prevents the rain from falling into the leaf. | The water, then, which is in it must be the watery part of the sap exhaled from the pores on the inside. In Ceylon these leaves are called monkey-cups, for the monkeys often lift the lid and drink the water. Whenever this is done, the exhalation after a while fills the pitcher again.

Lungs and leaves are chemical laboratories, in which the air acts upon the building material of the living world. But the air acts differently in these two sets of laboratories. The result produced in the lung-laboratories, is just the reverse of that which is produced in the leaf-laboratorics. The air that is breathed out from the lungs of the animal creation is charged with a gas The amount of exhalation from the surface that is deleterious to animal life. This gas, carof leaves is very considerable. This can be bonic acid, is a portion of the refuse of the system seen by placing a tumbler inverted over some which is discharged in this way. If this were alfreshly picked leaves; it will become in a little lowed to accumulate it would destroy animal life. time covered with drops upon its inside, from Now, as it is constantly breathed out from the the condensation of the moisture exhaled. The lungs of all the animals that swarm the earth, moisture of the earth in a flower-pot is very it would accumulate, unless there were an espesoon drunk up by the roots of the plant; and cial provision to remove it as fast as it is genunless there be an occasional supply of water, erated. There is such a provision; and, observe, the earth will become dry, and the plant will it is removed in such a way as to contribute to wilt. The water is constantly disappearing, and the maintenance of vegetable life. This gas, most of it does so by being exhaled into the air which is so fatal to animal life whenever it is from the upper surfaces of the leaves. This be- breathed, is absorbed by the leaves. And for ing the case, if any leaf were transformed into this, thus furnished to them by the lungs of ania cup shape with a lid, there would be an ac-mals, they give in return oxygen gas, that concumulation of water in it from the confined ex-stituent of the atmosphere which is the agent halation, just as there is in the leaf of the pitch- in the life-maintaining change effected in the er-plant. It is this exhalation that makes a picked leaf wilt. If this process ceased as soon as the leaf were separated, it would retain its firmness, which depends upon the fact that all the tubes in the frame-work of the leaf, and the cells in its tissue, are filled with sap. But the exhalation goes on, and as the supply by the conduits in the stem is cut off, these tubes and cells are not full, and the leaf becomes flaccid. By immersing the stem in water this result can be prevented for a time, because the water goes up in the channels of the stem to take the place of that which is exhaled.

One of the principal uses of leaves is thus to breathe out moisture into the air, making it soft, while the flowers make it balmy. Another of their uses is to furnish shade. The defense which they afford against the burning heat of the summer's sun is useful not only to man and animals, but to fruits, preventing the heat that ripens them from acting upon them too strongly. But their chief office is to support the life of the plant and to make it grow. In a tree, the addition to its growth from year to year is not from the sap that goes up; the sap is not fit for this purpose until it has been up and had an airing in the leaves. Leaves are to a plant what lungs are to an animal. In them the sap is acted upon by the air as blood is acted upon by the air in lungs; and as the animal must breathe, so must the plant. The dependence on its breathing apparatus is not as immediate in the plant as in the animal; but it is as real. If a tree be stripped of its leaves year after year, as is sometimes done by caterpillars, it dies. And it is for the same reason that an animal dies when it is strangled. The animal dies in this case simply because his blood is not aired; and so the tree dies because its sap is not aired. The only difference is that the death is much slower in the one case than in the other.

blood as it passes through the lungs. There is a sort of barter, then, constantly going on between lungs and leaves, and the exchange is a profitable one for both. How the balance is exactly preserved, so that the leaves shall have enough carbonic acid and give out enough oxygen, and the lungs shall have enough oxygen and give out enough carbonic acid, is a mystery. We deem it to be one of the highest exhibitions of Almighty power and wisdom, that, while the air is thus so constantly acted upon in these two sets of opposing laboratories, giving and receiving oxygen and carbonic acid from them, it is so uniformly of the same composition, and has no undue accumulations of either of the constituents which are so constantly the subjects of change. The carbonic acid does sometimes accumulate when in the assemblies of men the refuse from multitudes of lungs is pent up in a closed room. But let it have a chance to escape, and away it flies to be drunk up by the leaves, and the oxygen which they give out comes in to take its place, so that the air is very soon as pure as ever.

