embryo tucked in between the seed-leaves; in the apple seed the young apple-tree, in the pumpkin seed the young pumpkin vine. Even the vegetables being prepared for his dinner can be interesting to him. As the peas are shelled he can see the pretty green seeds attached to the side of the pod. He can find the embryo even in the unripe seed, but he knows there would be no use in planting these green peas, for they are not yet fit to live apart from the mother-plant. If they were torn away and planted in the ground they would perish.
Not all seeds have the food for the embryo stored up in the seed-leaves. If a morning-glory seed be soaked, it will swell up and soften, and the hard outerskin will burst. Inside will be found a tiny embryo with two thin, papery seed-leaves that contain no nourishment to speak of. But packed about the embryo is a rich food-substance which, though hard in the dry seed, becomes soft and gelatinous upon soaking, looking indeed not unlike the white of the egg, and having the same use; for it forms the first food of the embryo, which absorbs it. The embryo thus begins its growth, which continues until the roots and first leaves are sufficiently developed to supply nourishment.
Four O'clock Seed, Showing Seed-Leaves and EmbryoFour O'clock Seed, Showing Seed-Leaves and Embryo
After the child has studied his beans, let him then study the morning-glory and four-o'clock seeds, which store the food separately from the embryo instead of in its seed-leaves. In every seed there is food enough stored up to give the embryo its first start in life.
During the Summer the child can be helped to pass many pleasant hours looking at seed-pods and finding as manykinds as possible. He can discover how the ovaries are placed in the flower and wrapped about by the bright petals, being covered while yet in the bud by the green calyx. He can look at the different forms of ovaries and discover how some, like the bean, have only one compartment or cell, while others, like the apple-core, have five, and yet others, like the poppy pod, have many. If he is interested, he can quickly and unconsciously learn many of the more common botanical terms used in describing plants, so that when he comes to study technical botany he will find it shorn of most of its terrors.
Different Kinds of Ovaries—Bean, Apple-Core, Poppy PodDifferent Kinds of Ovaries—Bean, Apple-Core, Poppy Pod
Certain botanical terms are valuable both now and later; used simply, just as we talk of table, chair, bed-post, garden-walk,etc., they are, as has been said, learned unconsciously.
Flower—Ovary, Style, Stigma, Stamens, Anthers, Petals, SepalsFlower—Ovary, Style, Stigma, Stamens, Anthers, Petals, Sepals
In teaching the later facts of the reproductive life, it is a great help for the child to know the names and uses of certain parts of the flower; in many flowers, as for instance the lily, the parts can be seen without pulling the flower to pieces. In the centre is the ovary, as the child already knows. Let him notice the long stalk on top of it and learn to call this the style. On top of the style is a knob—the stigma. Ovary, style, and stigma together make the pistil. Surrounding the pistil are six stamens, each having a slender stem or filament and terminating in a little box; this box is called the anther and is filled withflower-dust or pollen. Around these is a circle of bright petals. In many flowers, outside the petals is a circle of green sepals, which in some plants fall off or turn down when the bud opens.
Sepals—usually green and affording protection to the bud.Petals—usually large and bright.Stamens—{ filament (stem of anther){ anther (containing pollen){ ovary (seed-pod)Pistil—{ style (stem of stigma not always present){ stigma (knob at top of style or ovary)
The Development of the Young Bean-Pod from the FlowerThe Development of the Young Bean-Pod from the Flower
The care of the mother for her offspring, that impulse of nature found everywhere in nature's children, is beautifully illustrated in the flowers. When first the petals fall, leaving the tiny green pod, it stands up on its stalk, but in a few days it will be found hanging down. Why should this be? For one thing, as the pod turns down it gets out of the way of the other buds that one by one are preparing to blossom, for beans generally grow in clusters, one blossoming after another. Thus all the flowers have plenty of room and air and sunshine, anda lesson in unselfishness and thoughtfulness for others may be learned. Moreover, the hanging pod is better protected against accidents than the upright one. It is less noticeable and less likely to be knocked or broken off. The mother-plant takes every precaution possible for the welfare of the seed-children, even sending them far from home for their benefit.
