Title: Every Girl's Book
Author: Butler, George Frank, 1857-1921
Language: English
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EVERY GIRL'S BOOK



EVERY GIRL'S BOOK

BY

GEORGE F. BUTLER, M. D.

1912

THE ABBOTT PRESS

RAVENSWOOD

CHICAGO



Copyright 1912

THE ABBOTT PRESS

CHICAGO



PUBLISHER'S NOTES

This is the second of a series of books on "How to Live," by Dr.
George F. Butler. These books range from childhood to old age. The boy
and the girl, the young man and young woman, the young husband and
young wife, middle-aged people, and old people are instructed in these
books in matters of the utmost importance to their health and
happiness. The first in this series was "Every Boy's Book." These two
books are especially intended for boys and girls from ten to fourteen
years of age, but every father and mother should read them, so they,
too, can know the truth about these great sex facts, and be prepared
to answer children's questions--now sometimes troublesome.



CONTENTS

 Chapter                                                          Page
      I. How the Story Began                                         1
     II. What the Bee Wanted of Elsie's Nose                        10
    III. The Husbands and Wives of Plants                           21
     IV. The Papa and Mamma Parts of the Plants                     34
      V. The First Life on Earth                                    43
     VI. Where Baby Animals Come From                               54
    VII. Where Baby Girls Come From                                 62



PREFACE

The greatest duty of mankind lies in the proper uprearing of our
children. The fact is recognized, but is the duty fulfilled?
Do we rear our children as we should? There is but one answer:
We fail. Teaching them many things for their good, we yet keep
from them ignorantly, foolishly, with a hesitancy and neglect
unpardonable--knowledge, the possession of which is essential for
their future welfare.

The first necessity for well-being is a healthy mind in a healthy
body. We can give our children that, if we will, by teaching them all
about the body, its source of life, its different functions, and its
care. The child should grow to maturity knowing that the human body
is something fine, something that accomplishes good, something to be
proud of in every way. Above all should the child be taught all
concerning the process of reproduction, just as it is taught the
action of the stomach or of the brain. By so doing, we can produce a
better and healthier and happier generation to follow ours. By what
strange and mistaken impulse in the past such absolutely required
teaching has been so studiously withheld is beyond all comprehension.

We want the best for our children. We want them to grow up with right
thoughts and habits, yet we keep from them the knowledge without which
their thoughts and habits will surely be imperiled when there arises
in them the generative instinct, which has its effect upon both male
and female youth alike.

We give them no information as to sexual matters; and, when it comes
to them, it is too often but in the way of half-truths, mysterious,
exciting to the imagination, and dangerous.

Yet how simple and natural the giving of this information might be
made; and how easily the child might be safeguarded! Mankind has
demands which must be gratified. We have hunger; we have thirst; we
have the impulse of reproduction. Each is right and natural. There
should be no difference in the consideration of either of these wants.
All about them the child should be taught, from the beginning, so that
all will be natural and right and commonplace and a matter of course
long before the age is reached when the sexual instinct is developed.

Is not this reason? Is it not healthful, logical, common sense? Is it
not the wholesome and right and proper view?

Nature is devoted to reproduction. From the cell to the flower, and so
on upward, the creatures of the world are but renewing themselves, and
the learning of this is the greatest and most beautiful of all
studies. All this the child can be taught.

Elementary biology, or the study of subjects of what we call zoology
and botany combined, can be made the most attractive of studies to any
child who has learned to read. The boy or girl may be taught that the
trees and flowers are living things that are beautiful and are male
and female. The child may be shown how the bees carry the pollen from
flower to flower, and how other plants and flowers are produced in
that way.

He can be taught the wonder of seed, and its consequences. He can be
shown the birds in their mating, and the marvel of the egg, and why it
can produce a chicken. And thus the child, boy or girl, may be led on,
through the gradations, to a study of the human body, and how
reproduction is provided for there as in the bodies of all other
living things, vegetable or animal.

Before the child, boy or girl, has reached the age of ten, long before
the sex instinct has been aroused, the sexual lesson will have been
learned innocently and thoroughly and, when the change comes, it will
be as no bewildering, exciting thing, but something anticipated, and
received with a sense of understanding and responsibility.

This knowledge almost unknowingly acquired as a child, will mean
health of mind and of body, and the avoidance of what may result most
evilly.

How is sexual instruction given now? In tens of thousands of
instances--no doubt in the majority--not at all. Lectures to youth of
either sex are given sometimes, but only when they have reached what
is called "the age of understanding."

Here is where parents err, and seriously. The teaching has been
deferred too long. The young of either sex, long before puberty, have
acquired some knowledge of the mystery--which should have been no
mystery at all--and late teaching, however sound and wise, but gives
an added and inviting direction to the subject suddenly made to assume
a new and startling importance. It arouses curiosity, and more. It may
sometimes be harmful.

As for the youth never taught at all, those who acquire their
knowledge only through accidental sources--usually incapable, and too
often vicious--their case could not be worse. They are unprepared for
one of the tests and demands for life. Their parents are guilty.

There is nothing impure in nature. To guard the children, to prepare
them for every phase of life, is the parents' duty. The child is pure,
and to the child all things are pure. Teach the child, simply as a
matter of course, all about the ways of reproduction, and to the boy
or girl purity will remain when the age of sexual sway and impulse
comes. This is the only law in the case. Let it be followed, and the
generation to follow will be clearer, wiser, and healthier than is the
present one.

It is my hope that this "Every Girl's Book" (with "Every Boy's Book"
which preceded it) will afford the means so long needed and desired
for teaching children what they should be taught. I have tried to tell
the story of sex naturally, in a clear and simple way, from the
development of life, and of life's relations, from protoplasm all
through organic life up to mankind. Its teachings should result in
wide promotion of the innocence of knowledge which is better,
infinitely, than the imperiling innocence of ignorance.

                                             George F. Butler, M. D.

  Chicago, Ill.
    July 1, 1912.



I

HOW THE STORY BEGAN


Her name was Elsie and she was asleep in a cozy nook in the woods,
which was the beginning of it all.

