Chapter 4

"I knew a gentleman, who is dead now, but he lived to be very old. For a very great many years he always took one walk, at a certain hour every Sunday morning, all the year through. It was a very ordinary country walk--through the little town, up by the side of a fir plantation, along hedge-rows and scattered houses, over a stile into a long ploughed field generally planted with turnips for cattle, then over another stile, through winding lanes that led to farm-houses and at last came out into the public road.

"It interested him to watch the changes week after week--the first appearing of buds in the spring time, their growth during the week, then the bursting of the leaves. Then there was the white blossom of the black-thorn, which comes before the leaves; then that of the white-thorn or 'May;' the silvery blossom of the willow tree; and the yellow catkins of the hazel, called by country children 'lamb-tails.' Then came the wild flowers of very early spring, till, as the weeks went on, their bloom was over with summer and autumn. Now the hedges were red with hips and haws. At last the leaves fell, and winter came once more.

"Besides all these changes there were the birds to notice--when they first came back to England after their winter absence, when the cuckoo was first heard, and many other things as well.

"You may take the same walk fifty-two times a year, year after year, as he did, and yet no two walks will be alike.

"Now Sarah shall clear the table and I will fetch my portfolio of sketches."

When Aunt Lizzie returned she said, "These are all wild flowers here.--You know that one?"

"Why, yes, it is a primrose. We should know what a primrose was like better by this than by the dried ones. Why, aunt! you have painted a whole lot of them growing just as they do grow."

"Yes; I like, if I can, to paint the flowers in their natural places, besides taking a single flower and painting it the size of life. Look at that wild rose-bush mixed with bramble in that piece of hedge; underneath it I have painted a small spray of roses and buds."

"What is that pretty little flower?" asked Annie; "I don't remember ever having seen one like it."

"It is the wood-sorrel; a very lovely little thing it is too. It is common in woods and shady places; but the flowers are almost over now."

"We have some roots of it in the shrubbery, and I saw one flower in bloom there this morning," said Katey.

"Well, you may all go and look at it, if you like." So the children scampered away to look at the small pale, drooping flower.

"What pretty leaves it has!" said Mary. "I have brought one with me; it looks like a cluster of leaves in one."

"Yes; the bright, transparent leaves and stems are very delicate. These leaves will frequently fold up, if knocked, like the leaves of a sensitive plant. You can look for a plant in the woods and try it. The leaves, too, have a very acid taste."

"I see a violet root. I like violets because of their sweet smell," said Annie.

"I like what are called dog-violets too," said her aunt. "They have no smell at all, but they grow all the summer through, in hedges and in grass, in such large quantities that the turf often looks like an embroidered carpet.

"The flower is very similar to the scented violet, only it is of a pale grayish blue. I have painted two roots side by side, one of the scented, one of the dog-violet; also a specimen of the white violet, which is not so common as that of the dark kind, but its smell is quite as delicious."

The children were delighted to recognize, among others, sketches of daisies, cowslips, buttercups, wood-anemones, wild hyacinths, forget-me-nots, eyebright, red and white clover, and many kinds of flowering grasses and graceful fern leaves.

"What is that?" they said, as they saw something that looked curious but not pretty.

"That is one of the sketches I took in Cornwall two or three miles from the Land's End. It is a poor, unhappy furze-bush, covered with dodder. The dodder is what is called a parasitical plant; that is, a plant that lives entirely on another. There are several kinds of dodders: some live entirely on flax, some on nettles, but those that stick to clover and furze-bushes are the most common in this country.

"When the seed of a dodder dropped into the ground begins to grow, it feels about for the kind of plant it wants to live upon: if it cannot find it, it dies.

"This furze dodder, you see, has found what it wanted, and, having done so, began at once to coil its pink thread-like stem on that of the furze. Now it had gained its footing, and threw out a great many more fine stems in all directions, after the fashion of strawberry runners, rooting as it grew. There are thousands of little dodder plants sucking the life out of the furze. I have seen many of the bushes quite smothered, and even killed, by this unpleasant and greedy plant.