The Shedding of Young Sweet-peas from the PodThe Shedding of Young Sweet-peas from the Pod
Every one has noticed how the sweet-pea pods are curled up when the seeds are shed. This curling takes place just at the moment when the pod opens to allow the seeds to escape. This sudden twisting of the pod flings the seeds sometimes long distances. If the seed were to fall close tothe mother-plant it would find the soil impoverished in certain ways, the mother-plant having absorbed the food materials from it. If the seed can be hurled out of reach of the absorbing roots of the mother-plant, it may have a better chance; even if it should fall where other things are growing, it may find the peculiar food it wants sufficiently abundant, for not all plants absorb just the same things from the soil.
The Shedding of Various Kinds of SeedsThe Shedding of Various Kinds of Seeds
Looking at the dried bean and pea-pods in the fall of the year, we shall findnearly all of them twisted. And looking over the other plants of the fields and hedges, we see how much trouble has been taken to enable the seeds to go out in the world and find new growing-places. Some seeds are snapped out, as the touch-me-nots and witch-hazels; some are supplied with flat wing-like surfaces to be borne by the wind, as the maple-keys and elm seeds; some have bristles or down upon which to float in the air, as the lilies, dandelions, and lettuces; some have hooks by which to attach themselves to the coats of passing animals; and others have yet other devices for getting to pastures new. The whole subject of how seeds travel about the world is very interesting, and collecting these wanderers and watching their habits will afford a rich summer's entertainment.
Thus the child learns a thousand interesting things about the plant life,—among them, but not in any way prominent, the phenomena which are connected with the reproduction of the plant. This work can all be done before the child is eight years old, andin many cases it can be done much earlier, at least so far as inculcating the most essential truths is concerned. Many details will slip away in time, but if the work is thoroughly done the great primal truths of living things will stay, and as the child's life unfolds, they will illuminate it in certain directions.
According to the age and opportunities of the child his information about the plant can be enlarged. The plant's method of breathing can be explained to one who knows something about the composition of the air, and of the use which the human body makes of the oxygen. The child who can understand it will be greatly interested to know that the plant uses the oxygen of the air, and returns carbon dioxide to it as a waste, essentially as his own body does. He should also know that the plant breathes very little in comparison to the animal, consequently it does not greatly affect the air, taking out but little oxygen and returning to it but little carbon dioxide.
The plant's method of taking nourishment from air and soil is also very interesting. It is only the green parts ofthe plant that can take food from the air. The plant can become and remain green only under the influence of sunlight. So finally the plant owes its life to the power of the sun, just as in one way or another we all do. Plants in a dark place soon lose their green color, grow pale and sickly, and finally die. All green leaves and the young green twigs are able to take food from the air. The food they thus take is carbon dioxide, the very thing both plants and animals breathe out as a waste, and whose presence in large quantities makes air unfit to breathe. But the plant must have the carbon dioxide and can get it only from the air, so it is constantly withdrawing this harmful substance from the air and converting it into plant tissue. It consumes only part of the carbon dioxide, however, for the oxygen that is tied up in the carbon dioxide is set free and given back to the air, only the carbon being retained. So the plant is continually taking in the destructive carbon dioxide and giving out the wholesome oxygen, thus keeping the air pure and fit for us to breathe. In short, theplant eats with its roots and with its leaves. With its roots it eats certain things it finds in the earth, and with its leaves and other green parts it eats the suffocating gas we breathe into the air.
This important function of the plant, in supplying the oxygen we need and in destroying the harmful carbon dioxide, can be illustrated in many graphic ways. We depend upon the plants for our very existence in this respect: they stand between us and destruction from excessive accumulations of carbon dioxide. On the other hand, the carbon dioxide is so important to the plant that it could not exist without it. All the carbon it gets is obtained from this source. Wood is largely carbon; a charred stick which retains its full size and shape is almost pure carbon. Thus the breath of our bodies is converted by the plant into the wood from which we construct our houses, furniture, etc. In a certain sense the chair we sit upon is made of the breath of our bodies. Besides these debts to the plant, we finally owe to it the food we consume, which comes fromthe plant, even meat being but vegetable matter one step removed. The plant changes the chemicals which the animal cannot use in their crude form, into plant substances which animals can use. Thus the vegetable and animal kingdoms are mutually dependent upon each other. Neither could exist, at least in its present condition, without the other.
Not only will such facts as these be interesting to most children, they will deepen the dawning consciousness of the fundamental unity of all forms of life, which it should be the province of nature-study to develop.
