Some marvelous experiments carried on by Sir Jaghadish Chaundra Bose in Calcutta, India, offer interesting light on the higher life of plants. By exceptionally delicate and ingenious instruments, Sir Jaghadish has been able to measure the plant movements associated with growth, shock and response to stimuli in general. He has come to the conclusion that plants not only have a conscious intelligence, but have their good and bad days, their moods, their whims. He believes they react to slight or pleasurable stimuli by general expansion. Violent stimuli cause pain and contraction. A plant struck a blow quivers and shakes in veritable agony. Plants about to die undergo a violent spasm and then by making no response at all to outside influences, show that they have actually given up the ghost. Sir Jaghadish is satisfied that a plant pulled up by the roots experiences a shock comparable to that of a man being beaten into insensibility. Many trees and plants, as every gardener knows, fail to survive transplanting and die from pure shock, even if their tissue has been in no way injured. Sir Jaghadish has performed the interesting experiment of administering a powerful chemical to act as an anesthetic to trees about to be transplanted. Such specimens have stood the re-location well but in some cases have shown an apparent loss of memory and a general state of upset habit, exactly as would a man or animal coming out of a stupor. All this strongly suggests a soul or driving spiritual force in every living creature. Regarding its exact nature there are many opinions. Maeterlinck believes that there is a general scattered intelligence, a sort of universal fluid, which penetrates all organisms in an amount proportionate to their conductivity. Man offers the least resistance to the divine principle and so receives a generous share. The plants receive lesser amounts, but really belong to the same intellectual order. They exhibit the same ideas, the same hopes, the same logic and undergo the same trials in a lesser degree than their more educated brothers. The plants and man both grope, hesitate and correct themselves in their labourious evolutionary development. Of course, this theory is only a conjecture, but is very appealing and much more modest than the traditional attitude which assumes that man is a miraculous and marvelously endowed being fallen from another world and therefore lacking any definite ties with the rest of terrestrial life. If then we believe that a vital spiritual force dwells within every plant, what becomes of it after the death of its enclosing walls? Each cell of a tree in effect dies many times each season. Continual waste and renovation bring periodic transformation of cell structure. The abode is changed but not the inhabitant. There must be an animating, non-physical force which carries on the cycle. If it is superior to the forces of bodily dissolution, must it not also be infinite, immortal?