"It has been concluded," remarked Becker, "from these incontestable facts, that plants are not devoid of sensibility; and, in fact, when we behold them lying down at sunset as if dead, and come to life again next morning, we are forced to recognise a degree of irritability in the vegetable organs which very closely resemble those of the animal economy."
"In future," said Jack, "I shall take care not to tread upon a weed, lost, being hurt, it should scream."
"On the other hand, they have not been found to possess any other sign of this supposed sensibility. All their other functions seem perfectly mechanical."
"Ah then, father," exclaimed Jack, "you are a believer in my system!"
"We make them grow and destroy them, without observing anything analogous to the sensation we feel in rearing, wounding, or killing an animal."
"But the fly-trap, father, what of that?"
"It is no exception. The fly-trap seizes any small body that touches it, as well as an insect, and with the same tenacity; hence, we may readily conclude that these actions, so apparently spontaneous, are in reality nothing more than remarkable developments of the laws of irritability peculiar to plants."
"It does not, then, spring from a family feud, as Jack supposed?" remarked Willis.
"Besides," continued Becker, "if plants really existed, possessing what is understood by the term sensation, they would be animals."
"For a like reason, animals without sensation would be plants."