We will first introduce the child to Mr. Corn, the tassel, waving proudly and majestically in the breezes, and seeming to say: "I am master of all I survey." The little fellow is filled with wonderment as he learns how the clouds give up their drops of water to quench his thirst and how the sun smiles upon him to yellow his beard; and how the wonderful all-important pollen is developed and ripened.
Often the child eagerly asks, "And where, mamma, is Mrs. Corn?" and to that interested upturned face we relate the pleasing story of the beautiful silken tresses of Mother Corn. Early in her life she is a beautiful shade of green, and as she thus gracefully hangs out from the ear of corn, day by day the smiles of sunshine turn this mother corn to brown, and then to a still darker shade.
"And where, mamma, are the babies?" the child next inquires; and, as we take the ear of corn, removing the outer clothing—the husks—we find the underclothing, a much lighter shade of green, and here now we are in close contact with the babies themselves—the kernels—and to each little kernel or baby corn we find mamma closely clinging. Here is a beautiful opportunity to teach mother-love and mother watchfulness, as also the opportunity to draw lessons from the baby kernels sitting there in even rows, with their faces clean, silently contented—just doing their duty. The stories that may be told are limitless, and possibly as interesting as are the myths and fairy-tales, yet all the while as true as truth itself, with no fakery, no legends—just simple truth.
THE ALL IMPORTANT POLLEN
Now on a second trip into the cornfield, another story may be told of the important work of the pollen. This "father part" of the plant falls upon the silken tresses of the "mother part," by which the pollen is carried down to the sleeping corn-baby seeds—the kernels. And when the "corn dust" does reach the sleeping seeds a great change begins to take place. This change is known to the adult as "impregnation;" to the little child it may be presented as "an awakening" of the sleeping seeds, so that they begin to grow, to develop, to expand and push out, until we have the full-grown seeds seen in the delicious and juicy roasting ear.
Sometimes, in the case of the larger plants and trees, Father Tree may be miles and miles away from Mother Tree and so this all important pollen must be carried by the wind or by the bees, and as it blows against the mother part of the plant-flower she catches it and pushes it downward to the seed babies. The wind scatters the pollen of the oak tree, the hazlenut, the walnut, the birch, the willow and many others; for, without the good kind wind or the bees, the pollen would never find its way to many a mother flower, and the "fertilization" of the seed could not take place.
THE MORNING GLORY FAMILY
Perhaps the story of life can be told as beautifully from the morning-glory as from any other flower. Here the beautiful flower cup is the home of Father and Mother Morning-Glory and all their little babies. (See [Fig. 18]).
As we carefully take away their little home, the flower cup, we have left a little green cup, and coming up from the center you will see five little stems, every one of them wearing a hat of powder or pollen and this—if you please—is Papa Morning-Glory. Look closely and you will see coming up from the center of these five stems (stamens) one central stalk without a hat, Mother Morning-Glory, known in botany as the "pistil"; and as you follow down this pistil you will find an enlarged part at the base, which is known as the cradle-nest—the home of the seed babies.