The greatest of all floral barometers is the Weather-Plant or Indian Licorice (_Abrus Precatorius_). So keenly sensitive to all atmospheric conditions is this plant that it may be used to foretell cyclones, hurricanes, earthquakes, and even volcanic eruptions. Its small, rose-like leaves are in continual motion, which varies noticeably under different electrical and magnetic influences. The Austrian Professor Norwack, working at his Weather-Plant Observatory at Kew Gardens, London, once used it to predict a disastrous fire-damp explosion. Many flowers show a remarkable appreciation of the passage of time and open and close at regular hours each day. In fact, a close student of floral habits can actually tell the time of day by watching the actions of the flowers around him. It is said that the Swedish botanist Linnaeus once built himself a flower clock, arranged to count the passing hours by the folding and unfolding of different blossoms. One does not really need to go to this trouble. The common flowers of the field and garden are all accurate time-pieces. Long before the rising of the sun their activity begins; in fact even the night hours are all noticed by certain more obscure plants. Along about three in the morning, the dainty Goat’s-Beard wakes from sleep and spreads its petals. Promptly at four o’clock the Dandelion begins its day’s work. The Naked Stalked Poppy, the copper-coloured Day-Lily and the smooth Sow-Thistle are five o’clock risers. The Field Marigold is a slug-a-bed, and does not blink its sleepy eyes at the sun until ten o’clock. The Ice-Plant throws back its downy coverlets exactly at noon. Shortly after mid-day, the early risers begin to get tired, and prepare to sleep through the heat of the afternoon. Beginning with the Hawkweed Picris shortly after noon, and extending to the bed-time of the Chickweed at ten at night, every quarter hour sees the retirement of some particular flower. After sundown, the night owls make their appearance, and such plants as the Night-Blooming Cereus, the Moonflower, and the Datura check off the fleeting minutes. How can this marvelous acquaintance with the passage of time be explained in terms of cold materialism? Among plants which show a well-developed sense of direction, the Compass-Plant is probably the most remarkable. Its flowers, and sometimes the edges of its leaves, always point toward the north with the certainty of a magnet. Travelers have been known to use it as a natural guide. A great many plants perform remarkable acts which can only be explained by the possession of some measure of psychic sense or quality. Thus, a climbing plant in need of a prop will creep along the ground toward the nearest vertical support. If the support is shifted, the vine will promptly change the direction of its progress, and eventually reach the object of its desires.