Part 1

Chapter 13,533 wordsPublic domain

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS

BY MARGARET WARNER MORLEY AUTHOR OF “SEED-BABIES,” “A FEW FAMILIAR FLOWERS,” ETC.

GINN & COMPANY BOSTON · NEW YORK · CHICAGO · LONDON

=The Athenæum Press= GINN & COMPANY · PROPRIETORS BOSTON · U.S.A.

A LETTER TO THE READERS OF THIS BOOK.

❃

DEAR CHILDREN,—

It would be very stupid indeed to try to read a book written in Arabic or Hebrew; we should soon tire and put it down.

It is just as uninteresting to read English words whose meaning we do not understand; we might as well devote ourselves to a foreign and unknown tongue.

I hope you will never do it. If you do not know what a word means, find out. There is a list of words you may not know at the back of this book to help you. They are all words used in the book, and if you look you may not find them as stupid as you think. Some day you will discover that the dictionary is quite an exciting and interesting volume.

Meantime enjoy the flowers and their insect friends all you can, and be sure you know the meaning of all the words that tell about them.

Your friend, THE AUTHOR.

CONTENTS.

PAGE MORNING-GLORY STORIES 1 THE FLOWER 3 THIS IS THE FLOWER SO BRIGHT AND GAY 11 THE CALYX 13 BLOSSOM DEAR 14 WHAT HAPPENED IN THE GARDEN 16 THE OVULES 23 THE LEAVES 27 TO THE MORNING-GLORY 29 THE CONVOLVULUS FAMILY 30

STORIES ABOUT THE GERANIUM FAMILY 47 TROPÆOLUM STORIES: TROPÆOLUM HONEY 49 THE TROPÆOLUM 50 WHO LIES CURLED UP 57 MORE ABOUT THE TROPÆOLUM 58 JEWELWEED STORIES: A DAINTY CAVE 65 TOUCH-ME-NOT 66 EARDROPS 71 LADY’S SLIPPER 72 THE HUMMING BIRD 74 PELARGONIUM STORIES: THE PELARGONIUMS 75 AN AFRICAN 80 PELARGONIUM LEAVES 81 THE GERANIUM FAMILY 84

HYACINTH STORIES 93 THE HYACINTH 95 SIGNS OF SPRING 96 THE HYACINTH’S SCEPTRE 98 TUNICS 99 THE BEE 104

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS 105 NECTAR GUIDES 107 CELLS 108 POLLEN CELLS 120 THE POLLEN 127 THE ANTHERS 128 OVULE CELLS 129 CHLOROPHYLL 134 ROOT CELLS 144 SKIN CELLS 148 TUBE CELLS 162 STRENGTHENING CELLS 165 WE AND THE PLANT PEOPLE 168 WHAT ARE THE FLOWERS MADE OF 176 WHAT BECOMES OF THE FLOWERS 181 NOTHING BUT LEAVES 191 SIGNS OF OTHER TIMES 214 WHY ARE THE FLOWERS SO LARGE AND BRIGHT 218 HOW MOTHER NATURE MAKES NEW FLOWERS 223 TONGUES AND TUBES 231

Morning-Glory Stories.

THE FLOWER.

The morning-glory and the bracted bindweed might be taken for sisters, they look so much alike. There is no doubt but that they are closely related, although the bindweed grows wild and the morning-glory has to be sown by us.

The bindweed lives in the country and twines over the hedges by the roadside; you can see its pink-and-white flowers all summer long if you look in the right places.

It is a jolly sort of life the bindweed leads, always twining, twining, twining, with its leaves facing the sunshine and its flowers dancing on their slender stems.

We often call the bindweed the wild morning-glory, and we and the bees are fond of it. We enjoy looking at it, and probably the bees do, too, though they have yet another reason for liking it. Just watch one go into a wild morning-glory some fine day. You will think she expects to find something very delightful indeed from the way she hurries in. And so she does. She buzzes down the white line to the very bottom of the flower, crowds her head as far in as she can get it, and then thrusts her long brown tongue yet deeper in to where the honey lies. For the flower makes honey for the bee, and keeps it hidden as deep as possible. There are five openings in the bottom of the flower cup that go straight into the honey wells. You need only look into a morning-glory and you will see them. All kinds of morning-glories, as well as the bindweeds, have them.

