Chapter IV: Front Matter (4)

The handsomest of our pitch pines is the red pine, whose dark green leaves are six inches long, and cluster in twos upon the twigs. The bark, the wood, and the bud scales are all red. The cones are from one to three inches long, with thickened scales which have no spines. The tree grows into a broad pyramid, branched to the ground, with stout twigs, and luxuriant foliage. The symmetry and vigour of growth makes this red pine a handsomer tree than the ragged, discouraged-looking pitch pines. It is well for the landscape that its wood is very disappointing. So many beautiful groves are allowed to reach great age, and size, where white pines would have fallen to a lumberman’s axe.

The home that has a beautiful red pine within sight of its windows, or a double row of these trees serving as a wind-break to ward off the storms of winter, is truly well planted. Without one or more of these trees, there is a decided lack. Any nurseryman can furnish handsome young red pines, so no one need hesitate to plant this native tree.

The Jersey pine is a twisted, low tree, with dark, discouraged-looking branches, covered with grey-green leaves that have a sickly yellowish tinge when the new shoots appear in spring. The leaves are always in twos, and they range from one to three inches long. The small cones are dark red, oval, with thickened scales spiny-tipped. These trees cover waste land where there is a meagre living for any tree. What wonder that they look stunted? Their chief merit is that they clothe the desert places, and furnish wood for fuel and fences, and thus save the great lumber pines for higher uses.

THE CEDARS, WHITE AND RED

Beside the needle-leaved evergreens just described, there are some trees we all know, that bear cones, and are evergreens, but their leaves are strangely different from those of pines, spruces, firs, and hemlocks. One of these is the familiar arbor vitæ, a conical tree, with flat leaf spray. Looking closely, one can make out the tiny, scale-like leaves, arranged in opposite pairs, clasping the wiry stems, and covering them completely. These stems are flat, so that one pair of leaves has a sharp keel on the middle. The next pair is spread out flat. The keeled pair covers the edge of the stem. The flat pair covers the broader surface. These pairs alternate through the length of the stem, and an aromatic resin seals them close.

The cones of the arbor vitæ are small, and they have few scales, compared with the cones of the needle-leaved evergreens. Each year a crop is borne, with two seeds under each scale. Few of us see the little red cone flowers in May, nor the pellets of yellow on other twigs, which are the pollen flowers. We watch the hedge clipper at work, trimming the thick green fronds that make a solid wall of green. Look carefully hereafter for the flowers and the ripe cones, in the proper season for each.

The white cedar grows, a fine, conical evergreen tree, in the coast states, from Maine to Mississippi. It loves best the deep swamps, but grows well in wet, sandy soil farther inland. Here we see again the flat spray of minute, pointed, and keeled leaves, but the cones are different. These are pale grey, and globular; the few scales are thick and horny, and curiously sculptured, each with a beak projecting from the centre.

The foliage mass is a peculiar blue-green, and the bark, thin, and rusty red, parts into strings and shreds.

Lumbermen call this tree a cedar. So they do the arbor vitæ. The wood of each is pale-coloured, and notable for its durability when exposed to weather and water. Fence posts of white cedar, and cedar pails, shingles, and the like, have a great reputation for durability.

The peculiarity of a red cedar is its fruit. Instead of a cone, a blue, juicy, sweet berry follows the blossoming of this tree. The foliage, too, is erratic. Minute leaves of the scale form, discovered in the other cedars, are found here on most twigs. They are still smaller, and the twigs are much smaller. But on new shoots, and often on a whole branch, the leaves are needle-like, one-half to three-quarters of an inch long, and spreading as the leaves of a spruce. The mass of the foliage is blue-green; these new ones are yellow-green. Among the branches hang these surprising berries!

The truth is that the scales of the cone thicken, and become soft when ripe. They grow together, and the berry is, therefore, a cone, but much changed in its development from the cone on which the fruits of other evergreen trees are patterned.

We all know a red cedar tree by its tall, slim shape. The birds eat the berries, and scatter the seeds far and wide. The trees come up in irregular clumps in pastures and fence-rows, and in rough, uncultivated land. They are pretty widely distributed in the eastern half of the United States.

The true name for this tree is juniper. That is the name by which all its related species are known. Red cedar is the lumberman’s name for its wood, and this name, though not right, will probably stick to it always.

Red cedar chests and closets are believed to be moth-proof. The aromatic resin in the wood is supposed to be distasteful to the insects which are the pests of housekeepers. To put furs and woollen blankets and clothing into these chests does not always prevent their being moth-eaten. This many people have learned by sorrowful experience. We know the fragrance of this wood in pencils. Thousands of trees are cut every year to supply pencil factories. With the scarcity of these trees, other woods are being substituted. But who will be quite satisfied, or be persuaded that cedar pencils are not the best?