It may not be out of place here to say a few words about the picking of flowers. Children instinctively want to pick them. They wish to possess, touch, caress these lovely objects. If left unguided, this tendency shortly degenerates in many children into a desire to pick every flower in sight. A walk taken by such children through the fields can be traced by the wild flowers that strew the way. Great handfuls are gathered, and then, becoming burdensome, are thrown down. The child wholovingly watches his flowers grow and blossom will be less likely to destroy in this wanton manner. Here, too, is a good opportunity to teach him to be thoughtful and generous to others. If he carelessly tears up and throws away the flowers, those who come after him will not have them to enjoy; it is far better to look at the flowers and admire them in their own homes and leave them there. A little crowd of hepaticas at the root of a tree in the woods is one of the most charming sights of spring. Let the child who finds such a treasure call the rest, that they too may enjoy the pretty picture; let the children get down and put their faces against the flowers if they want to smell them, and then go away leaving the beauty undisturbed. Their adult comrade at such a time by exclaiming appreciatively over the sweetness of the little scene, the bright flowers against the dark tree, the green moss growing over the rock at one side, can often open young eyes to a harmony of beauty which will cause the whole composition to be recalled later with pure pleasure; a far deeper and higher pleasurethis little picture lingering in the memory than any number of flowers torn from their places soon to wilt in the hands of the vandals whose only thought is how to get the most in the shortest time.
Should children never gather flowers, then? Of course they should. But they should learn to exercise restraint, and as they grow older, judgment. They can easily be persuaded to gather only a few flowers. A few are almost always more beautiful than a great mass, and there is no exception to this whatever where the delicate spring flowers are concerned. Let the child carefully gather a few to take home to mother, father, sister, aunt, some dear one who has not shared the walk. These flowers should not be neglected, but at once put in water, placed where they can be seen and enjoyed, and the water should be changed every day as long as they last. In this way the flower gives real pleasure to a number of people, and the child learns several lessons valuable to the formation of his character.
As the child grows older, he can betaught not only self-control against gathering useless quantities of flowers, but also to exercise judgment in regard to those he does pick. For instance, seeing a flaming bush against a superb background of green foliage, shall he disturb the poise of the picture for the sake of taking some of the flowers? Better is it to look about for similar flowers less beautifully placed. Instead of culling from the little hepatica company at the tree root, let him search for more hidden or less beautifully grouped flowers. The isolated flowers will be just as pretty after they are picked as are those in the fortunately placed groups; for he will soon learn that with the flower he cannot take its surroundings excepting in the memory. In this way he will be able to carry away a beautiful mind-picture such as would not remain if he had destroyed it; he will become more observant of the flowers as pictures, cultivate his taste, in short, and also learn to enjoy beauty without destroying it.
Wanton destruction of flowers should never be countenanced, no matter howabundant the flowers may be. Self-restraint is not inculcated for the sake of saving the flowers so much as for the influence it will have upon the development of the child, although there are parts of the country where one would like to see it exercised for the sake of the flowers themselves. The child who learns to respect flowers will never be one of that discreditable company who by sheer vandalism are constantly driving the wild flowers farther into the back country, finally exterminating whole species. In many parts of New England, banks which were carpeted with arbutus a generation ago are now devoid of a single root. Spring may come and Spring may go, but no may-flowers will ever again shine from those banks to delight the eye of the woodland wanderer. All the generations to come must be deprived of the pleasure of these delightful flowers, the earliest visitants of spring—to what end? Did the pleasure they gave to those who took them compensate in the least degree for their loss to the world? Truly not.
In all the open places near cities,where flowers would delight the greatest number of eyes and hearts, there are no flowers, and this because those who went first had no respect for the flowers themselves or for the rights of those who came after.
Not only should the child learn to exercise judgment in gathering flowers, but he should also learn how to gather them properly. If the arbutus had not been carelessly torn up by the roots and trampled on, it would have yielded its whole tribute of blossoms year after year without disappearing. If the arbutus-gatherers, knowing the nature of the treasure they were gathering, had gone armed with scissors and had clipped the blossoming ends without other injury to the plant, at the same time taking care not to trample it, the banks would still have been clad in beauty.
As a preparation for this work, let the children notice the flower-dust or pollen that shakes out of the flowers or is seen clinging to the anthers.