Cinnamon is the bark of a plant, and if you are acquainted with orange trees you will be willing to say they are “made of sugar and spice and everything nice,” for the whole tree, wood, bark, stems, leaves, flowers, and fruit, is fragrant and spicy. Oil is another common substance in plants, and it is made from the materials of starch which, as we know, are carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen; cotton-seed oil, olive oil, and castor oil we are all familiar with. All nuts contain a great deal of oil, and the skin of a fresh-picked orange is so full of it that it runs down our fingers when we cut the orange. All the things in a plant—starch, sugar, oils, spices, wood, bark—everything is made by the wonderful protoplasm in the cells. Starch and the food taken up by the roots pass through all parts of the plant by the sap tubes, and as the sap goes along, each living cell draws into itself the substances from the sap that it needs, and these it combines into the things it wants to make. Some of the cells in an orange skin, for instance, attract out of the sap the materials to make the fragrant, stinging oil that fills the fresh skin, while other cells attract the materials to build the white cottony covering inside the outer skin, and so the cells in each part of the plant take out what they need to build with. [Illustration: [Flower]] WHAT BECOMES OF THE FLOWERS? Early in the spring the snowdrops and crocuses peep out, and then they go away. We do not think much about it, for other flowers have come in their places. Spring beauties and bloodroots shine in the woods, and then they go away. But the mandrakes have come with their umbrella leaves, and then the columbines and roses ask for a welcome. After awhile we can find no more mandrakes and columbines, only yellow apples and brown seed-pods. [Illustration: [Leaves]] [Illustration: [Leaves]] Jack-in-the-Pulpit jumps up quite early in the summer, and then we cannot find him, only in the late summer we sometimes come across little clusters of bright red berries lying on the ground. We would scarcely suspect them of having any relation to Jack, yet they are his berries. But what has become of Jack? In the autumn the rose leaves fall off, and there is left only red stems and red berries. The morning-glory vine wilts and turns black at the first frost; it sinks to the ground and we see it no more, or else its stems linger brown and hard for a time, but in the end it all disappears. What has become of it? And the nasturtiums—what a wreck the frost makes of them! The leaves are wilted and black; the stems, too, are soft and lie flat on the ground.