Many strange things may happen to a little girl who falls asleep in
the woods, but there never happened to any other little girl, either
asleep or awake, in the woods or at home, a more important thing than
that which had its start for Elsie while she lay there under the green
boughs beside a bubbling spring of crystal-clear water, the scent of
pines and flowers sweetening the still air. A robin redbreast whistled
melodiously for "rain, rain, rain," and the cows in the pasture, who
do not like rain as well as they do sunshine, lifted up their voices
in protest, calling "oo-oo-ohh! moo-oo-hh! noo-oo-hh!" as if they were
trying to say "no, no, no!" and could not speak the English language
well. It was a peaceful woodland scene, a scene into which, if you
were awake, you would expect that a railroad train would be about the
last thing that could possibly enter.

But Elsie was asleep, and in her dreams she was sure she saw a great
locomotive engine charging down upon her with frightful speed. As soon
as she saw it she tried to cry out, but could not do so. Somehow she
could not send a single sound from her lips. Then she tried to jump
out of the way, but was unable to do that either. She could not even
move in the slightest degree. So, full of terror, she thought she
stood there, helplessly, while the engine rushed nearer and nearer,
puffing forth vast clouds of black smoke, and roaring and hissing and
clanking. Again she tried to scream, and could not: again she tried to
run aside, but could not move. She seemed so small, so tiny and weak,
beside that monster! And she wondered how it could possibly bear to
hurt her, a big, powerful thing like that--it was not fair! But--bang!
The cowcatcher caught her up--

And she awoke to see a fuzzy bumble-bee just alighting on her nose!

Though Elsie did not, as a general thing, care much for bumble-bees,
and would rather have their room than their company, she was so highly
relieved to find that the gigantic engine was _only_ a bumble-bee that
she said, "Oh!" with such violence of surprise and gladness that the
bee, doubtless as much afraid of her as she had been of the
dream-engine, shot out of sight in an instant and she never saw him
afterward, that she knew of.

She sat a moment staring after him, trying to collect herself, for she
was confused with her sudden awakening, and then she jumped up
laughing.

"What a funny bumble-bee!" she exclaimed. "_I_ wouldn't have hurt
him!" Then in conscious dignity, proud to think that she was now big
enough for something to be afraid of, she took up the pail of water
that she had come to get from the spring and hurried homeward.

Now if this were all the story it would not amount to much, and it
never would have got itself told in these pages. And, if Elsie had
been like some girls, who are not chums with their mothers, the story
would never have been told here either, because she would not have
repeated the adventure to her mamma, in which case her mamma would not
have taken the story up where the daughter left it, and shown its
importance. But Elsie and her mother were like two sisters, a big and
a little one, and there were not many things that happened to the one
that the other did not hear of very soon. So away went Elsie singing
and laughing and swinging her pail of water, her bright hair blowing
in wisps around her sweet face with its red lips and cheeks and white
teeth, the prettiest, loveliest picture in the whole lovely landscape
of foliage and flowers and pastures and meadows.

Nobody in the world ever yet found a prettier picture anywhere than a
fresh and clean girl is, as everybody will admit if asked, and Elsie
was fresh and clean even if she had just been rudely aroused from
sleep. She bathed her whole body twice every day, washed her face and
hands often, brushed her teeth always after eating, smiled a great
deal, and got plenty of fresh air and sunshine, and this was enough to
make any girl fresh and clean and pretty, or almost enough.

Of course a girl must eat sufficient food, and must brush her hair and
take care of her nails, and all those little things--everybody knows
that. But the main things, beside food, the things, too, that some
little girls fail in, are air, sunshine, water and smiles. Elsie had
all these and therefore she looked clean and fresh and pretty.

She had on a dress too, naturally, but I don't know just what kind of
a one it was, for that is a small matter compared with the body
itself. I think it was some kind of a calico, made for vacation
frolicing, for Elsie was a city girl staying in the country for the
summer, and almost anything was good enough for that.

So Elsie, fresh and clean, dancing and singing up the lane, swinging
her pail of crystal water, the loveliest sight in the whole lovely
landscape, came in view of the house where they were staying. And no
sooner had she caught a glimpse of her mother on the porch than, eager
to tell her funny experience, she ran forward in pleasant excitement,
crying out:

"Oh, mamma! Such a queer thing--Oh, Oh, it was an engine, the biggest,
biggest you ever saw--and--and it stepped on my nose--I mean it was
only a bumble-bee and--it--it almost ran right over me--"

"Isn't my little girl somewhat mixed in her speech!" smiled her mother
as Elsie paused for breath.

"I--I guess I--I am!" Elsie faltered. "But then, I'm so excited!"

"Yes, you are excited," smiled her mother, putting her arm around her
shoulders and walking with her to the kitchen. "And when you are calm
you may tell me all about it."

So Elsie carried the pail of water to the sink and set it on its
shelf. And when she had worked off her surplus energy in this way she
felt sober enough to tell her story clearly, and she did so, snuggled
in her mother's arms in the hammock on the porch. She finished by
saying:

"Wasn't that a funny thing, mamma, that I should dream that the
bumble-bee was an engine just going to run over me!"

Then the really important part of the story began. Her mother
answered:



II

WHAT THE BEE WANTED OF ELSIE'S NOSE


"Yes, it may seem funny, but it is natural. When you were asleep you
heard the bee buzzing and rumbling, and the sound reminded you of an
engine, so you began to picture an engine in your mind, and with the
queer mixture of fact and fancy that are common to dreams you thought
it was coming right at you. And it was only a bumble-bee taking a look
at your little red-and-white nose."

Elsie clapped her hands and laughed. Then she asked:

"What did the bee want to see my nose for, mamma?"

"He thought, perhaps, that it was some new kind of a bud, and he
wished to examine it," Mrs. Edson smiled. "A little girl's face is
very much like a pretty flower. Your hair was tumbled all about your
head, I suppose, and your little rosebud of a nose, peeking through,
attracted the bee."

At this idea Elsie laughed again, joyously.

"But, mamma," she asked, "why should the bee wish to see my nose, even
if he did think it might be a flower? Do bees eat flowers, mamma?"

Elsie's mother threw her a sudden look that was almost a startled one.
Then she hugged her close and kissed her.

