Kitabı oku: «The Nursery, September 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 3», sayfa 4

PITCHER-PLANTS AND MONKEY-POTS

Pitcher-plants are so called, because, at the end of the leaves, the midrib which runs through them is formed into a cup shape; and in some it looks very like a pitcher or water-jug You will understand this better if you look at the drawing.

There are various kinds of pitcher-plants. Some are shorter and broader than others; but they are all green like true leaves, and hold water as securely as a jug or glass. They grow in Borneo and Sumatra, hot islands in the East. The one shown in the drawing grows in Ceylon.

Some grow in America; but they are altogether different from those in Borneo and Ceylon. One beautiful little pitcher-plant grows in Australia: but this is also very different from all the rest; for the pitchers, instead of being at the end of the leaves, are clustered round the bottom of the plant, close to the ground.

All these pitcher-plants, though very beautiful to look at, are very cruel enemies to insects: for the pitchers nearly always have water in them; and flies and small insects are constantly falling into them, and getting drowned.

Monkey-pots are hard, woody fruits; some as large and round as a cannon-ball, and some shaped like a bowl. They grow on large trees in Brazil and other parts of South America; and the natives take out the seeds, and use the fruits for holding water, or to wash themselves in.

They are called monkey-pots because monkeys are very fond of the seeds. Some of the seeds are so good, that they are collected, and sent to London and other places, where they are sold in the markets. The Brazil-nut is one of them.

J. R. J.

UNDER THE CHERRY-TREE

"Now is the time to pick the cherries!" shouted Charles as he came running in from the garden one July afternoon.

"Are they quite ripe?" said his mother.

"Ripe? I should think so. Just look at them!" answered Charles, pointing to the trees.

"O mamma!" said Mary, "the birds are getting them all. We must have them picked at once."

"Never fear, little girl," said her mother. "There will be enough for the birds and ourselves and our neighbors too. But it really is time to begin to pick them. So, Charles, get a basket, and we will all go out under the cherry-tree."

So out they all went,—Charles and Mary and Ellen and Julia and Ruth; and mamma followed with the baby.

"I told the gardener to bring a ladder," said mamma. "He will be here in a moment, Charles. You can't pick cherries without a ladder, you know."

"Of course," said that saucy boy. "Nobody can pick cherries without a ladder." And with that he gave a spring, and in about half a minute had climbed up into the tree.

"Now, girls, hold your aprons," said he. And down came a shower of the delicious fruit.

Then what a glorious scramble those little girls had! How they laughed and jumped and knocked heads together in picking up the cherries! They ate as many as they wanted; and still Charles kept throwing down more.

"Have you had enough?" said he. "So have I. Now it's time to think about filling the basket. Ah! here comes the ladder at last, with a man under it."

Uncle Sam.

SLEEPING IN THE SUNSHINE

 
Sleeping in the sunshine,
Fie, fie, fie!
While the birds are soaring
High, high, high!
While the buds are opening sweet,
And the blossoms at your feet
Look a smiling face to greet.
Fie, fie, fie!
 
 
Sleeping in the sunshine,
Fie, fie, fie!
While the bee goes humming
By, by, by!
Is there no small task for you,—
Nought for little hands to do?
Shame to sleep the morning through!
Fie, fie, fie!
 

RAMBLES IN THE WOODS

Rachel has been used to a life in the city, but she is now on a visit to her uncle's in the country; and she has fine times rambling through the woods and fields.

Her cousin Paul takes her to pick berries, and tells her the names of the things she sees. "Smell of these leaves," Paul will say, breaking a twig from a shrub, somewhat like a huckleberry-bush, and crushing the leaves in his hand. "This is the bayberry-shrub. How fragrant the leaves are! It bears a berry with a gray wax-like coating; and in Nova Scotia this wax is much used instead of tallow, or mixed with tallow, to make candles."

"But what is this little red berry on the ground?" asked Rachel once when they were on one of their rambles. "It has a dark glossy leaf; and I like the taste and the smell of it very much."

"That is the checkerberry," said Paul. "Some people call it the boxberry; and some call it wintergreen. It has a flavor like that of the black birch. It is used to scent soap, and sometimes to flavor candy. It is an evergreen plant."

"What do you mean by an evergreen?" asked Rachel.

"I mean, it is green the whole year round: it does not dry up and fall off, like the leaves of the strawberry-plant," said Paul.

"What other sweet-smelling plants are there about here?" asked Rachel.

"Did you ever taste the bark of the sassafras-tree?" asked Paul. "If not, here is one; and I will break off a twig for you to chew. The color of the inner bark, near the root, is red, like cinnamon. A beer is made from it; and it is also used in soaps."

"I like the odor of it very much," said Rachel.

"Here is a black-birch tree," cried Paul. "Some people call it the sweet-birch. I will cut off a piece of the bark for you to taste."

"Why, it tastes like checkerberry-leaves," said Rachel.

"Yes," replied Paul. "It is a beautiful tree, and is good for fuel. But here is a white-birch. See how white the bark is! It grows on poor land, and is a very pretty tree when well taken care of."

Here there was the sound of a horn; and Rachel asked, "What is the meaning of that sound?"

"It means that we must run home to dinner," said Paul. "So give me your hand, Cousin Rachel. You need not be afraid of snakes. There are none here that can do any harm. Come, we will make a short cut through the grove to the house."