16. But how is it that they are subdued into that {23} spherical obedience, like a crystal of wavellite?[11] Strange--that the vegetable creatures growing so fondly on rocks should form themselves in that mineral-like manner. It is true that the tops of all well-grown trees are rounded, on a large scale, as equally; but that is because they grow from a central stem, while these mossy mounds are made out of independent filaments, each growing to exactly his proper height in the sphere--short ones outside, long in the middle. Stop, though; _is_ that so? I am not even sure of that; perhaps they are built over a little dome of decayed moss below.[12] I must find out how every {24} filament grows, separately--from root to cap, through the spirally set leaves. And meanwhile I don't know very clearly so much as what a root is--or what a leaf is. Before puzzling myself any farther in examination either of moss or any other grander vegetable, I had better define these primal forms of all vegetation, as well as I can--or rather begin the definition of them, for future completion and correction. For, as my reader must already sufficiently perceive, this book is literally to be one of studies--not of statements. Some one said of me once, very shrewdly, When he wants to work out a subject, he writes a book on it. That is a very true saying in the main,--I work down or up to my mark, and let the reader see process and progress, not caring to conceal them. But this book will be nothing but process. I don't mean to assert anything positively in it from the first page to the last. Whatever I say, is to be understood only as a conditional statement--liable to, and inviting, correction. And this the more because, as on the whole, I am at war with the botanists, I can't ask them to help me, and then {25} call them names afterwards. I hope only for a contemptuous heaping of coals on my head by correction of my errors from them;--in some cases, my scientific friends will, I know, give me forgiving aid;--but, for many reasons, I am forced first to print the imperfect statement, as I can independently shape it; for if once I asked for, or received help, every thought would be frostbitten into timid expression, and every sentence broken by apology. I should have to write a dozen of letters before I could print a line, and the line, at last, would be only like a bit of any other botanical book--trustworthy, it might be, perhaps; but certainly unreadable. Whereas now, it will rather put things more forcibly in the reader's mind to have them retouched and corrected as we go on; and our natural and honest mistakes will often be suggestive of things we could not have discovered but by wandering. On these guarded conditions, then, I proceed to study, with my reader, the first general laws of vegetable form. * * * * * {26} CHAPTER II. THE ROOT.