Another use of leaves is to be found in their beauty. They are beautiful even if we look at them simply as masses of green of different hues, making the prevalent colors of the landscape so pleasant to the eye, or as setting off the richer beauties of the flowers that are seen among them. It is in this point of view alone that leaves are commonly admired. But there is beauty in leaves not merely as thus seen in the mass, but as observed individually. It is not, it is true, of as high an order as that which the Creator has displayed in flowers; but the same love for the beautiful is seen in their shapes, arrangements, textures, and coloring. We have already spoken of the great variety of their forms and arrangements. An examination of their structure sometimes reveals to us

beauty of the most exquisite character. disposition of the veins of a leaf, and the delicate tracery which the net-work between these veins shows us, whenever they are really observed, awaken the liveliest admiration. This is true even of the most common leaves, and especially if you hold them in such a way that the light passes through them. The microscope reveals new beauties in leaves, though not to such an extent as in flowers. It is delight-paragus is peculiarly fond of salt food; but the ful to watch them as they come out from their buds in the spring, and see how curiously they are at first folded together, and observe their gradual unfolding and enlargement. Some leaves that are comparatively coarse when of their full size, are exquisitely delicate on first unfolding from their buds. The large leaf of the oak is, when it first comes out from its winter covering, a beautiful little leaf, decked in a gay red color.

The the flint from the earth, but reject it. The great variety of plants that grow in the same soil, as seen in our gardens, shows the extent of this selecting power. But there are some plants that manifestly thrive better in one kind of soil than in another. Plants, whose especial haunts are in swamps, can not be made to grow in a common garden-they would famish there for want of their appropriate food. The as

There are two periods when there is a peculiar beauty in leaves-when they first unfold themselves, and when they are preparing to fall. The beauty which they exhibit in their first development-in their nascent state, as it may be called-is marked by exquisite delicacy, and is observed only by examining them individually. That, on the other hand, which is seen in them at the last, is displayed for the most part by them collectively, as they present their brilliant and strongly contrasted colors, and give to the whole landscape, in the bright sun of a clear October day, an exceedingly gay and variegated appearance. What is the chemistry of this rich development of color in the dying leaf is not known. In England the autumnal colors of the forests are not thus bright, and the beauty of American scenery in this season of the year is, therefore, a rich treat to an English eye.

We have had much to say of what is made from the sap, the common building material of the plant. This material is obtained from the earth by means of the root. It is sucked up by the absorbents, which are in the fine parts of the root that spread out in every direction from the main branches; and hence the necessity, in removing any plant or tree from one place to another, of being very careful not to break these small fibrous parts of the root. You see, then, that the root is really the stomach of the plant; the nourishing portion of the earth being absorbed by it just as the nourishing portion of what is put into the stomach of an animal is absorbed by that organ.

salt which makes this vegetable grow so luxuriantly is poison to the weeds and grass which happen to be in the asparagus bed.

There is much variety in the shapes of roots. Here is a branching root-the common form

when one great object of it is to fasten the plant firmly in the ground, as in trees and shrubs. The branches of the root spread in the ground to nearly as great an extent as the branches of the tree above, that it may stand firmly against the strong winds. The fibrous root, of which you have here an example, is a very common

not calculated for strength
of support, for this was not
needed.

The absorbents of the root have a selecting root. You see it in the grass tribe. This is power. The sap is not the same in all plants. The sap, for example, that is needed to make the luscious strawberry is different from that which is needed to make the biting pepper, and yet the two plants may grow side by side in the same soil. The sap that is absorbed by the roots of grain has flint in it, to be used in giving strength to the stalks; but there may be Some roots are much plants close by, or even mingled with the grain, larger than they need to the little mouths of whose roots do not take up | be to support the plant in

Here is a palmate root; that is, shaped like a hand. The dahlias have roots of this kind.

its position, or to afford it nourishment.

