ittle pitcher-plant grows in
Australia: but this is also very different from all the rest; for the
pitchers, instead of being at the end of the leaves, are clustered round
the bottom of the plant, close to the ground.

All these pitcher-plants, though very beautiful to look at, are very
cruel enemies to insects: for the pitchers nearly always have water in
them; and flies and small insects are constantly falling into them, and
getting drowned.

Monkey-pots are hard, woody fruits; some as large and round as a
cannon-ball, and some shaped like a bowl. They grow on large trees in
Brazil and other parts of South America; and the natives take out the
seeds, and use the fruits for holding water, or to wash themselves in.

They are called monkey-pots because monkeys are very fond of the seeds.
Some of the seeds are so good, that they are collected, and sent to
London and other places, where they are sold in the markets. The
Brazil-nut is one of them.

J. R. J.

[Illustration]

UNDER THE CHERRY-TREE.

"NOW is the time to pick the cherries!" shouted Charles as he came
running in from the garden one July afternoon.

"Are they quite ripe?" said his mother.

"Ripe? I should think so. Just look at them!" answered Charles, pointing
to the trees.

"O mamma!" said Mary, "the birds are getting them all. We must have them
picked at once."

"Never fear, little girl," said her mother. "There will be enough for
the birds and ourselves and our neighbors too. But it really is time to
begin to pick them. So, Charles, get a basket, and we will all go out
under the cherry-tree."

So out they all went,--Charles and Mary and Ellen and Julia and Ruth;
and mamma followed with the baby.

"I told the gardener to bring a ladder," said mamma. "He will be here in
a moment, Charles. You can't pick cherries without a ladder, you know."

"Of course," said that saucy boy. "Nobody can pick cherries without a
ladder." And with that he gave a spring, and in about half a minute had
climbed up into the tree.

"Now, girls, hold your aprons," said he. And down came a shower of the
delicious fruit.

Then what a glorious scramble those little girls had! How they laughed
and jumped and knocked heads together in picking up the cherries! They
ate as many as they wanted; and still Charles kept throwing down more.

"Have you had enough?" said he. "So have I. Now it's time to think about
filli