"What a great big little girl you are getting to be, darling!" she
said, gazing fondly at her. This did not seem to Elsie much like an
answer to her question, and she fixed her eyes brightly on her
mother's face as if waiting for her to go on with her words. But her
mother only said: "I scarcely realized that you were no longer my
little baby-girl, and that you were instead almost a young lady, old
enough to understand many new things, among them the reason why a bee
goes to flowers."

She paused again, looking at her big little girl wistfully. She was
thinking: "Elsie has begun to be a woman now, and I shall soon, all
too soon, lose my baby-girl, for she will grow up and marry and go
away to a home of her own and have a little girl like herself, just as
I have had her!"

This made her feel sad, but she said nothing to Elsie of this feeling,
for she would not be able to understand it and it would only make her
feel sad too. By and by she would tell her what it meant to have a
husband and children and home of her own, after her parents were
passed away, and she must begin to prepare her for this knowledge now.
So, finally, she said:

"No, darling, bees do not eat flowers, though they eat a part of them,
or a product of them. The most important thing that they visit flowers
for, as far as the world is concerned, is to fertilize them."

"Fer-fer-ilize!" stammered Elsie. "What is that, mamma?"

"Not ferferilize, darling, but fertilize, fer-til-ize, which means to
make rich, or fruitful. As strange as it may seem the bees and other
insects are of vast importance to men--sh-h!"

She suddenly held up her hand, motioning for silence, and Elsie,
wondering what was coming, followed her mother's pointing finger with
her eyes. What she saw was a bee hovering over a bright yellow
buttercup that grew almost within reach of where she sat.

"Watch him!" whispered her mother.

Elsie did so, holding her breath for fear of scaring him away. He
alighted on the flower, crawled clumsily over it for a second or two,
pausing now and then to bury his head in the blossom, but he did not
do anything else, that Elsie could see, except to tumble about very
awkwardly and funnily and then fly away to another buttercup and
repeat the operation. Elsie drew a long breath and looked at her
mother inquiringly.

"It did not seem as if he did much, did it, dearie!" she said in
answer to the look. "But in reality he did a great deal, for he--what
shall I say--married? Yes, married! The bee actually married those two
buttercups together, so that next season, when these two flowers, the
papa and mamma, are dead and gone, there will spring up and grow other
buttercups, baby-plants, the children of these two. If it were not for
the bee, or other insects, we should have no bright flowers in the
world."

"Oh!" Elsie's eyes opened wide. She thought a moment, then, "Could he
marry my nose to anything?" she burst forth. But seeing the absurdity
of the notion before the words were fairly out of her mouth she joined
in her mother's laughter over it.

"No, dearie, of course not. It is only flowers that bees marry
together. And not the least strange thing about it is that they do not
know they are doing so."

"Don't know what they are doing!" exclaimed Elsie.

"Oh, yes, they know what they are doing for themselves, but they can't
have the least notion of what they are doing for the flowers and
indeed for the whole world! Without plants there could be no life of
any kind on earth. It is the plants that produce life. Through them
come animals, and even men and women and little girls. The plants feed
on the earth and air, which men and animals cannot do. A man or a lamb
cannot eat the soil or live on air, but a plant lives by eating the
minerals and gases and water of the earth and air, and the man and
the lamb eat the plants, and so are able to live. Without the plants
we could not exist, and without the insects, which fertilize the
plants, so that they can grow, the plants themselves would soon die.
Don't you think now that what the bee did was quite an important
matter, even if it did seem so trivial?"

"Ye-yes," Elsie hesitated. She did not yet grasp the full depth of her
mother's words. They meant so much! "But," she continued, her bright
eyes eagerly turned on her mother's face, "we don't eat the buttercup,
mamma, do we?"

"No, sweetie, but we do eat very gladly a part of it, and that is the
part that the bee visited the flower for, and which he took away as
his fee for marrying the two. Can you guess what it is?"

The idea of a bee performing a marriage between flowers and taking a
fee for it was a little too much for Elsie, and when it was added that
she and her mother ate this fee such a look of amazement came into her
sweet face that her mother could not help smiling broadly.

"It is the honey, little girlie," she said. "The bee takes the honey
from the flower and carries it home to the hive, where he stores it up
until he has a great mass of it, and then the bee-man gets it and
sells it to the grocer, who sells it to us."

"W-e-l-l!" said Elsie slowly, "if that isn't strange!" She sat a
moment thinking of this miracle, her mother watching her lovingly and
considering what she ought to say next, for she had a great secret to
tell her little daughter, a secret so great and important that much
wise thought was required to study out just how to make it plain to a
girl as young as Elsie. Besides, she was interested to know what Elsie
herself would say next, for she was bringing her up to think
logically, so that she might know always how to ask the right question
at the right time, instead of the wrong one. And she was very much
pleased when Elsie, instead of putting the last question first, as
some little girls would have done, put the right one first by saying:

"But, mamma, how _can_ flowers marry! And how can a bee possibly marry
them?"

This was the right question to ask first, even if it was a kind of
double-headed one, because this marriage was the first of the wonders
that had amazed her, and the answer to it would lead logically to the
fee and the honey eaten by people, and these questions would be easier
to make plain after the first one was answered.



III

THE HUSBANDS AND WIVES OF PLANTS


Mrs. Edson drew a long breath because she knew the time had arrived
when, for her little daughter's sake, she must give her the
information which would mark her growth from girlhood into young
womanhood, and the fact disturbed her, for she did not want to lose
her little girl, even in exchange for the lovely young lady whom she
knew would take that dear little girl's place. But it must be done,
and, thankful that she had studied the subject enough to know how to
do it in a nice and plain way, she began:

"In the first place, dear," she said, "you must know that the flowers
are the husbands and wives of plants, made so by nature. They are in
their way as truly married as Mr. and Mrs. Jones are in their way, or
as your papa and I are. This marriage is a law of nature, invented to
carry on the race, whatever that race may be, whether it is that of
mankind, or plants, or animals, or birds, or even fishes. For not only
do men and flowers marry, everything in nature does the same--turtles,
frogs, robins, elephants, everything!"