"When you are older, if you study the ways of plants, you will find them quite as interesting as those of animals. They have to get their living; and some, like the dodder, prefer to get it at the expense of another; and others resort to all kinds of plans to keep themselves and their kinds alive.

"The acid of the pretty wood-sorrel is a poison, so nothing will eat it; and the buttercups growing in meadows are untouched by cattle, because of the poison in their leaves and stems.

"I might tell you of many other plants that live in safety because they are defended by poison, or thorns, or prickles, or some peculiar shape. The leaves of the common holly are only prickly on the lower branches, where it needs protection from browsing cattle.

"Then there are wonderful contrivances for keeping not only the single plant but its kind alive, which you will learn one day.

"There are plants which bear seeds in very great numbers, like the field-poppy, so that some of them are sure to survive. The winds carry other seeds to great distances, because they have beautiful feathery down attached to them, which causes them to be easily blown about--such as thistle and dandelion seeds.

"Birds, too, are great seed-sowers: they eat the wild fruits which contain the seed. These fruits are generally red or black, so as to attract birds to them. Among the red ones are hips, the fruit of the wild rose; and haws, which contain the seed of the white-thorn. Among the black are blackberries, the fruit of the bramble; and sloes, which are like a very small hard plum. The birds eat these, and drop the seed which is inside of the fruit on to the ground."

Then Sarah came into the room to say that Jane had come from Woodside to take the children back.

"We must wait for Jack," said Mary.

"Yes," said Aunt Lizzie. "I daresay the boys will be home directly. Why, here they are.--How hot you look, Jack!"

"It is so warm to night, aunt, and we have walked fast. We've had a splendid time of it at Charley Foster's, and we stayed till the last minute, so we hurried home at last." Where-upon Jack drew out his pocket-handkerchief to wipe his hot face, forgetting all about the little frogs. The loose knot slipped, and you may guess what happened. The frogs, delighted to get out of Jack's warm pocket, were soon hopping about the room.

"What have you there, Jack? what does this mean?" asked Aunt Lizzie. But she could not help laughing, for she knew what odd things boys will do.

Jack explained to her how he had caught the young frogs to put into the Woodside pond, that he might watch them there.

"Well, you must catch them again," said his aunt, "and I will give you a paper bag to carry them in, only you need not suppose that there are no frogs in grandpapa's pond. Charley's pond is large and shaded, while the Woodside pond is small and open; and the weather has been very dry lately, so the frogs have kept in the soft mud at the bottom. You will see plenty of young frogs after the next shower of rain hopping about the edges of that pond."

IX.

_AFTER THE RAIN._

"The very earth, the steamy air, Are all with fragrance rife; And grace and beauty everywhere Are bursting into life. Down, down they come, those fruitful stores, Those earth-rejoicing drops; A momentary deluge pours, Then thins, decreases, stops."

ANON.

"There seems likely to be a change in the weather," said grandpapa one morning at breakfast. "The wind has got round to the west, and there are clouds about."

"I am so glad," said Mary.

"So am I," added Annie. "It has been too hot for the last two or three weeks."

"We shall all be glad to see a little rain," said grandpapa; "the garden wants it badly enough, and so do the newly-mown fields."

Grandpapa was right, for sure enough during the day there were many cooling showers, which made everything out of doors look bright and fresh.

In the evening grandmamma sat at work in the drawing-room by the open doors which led straight into the garden, and the children were with her.

Jack was lying on the floor with his face to the garden, and supposed to be reading a book; while the little girls were busy with some easy fancy-work, making something to take home to their mother when they left Woodside.

Jack seemed to be more interested in something out of doors than he was in his book. At last he exclaimed, "Grandmamma, do look; isn't that a beautiful white fleecy cloud?"

"Yes, it is indeed, Jack. Clouds _are_ beautiful and well worth looking at."

The girls put down their work and went to the doors to look out, or rather up, at the deep blue sky, covered with patches of downy white.

