light, when he says, "The reason obviously is that in consequence of loss of fluid from the tissue of the stem on the side on which the light falls, it is contracted, whilst that of the other side remains turgid with fluid; the stem makes a bend, therefore, until its growing point becomes opposite to the light, and then increases in that direction.[1] There is no ripeness which is not, so to speak, something ultimate in itself, and not merely a perfected means to a higher end. In order to be ripe it must serve a transcendent use. The ripeness of a leaf, being perfected, leaves the tree at that point and never returns to it. It has nothing to do with any other fruit which the tree may bear, and only genius can pluck it. The fruit of a tree is neither in the seed nor in the full-grown tree, but it is simply the highest use to which it can be put.
March 8, 1840. The wind shifts from northeast and east to northwest and south, and every icicle which has tinkled in the meadow grass so long, trickles down its stem and seeks its water level, unerringly with a million comrades. In the ponds the ice cracks with a busy and inspiriting din, and down the larger streams is whirled, grating hoarsely and crashing its way along, which was so lately a firm field for the
- ↑ Carpenter's Vegetable Physiology, page 174.