Elsie wished very much at this point to ask if her mother had ever
seen an elephant's wife, thinking that she must look rather funny,
much different, to say the least, from a flower's wife, but as the
answer came to her at once, without asking the question, she said
nothing. Of course an elephant's wife must be another elephant, as the
flower's wife was another flower. But it was all very singular, and
the sparkle of her eyes as she looked into her mother's face showed
her interest in what might be coming. Mrs. Edson went on:

"We will begin with plants, because they came first into the world as
living beings, and all other living beings not only had their origin
in plants but live by aid of them to this day. From the plants grew
animals, and from animals grew men and women and little girls. It took
a long, long time for all this to come about, so long that the human
mind fails to grasp or comprehend it; and at first, when one hears of
it for the first time, it seems wholly impossible and unbelievable.
But science has proved it to be true, and even shows the exact way in
which the various changes were made. Many, if not all, the steps by
which we mounted from the condition of a tiny speck of jelly-plant, a
speck no bigger than the point of a pin, to become human beings are
still in existence and are frequently observed by scientists. With a
microscope anybody may see them. So we know that the theory of
evolution, as it is called, is a true one. It is also an exceedingly
wonderful and beautiful truth, full of secrets and surprises of the
most interesting and delightful kind, as I shall show. Now let's go
and examine the buttercup that the bee just married to the second
buttercup."

Elsie jumped up with a little gurgle of joy and ran ahead of her
mother to the flower. This was better than playing "secret" with
Rosie and Eva and the other girls, for their secrets were not real
ones, they were just made up and they did not amount to very much
after all, but this was a real one, kept up in earnest with the bees
and flowers. And now she was to be let into it! Mrs. Edson bent over
the bright yellow blossom, taking it gently in her fingers to prevent
it from nodding so briskly in the breeze that they should be unable to
examine it closely.

"You see, dear," she said, pointing with a twig to the different parts
as she named them, "right here, in the exact center of the blossom, is
a bunch of green growing in the form of an oval, shaped somewhat like
an egg with the smaller end upward."

"Yes, oh, yes!" Elsie answered eagerly. "What is it, mamma?"

"Broadly speaking we will call it the ovary. I am not going to confuse
you by giving you too many hard words at first, words like corolla,
carpel, style, stigma, and the like. I shall name only two parts of
the flower for you to remember just now, because only two are really
necessary to be named at this point. So the name of this one
is--what?"

"Ovary!" answered Elsie quickly.

"Yes, ovary! It is called so because it contains ovules, which are
tiny seeds or eggs. That is the mother part of the plant."

"The mother!" Elsie queried. "Why, mamma, is there a father too?"

"Yes, dearie, many plants have both a mother and a father part, which
grow near together in the same flower, while other plants have only a
father part, and still others have only a mother part. This buttercup
has both, has both the male and the female principle. The ovary is the
female, and here, above it and surrounding it, you see a number of
taller spires, yellow in color and each of them bearing a tiny
enlargement, a kind of knob, at the top."

"Yes, yes, but that--that can't be the papa part! Is it, mamma?" she
cried, examining the rather insignificant appearing spires dubiously.
"They don't look much like a--a papa!" she said in some
disappointment. Her mother laughed.

"They certainly do not look much like a man-papa," she returned, "but
they form the papa part of the plant, nevertheless, and are truly the
papas of the baby buttercups. And their name is the second one that I
wish you to remember from now on. It is stamen."

"Stamen!" said Elsie.

"Yes, each of these stems is called a stamen, and they form the male
part of the plant, the father part. Many plants, those of the simpler
kinds, have only one stamen and it grows in the flower so that its
head hangs right above the ovary. Here you see that all of the stamens
are above the ovary, and the reason why they are placed there by
nature you will see very soon. What I wish now is to show you why the
bee came to the flower."

"I know--it was for honey! Isn't that what you said before, mamma?"

"Yes, darling, but do you see any honey here?"

"No, mamma, and I never knew before that buttercups had honey. I
always thought honey came from a beehive."

"It does come to us from a beehive, but it comes from flowers first,
and one of the many kinds that furnish it is this buttercup. The bee
sips it from the flowers, just a tiny bit from each blossom that he
visits, and when he has enough he takes it home to the hive and puts
it away to eat by-and-by, in the winter, when there are no flowers
growing for him to rifle. He does it just as men lay away money for 'a
rainy day,' as we say, and as squirrels lay up a store of nuts for the
cold weather. Now, suppose you count those flattened, round-cornered
parts of the buttercup--how many are there?"

"Five," said Elsie quickly.

"Yes, there are five of them, and they are called petals. You will
notice that they are much narrower and slighter at the bottom than
they are at the top. It is at the bottom that they are joined to the
central part of the flower. Now, just where they are connected with
this central part there is a tiny sack of honey."

"It must be _very_ tiny," said Elsie, regarding the slender connection
earnestly, "for there isn't room enough for much, I'm sure. And it
must be all covered up, for I can't see any signs of it."

"It is covered up. There is a very small scale, or leaf, over it to
protect it from those insects who have no right to the honey. But the
bee knows how to get at it, and he does so very quickly, once he
alights on the blossom, as we have just seen one do. For while he
appeared as if he were merely tumbling clumsily around on the flower
he was sampling those honey-sacks, and we saw how speedily he finished
all five of them on this flower and then buzzed busily away to the
other."

"He was just the same as at dinner, then, wasn't he mamma! But why did
he go to the other flower--didn't he get all he wanted from this
one?"

"No, darlingest, he gets but very little from each flower. If he could
take all he wanted from one he would never fly right to another. And
then, if all the other insects should do the same, the whole plan of
nature would fall through and there would soon be no life on earth."

Elsie's eyes looked very large when she heard this.

"Would I die, and you, mamma, and all of us--Alice and Rosie, and, oh,
everybody we know?"

"Yes, dearie, all of us. Those few simple plants which still, in the
primitive way, fertilize themselves, are not enough and are too weak
to carry on the vegetation of the earth, and without the insects and
birds and the wind we never should have been born at all; for they are
necessary to make the plants reproduce their kinds and grow, and the
plants are necessary food for us as well as for the animals that we
eat, such as the hens and ducks and sheep and cows. So nature has
given each flower only a little honey, not enough for the bee, and he
is compelled to fly to many before he becomes satisfied. And this
brings us back to the stamen and ovary again, to show what they are
for and how the bee marries the two plants together after he has
collected his fee of delicious honey."

