CHAPTER I

FEBRUARY FLOWERS

The Snowdrop and Crocus

EVERY one loves flowers, and well we may, for there is

nothing on earth so beautiful or so pure as they. The

choice rare flowers of hotter climates are some of the

most delicious of the luxuries enjoyed by the rich; the

trim, bright garden bed is the delight of many who find

little to cheer them elsewhere; even in the close and

smoky town a few plants are cherished like darlings,

and the glorious multitudes that are spread in the woods

and valleys form no small part of the pleasures of the

country child.

We may well be thankful that our Maker has given

us such plenty of these fairest among His works, shower-
ing them upon us in such profusion as to show how great
must be the power and the kindness of Him who made
every plant in the field before it grew, arraying them
more richly than Solomon in all his glory. He is a kind
father who provides for the pleasure and amusement of
His children, as well as for their safety and comfort, and
so those who delight in sweet flowers should return

XLIV. CLASS III.-Flowerless Plain Fungu

d-shaped leaves which all spread out may be said to be the means by which They conduct the air into the numerof which the plant is full; and a plant, w, can no more live without air, drink, al of food than you can. In the midst long green stem, with its moist, juicy which the air and sap are conducted to ssom. At the end is a sort of sheath, lossom was safely packed up when first it antil, as spring came on, the bud swelled il the sheath could hold it no longer, but side, and let the round bad drop out and y its little slender footstalk.

tes what we call the flower, and here you several hard names, if you wish to be able to what I am going to tell you about plants. ily coloured or white leaves of a flower are named petals. Of these in the snowdrop there

There are three larger ones outside, curved Tectly white. These are sepals; and there are esser ones within, with a notch in the middle, and with green, which are the petals. That is, if ave taken a single snowdrop; if you have a double can go no further, for there the petals, which are of

except to protect the important parts of the thin, are so multiplied that they have used up *rength of the plant, and even consumed these eful parts, so that, as everybody knows, a double ever produces good fruit, but only rejoices in its ery for a time. Not unlike some people that I 11 you of.

we will suppose you have a good, quiet, modest

especial thanks for the loving-kindness which has provided such joys for them.

Perhaps it may be some assistance in rendering our thanks for these, His beautiful works, to be led to examine a little into their structure, and the wonderful perfection of their parts, of which many who admire their brilliant colouring are very ignorant.

We will begin with a February flower, which all are glad to see, when it first pushes up its green case above the dark mould, and, gradually opening, shows its pure white drop of a bud, hanging on a tiny stem, and at last opening into the delicate bell, of "vernal green, and virgin white."

Well then, take a snowdrop, and if you can find it in your heart to do it, and if it can be spared out of the garden, pull it up by the root; for I want to tell you about it from beginning to end, from the top of the little green banner that waves above the white bell, down to the last fibre of the strings of the root.

It will be the best way to begin with the root. See, the little fibres are strings which suck up nourishment out of the ground. Above comes a round, hard thing, like a top upside down. This is called a bulb, and if you cut it in two you will find it to consist of a number of flakes, or coats, fitting closely one over the other. An onion has a bulb of the same kind, as you must have often seen. If you had cut open this bulb in the end of last autumn, and looked at it with a strong magnifying glass, you might have seen the whole tiny snowdrop-plant, leaves, stem, blossom, and all, lying tightly curled up safe within all the numerous outer coats, waiting for the first breath of spring to push its way out into the air.