TWO CONIFERS NOT EVERGREEN

Two cone-bearing trees have the astonishing habit of letting go their leaves in the fall, and thus setting themselves apart from the evergreens, to which they are otherwise closely related. Their cones are like those of pines and spruces. Their leaves are needle-like, and their flowers are the cone flowers like the rest. Although they stand bare in winter time, their fruits declare their kinships with the evergreen. Their forms also suggest this kinship, for each is a spire-like shaft, from which short branches stand out horizontally like those of the pointed firs and spruces.

THE LARCHES

In the Northern states, and Canada, long stretches of cold marsh land are covered with solid growths of tamarack, our American larch tree. In summer the branches are covered with long, drooping twigs, each set with many blunt side spurs, from which a tuft of soft, needle-like leaves forms a green rosette or pompom. The end twigs have needle leaves scattered their whole length, after the fashion of the spruces. Purplish cone flowers, and yellow staminate cones appear in spring, and in autumn among the leaves that are turning yellow a crop of cones is ripening. They stand erect and solitary on the twigs between the rosettes of leaves.

In winter the long, flexible twigs are bare except for these cones. The little knobs along the twigs are the stubs which bore leaves. In the spring new leaves come out, pale lettuce green, feathery, transforming the tree top into a thing of beauty.

This larch tree of ours is more sparsely branched than the larch of Europe. It looks ragged and unhappy when planted on our lawns. It is at its best in the cold North, where it grows in dense crowds, and the tall trunks are stripped free from limbs well towards the tops. These straight shafts are cut for telegraph poles, railroad ties, and posts. The heavy, resinous wood lasts a long time in the ground.

The larches planted for shade and ornament are of the European species, which thrives in any soil. It has a denser head of branches, and much more luxuriant crown of foliage than our native species. It is a beautiful feathery pyramid of green, distinctly different from other trees. In Europe large forests are grown on the mountain sides, and from these the tallest masts for vessels are obtained. The heavy, resinous wood does not easily take fire as do the pitch pines. The old wooden battle ships were faced with larch wood because of this, and because larch wood is so durable in contact with water. Indeed it has the reputation of outlasting oak, and the wood of all other conifers.

In the woods of the far Northwest, and inland to Montana, the Western larch is one of the mighty forest trees. Six feet in diameter, and 200 feet in height are not uncommon dimensions among these giant larches. These trees are of slow growth, and they stand with their roots in water or in wet soil, though on the mountain side. This is an important lumber tree with wood that has all the good qualities of its family. In Europe the tree is planted for forests, and as an ornamental tree. We cannot grow it in the Eastern United States. It is worth a journey across the continent to see it growing, one of the most magnificent trees in the world.

THE BALD CYPRESS

Travellers in the South pass forests of dark pines, and along the edges of swamps the pines often give way to solid stretches of trees with pale grey trunks, and lettuce green foliage, whose lightness contrasts strangely and beautifully with the solid bank of dark green that roofs the forests of pines. A closer look at these strange trees, which often stand knee-deep in water, is not so easy. At certain seasons of the year, however, these swamps are dry enough so that one may walk dry-shod among them, and so learn to know the bald cypress of the South, one of the most beautiful and interesting of native American trees.

This is the second of the cone-bearing trees which is not an evergreen. The leaves on the new shoots are two-ranked, soft and pale sage green in colour. The stems that bear these plumy leaves bear also scattered single blades. Among them are older twigs, tipped with cones, and bearing branchlets with scale-like leaves scarcely spreading at the tips. These are much smaller than the leaves arranged in two ranks, forming feather-like, leafy branchlets. It is these which are shed, branchlets, and all, in the autumn, and fresh in spring renew the feathery grace of the long, narrow tree top.

The most surprising thing about the bald cypress is the flaring base of the trunk, and the root system which seems too large for the tall but usually narrow top. Knees of cypress rising out of the water from the main roots, are distinguished from stumps by their smooth, conical tops. The base of a great tree often spreads into wide flying buttresses, each hollowed on the inside, but serving with the others to support the hollow-trunked tree. Many a giant of great age stands thus on stilts whose submerged ends are the gnarled roots of the tree. From these rise many smooth, knobbed knees above the surface of the water in the rainy season. By some foresters, humps on the roots are supposed to be necessary to the proper breathing of the roots, submerged under water so large a part of the year. The question of what causes these growths, and of what use they are, is not fully determined.