For example, here is the root of the beet,

whose top would require but

a small root for the two pur-
poses mentioned. But as
some seed-holders are larger
than they need to be to hold
the seeds, so there are some roots
larger than is needed to answer
the ordinary purposes of roots, and
for a similar additional purpose.
Such roots are for food. Indeed
it is only certain small append-
ages of them that perform the
functions of roots. In the case
of the beet, it is the small fibres
only which are attached to the
spindle-shaped root that absorb
the sap; and these are, therefore,
strictly speaking, the root; for so
far as the support and the nour-
ishment of the plant are concern-
ed, a collection of these fibrous
parts, such as you have in grass,
would be sufficient.

In the root of the turnip, represented here, all the large round part can not strictly be considered as the root, for the absorption is done in the tail-like appendage below.

down roots here and there, as represented in the figure. Strawberry vines and verbenas spread in this way. Branches thus taking root may be cut off from their mother plant, and be removed to another place to grow separately, as is seen in the transplanting of strawberries. Why it is that mere contact with the ground should thus stimulate to the formation of a root we know not. Still more strange and incomprehensible is this formation when a branch of a plant is set into earth, for there is nothing in the cut end of a slip which would suggest to us the possibility that a root could put out from it.

There are some plants that do not get their support from the ground. Sea-weed grows from what it finds in the water. The duck

meat is a plant composed of leaves swimming on the water, and having roots hanging down, as seen here. Some plants live on other plants. The famous misletoe does this. So do the mosses that you see on trees. At the South there is a gray moss which hangs in long trails from the branches of trees. In a cemetery at Savannah this hanging moss, draping the trees in mourning, adds greatly to the solemnity of the place.

There is a curious parasitic plant sometimes called the love-vine. At first it is not parasitic, but comes up out of the ground. After it becomes, however, well fastened to its supporter, its root in the ground dies. Its name is very appropriate, for, like love, it lives on that to which it clings.

The sap that is absorbed by the root circulates every where in the plant. It is in constant motion, like the blood in the body. It passes up to the leaves to be aired, and then passes downward as the true finished sap, the succus proprius, to be used every where as the material of growth. In the tree it goes up in conduits in the wood. But it goes downward in the inner bark. And this inner bark is the this kind. Such are the roots of hyacinths, seat of extensive operations-the wood is all blue-bells, lilies, crocuses, etc. Bulbs may be made here. A new layer of wood is made by considered as buds underground; for inclosed the bark every year throughout the tree, out to in their coats are the folded-up plants of an- the very extremity of every twig. Each year other year. has its separate ring of wood; and the rings Some plants run upon the ground, and send are so distinct in the trunk, as seen here in this

section of one, that by counting them you can | culating in the trees, and shrubs, and vines; ascertain the age of and they also may be said to be asleep, secure the tree. You see from the winter's cold in their rude coats of in the figure lines bark. How much does the winter kill; but radiating from the how much more does it put to sleep, to be pith. These mark awaked again by the genial breath of spring! the place of the di- And what an awakening! Fit emblem and vergent plates of sil- earnest of the promised resurrection! It is ver grain, as it is oft- not a mere awaking from torpor, but from death en called, which are also; for the leaves and plants that die become particularly obvious incorporated with the earth, and are raised in the maple and again in after years in other forms of life and the oak. This makes a mingling of circu- beauty. lar fibres and divergent ones, thus, giving great strength to the wood; and some one has compared them, the one to the warp, and the other to the woof of a web.

