insects by its scent. Within the jug, just
below the mouth, there is a row of stiff hooks, which have their points
turned inwards towards the bottom of the jug. Below the spikes the sides
of the jug are so smooth and slippery that few insects could stand on
them.

It is easy to see how the trap works. Insects are attracted to the
pitcher by the bright colours of the lid or the scent of the honey. They
creep into the mouth, and crawl between the hooks, whose sharp points
are set the other way, and they step upon the smooth and slippery inside
of the jug. In another instant they have slipped into the water at the
bottom of the jug. Do what they will, they cannot climb up the slippery
sides of the pitcher, or pass the row of sharp hooks, whose points are
turned against them. They are caught.

Now all this is very strange and wonderful, and it makes us wish to know
why Providence has given the plant this clever machinery. We cannot help
asking ourselves why the pitcher-plant entraps these insects. I am
afraid that you would hardly be able to answer this question for
yourself, however carefully you might watch a pitcher-plant. Indeed, it
is only a few years since clever men, making careful experiments, were
able to find out the real truth. The fluid at the bottom of the pitcher
_digests_ those insects, and the pitcher-plant feeds upon them. Just as
the juices of our stomach dissolve meat, so that it may pass into the
blood and nourish us, so the fluid in the jug of the pitcher-plant
dissolves the flesh of the insects which fall into it, and makes that
flesh fit to nourish the plant. This strange plant lives, in part at
least, upon flesh; and all the clever mechanism of its jug is used
simply to get a meal.

ONE AND ONE MAKE TWO.

As through the busy world you go,
Remember this is true,
That though one seems a little thing,
Yet one and one make two.

The task one could not do alone,
Is done with help from you,
For though you are a little one,
Yet one and one make two.

The thread that's rolled the reel around,
That baby's hands can break,
When with it other threads are bound,
The strongest rope doth make.

The rope thrown by some helping hand,
And drawn the waters through,
May bring a drowning man to land:--
So one and one make two.

The minutes grow into the hours,
The hours into the day,
The days to weeks,