The bees know this, and wherever you see the morning-glories you will see their little winged friends.

Very many flowers provide honey for the insects, and it is fortunate for us that they do; for if they did not, we should see no butterflies and have no honey, for butterflies and bees cannot live without the honey the flowers give them.

Flower honey has a special name; we often call it nectar, for a good reason which I mean to tell you another time.

The places where the nectar is stored are the nectar holders, or nectaries.

It must be a fine thing to go to a flower and take a drink of honey whenever you wish; but what will you say when I tell you the bees get bread as well as honey from the flowers?

Yet this is what happens. You could not live upon honey alone; neither could a bee. Perhaps you could not live upon bread and honey; but you could if you were a bee, that is, _beebread_ and honey.

For beebread is much more nutritious than the bread we eat. In fact, it takes the place of meat and eggs and milk and all the other things we take such pains to get.

You do not see where a bee finds bread in a flower?

That is because you are not a bee. If you were, you would know at once.

Suppose you watch a bee go into a morning-glory.

She will be in a great hurry, and you will have to keep your eyes open, or all will be over before you know what has happened.

She will suck up the honey, and then very likely she will turn around and around on the white pole-like part that stands up in the middle of the flower. She is not doing this for fun, nor because she is confused and does not know which way to go next.

She is gathering fine flour of which to make beebread.

Put your finger into the morning-glory and you, too, may gather this fine flour.

When you take your finger out there will be something like fine white powder clinging to it. Well, that is the flour from which the bee makes her beebread. We call it _pollen_, and if we look closely we shall find it is stored in five tiny boxes.

These boxes, which are called _anthers_, open by a slit along one side, and the bee puts her funny little feet into the slits and scrapes out the pollen, which she moistens with honey and packs into baskets on her hindermost legs, or fastens to the hairs on the under side of her body.

Then she goes home and packs her load away in the hive for future use.

You see it is not much trouble to make beebread—that is, if you know how. It does not have to be raised or baked, yet I doubt if you or I would be able to make it so that a bee would consider it fit to eat.

These anthers are held up on long white stalks which grow to the inside of the flower cup, and which are named _filaments_.

Since there are five anthers there are five filaments.

We call the whole thing, anther and filament, a _stamen_.

But this is not all there is to be found in a morning-glory flower. There is something else, and if it were not for this something else we should not have the fun of learning about honey and stamens, because there would be none! Both honey and stamens exist because of this something else.

It is in the very center of the flower, and the stamens stand about it in a circle. It stands up like a pole and has a knob at the top. The knob sticks out above the stamens as a rule. When the flower cup falls, the stamens fall too, because the filaments grow fast to it. But this something else does not fall. It stays on the vine, and you can see it better after the flower cup has fallen.

We call it the _pistil_. It has neither honey nor pollen, yet on its account the bees and butterflies visit the flowers.

Here is its picture, and you may look at it as carefully as you please. The knob at the top is called the _stigma_, the long, slender part is called the _style_, and the round bottom the _ovary_.

If you look over all the vine you will make a discovery. You will find a great many of these pistils in different stages of growth. When the flower cup first falls off, the pistil is very small and has its style and stigma. Then the style and stigma fall, and only the ovary remains. This grows larger and plumper, and you tell me it is the seed-pod, and is full of seeds. You are right about that; it _is_ the seed-pod, and the pistil is the part where the seeds grow.

So now you see how very important it is, and I would advise you to take another look at it.

If there were no seeds there could be no more plants, so the growth of the seed is a matter of great importance.

When the seed first begins to form it is tiny and soft and delicate. It is attached to the inside of the ovary, and we do not then call it a seed, but an ovule. The word “ovule” means “little egg,” and the ovules are really the eggs of the plant, as you will agree if you think a moment.

If all goes well, the tiny, soft ovule becomes a large, hard seed. But it cannot do this alone; it needs help. Probably you never could guess what helps it, so I will tell you at once: it is the pollen.