The variety of things made from the common building material, the sap, we have already remarked upon. Some of them are very different from each other. We could hardly think of any two things that differ from each other more than the rude bark of the apple-tree and its beautiful blossom; and it is as strange to think of them as being made from the same sap, as it would be to think of a brick and cloth of finest texture and richest coloring as being made out of the same material. And then, too, it is wonderful to see what a variety of things are made in different plants. Some, as you have seen, are perfume-factories; some are spice-factories; some are starch-factories; some are sugar-factories; some are gum-factories; some are medicine-factories, etc., etc. Different substances are made by the vital chemistry of plants from the earth beneath our feet, their roots selecting just the elements needed in each case to make the product. We speak of the manufacture of sugar, starch, etc., by man; but man does not make these substances. They

Thus have we noticed, in a simple manner, many of the wonders presented to us by the vegetable world, avoiding as far as we could all technical terms and abstruse points, though not as scrupulously as it has been done in the little book from which we have taken our material. There are many other points of great interest that we might notice, but it would make this article too long. If in this time of flowers and fruits any are induced by what we have written to go forth and observe the abounding beauties and wonders of plants, and shrubs, and trees, which perhaps have heretofore received from them only a passing look, or have been for the most part unknown to them, we shall have the satisfaction of revealing to such a new and rich source of rational enjoyment, and ever-fresh themes for admiration and praise of almighty wisdom and goodness. And though what we have written may contain nothing which is new to those who have long been earnest and loving observers of nature, we are confident that such will be gratified with the mere echoing of what they have themselves so often observed with wonder and delight.

DE L'AMOUR.

HERE are few persons whose knowledge of

are made in the laboratories of the plants, and the polite language of France is so limited

man merely separates them from what is mingled with them. Probably they are evolved generally in the aired sap, the succus proprius. But, in the case of the sugar-maple, we know that the sugar is found in the ascending sap, for it is obtained from the sap before any leaves are put forth-differing in this respect entirely from the sugar-cane. The chemical process that makes the sugar from the earth is carried on in the root of the tree in the very act of absorption. Thus a brisk sugar-factory does every tree of this species of the maple become at the first approach of spring, giving in northern climes a supply of this article exceeded only by that yielded by the sugar-cane in the South.

that the above phrase will be unintelligible to them. We almost all of us know, alas! but too well, what it means. If we do not, then let such ignorance stand us instead of other bliss or misery which knowledge might bring.

What, however, taking the world as it stands, is left to say on the subject? Has not mankind been quite devoted to the contemplation of the roseate young gentleman and his performances for the last six thousand years? Have not Anacreon, Balzac, Lamartine, Lord Byron, and N. P. Willis said nearly all that was to be said on the subject, not mentioning a few such trivial fellows as Goethe and Shakspeare, who may have communicated some ideas on the subject?

Very busy are the operations of vegetable life every where in all the warmer months of the year. But as winter comes, all this stir of life No, through every century, amidst all sorts is hushed; for death and sleep come then to the of abuse, through good report and evil report, in plants. The leaves fall and die, decking them- spite of the wily sarcasms of his wounded, and selves, however, in the brilliant colors of flow- the blundering and laughable commendations ers before they fall. Many plants die only of his fortunate and elated soldiery, Love rears down to the roots; others die wholly. The his curly head fresh and ambrosial, scorning the buds go to sleep in their "winter cradles," and aid of Tricopherous, Balm of a Thousand Flowin the bulbs in the ground. The sap stops cir-ers, Rowland's Macassar, or Wahpene, with no VOL. XIII.-No. 75.-Z

Firstly for we are cool and argumentative as yet-what is the position of the little gentleman with wings (and that "rare adornment, a good head of hair") in the nineteenth century? Early in the history of mankind he seems to have been in the habit of drinking-a very dissipated, "bad young man." We find him in the company of such fast fellows as Bacchus, and feel sure that, in spite of his blindness, he "led the German" on high Olympus. Then we see him putting his shield on, and taking terrible leaps in Roman story. Later he led his sturdy com- I sighed at length for a fault in Julia. Every pany to Palestine, and sang roundelays under thing was coldly, calmly perfect. What intermhis lady's window, in a very heavy and incon-inable German lessons she got! What estimavenient suit of armor.