"I am all 'tention," said Elsie, in so quaint an imitation of older
folks that her mother was forced to smile, knowing that she had a
listener that was interested, to say the least--a listener who felt
the importance and gravity of the study which they were now pursuing.
Elsie never attempted big words except when she felt dignified.



IV

THE PAPA AND MAMMA PARTS OF THE PLANTS


"Now," said Mrs. Edson, taking hold of the buttercup again, "you see
here, at the top of each stamen, the slight enlargement that I
mentioned. It looks like a kind of knob, and it really is a hard,
hollow sack, or bag, containing a fine yellow powder, which is called
pollen. Is that plain so far, dearie?"

"Pollen, yes, mamma! And do you wish me to remember that name too?"

"Yes, it is very necessary that you should do so. You will soon learn
why. Now look again at the green ovary. That is also hollow, and
contains seeds or eggs, as I said before. In plants we call them
seeds and in animals eggs. And it is these seeds that grow into the
baby plants. But they cannot grow alone, without help. With a certain
kind of help they can and do grow, and what do you suppose that help
is?"

Elsie gazed earnestly at her mother, trying to think it out. But she
was compelled to shake her head after all.

"I can't imagine," she said.

"Nothing but that some of the pollen shall be mixed with them," said
her mother.

"Oh, I see, I see!" Elsie cried delightedly. "That is why the stamens
with the pollen in them are right over the ovaries."

"Yes, dear, you have guessed it. The ripe pollen, falling into the
ripe ovary, would fertilize the seeds. And with some plants, the
earlier and simpler kinds, this is just what happens. But here you can
see that the ovary is not ripe. It is hard and green. When it is ripe
its color is yellow. But the pollen is ripe now, you can see it all
over the anthers, as the knobs or sacks are called. If the pollen
should fall upon the ovary now it would roll off without entering, and
would be wasted. Now what do you suppose happens?"

"The--the--"

Elsie hesitated, looking with very bright eyes at her mother, almost
sure enough to go on, but not quite. It seemed so peculiar, the
thought that had come to her, and she did not see just how it could
be.

"You were going to say the bee, weren't you?" her mother smiled.

"Oh yes--and would that have been right?" Elsie cried in delight.

"Yes, that would have been exactly right. If we had been near enough
to examine the bee's motions closely we should have seen that he
alighted on the ovary, and then began to turn here and there in order
to get at the honey at the base of each petal. As he did so he brushed
off some of the pollen, for he was right in amongst the stamens, and
this powdery pollen stuck to his fuzzy body and he carried it away
with him."

"But if he carried it away how could it get into the flower's ovary?"
Elsie asked, puzzled.

"It did not get into this flower's ovary," her mother answered.
"Nature did not intend that it should, and that is why the bee is
introduced. For the other buttercup that he flew to, or some other
one that he would visit afterward, would have its ovary ripe, and when
he alighted on it in search of honey some of the pollen would be
brushed off his body right into this ovary that was all ready to
receive it."

"Oh! But what would happen then? The little baby buttercups would
begin to grow right away, mamma?"

"Yes, the ovary would close up and the seeds would begin to grow, very
slowly. They would keep on growing until they were ripe and then they
would burst their covering and fall out on the ground. Those of them
that were fortunate enough to become embedded in the soil, so that
they would not freeze in the winter, would come out in the spring as
little plants, which would soon bring forth buttercups. That is the
way with the wild flowers. But with the cultivated ones, like
cucumbers, apples, beans, and the like, all of those that are valuable
for eating, we are careful to save the seeds and plant them where they
will be safe. Instead of leaving them to chance we make a garden and
plant them in it where they will be snug and warm."

"And wouldn't the seeds grow, or the little plants come up, if the bee
hadn't gone to the flowers, mamma?"

"No, darling, it is the bee, or some other insect, or the birds, that
marry all the bright-colored plants in this way, as the wind marries
the soberhued ones. Without these we should have no vegetation."

"But, mamma, marry! Why do you say they marry? I thought only men and
women married."

"The marriage that takes place between men and women, dear, is only a
repetition of the marriage of plants. Its object is the same--to
reproduce the race. Plants began to marry long, long before men and
women ever came on earth and have been doing it ever since,
fortunately for us, because if they should give up the practice we
should have to follow suit. The earth would go back to the barren
state in which it was before life came to it."

"It seems so strange," said Elsie. "Why, I never heard of anything so
funny! A bee, just a little bee, and without him--"

"Funny is scarcely the word," Mrs. Edson smiled, "but it is certainly
wonderful. The pumpkin, the bean, the pear, the squash, the orange,
all the fruits and vegetables that we eat, and which the animals eat,
must be fertilized in order to reproduce their kind, and all the
fertilizing is done either by the wind, which blows the pollen from
one plant to another, or by birds and insects. But this is only a
small part of the secret I have to tell you, just the beginning. There
are many more wonderful things to come than I have told you yet, but I
think this is enough for the first time. You would better think over
what you have heard until tomorrow, when I will tell you the next
step, which is about the animals. There are four things in this lesson
that you must remember:

"First, every male plant has at least one stamen, which bears pollen.

"Second, every female plant has one ovary which contains seeds.

"Third, the seeds in the ovary must be fertilized by the pollen in the
stamens in order to be able to grow and bear children.

"Fourth, flowers are fertilized by birds, insects and the wind.

"Do you think you can remember all that, darling?"

"Oh, yes, mamma, I'm sure I can!" said Elsie. She thought a moment and
then added: "It was very nice of that bumble-bee to mistake my nose
for a flower, I'm sure, for it was almost as if he should say,
'Doesn't she look sweet--there must be honey there!' But I guess he
didn't think I was very sweet when I almost scared him to death, poor
fellow!"



V

THE FIRST LIFE ON EARTH


The next day Elsie was so eager for the hour to come when she should
learn the secret of the animals that she had been waiting in the
hammock quite a little while when her mother came down stairs and as
soon as she appeared in sight Elsie clapped her hands joyously, crying
out:

"Now I shall hear how the animals get their honey, sha'n't I, mumsey?
But, mumsey, there isn't anything like the petals of a buttercup on an
animal, unless it's his ears--do animals have their honey there--where
they join the body--like the buttercups?"

