XC.—THE FRUIT.
Gustavus Frankenstein.
It is not alone the delicious grape, the grateful apple, the luscious pear, the clustered cherries, the tart currants, the golden orange, the sweet blackberries, the refreshing melon, the blooming peach, the purple plum, the sun-fed strawberries, or whatever other products of the plants we may deem good to eat, that are entitled to the name of fruit. The very mention, the very thought of fruit, brings to our minds an ever-welcome idea of something not only wholesome and pleasing to the taste, but at the same time beautiful; for all fertile flowers, on whatever plant they may grow, merge eventually into fruit. That fruit may not be edible; it may be bitter, it may be sour, it may be as dry as a chip, or it may even be poisonous,—still it is fruit. It is fruit to the plant, if not to us.
The seed, we may say, is the infant offspring of the plant, by means of which, in the course of nature, it perpetuates its kind. The flower is the first step in the formation of the fruit. The plant opens to the sunshine a charming expression of form and color in the budding flower. Nursing in its bosom the growing germ, the flower usually sheds its gay attire, throws off its petals, its ribbons, and its tassels, and in a sober, motherly way devotes itself to the one great task of cherishing, perfecting, and guarding the seed.
In fact, the flower, which at first seemed but a transport of joy, now shorn of its bridal ornaments, has become the substantial fruit. That fruit is the guardian of the seed, within which sleeps the infant plant; and according to the needs of that seed will the fruit be fashioned. Are the seeds to be carried far and wide?—ten to one the fruit is furnished with a plume, a sail, or a wing, by which to be wafted through the air, or with hooks to cling to passing animals, or with some other contrivance to effect conveyance.
Or, if the seed inside be provided with a sail, the fruit will open and let the little seed go forth and seek its fortune by itself. Endless are the expedients by which the seed and the fruit seek to perpetuate the kind of plant from which they spring.
We may look at the well-known fruit-head of the dandelion, which is the prettiest little airy-like silken ball that can be imagined. Doubtless, it has not occurred to everybody, what this beautiful sphere, so common in the meadows and by the road-sides, really is. Previous to this sphere, and in the place of it, was the flower, the well-known yellow dandelion, which belongs to the composite family.
Dandelion Head.
The dandelion is not really one flower, but a circled group of many small flowers or florets. These are surrounded by an outer circle of green leaflets, which bend down when the florets have changed into fruits, allowing them to radiate in every direction from the core in the centre. The whole ball is made up of many small fruits, each of which is a single seed enclosed in a thin cover, surmounted by an elevated circled plume.