If a pollen grain can unite with an ovule, the two thus joined together can grow into a seed. So you see the flower does not provide pollen for the use of the bee alone. It makes it for its own seed-children.

But the bee is the messenger that carries the pollen to the ovule. You see the pollen grain of our morning-glory lies in the anther below the stigma, and it must reach the stigma so as to find its way down to the ovary. Just how all this comes about you will know later; only now remember that the pollen must get to the stigma, and that the bee puts it there. Not on purpose, though. The bee collects pollen for her own use, but in doing so touches the stigma with her pollen-covered body, and some of the pollen grains stick to the stigma instead of remaining on the bee.

When the pistil is ripe, the stigma is sticky and holds fast the pollen grains that touch it. The union of ovule and pollen is called _fertilization_, and by flying about from flower to flower the insects carry pollen from one flower to another, and thus fertilize the plants.

You will know a great deal more about this later.

So we see the pollen is made for the sake of the seeds. The honey is also made for the sake of the seeds, for it attracts the insects that are necessary to fertilize the flower. Even the flower cup has its bright and beautiful coloring to attract the attention of the insects and call them to it. The name of the flower cup is the “corolla,” and means “a little crown” or “garland.”

The corolla is not the only covering the inner parts have. Look at the end of the flower next the stem and you will see the green calyx. When the corolla falls off, the calyx stays and protects the tender ovary. The calyx has five parts, or sepals, and these fold about the ovary like a green cup and keep it safe.

When the ovules are ready for the pollen, the flower puts on its beautiful garland as a sign that the life of the plant is to be renewed.

When we look at the flowers in the fields and gardens we may know that their loveliness is also a promise for the future.

THIS IS THE FLOWER SO BRIGHT AND GAY.

Most flowers have, like the morning-glory, corolla, stamens, and nectar to assist the pistil in developing the seeds.

The sweet pea has, and somebody once told a story about it that I am going to tell you, because I think it will help you to remember the parts of the flower and their uses.

This is the flower so bright and gay.

This is the stamen that lives in the flower so bright and gay. [Illustration: [Stamen]]

This is the bee that gathers the pollen that lies in the anther that grows on the stamen that lives in the flower so bright and gay. [Illustration: [Bee]]

The calyx protects the ovary.

It has five sepals—five green sepals.

They overlap like the tiles on a roof and thus protect the ovary from rain. They also protect it from insects that otherwise might destroy it.

The calyx covers the base of the corolla and forms a green urn, a little vase, in which to hold it secure from harm.

It is not bright and delicate like the corolla, but what would the flower do without it?

BLOSSOM DEAR.

Blossom dear, what is the power Draws the shining wings to thee? Nestled in thy dainty bower I can always find a bee.

Little friend, my bees find honey Hidden deep as deep can be. Without fear and without money Come they for these sweets to me.

Flower, flower, give _me_ honey, Give me honey from thy store. I will pay with love and money; _Stores_ of money, and love much more.

Dear, I cannot give you honey. Shall I truly tell you why? Bees pay better worth than money As they have wings, but you can’t fly!

So I coax them with my honey, Feed them with my very best, While their wings bear life to many Waiting in the cradle nest.

For the children of the flowers Need the precious pollen dust, And the bees have winged powers To bear to them this sacred trust.

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE GARDEN.

The morning-glory lay rolled up in the bud down under the leaves. One day it bloomed.

The firm stem held it up, the bud unrolled, and the blossom stood there, fresh and fair.

The bees saw it from afar, and came as fast as they could.

They flew to the pink corolla, and, entering, enjoyed the feast spread for them.

The morning-glory, because of their coming, had filled the nectar cups and opened the boxes of snow-white pollen.

One after the other the bees came, drank the nectar, and carried away the pollen. As fast as the cups were emptied they were filled again.

The honeybees and the bumblebees were provided with baskets, which they filled with pollen; but the other bees carried it away on the long hairs of their bodies.

The morning-glory glowed in the sunshine all day long, happy, no doubt, in the consciousness that the little seed-children had begun to grow. It was because of them the bees were made so welcome.