Mrs. Edson could not help laughing at this funny notion.

"No, darling," she answered, "animals have no honey anywhere. In the
plants there is honey because they must have something to attract the
insects to them, for they are rooted in the ground and can't move
around to carry their pollen to the other plants. And this pollen must
be carried, you remember, for that is the way, and the only way, in
which little ones are made to be born. So the flower has the honey in
order to pay the insect for marrying it. But animals can move around.
They can go to each other and carry their own pollen, so they do not
need honey or anything but themselves to attract each other. In
animals there is love instead of honey. They love each other, in their
way, and so come together and mingle their eggs and pollen. Only it
is not called pollen in animals, as I said before. It is called
_zoösperms_, pronounced 'zoo-o-sperms.' That is another name that you
must not forget, for it is to the animal what pollen is to the plant.
And in order that little animals may be born it is quite as necessary
that the zoösperms cover or fertilize the eggs, as, with the plants,
it is for the pollen to fertilize the seeds."

"But, mamma," said Elsie, wonderingly, "you said, I think, that every
plant had an ovary--"

"No, darling, I said that every _female_ plant had an ovary."

"Oh, yes, female plant! That has an ovary, and every male plant has a
stamen, and I think you said that they must have, didn't you?"

"Yes, dear, in order to reproduce their kind they must have--why?"

"Well, then, does every male animal have a stamen and every female an
ovary?"

"Certainly darling! And let me repeat that the products of the two
must be mingled in order to bring forth little animals. That is just
what I am going to tell you about today."

"And do you mean, mamma, that honey in the plants grows into love in
the animals?" Elsie asked, her eyes very wide.

"Oh, that is a very beautiful thought for my little girl to have!"
Mrs. Edson exclaimed, smoothing Elsie's hair lovingly. "And, yes, that
is the truth, put very poetically. Love is sweet, like the honey that
it replaces--at least it is for us human beings. Probably with the
animals it is not of just the same quality that it is with us, for
they do not act as if it were, but at least the animals are an
improvement on the plants in this respect, and the love that they feel
for each other finally evolves, in us, to become the sweet thing that
we find it to be."

"Isn't that lovely--and so strange!" exclaimed Elsie.

"Yes, darling, it is lovely, and very strange. There are various kinds
of love, as well as various degrees of the same kind, but this is a
subject a little too deep for us to take up just yet. What I wish now
is to teach you how the animals marry. And I will begin by saying that
all forms of reproduction, which is the name given to having
children, follow the same principle. The animals marry in a way that
is only a variation of the plant way, and men and women marry in a way
that is a variation of the plant and animal ways. But let us begin
right, with the first appearance of life on earth."

"Yes, mamma," Elsie cried eagerly. "But the _first_ life! That must
have been very, very long ago, wasn't it?"

"It was so far back in the history of the world that we can scarcely
more than guess how long ago it must have been. We do not even know
where it first appeared or just how it came to be. Some scientists
believe that it occurred at the mouth of the Nile River, in Africa, in
the rich soil that the river deposits there when it overflows its
banks. Others think it was in the sea, or along the shores of some
ocean in a tropical country. But we need not go into that here. What
we do know is that the hot sun, shining on a certain spot on the earth
or sea, which was just in the right condition, produced the first body
containing life that the globe ever had, and that this body was only a
little speck of jelly-like substance, which we call protoplasm,
pro-to-plas-m. The word means 'first growth', for it was the first
thing that ever appeared that was capable of growing. We also call it
a cell. Now there was only one cell in the world. It had no
companions. And what do you suppose happened?"

"It must have been very lonesome," suggested Elsie, sympathetically.

"Yes, it must have been--certainly it must if it could feel or think.
But, at all events, whether or not it did feel lonely, it began right
away to make companions. Of course you can't think how it did that,
can you, dear?"

"I--I am afraid not," Elsie hesitated.

"Yet it was the very simplest way imaginable. It merely divided itself
into two parts, each of which was just like the other."

"Oh!" exclaimed Elsie. "But, then, mamma, who could tell which was the
father or mother, and which was the child? Or were they just brother
and sister, or two brothers?"

"There was not then what we now call 'sex', for that was only the
beginning of families, so to say, and it was very crude, as all things
are when they are first started. But perhaps we might call one cell
the mother of the other, since it is always the female, and not the
male, that brings forth children, though nobody could tell which was
the mother and which was the child."

"Well," said Elsie, "_that_ is the strangest thing yet!"

"It seems so to us, because it is so different from our way of
reproducing, but it was the natural way, and the same process is going
on to this day. Even little girls are born in a manner which, though
it appears very different, is the same in principle, as we shall
see."

"But, mamma, I thought that all living beings were obliged to have a
stamen or an ovary!"

"So they are obliged, dear! This cell grew until it was too large and
heavy to be supported by its structure, or lack of structure, and then
it fell apart. Force, or growth, was the stamen here, and the cell
itself was the ovary."

"Oh, then force or growth was the first stamen, mamma?"

"No, darling, it was not, unless we should call growth the stamen of
today--which we might do, in a way. But the first stamen was, in form,
a ray of the sun, and the first ovary was the earth, soil. For don't
you recall that this cell, which was the first life-form, was produced
by the sun shining on the earth or sea?"

Elsie pondered on this a moment. Then her face brightened.

"Oh, now I see!" she exclaimed. "And what a beautiful set of changes,
like real poetry! The stamen in a flower, and growth, and a ray of
sunlight are all one at bottom!"

"Yes, darling, it is beautiful poetry, when one comes thoroughly to
understand it. And when we find that love is the source of all these
different forms and processes it becomes more beautiful than ever. Now
let us go on a little further and you will see how that is."

"Please hurry, mamma!" said Elsie. "I wish to find out where I came
from, and you are going to tell me that, aren't you?"

"Certainly, darling! That is what I have been leading up to all this
time. Now we will speak of a number of higher growths than the single
cells are, for there are several things yet to be made plain before
you will be able to understand the highest growth of all, which is
that of a human being like yourself."



