“My dear Agnes!” cried Mrs. Merton, “you never can take that large plant with you to town.”
“No, mamma,” said Agnes, sighing, “I am afraid I cannot; but only look what a splendid thing it is.”
“It is certainly a very fine specimen,” said Mrs. Merton; “but it is of the kind called tangle, which is common everywhere. The frond, or leafy part, has been found in some places twenty feet long, and as broad as the leaf of a plantain, to which, you see, it bears considerable resemblance.”
“Here is a piece of the winged fucus,” said Mr. Merton, “which though rare here, is common in Scotland, where we call it Badder-locks or Henware. Look, Agnes,” continued he, addressing his daughter, “do you observe the strong projecting rib that runs up the middle of the leaf?—that part is frequently eaten in the North; and in some places the flat part is eaten also.”
“Eaten!” cried Agnes, very much surprised.
“Yes,” returned her father, “I assure you that this mid-rib, when stripped of its outer covering, affords a very important article of food to the poorer inhabitants of the northern islands of Scotland.”
Agnes looked at the plant which she held in her hand. “What a curious plant it is!” said she: “here is its root; but it seems to have only leaves: has it any flowers?”
“No,” replied Mr. Merton; “this is one of the cryptogamous plants; that is, one of those plants which have neither flowers nor seeds.”
“No seeds!” cried Agnes: “how, then, are the young plants produced?”
“By means of what are called sporules, which serve instead of seeds.”