s natural and
excusable that popular prejudice should have associated the subject of
cross-fertilization with the orchid alone; for it is even to-day
apparently a surprise to the average mind that almost any casual wild
flower will reveal a floral mechanism often quite as astonishing as
those of the orchids described in Darwin's volume. Let us glance, for
instance, at the row of stamens below (Fig. 1), selected at random from
different flowers, with one exception wild flowers. Almost everybody
knows that the function of the stamen is the secretion of pollen. This
function, however, has really no reference whatever to the external form
of the stamen. Why, then, this remarkable divergence? Here is an anther
with its two cells connected lengthwise, and opening at the sides,
perhaps balanced at the centre upon the top of its stalk or filament, or
laterally attached and continuous with it; here is another opening by
pores at the tip, and armed with two or four long horns; here is one
with a feathery tail. In another the twin cells are globular and closely
associated, while in its neighbor they are widely divergent. Another is
club-shaped, and opens on either side by one or more upraised lids; and
here is an example with its two very unequal cells separated by a long
curved arm or connective, which is hinged at the tip of its filament;
and the procession might be continued across two pages with equal
variation.

[Illustration: Fig. 1]

As far back as botanical history avails us these forms have been the
same, each true to its particular species of flower, each with an
underlying purpose which has a distinct and often simple reference to
its form; and yet, incredible as it now seems to us, the botanist of the
past has been content with the simple technical description of the
feature, without the slightest conception of its meaning, dismissing it,
perhaps, with passing comment upon its "eccentricity" or "curious
shape." Indeed, prior to Darwin's time it might be said that the flower
was as a voice in the wilderness. In 1735, it is true, faint
premonitions of its present message began to be heard through their
first though faltering interpreter, Christian Conrad Sprengel, a German
botanist and school-master, who upon one occasion, while looking into
the chalice of the wild geranium, received an inspiration which led him
to consecrate his life thence-forth to the solution of the floral
hieroglyphics. Sprengel, it may be said, w