VI

WHERE BABY ANIMALS COME FROM


At that moment there sounded a hoarse noise near by, which was
followed by a splash, as if some body had tumbled into the pond. Elsie
looked at her mother roguishly and said:

"Old Croaky!"

Old Croaky was a granddaddy bullfrog with whom they were very well
acquainted, for he sang for them every evening.

"I am glad that he spoke just as he did," Mrs. Edson smiled, "for he
reminds me that frogs are as good an example as I can take next. He
belongs to one of the lower classes of animals, not so very much
higher than the plants. Now, in the plants, you will remember, it was
necessary for the pollen to enter the ovary in order to reach and
fertilize the seeds. But with the frog it is not so. The female lays
the eggs first, and just as she is doing so the male places himself in
such a position towards her that he can mingle his zoösperms with her
eggs as they come out. That fertilizes them and they immediately begin
to grow. First they become tadpoles, and then little frogs."

"What, was Old Croaky ever a little tadpole, mumsey?"

"Yes, darling, he was. Every frog was once. And before that he was an
egg, one of many, in his mother's ovary, and it is so with all
animals. They all of them have eggs and zoösperms, just as the plants
have pollen and seeds. Only, with most of the animals, the zoösperms
must enter the ovary in order to fertilize the eggs, as is the way of
the plants. And it is the same with the birds. They are higher, that
is later, in the scale of life than the frogs are. Now the higher the
creature the more complicated becomes the process of reproduction,
even though the principle is always the same. It is always growth,
always the life within, forcing itself out to take form, and it is
only the forms that change. The life and force within are the same
that the first single cell had."

"It is very wonderful, mamma," Elsie said, awed by the mystery, even
though she was very far from grasping the whole of it. "And the birds,
mamma, have they stamens, and eggs inside? I thought their eggs were
outside, in a little nest. And some of them are, mumsey, because, you
know, I have seen them lots of times."

"Yes, the eggs come out where you can see them, in time, as the frog's
do, but at first they are inside the mother bird, as they are with the
frogs and all animals. Only, it is not with the birds as it is with
the frogs, for the bird's eggs must be fertilized by the male
zoösperms while they are still within the mother bird. The zoösperms
must enter the ovary as the pollen must enter the ovary of the plant.
So the male bird, like most male animals, has a stamen which is a
repetition of that of the flower, made of such a shape that it can
reach the eggs in the mother bird's ovary and fertilize them there.
Then they come out, they are 'laid' as we say, and we see them in the
nest which the mother and father birds have prepared for them. And
just as the seeds need to be covered and kept warm, when they have
fallen from the ripe pods to the ground, in order that they may live
and grow into baby plants, so the bird's eggs must be covered and kept
warm and safe in order that they may grow into birdies. It is just
here that you may see where the honey of the plants begins to become
love in the higher species. For instead of leaving the eggs to be
protected or not, according to chance, as is the way of the plants,
the mother bird covers and warms and protects them herself. She sits
on the nest and keeps them safe with her own body and feathers. Isn't
that lovely! And the father bird goes to market in the woods and
fields and brings her the daintiest and best food he can find."

"Isn't he _nice!_" said Elsie appreciatively.

"Yes, he is nice, and so is his wife, the mother bird. Just think! A
bird is the most energetic and tireless creature in all animated
nature. It is always on the move, urged by the force and overflowing
life within its body, and to sit there quietly all alone on the eggs
day after day and night after night--oh, it must be hard, so hard that
we can scarcely realize the extent of the sacrifice she is making for
her little children. That is what love is like. And the higher a
creature is in the scale of life the more love it has, until, in men
and women, the acme is reached and they not only give up their
comfort for each other, and especially for their children, but even
their lives themselves. With human beings one can tell how high a
given one is in the scale of humanity by the amount of love he has.
Some persons have very little, and they are nearer the animal plane:
some have a great deal, and the more they have, the less selfish they
are, the higher they have risen. For love is the real stamen that
fertilizes the world and makes it grow, and the more one has of it the
more life one gives to the universe."

Elsie felt very grave for some moments, thinking out this deep matter.
It was too complex for her to realize wholly, but she caught glimpses
of the immortal beauty of the ideas and she was awed by it. Suddenly
she threw her arms around her mother's neck and kissed her
passionately. It had occurred to her all at once how much her mother
loved her and how much she must have sacrificed for her sake during
all the years of her little life, and though she had no conception of
the full extent of the sacrifice she saw enough to make her feel like
crying for very love of that dear and sweet mamma. Her mother
understood her and taking her in her arms hugged her closely, sitting
in silence with her for a long time, both of them too full of love for
each other to speak. And so the lesson for the day ended.



VII

WHERE BABY GIRLS COME FROM


"Now, mumsey," cried Elsie the next day, running to her mother at the
hour set aside for their baby-talks, "I know what comes next--it's I,
isn't it?"

"Yes, darling, it's you. And it's I, too. Isn't that a beautiful
thought, that you and I held the same relation to each other that the
mother bird holds to the egg from which the birdies come! For once you
were a tiny, tiny egg inside mamma just as it was with the birds."

"Oh-h!" gasped Elsie, gazing at her mother in bewilderment. She could
not realize such an astounding thing at once.

"Yes, darling," Mrs. Edson went on, "every female human being has an
ovary, just as every female flower has, and just as every female bird
has; and, also like them, she has seeds or eggs in this ovary. And she
has a great many of them. They have been growing within her ever since
she was a baby, and when she is about twelve years old they begin to
ripen, one at a time, and pass from the ovary into a nest that is all
ready for them inside the female body. This nest we call the womb. At
first, while she is so young, the womb is not strong enough to hold
the egg while it grows, so the egg soon leaves its nest to come into
the world and be lost, as so very many seeds of the plant are. As it
does so it acts in such a way on the young girl that, when she first
becomes aware that something which seems strange is happening to her,
she is frightened and does not know what to do. And as you, darling,
are now at the age when this must come to you very soon, I am going to
prepare you for it, so that you may know that it is natural, coming to
all girls of about your age, and that there is nothing to be alarmed
over. All the talks that we have had were intended as a kind of
introduction to this event and its consequences, for it is the
greatest that enters a girl's life before she has grown fully to be a
woman. And you were once one of these tiny eggs. More than that, you
now have within your body, a great number of that very kind of eggs
from which you sprang."

