And as nobody stops to listen, so never a word has he said;
But there in his pulpit he stands, and holds his umbrella over his head,
And we have not a doubt in our minds, Jack, you are wisely listening,
To the organ-chant of the winds, Jack, and the tunes that the sweet birds sing!
Lucy Larcom.
"It is Indian turnip," said I.
"No," said Grandmother, "it's memory root. If you taste it once you will never forget it." And what Grandmother said to me so long ago, I say to every boy and girl, "If you taste it once you will never forget it."
But of all the names for this strange little wood plant, I like Jack-in-the-pulpit best. Though never a word has it said in our lifelong acquaintance, it has been a helpful little "country preacher" to me. As we go into the woods this year, let us make up our minds that we will know more than we ever have known before of its interesting life.
Where do you find the Jack-in-the-pulpit? In what kind of soil does it grow? How does it first come up?
What is the shape of the root? One is enough for the whole class to study and it should be planted again. We do not want the Jack-in-the-pulpit to disappear from our woods.