Part 33

Of course no one can say that is just the way it came about, but it is likely that in some such way it happened, for there are proofs of it which you may like to read when you grow older.

So, you see, flowers are nothing but leaves after all,—very much changed leaves, to be sure, but yet just leaves.

Sometimes when plants and animals have changed into a new form, they change back again. We know some plants which once had petals but which have again lost their petals and gone back to a form which has no petals. Such backward changes we call retrogression, and it is sometimes difficult to find out whether a flower with no petals is a primitive form which for some reason has not changed or whether it is one which has changed and gone back again. Usually, though, we can find traces of petals and sepals in flowers which have retrogressed.

You see, a flower depends upon its surroundings for its shape. If its surroundings (and of course this includes its insect visitors) are such as to favor its growth in the line of petals, it does so. But if for some reason it becomes easier for it to grow and be fertilized in some other way, perhaps by making abundance of light pollen which is blown by the wind, as in the maple trees, then it may gradually lose its petals, as it depends less and less on insects and more and more on the wind for cross-fertilization. Nothing in life stands still; it is always moving,—going on or going back. And this, we know, is just the same in human life.

We cannot stand still; we must keep growing wiser and stronger and better, or else we must do the opposite.

SIGNS OF OTHER TIMES.

In the beginning flowers seem to have had their petals all separate from each other. Some do still, and these we call polypetalous, because “poly-” means many, and they have many petals. But other flowers, like our morning-glory, have no separate petals; all are grown together into a tube with a bright border.

But this tube and border tell us a little story if we are able to hear it.

They tell us of the time when the morning-glory had several petals. More than this, they tell us just how many it had. If we were to guess we should probably say five, because it seems so fond of the number five, with its five nectaries, five nectar guides, five stamens, and five sepals.

If we guessed five we should guess just right. There is no doubt but that once upon a time the plants from which our morning-glories are descended had five separate petals. The morning-glories themselves manage it differently now, but it took them a long time to do it. They were working away, long before the great pyramids of Egypt were built, to get their five petals united into one piece. But it is done, and they have learned how to twist the flower up tightly in the bud and then unroll it in all its glory.

They never have five petals now, but they still bear traces of it.

Look at the little notch on the border, halfway between two nectar guides. Does that tell us anything?

Count the notches. Five, you see.

Look at the line that runs from the notch down to the bottom of the flower.

The corolla looks as though it had been folded along those lines. You can easily see five long creases ending in a notch. The flower is folded along these lines in the bud, but we think the lines have yet another meaning.

Carefully tear the corolla down the lines; you see, a very little pressure does it. Now we have the corolla in five parts, like five petals, only it is so weak it can no longer hold itself up. Once upon a time we think it grew this way, with five separate petals, only the petals stood up then, for they must have been stiffer and perhaps were not so long. It was long, long ago, oh, very long ago, that it had its five petals. Then the edges of the petals began to grow together, and they kept on doing this until, in course of time, the whole length of each petal had grown fast to the next one, all except that little tiny spot where the notch is.

We are glad our morning-glory kept this little notch and the line where the sides of the petals grew together, for that is what tells us the story of long, long ago when all the petals were separate.

When finally they were grown together, the corolla did not need to be so stiff, for its shape helped to make it firm, and then it no longer used good material to make stiffening for the petals, for that would have been a waste of plant sap, and plants do not like to waste materials. When they find they can get along without something they have been used to having, they stop making it. Life is too short and too precious to waste a bit of it. Our flower only kept the stiffening in the corolla along the paths where it wished the bees to go to its honey cups and where, when folded, it could best protect the bud.

The morning-glory, you see, is as wise as it is beautiful.

WHY ARE THE FLOWERS SO LARGE AND BRIGHT?

Why are the flowers so large and bright?

We cannot say that they were always so. It is probable they were not. But good Mother Nature has watched over them as they came upon the earth, and she has lovingly made them so large and bright.

How could she do this? Let us see. Here is a tangle of plants. They all bear flowers and all set seeds. Some are stronger and more beautiful than others. The seeds fall to the ground. Those from strong and beautiful plants are larger and stronger than the others. After a while the seeds sprout. Not all do this, however. The very weakest do not sprout. Dear Mother Nature has other work for them. “You are not suited to struggle in the earth with the strong seeds, dears,” she whispers and lays them to rest. They do not wake up; the materials in them change. These materials let go of each other; they depart from the seed; some as gases float off in the air; others as minerals sink in the earth. The gases and the minerals are not lost. They join some other plant and help to make it strong.

“It is better to help another than to try to grow yourselves,” Mother Nature whispers to these little seeds that could not sprout. And they are happy. They are glad to change into gases and minerals and help another plant to grow.

Many of the seeds sprout, but not all grow up and blossom. There is not room in the earth for all the seeds to grow; there is not food enough in the air to feed so many. Mother Nature with her kind eye looks over the growing plants.

She smiles and shakes her head at those trying to grow in shady places.

“No, dears,” she whispers, “there is other work for you to do.” Then the shaded seedlings do not try any more to grow into plants. They give up the materials they have collected to the little brothers and sisters who have started in the good ground and the sunlight.

They fade away, but they are happy, for they, too, are doing their work. The materials in them let go of each other. They change into gases and float off in the air, or to minerals and other substances and sink to the ground. These gases and solid substances pass into other plants and help make them strong.