"That cloud looks as if it were made of snow mountains and caves," said Mary. "See how it changes its shape: now there is another cloud coming to it: now they have melted into one."

"The sky is one beautiful thing that you can watch anywhere, in town or country, in summer or winter," said grandmamma. "It is like a picture-book that is always open; and the pictures are always changing."

The children stood and watched the clouds as they sailed about like majestic swans. Some moved faster than others, and came in front of them. They mingled and they parted, and took all sorts of shapes. The colour changed from pure white to delicate gray; and again a stormy cloud appeared, dark with rain that would fall somewhere before long.

"O grandmamma, look!" they all exclaimed, as the evening sun shone from behind a cloud, gilding its edges with gold.

At last, when they had been for some time feasting their eyes with the beauty of cloudland, something else struck Jack, and he said, "How sweet everything smells after the rain!"

"Yes, it does, Jack. The very gravel paths and garden mould smell fresh; and as to the flowers, they are sweeter than ever."

"I can smell mignonnette," said Mary.

"I can smell the stocks," said Jack.

"And I can smell the honeysuckle," said Annie.

"Do, grandmamma, let us walk round the garden, to smell the flowers," said all the children; "the gravel is almost dry."

"Very well, you may go; but don't go on the grass--keep to the path."

Jack was off at a bound, and his sisters were not much behind; and they visited flower after flower, sniffing their sweet perfumes. The tall white lilies gave out so strong a scent that, sweet as it was, they did not care to bend them down to their faces; but the roses, after the rain, were so delicious that they did not want to let them go. They found, however, that it was not the large showy roses which had the sweetest smell.

They went to the arch along which the honeysuckle was growing, and then they smelled the rich carnations and the fragrant mignonnette.

Grandmamma called to them not to stay out too long; but they said, "May we pick you a little nosegay first? the flowers are just lovely."

"Very well," grandmamma said; "but don't let it be too large."

It really was difficult to know what to leave out when all was so sweet; but they thought mignonnette, a half-blown moss rose, some sweet-peas, a piece of honeysuckle and of white jasmine, some pinks, and a little stock, could not fail to be agreeable. They thought more of what would smell sweet than of bright colour; and grandmamma was well pleased with her nosegay.

"Grandmamma," said Jack, "there is a poor-looking flower like a small stock in the garden; it smells so sweet."

"It is a stock--the night-flowering stock. The flower is dull-coloured and insignificant; but it has a powerful odour. You must not suppose that the sweet scent of flowers is for our pleasure alone. The perfumes are of great use to the plants themselves, and to the insects that live on honey."

"Of what use can they be to the plants?" asked Mary.

"The perfume is chiefly due to a kind of oil found in the blossoms of plants, and sometimes in the leaves as well. Lavender, rosemary, thyme, and herbs used in cooking, are examples of plants whose leaves as well as flowers possess this ethereal oil, as it is called. Caterpillars do not like the taste of these oils, and leave these highly-scented plants alone. It is, however, generally the flowers only that smell; and now you can guess why they are protected by their fragrance. What is the most important part of the flower?"

"Its seed," replied Mary.

"Yes; and as the cattle will not eat the flowers, the seed is safe from them."

"But they eat flowers in hay," said Jack.

"True; but by the time the grass is cut many seeds have ripened and have dropped out of their husks; and when flowers are dry, as they are in hay, they lose their particular scent and the oil with it. But the very perfume which keeps away the enemies of the flower attracts its friends the insects, whose sense of smell is very keen."

"Why do flowers want insects?" asked Annie.

"Because they want their yellow dust taken from one flower to another, to ripen their seeds, or to fertilize them, as it is called. The seeds are far better if they are ripened by the pollen or dust of another blossom than by the pollen of their own flower. The bees, as you know, get covered with this dust as they visit one flower after another; some of it sticks to the bees, but a great deal of it drops off as they rub against the flowers."