The cones of the bald cypress are globular, and about the size of an olive. By them the tree declares its relationship to the needle-leaved evergreens. The wood is light and easy to work, but not noticeably resinous. It is used for buildings, and for special parts, such as doors, shingles. It is beautiful when stained, and would be more valuable for interior finish of houses did it not keep the record of each bump and dent, as all soft woods do. Buckets and barrels to contain liquids are largely made of this wood. In railroad ties it proves very durable.

The best and strangest fact about this tree is that though it belongs to the South, and is a swamp tree by preference, it grows large and beautiful in the North, and in soil that is only moderately moist. The parks of Brooklyn have some noble specimens of this bald cypress of the South. They stand, tall, handsome shafts, feathered lightly with their short, drooping side branches, clothed with pale green leaves. There is no peculiarity of spreading trunk or knees to disturb the sod that comes up around the base of the tree. In the autumn the foliage turns yellow, and drops with the larch leaves. Through the winter the globular cones are present to prove this bald cypress a relative of the evergreens, which are its neighbours.

THE HOLLIES

No Christmas is Christmas truly without at least a few branches of the evergreen holly of the South, whose leathery, spiny-pointed leaves are brightened by clusters of red berries. Every year, hundreds of crates and boxes of these holly branches are shipped north from the woods of Alabama, and other Southern states. Many people make their living by cutting loads of these branches, and hauling them to the shipping sheds where they are packed and put onto the railroad. The business has grown so rapidly within the past twenty-five years that holly trees are becoming very scarce. It has never occurred to those who cut down and strip the trees that it takes years to grow new ones, and that nobody is planting for the future.

Holly wood is white, and very close-grained. It is admirable for tool handles, whipstocks, walking sticks, and for the blocks on which wood engravings are made. The living trees are planted for hedges, and for ornament. The leaves are evergreen, and the berries add brightness and warmth to the shrubbery border when snow covers the ground.

Although it reaches its greatest size, and is most commonly found in Southern woods, this little tree follows the coast as far north as Long Island. I have found it much higher than my head, growing wild on the sand bar that separates Great South Bay from the ocean, east of New York Harbour. Further north, it is occasionally found, but in stunted sizes, and it is easily winter-killed.

The holly of Europe, which has brightened the English Christmas for centuries, has a far more deeply cleft and spiny leaf than ours. Beside it, our holly leaves and berries are dull, and dark-coloured. The whole tree lacks the brightness of the European species. Hedges of this lustrous-leaved holly shut in many an English garden, and their bright berries glow cheerfully through the grey, sunless, winter days. No wonder the gardeners frown upon the little thrushes that feed upon these berries, thus robbing the garden of one of its chief winter charms.

Three other American hollies are found as shrubby trees in our Eastern woods, but none of them is evergreen, and the trees are not numerous in any locality. We shall oftenest see the species known as the winterberry, whose abundant red berries remain untouched by the birds, until late in the spring. Many of these fruit-laden branches are gathered in the wild, and sold in cities for Christmas decorations. Sprays of these berries are often added to the evergreen holly branches when their own berries are scarce.

Christmas holly is something we cannot do without. As the supply grows less, the price will mount higher. Then will come a time when it is profitable to raise these trees in quantities, and holly farming will be practised in favourable localities in the Southern states. But that time has not yet come.

THE BURNING BUSH

A little tree, not at all related to the holly, but truly a cousin of the bitter-sweet, has a rather surprising name. In summer it looks like a wild plum tree, except for its fluted, ash-grey bark. The flowers have purple petals, and look somewhat like potato blossoms. They would never attract your attention as you pass the tree.

In the autumn the leaves turn yellow, and gradually the purple husks that cover the scarlet berries split open, and curl back. Watch the gradual opening of these husks, and notice, from some little distance, the gradual reddening of the tree top, as the yellow leaves fall, and more and more of the scarlet berries are revealed, as the husks curl and shrink away from them. It is in this seed and its husk that the resemblance and relationship of the burning bush and the bitter-sweet vine is revealed.

The European spindle tree, and a number of Japanese and Chinese species, are now planted in American gardens, and called by their genus name, Evonymus. The red-fruited sorts all come under the common name, burning bush, and they do burn with a steady flame when winter has robbed the gardens of colour. Evergreens form a beautiful background for these ruddy little trees.

TREE STUDIES IN THE SPRING

THE AWAKENING OF THE TREES

All winter the grey beech trunks look almost white among the dark trunks of neighbouring trees. Their branches are dark at the tips, and the buds are long, slim, and sharp-pointed. Silky, brown bud scales, in many layers, protect the young shoots hidden in these buds. In April these shoots impatiently push aside their wrappings. The outer scales fall, the inner ones grow longer, but the growing tip leaves them behind, and they fall, while the silky-coated, fan-plaited baby leaves hang limp and helpless on the lengthening stem.

