make their way in other fashions, and of some I must speak afterwards. The endless forests of South America have some of the hugest and most remarkable of such plants.

Another curious way for the stems to grow in, is seen in the strawberry, which sends out what are named "runners in various directions, each of which, at intervals, bears a tuft of leaves and roots, which forms a new centre or plant, and sends out runners just as its parent did. There are many plants-one kind of crowfoot, and a potentil, for example-which multiply themselves in this manner.

There is a species of fern, which is grown in pots here, because it comes from another country, called the haresfoot fern. Its stem is in appearance very much like the foot of a hare, and it lies flat on the earth in the pot, with the green "fronds" springing out of it. Most of the ferns have stems of the same sort, though not quite so singular, growing on the surface of the ground, or just under it. This sort is called a "rootstock." The iris, or water-flag, also grows thus. "Orris-root" is the rootstock of a kind of iris. “Ginger" is that of the ginger-plant. Solomon's seal spreads by the same means.

In several plants the stem grows underground alone, and forms what is called a "creeping-root." The spear-grass, or couch-grass, spreads so; and so does the common colt's-foot. On the sand-hills by the sea-shore, plants like these are most serviceable ; for these stems can run through the loose mass of sand in every direction, and bind it together in such a way that it cannot be scattered by the wind, as it

must otherwise be. Any one who pulled up and destroyed the marram-grass, of the Norfolk coast, used to be punished by a fine, because of its value in preserving the sand-hills from destruction. The

mints, and great numbers of rushes, grow in this manner. Some, like the willow-herb, seem to “inlay" their creeping stems; although that is really done by the bramble and such plants alone.

A more remarkable kind of underground and creeping stem is that of the potato. Here and there, on the ends of short branches of this stem, are formed lumps, which increase to a considerable size. The stems have marks upon them resembling leaf-scales; and the lumps, which are named "tubers,” have buds regularly placed on them. These buds, or "eyes," are the parts commonly planted, like seed, for fresh crops. In some kinds they are as regular and as well-marked as the scales of a fir-cone.

The substance of these tubers, rootstocks, and creeping roots, like that of the swollen roots I showed you a little while ago, is "food" for the young shoots that may spring from them. How plentifully it is stored up in the potato, we all know. Tapioca is got from the tubers of an American plant; arrow-root from the rootstock of a plant growing in warm climates. And there are other storehouses, besides these, that we break into, that we may take what is treasured up for our own use, just as we do with the seeds of the wheat, peas, and beans. Stores of the same sort, only we do not make use of them, are found in the bulbs of

the crocus and the tulip. These also are truly stems, and they are quite made up of nutriment for the plants they belong to, They call this sort "corms."

The true "bulbs " are really "buds;" but we may speak of them here. There are two sorts of them; those like the lily, which are composed of scales set closely and regularly over each other; and those which, like the hyacinth and the onion, consist of coat laid over coat, stretching all round the middle part. These will be better understood when we look at the other kinds of "buds;" but I may tell you of one sort of them, which you may easily grow for yourselves, and which will become such "bulbs" as these.

You have seen, at the bottom of the leaves and flowerstalks of the tiger-lily, little black shining balls, placed close to the stem. They drop off almost at a touch, and, if you examine one closely, you will see that it really is a little bud, made up of thick scales, wrapped closely one over another. If you compare one with the "bulb" of the parent plant, you will see instantly what it is.

There are few things that would teach you more about the growth of a plant, young friends, than to set some of these "buds," and watch them as they grow into lilies. You had better choose large ones, which you will find with some small root-fibres on them already; and you must not cover them quite with earth, but leave enough bare for you to see the opening of the bud and springing up of the stem, from the very first.

Many other strange things are to be seen in the

various sorts of stems. But you would know more about them by spending five minutes in a hot-house, than you could from my taking up many chapters with descriptions of them. There are the thick,

fleshy, leafless stems of the cactuses and the stapelias, and some of them have prodigious thorns upon them. One plant grows at the Cape of Good Hope, the stem of which becomes, in time, a roundish piece of wood merely, but the bark splits so curiously that it looks like the shell of a tortoise. And there are some in South America which, when young, are four furrowed, but, as they grow older, become ridged and channelled, and split, so that you might fancy there were two or three stems, all growing in one, and that now and then one or another of them is trying to get free and to grow alone. Sometimes the stems of climbing plants, folding one over another, will grow into each other; and you may see the same in old plants of ivy, now and then.

But, indeed, it is quite vain for me to tell you anything more than this; and if it awakens in you the desire and the purpose to look about you, I shall be glad I have told you so much. One thing especially you will notice, that how curiously soever the stems of plants grow, it is always so as to be useful to them, as, for instance, in the plans by which food is stored up for the young shoots. And as you know that they cannot think and scheme, even for their own good, you may see another and a most beautiful proof of the kind and watchful care of their Maker and Preserver-God.

How to be Wise.

A GREAT many years ago there was a little boy whose father was a heathen, but who had a pious mother and grandmother. In those days there were no printed books; and as all the books had to be written with a pen, there were very few to be had. You may suppose, then, that it must have been no easy thing for this little boy to learn to read. Let us go back eighteen hundred and forty years, and look in upon that family. We do not see the father. He might have been there, but we do not know. But we see there two ladies and a little boy. One is a motherly old lady, casting a kind, encouraging look upon the little boy, as the mother unrolls before him a large parchment, and directs his attention to the characters written upon it. And when he tires, she stops and reads to him the history of Cain and Abel, of Abraham, of Joseph, of David and Goliath, of Ruth, or of Esther; and his eyes brighten as she proceeds, till at length he calls to her, "Stop, mother; teach me the letters again, that I too may read these pretty stories." And thus he proceeds, till he masters his letters and learns to read.

This little boy had none of the simple story-books that are now printed for children. But he had his grandmother's roll, containing Moses and the Prophets; and these he read and re-read, till he had them by heart, and could tell every story they contain, repeat every precept of the law, and rehearse those beautiful Psalms composed by the "sweet singer of