"It's give and take," said Jack. "The flowers give the honey for the insects to eat, and the insects carry their pollen away for them."

"Yes, that's something like it," said grandmamma. "And now you can see why flowers which bloom at night need to have a strong odour. There are some plants which

'Keep their odours to themselves all day'

but towards evening they

'Let the delicious secret out;'

and it is that moths and insects that fly about at night may know whereabouts the flowers are. The bees are busy in the day-time; but there are a great many kinds of moths, in fact there are more moths than there are butterflies, and they only fly about at night, and the honey of flowers is their sole food. So you see the scent of flowers has a great use."

"I never thought of that before," said Mary.

"If the flowers which keep open late in the evening have not a very strong perfume, they are generally white or pale yellow, so as to be seen easily. There is one of these plants called the evening primrose--not that it is like a primrose except in colour--at the bottom of the garden walk."

"Do let us go and see if there is a moth on it, grandmamma."

Grandmamma smiled and said, "Jack might go and look, and then he could tell his sisters what he saw."

Jack scampered away, and after a minute or two he was back with the report that he had counted seven winged flies and moths all busy feeding upon the honey of the different blossoms of the plant!

"Insects can smell things at a far greater distance than we can," said grandmamma. "The sense of smell seems to be their strongest sense."

"Do you think it is a good thing to be able to smell so very much, grandmamma?"

"Certainly I do. I know a keen sense of smell is sometimes disagreeable for its owner; but as a rule, when a smell is unpleasant it is unwholesome, and the nose is like a sentinel that gives warning of danger, so that we may either get out of the way or remove the cause. Some people really seem to have no noses, considering what they will endure in the way of bad smells, and how careless they are about keeping windows shut that ought to be opened to let in the fresh air and sunshine.

"You must remember, children, that your five senses are but doors which the mind must keep open. It is the mind that perceives. We say, 'I perceive this apple is sour;' 'I perceive this cloth is rough;' 'I perceive a smell of roses;' 'I perceive this flower is white;' 'I perceive the birds are singing.' So the word 'perceive' will do for tasting, feeling, smelling, seeing, and hearing."

X.

_THE SIX CLOSED DOORS._

"Say what is it, Eyes, ye see? Shade and sunshine, flower and tree; Running waters swift and clear, And the harvests of the year.-- Tell me, Ears, what ye have heard? Many and many a singing bird; Winds within the tree-tops going, Rapid rivers strongly flowing; Awful thunder, ocean strong, And the kindly human tongue.-- These and more an entrance find To the chambers of the mind."

ANON.

The end of the visit had come at last. Tom and Katey were at Woodside spending the last day with their cousins. It was evening: the long shadows were falling over the lawn, and the summer air was still.

Grandmamma was sitting under a tree on the lawn knitting, when the children clustered around with the old request, "Please, grandmamma, tell us a story."

Grandmamma looked a little gravely upon the dear, eager faces, and began:--

"A little boy found himself one day, he could not tell how, in a cell, or rather a small room, which was very comfortable. He could not remember anything that had happened before he came there, nor did he feel frightened although he was quite alone.

"For some time he was content to pass the time without taking any particular notice of anything. At last he saw that there were several doors--five--in the walls of his room. He noticed that two were high and wide, the rest seemed smaller; and he thought, 'I will open one of these first. Doors must be meant to lead somewhere, and I am rather tired of this little room, although it is comfortable.'

"He opened the door very easily, and he found himself in a large room. In the middle of it was a table covered with things that seemed good to eat.

"He did not see any one, but he heard a voice say, 'Come in and _taste_.'

"So he took up one nice thing after another, according to his will; and after awhile he heard the voice say, 'This is enough for once; you may come again.'

"He turned to go back to his room, but the door was gone. The way to his cell was open, and this beautiful room was added to his smaller one.

"Now he had plenty of amusement. He learned how different were the tastes of the objects before him;--some sweet, some sour; others were bitter, or salt, or spicy; some with flavours that cannot be put into words, they were so delicate and varied. As soon as he had had enough he could taste no longer; so he always knew when to leave off.