Elsie sat with her eyes in breathless interest on her mother, so
filled with wonder and speculation that she could not ask a single
question. Mrs. Edson proceeded:

"I must repeat dear, because it is so very important for you to
remember, that every woman has an ovary which contains many seeds or
eggs, just as the female flower has. These eggs, if left unfertilized,
will pass from the body and never grow any more. But each one, if
fertilized by the papa, as the bird's eggs were, and as the flower
seeds were, will stay in a little nook inside the mother's body, where
it will grow and grow until the time comes for it to burst forth into
the world, following the same principle that the first cell followed
in reproducing, and which all living things follow always. The life
within forces it away from the parent, to become a separate growth.
Then it will come forth, and behold, the tiny seed or egg has grown to
be a baby girl or boy, weighing several pounds!"

"Oh-h!" Elsie gasped again. "And that is how--how--I--came to be born,
mamma!"

"Yes, darlingest, it is the way in which every living person was born.
There is not, and there cannot be, any other way. Each child is a part
both of its father and mother. The egg in the mother would never grow
into a baby unless it had first been fertilized by the father, who
does so through his great love for the mamma, just as with the birds
and animals, though his love is of a higher kind than that of the
lower orders."

"And does the mother-woman warm the eggs as the bird in the nest does,
mamma, while the papa-man brings her nice things to eat?"

"Yes, dearie, only the mother-woman has the nest inside her body, as I
have said, and she keeps the little one safe and warm there much
longer than the bird sits on her nest. And think of all the years
after the baby is born that she waits on and cares for it! There is no
other love that equals in devotion that of the mother."

Elsie, without a word, her eyes swimming in tears, kissed her mother
affectionately. She had realized a little more of what she owed to
her.

"Now," said Mrs. Edson, "I must tell you how to care for this nest in
which, by and by, when you have grown up and have a husband and are
strong enough, you will be keeping a little baby of your own. Because
many girls who become married do not know these things there is a
dreadful amount of sickness and misery in the world, all needless. And
it does seem too bad--when merely a few words at the right time would
have saved it all!"

Of course Elsie was not old enough to understand how this could be, so
she said nothing, but sat looking earnestly at her mother as she went
on:

"In the first place, dear, you must know that the little baby's nest,
which we call the womb, is placed in the lower portion of the woman's
body, just above the 'private parts'. Perhaps it is put there because
it is the safest place for it in the whole body--for the eggs and
womb are very delicate, and must not be exposed to any danger of
injury. So it grows in the interior of the trunk, where outside
dangers would be less likely to reach and spoil it, so that the woman
would be sick all her life and never have any children. Many hopeless
female complaints, ending with premature and painful death, are caused
by lack of proper care of the womb and its entrance. That care
consists chiefly in preventing the womb from being touched by
anything, and keeping the entrance clean. It is very simple--just keep
the entrance clean and the womb untouched by anything. An observance
of such slight rules as these would have saved many and many a poor
soul from a life of continual misery and suffering.

"I have told you, dear, long ago how to keep the entrance clean. And
now that you will soon begin to menstruate, as the passing out of the
eggs is called, I shall have but little to add to what you already
know, but I will repeat it from the beginning in order that you may
have it all clear in your mind.

"First, bathe the entrance every time you bathe the rest of your body,
and at such other times as you may feel the need of doing so. Never
neglect this. It may have evil consequences. Just keep it clean, and
never touch it for any other purpose. And be careful to use only your
own towels, for disease is easily communicated to these parts by
cloths that are not clean, and you never can be too careful in this
respect. It is plain enough, and easy enough to do, isn't it
darling--and you will always remember about it, won't you?"

"Oh, yes, mamma, that is easy enough!" Elsie said quickly. "I could
remember a lot more than that, I'm sure."

"It would have been so infinitely much better for so many poor sick
creatures if they had known and remembered even that!" Mrs. Edson
sighed, holding her little daughter closely, as if she would protect
her from not only that harm but all others. "But," she continued, "I
must now tell you what you may be expecting to come to you before
long, when it will be harder to keep the entrance clean than it has
been so far, and when to keep it clean will be more necessary than
ever.

"Every twenty-eight days, dearie, beginning with you very soon now,
there will be a flow of blood into the little baby's nest, the womb,
and this will come out of your body through this entrance to the womb.
As soon as you see any signs of it on your body or clothing you must
come right and tell me, as you would if you had cut your finger or
stubbed your toe on a stone. It is something to be very proud of for
it shows the possibility of motherhood, and it must be given the very
best care, which is, as I have said, chiefly to keep the parts clean.
By and by when you are grown old enough and strong enough, and have a
husband, who will fertilize the eggs, one of them will grow into a
little baby, but it will be a long time yet before that can be, and
until then you will have this flow every twenty-eight days, for the
sake of your health. This brings more work for the womb to do, while
the menses, as they are called, continue, and therefore you may feel
out of sorts both mentally and bodily for two or three days. But this
will pass away when the flow ceases, and if proper care is taken of
the womb and passages you will never feel anything worse than this.
Some women feel great pain at this time, but almost always the reason
is that some of their internal parts have been injured in one way or
another. Sometimes lack of proper food, sufficient fresh air and sun,
or not enough exercise and clean water are responsible for a portion
of the pain. In order to have strong reproductive organs a woman
should be healthy in all bodily ways, and anything that she can do to
improve her general health will be favorable to her at the time of
the menses as well as at all times. Do you think you understand all
this, darling, and can remember it?"

"I don't know, mamma," said Elsie hesitatingly. "There is a lot to it,
but I'll try."

"That is my dear little girl! To try is the next thing to doing. Only
remember that when you don't know what to do, and have tried, come to
mamma. That is one great reason why mammas are--to help little girls
who have tried."

Elsie kissed her mother warmly, and then sat looking dreamily out
towards the woods. She had learned many strange things and was
thinking them over. Suddenly she spoke, as if unconsciously, saying:
"Who would ever have thought that so much could come out of it!"

"Out of what?" her mother asked.

"Why, out of a bee trying to step on my nose!" said Elsie.

(The End.)





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