One day John G. Allen of Cherry, Arizona, went fishing along a small tributary of the River Verde. His skill with the rod seeming to fail him, he decided to make his outing profitable in other directions by hunting through some neighbouring cliff-dwellings for pottery. While wandering through those ancient and curious abodes, he accidentally discovered a section of wall which looked as though it might have been built to close a former opening. Careful investigation revealed the truth of this surmise, for, with a little perseverance, he broke through and removed enough stone to admit his body into a small room or recess, which contained some pottery and household utensils of extreme age. In one corner of this prehistoric place, Mr. Allen discovered a few Corn cobs and about a dozen Squash seeds. More as a joke than anything else, he planted twelve of the seeds the next spring. Eleven of them remained insensate to the revivifying influence of earth, sun and water, but the twelfth took courage and, bursting the walls which had imprisoned it for hundreds and possibly thousands of years, sprang up into a hardy, healthy vine, which eventually bore a huge, green, extremely warty Squash weighing nearly twenty-five pounds. This vegetable visitor from a shadowy age was named the “Aztec,” and attained great fame. There have been other and more striking instances of the suspended animation which permits plant life to lie quiescent for countless centuries, ready for an opportune time to resume the regular cycle of its existence. There are those who are always ready to cry “fraud,” and conclusively prove these marvels false, but there is abundant evidence to show that plant embryos can and, in some cases, do survive long periods of time. What a lesson lies in such phenomena! The power that can keep alive and unchanged the cells of a vegetable seed so many centuries is not likely to allow the soul of a man to perish. What an argument for immortality! What a breeder of strange and mysterious thoughts! There is much mysticism in the plant world. What man does not understand, he either holds in awe or contempt. The plants are too often treated with good-humoured derision, but among higher minds, their unintelligible factors give them a greater fascination--a mystery and a psychic interest which is very alluring. The plants seem to be closer in tune with Nature than man. They place themselves under her direct tutelage, and are extremely sensitive to her various moods and fancies. They respond to influences of weather and time with remarkable alacrity. The scarlet Pimpernel in particular, is an excellent barometer. At the least indication of rain, it folds its petals together in snug security, and, contrary to human beings, closes instead of opens the umbrella of its body. On a rainy day, it never unfolds at all, so eager is it to keep its petals dry. “No heart can think, no tongue can tell, The virtues of the Pimpernell.”