"He was satisfied for a long time with this room, for fresh objects were daily added. At last he looked longingly at the door by the side of the opening where the late door was.

"He opened it and walked out, not into a room, but into a lovely garden. The walls were high, but the garden was very broad and long.

"There were the fruits whose delicious flavour he knew: now he found that some of them at least had a fragrant _smell_. However, he scarcely noticed them; for a strange, sweet odour of flowers greeted his newly-found sense. After awhile he felt almost overpowered by this fresh pleasure, and turned to go back for awhile into his little room, when he found that this door had also vanished. He was glad of this, for the delicate perfume of the garden freely came into his cell.

"What a growing pleasure was this garden! Every flower had its own special odour--the rich rose, the tall, queenly lily, and the lowly violet--each in its way the sweetest.

"At first he thought that only the flowers had perfume, but he soon found this was a mistake. By taking more careful notice he perceived that leaves as well as flowers were sometimes scented, as in the musk plant, the geranium, and even those of black-currant bushes.

"As he walked down an avenue of lime trees, he noticed a most delicious scent, which he found came from the small blossoms of the trees high above his head. He turned into a shrubbery, and was greeted by the fresh fragrance of the pine trees, and found that even the resinous buds of other trees had a pleasant scent. The very earth too, after a shower of rain, had a refreshing smell.

"By-and-by he looked at the high walls of the garden, for there seemed to float over them a blended sweetness of something, he knew not what; but in after days he knew it as that of new-mown hay.

"Again, the wind would bring him a smell of something that certainly did not belong to flowers or fruit. It seemed to make him strong, and long to know what was over the wall. It was the sea-breeze that came to him from the vast ocean, and made him feel that his lovely garden was, after all, too bounded.

"He turned the handle of another door. It was that of _touch_, and he found himself in a passage. He walked along a little way, and saw an open archway on his right, through which he went, and there he was in the room of taste. He took up a cherry, and it felt smooth; a peach, and it felt soft and downy; a pine-apple, and it was rough. He looked toward the archway through which he had come, when, behold! the whole passage wall had vanished, making the old room larger.

"He went into his garden: the gravel path felt hard and firm, the lawn felt soft and springy under his tread. He touched a rose-stalk and he felt its prickles, while the leaves of the flowers were soft. Some flower-stalks felt sticky, others smooth, and the bark of the oak tree was rough.

"The bright sunshine felt warm to his cheek, and the marble of the fountain felt cold.

"There were now two large doors left, and he resolved to open that of _hearing_.

"All was dark as he stepped into a room or passage, he knew not which. He walked on a little way, then he stopped, for he faintly heard the sound of music. The sweet strains grew longer and louder, drawing him along till he came to a large hall where an organ was being played by a master. Here he stayed to listen and to wonder, spell-bound by the strange high music;--now swelling to a triumph, now sinking to a soft echo; now it told of gladness, and again of sorrow. Then it changed to a solemn, stately march; then there was a sound of rippling sweetness, ending in a lullaby so soothing that he fell fast asleep.

"When he awoke he was in his cell; the door was gone and the mystic hall had vanished. He went into his garden, and heard for the first time the sweet song of birds, the hum of insects, and the soft sound of flowing water from the marble fountain. He heard the swaying of the wind among the leaves and branches of the trees, and the sound of his own footsteps on the path.

"'Now for the last door,' he said, as he opened it, and was dazzled by a flood of light which nearly blinded him. _Sight_, which had been before but faint and dim, now became clear and open. He found himself in his old room of taste; but instead of the walls were crystal windows, and his table of fruits and food looked small in the midst of the vast space. He turned into his garden: what a change was there! He saw that the roses were a deep, deep red, and pink, and yellow, and white; that the flowers were of every hue and shade of colour, and the trees of varying green.

"Now he saw the birds whose sweet songs he had often heard, some in bright plumage, and others of graver colours.