We can imagine the flower might feel like saying, “This is my seed-children’s birthday party; come often, dear bees, and sip my nectar and take my pollen. But be like the good fairies and bring each a gift to my seed-children.”

The bees buzzed and came and went and came and went.

Each time they took away nectar and pollen to their hives, and each time left something for the seed-children.

Do you suppose they left a cap of darkness, and a pair of seven-league boots, and a sword that always conquered, and a magic carpet that took people wherever they wanted to go, as the fairies used to do in the times when fairies were alive and came to the christenings of little children?

I do not think the bees brought any of these things to the birthday party of the seed-children.

The bees, not being real fairies, were obliged to bring what they could.

Now, the day that the pink morning-glory bloomed, a great many other morning-glories came out of their buds, and they all gave the bees a welcome.

They filled their cups with nectar and opened their boxes of snow-white pollen.

Such a feast as was spread for the bees! Blue morning-glories, and pink and purple and white ones, on all sides they stood, fresh and smiling, and invited the bees to come.

And the bees came. They went from one to the other as fast as they could. They sucked up nectar from all, and took it home and made morning-glory honey of it. And they gathered snow-white pollen from all, and took it home and made morning-glory beebread of it.

But they did not carry home all the snow-white pollen. They bore some of it as gifts to the seed-children.

The seed-children needed the pollen; they could not grow into seeds without it, and they needed the pollen from another flower, not that from their own. So the pollen the bees brought them was better far than caps or boots or carpets or any of those things the fairies used to bring to human children.

And this is why the morning-glories made the bees so welcome. They could not take their pollen to each other, for they could not leave their stems; so they employed the bees to carry it for them.

The morning-glories nodded to each other across the garden. “I will send my bee to you,” one said to another, and the bee came and left a few grains of pollen from the friendly flower. In this way the morning-glories exchanged pollen all day long, so that each had plenty of fresh neighbors’ pollen to give the seed-children.

The flowers lasted all day, from sunrise to sunset, and the nectar lasted all day, and the snow-white pollen. But when night came the bees went home to sleep, and the morning-glories, too, slept. They rolled in the edges of their corollas so that the way to the nectar cups was closed.

Next day the morning-glories did not open again. There was no more nectar in their cups and no more snow-white pollen in their anther cells. Other morning-glories came out of their buds and invited the bees, but these staid shut. Soon the corollas, faded now and no longer lovely to look at, fell off. Their work was done. They had been beautiful to show how happy they were and how lovely life was; by their beauty, too, they had brought the bees and gained the pollen they wanted to make other lovely flowers live. Now, their messages of love and happiness given, they fell off, and the pollen boxes, empty and withered, fell with them.

But they left behind life and hope, for each tiny seed had received its grain of life-assuring pollen. For only the corolla and the stamens fell. The seed-children still clung to the stem; they lay in their cradles, nicely wrapped up by the green calyx leaves. And then the little stems that held the seed-babies’ cradles turned down and hid the little cradles under the leaves.

The seed-babies grew and grew. They would soon have outgrown their cradles, only the strange thing is, the cradles grew too! They grew as fast as the seeds and kept them snug and safe.

So all summer long, until the frost came and it was time for the morning-glories to take their long winter sleep, the buds opened in the morning. All summer long the bright morning-glories filled their cups with nectar and opened their boxes of snow-white pollen for the bees. And all summer long the seed-children received their pollen and grew and grew in their cradles that grew too. But after a while the green cradles turned brown. And after another while the brown cradles opened to let the seed-children look out, and as soon as this happened every little black seed—for they had grown quite black by this time—fell out of its cradle! It did not hurt it to fall out, for it tumbled and rolled down to the earth, where, at last, the wind came and covered it with leaves, as the robins covered up the babes in the woods. And the little black seed-babies lay there as snug as seed-babies could be.

Then the snow came and spread a blanket over them, and the leaves and the snow kept them as warm as they wanted to be until springtime came and the snow went away; and the seeds began to stretch themselves and think it was time to wake up and go out and see what was going on in the big world above.

THE OVULES

When the ovules get ready to grow, the flower prepares to bloom.

All about the ovules the delicate walls of the ovary shut tightly.