All the beautiful things he saw; all the sweet sounds of Nature; all the noble thoughts that God put into his heart; he wrote down in strains of music that were sung and played in all parts of the world, and that charmed everybody who heard them. Carl was famous. But men declared that he had never seen the Nix, or played upon the golden harp, but had dreamed the whole story when he was in a half-conscious state on the bank, after he had managed to crawl out of the river by the help of the reeds. This narrow escape from death, they said, had given a more serious turn to his mind, and from thenceforth he had given up boyish frolics, and his thoughts had naturally turned to music—the art he best loved. But Carl, himself, always believed that the Nix had bestowed upon him the wonderful gift of melody he possessed. WATER AND MILK FROM PLANTS. [Illustration: PITCHER PLANT.] There are upon the earth great sandy tracts, where there are no springs, or brooks. When the rain falls, which it seldom does in these places, the parched earth drinks it all up, and no pools are formed at which the thirsty traveler can get a drink. And yet men are often obliged to travel over these plains to reach some place where their business calls them. They go in companies, and take with them provisions, and a large supply of water. This last they regard as the most precious of their possessions, and use it as sparingly as possible. But, notwithstanding all their care, it often gives out before they reach the end of their journey. And then, too, they frequently lose their way, and wander about over the hot sand, under a burning sun until they become sick and weak from thirst, and they sometimes die for want of water. This would happen much oftener than it does were it not for a little plant that a kind Providence has caused to grow in these desolate sandy plains. The picture of this plant, which we show you, was taken from one that grew in a garden, but it was transplanted there from the desert, where it is found in great abundance. This plant grows two or three feet high, and, at the end of each one of its broad dark green leaves, there is a strong tendril that holds up a cup of the same substance as the leaves. During the night the dew on the plant fills the cup with pure, clear, sweet water, which slowly evaporates during the day. You can easily imagine how glad the thirsty traveler is to find these cups of fresh water, all filled ready for his drinking. The name of this plant is _Nepenthes_, but we generally call it the Pitcher Plant. In other parts of the earth there are great marshy forests, where the pools of water are stagnant and impure; and, if people drink from them, they are made sick. A man might wander through these woods for days, and not find a drop of pure, wholesome water, were it not for the _Sarracenia_, or Amphora-plant.