car it is called.

"Yes, I ought to be growing," said the little voice, "for I am a bean,
and in the spring a bean ought to grow."

Now you know how the coat came by its scar, for the scar was the spot
which showed where the bean had been broken from the pod.

"What do you mean by growing?" said the other voice, which came from a
large red stone.

"Why," said the bean, "don't you know what growing means? I thought
every thing knew how to grow. You see, when I grow, my root goes down
into the soil to get moisture, and my stem goes up into the light to
find heat. Heat and moisture are my food and drink.

"By and by, I shall be a full-grown plant, and that is wonderful! In the
ground, my roots will travel far and wide.

"In the air, how happy my stem will be! I shall learn a great deal, and
see beautiful things every day. O how I long for that time to come!"

"What you say is very strange," said the red stone. "Here I have been in
this same place for many years, and I have not grown at all. I have no
root; I have no stem; or, if I have, they never move upward nor
downward, as you say. Are you sure you are not mistaken?"

"Why, of course I'm not mistaken," cried the bean. "I feel within myself
that I can grow; and I have absorbed so much moisture that I must soon
begin."

Just then the bean's coat split from end to end, and for one or two
minutes neither the stone nor the bean spoke. The stone was astonished,
and the bean was a little frightened. However, he soon recovered his
courage.

"There!" said he, showing the two packages he had been carrying; "these
are my seed-leaves. In them is the food on which I intend to live when I
begin growing.

"When my stem is strong enough to do without them, they will wither away.
My coat is all worn-out, too. I shall not need it any longer. Look
inside the seed-leaves, and you will see the germ. Part of it is root,
and part of it is stem. Do you see?"

"I see two little white lumps," replied the stone; "but I can not
understand how they will ever be a root and a stem."

"I do believe you are a poor, dull mineral, after all," said the bean;
"and if so, of course you can not understand what pleasure a vegetable
has in growing.

"I wouldn't be a mineral for the world! I would not lie still and do
nothing, year after year. I would rather spread my branches in the
sunshine, and drink in the sweet spring air through my leaves."

"What you say must be all nonsense," said the