Part 11

But do they turn into real seeds directly the pollen gets down?

By no means. Nourishment and time are necessary to growth and change. I must explain further about the seed. Beneath the integument or covering of ordinary seeds, as a pea, what do you observe, Willie?

I have seen the two halves of the seed show themselves, when the skin breaks, and the plant seems to grow from between them.

Your two halves are the lobes or cotyledons of the seed. These fleshy substances enclose the embryo, from which the leaves and roots proceed. The upper part, from which the leaves arise, is the Plumula, or little plume, or feather. That from which the rootlet proceeds is the Radicle, or root part: sometimes it is called the Rostellum, or little beak.

Of what use are the cotyledons, father?

They supply nourishment to the central portion, which is to develop the plumula and rostellum, and thus surround them. A sort of passage of communication exists between them. There is, also, a neck between the plumula and rostellum.

What is that scar upon the seed?

The point at which it was attached in its vessel.

Well, now I think I really do understand all the mysteries of tree growing. Like as a young animal suckles its parent until strong enough to manage other food, so does a young plant depend upon the cotyledon for provision, until its rootlets are able to search the soil, and leaflets absorb from the air.

I trust, my boy, that while you admire the order and adaptation, you will acknowledge Him whose wisdom planned the whole, whose power performed it, and whose goodness makes it serve the happiness of His creatures.

* * * * *

A few days after the last conversation, Willie went with his father into the Bush among the mountains. The way was long, and the track was rough, but various things occurred to make the journey pleasant. The Laughing Jackass gave the boy a merry greeting, a snake peeped at him slyly among the long grass, and then brushed off quickly to its hole. A Porcupine raised up its quills as he passed, and then trotted off to the scrub. But the trees,--the trees! How tall they were! How thick they were! With the help of their handkerchiefs, Willie and his father measured the girth of some, and found them thirty, forty, and even fifty feet round. Most of the Stringybark and Gum trees ran up straight as a dart, fit to thrust into some monster ship for a mast. Then the sweet-scented shrubs on every side, the green Myrtle, the pyramidal and beautiful Sassafras, and many others, seized upon the boy’s imagination, until he came to a place that made him stare, and then caper about like a Black fellow at a corrobory. What could it be?

A break in the tangled brush underwood had given him a peep down into a valley that seemed prettier than anything he had read of in a fairy tale. There was no rough rock, but a floor of soft moss. The most musical of rippling creeks trickled along the vale. No other sound was heard, for the very birds seemed afraid to disturb with their joyous notes the silence that dwelt there. There were no Gums, no Wattles, rising from this moss bed. Instead of these, Willie saw a lot of very odd looking trees. They were not very tall, for they rarely rose above 12 or 15 feet. The bark was unlike anything seen elsewhere. There were no branches, but at the top of the straight stem were several branch-like leaves, 8, 10, and 12 feet long, with such a graceful bend towards the valley. At the top of the stem, rising up from the place where the leaves sprang out, was a curious curling piece, with little shoots. The valley was full of these wonderful vegetable festooned pillars.

Oh! Father! father! cried the boy, what are those beautiful trees down there? I never saw any like them before.

They are Fern trees, my lad. Walk over and look closely at them.

Willie trod upon the soft carpet, and thought it damp, as well as soft. The air, too, was so close, and felt so cold and raw, that he lost half his pleasure already. He could not help saying so to his father.

Ah, my boy, said he, you are not the first to find nice things having something disagreeable about them when approaching nearer to them. Remember, that while roses have thorns, pleasures will have their drawbacks.

Yes, I know I am often very tired after a pretty ramble, and rather queer after a pasty.

True enough; there is only one place where happiness brings neither fatigue nor surfeit. But let us see what is the difference between one of these Fern trees and one of your old companions, a Gum tree.

I can tell. One is like a tree with branches and so forth; but the other is not. Then the bark is quite different. I can see that the leaves of the Fern tree are like those of the common Fern, which is so troublesome in our sandy land, only they are a great deal larger.

But there is a stranger difference still. Just take my axe and cut one of them down.

I can soon do that. It is not nearly so thick as that Wattle I fetched down the other day with not a dozen cuts.

Willie doffs his jacket, catches at the axe, and is at once dropping it in double quick time upon the Fern stem. A dozen blows were given, and another, and another, but the tree did not fall. Taking breath, and wiping his forehead, Willie murmured out:--

Well this is tough! it beats my Wattle, hollow. I declare if the axe don’t ring against it as if it were iron or glass. It is quite different from one of our trees, for that is rather soft at the outside, though it may get harder as we get towards the middle.

As I think you are more likely to blunt my axe, than cut down the tree, you may put on your jacket, and we will inspect that fallen fern I see yonder. Perhaps after you have looked at the inside, you will find another wonder.

It was not long before our young Botanist uttered an exclamation of joyful surprise.

I have found it out, said he. Only fancy, father, I was hammering away at a mere shell, though it was a hard one. The tree is quite soft inside, though like flint outside. It is the very opposite to every tree I ever saw before in all my life.

No doubt it is; and it was to see it with your own eyes that I brought you here to the Fern tree valley.