In the case of a Lichen the partners really seem to be of use to each other. The Fungus is not a mere pauper living on his more active kinsman. If you examine a Lichen you will find a large number of transparent threads, and in their meshes lie the green Algae, giving the whole a greenish tint. The little cups or discs of the Fungus that appear on the surface are lined with vivid colors, and have delicate little bags or sacs, with seed-like spores inside. The Fungus supplies a shelter from extreme cold, and also holds water in which the Algae finds raw material. It is like a man and wife housekeeping, the man providing the house and the raw stuff—flour, eggs, sugar, etc.—and the wife makes these materials into food. Plants, by aid of their green stuff, work over the carbon and other materials they get from air and water and make sugar and starch, or organized food. This is their manufacture and they must have an abundance of light to do it well, so when the sea Algae grow to be immense kelps or seaweed, hundreds of feet long, they are kept afloat by their air bladders. Now, it is true the Fungus in our Lichen could not live at all without its busy Algae, which it holds in its transparent filaments, but it is not a useless partner, so we will not call it evil names. I think you will be surprised to hear, after all the warning given by these dependent and generally worthless idlers in the plant world, some of the beautiful and blooming flowers have fallen into their bad habits and are regular underground thieves. For the Gerardia or false foxglove has established no partnership; it is plain stealing. It still works, so it has not lost its green of the leaf, or the purple and gold of its flower, but it steals the materials for its work. When it becomes utterly idle and useless it will lose all its color and be like the ghostly white Indian pipes that grow in the shadowy pine woods. It is interesting to know how it steals. In the dark basement chambers underground the root servants of the plant move slowly in a certain circle that corresponds to the circle of light that the branches describe overhead. Within this space they gather chemicals from the soil and store up moisture, sending these by the sap up their elevators to the well-lighted leaves, where the manufacturing of starch and sugar goes busily on. Now, the Gerardia, being too trifling to collect its own stuff, sends suckers into the roots of other plants and greedily absorbs their contents. That is the reason it is so hard to transplant the Gerardia—its roots are enmeshed and entangled so in other roots below ground. A very odd thing sometimes happens to it. In the dark the roots occasionally blunder and tap other roots of the same Gerardia, just as if a pickpocket in the dark were by mistake to put his hand slyly into his own pocket and steal his own purse. Ella F. Mosby.