No tree of the woods is more beautiful than the beech as its twigs cover themselves with the tender green of spring. Beech leaves are _handsome_ when full grown. In the short hours of their babyhood they are _lovely_.

The sturdy shagbark hickory is late in waking. Poplars and beeches are in full leaf when the big buds of this familiar tree with the shaggy bark begin to swell, and show the pale, silky inner scales under the black outer pairs, which soon fall off.

The branches are stiff and angular, but the twigs hold up their big buds, and the trees look like great candelabra, each holding up a thousand lighted candles. As the pointed buds push upward, the protecting scales grow rapidly larger, and the outer ones turn back like the sepals of an iris. Wonderful tints of olive and yellow, violet and rose, blend in their silky covering. Out of this petal-like frill rises the cluster of young leaves, small but perfectly formed, and just as varied and delicate in colouring under their velvet covering. These complete the flower-like appearance of the young shoots. The illusion lasts only until the leaves spread out, and take on their natural, colour and size. The scales fall, their duty done, and the flower catkins come out, under the broad umbrellas of the fresh, new leaves. The tree is thoroughly awake, and has begun its long summer’s work.

The poplar likes to grow in moist ground, and in companies of its own kind. Copses of these trees, especially if they be young ones, are sure heralds of the coming spring. Their stems and branches are smooth, and almost as pale as white birches. They become greenish, especially the smaller branches and twigs, as the sap rises. They are alive from root tips to shining buds.

The brown scales loosen in March on the plumpest buds. The fuzzy grey pussies push out, and lengthen into soft chenille fringes that wave gracefully from every twig. They are grey, with a flush of pink, an exquisite colour harmony, too lovely to last. Their catkins fall as soon as their golden pollen dust is ripened and scattered by the wind. The plain, green fertile ones on other trees catch the pollen, and set seed which ripens, in green, berry-like capsules, in May. The seeds are almost too small to be seen. Each floats away with the small wisp of down in which it hides.

The slim buds on the same twigs open while the trees are still in blossom. The young shoots come out, and unroll their baby leaves, soft and white, covered with a silky down, and tinted pink under the protective hairs. For a short time only they look like white velvet, and are limp and helpless. Then the hairy coat is shed; the leaves become shiny and bright green, and twinkle in the sunshine. The stems are flexible and long and flattened. This makes them catch the breeze, if the blades do not, so the foliage trembles whenever a breeze goes through the tree top.

Quaking aspen, trembling aspen, and “quakenasp” are popular names given this tree, whose foliage has the appearance and the sound of rippling water. Tradition says the tree is forever accursed, and trembles as from fear, because the traitor, Judas, hanged himself on an aspen. This is a foolish notion. Only gaiety is expressed by the continual fluttering of the aspen’s leaves.

The buds of cottonwood and Balm of Gilead trees are sealed with a fragrant wax which softens as spring loosens the scales and growth begins.

Bees throng these trees, and gather the soft wax to carry to their hives. They use it to stop up cracks that would let in the rain. What is not needed at once they store for future use. Bee-keepers call it “propolis.” They have offered the bees something “just as good,” but they will take no substitute for the genuine. That is produced only on the buds of trees of the poplar family, and for a brief season it is ready for them in spring.

TREES THAT BLOOM IN EARLY SPRING

In late March, or early in April, before the leaves have come out on any of the trees along your street, you may look out of an upper window and notice that strange-looking tassels are hanging on the twigs of a poplar or cottonwood tree. Its buds are large and they shine in the sun, as if they were wet. A day or two later you may be walking with your mother or sister, and she will be startled to see the sidewalk covered with what look to her like great red caterpillars! Then you may remember the tree with the tassels on it, and recognise them, and explain where they came from.

A single look shows that this worm-like object is a catkin, and the lovely red is the colour of the many stamens that contain the pollen dust. When this is ripe the stamens burst and let it fly away. Then the tree lets its catkins fall, for they have done their part.

Green catkins hang on other trees of the same kind in the neighbourhood. The flowers are waiting for pollen that will enable them to set seed. If the wind blows in the right direction when the pollen is flying about, the green, fertile flowers will get all they need. These catkins are not shed as the red ones are. They make little show among the opening leaves, but little seed balls take the place of the flowers. By the end of May the green balls the size of peas turn yellow, and open. Out of each pod floats tufts of white down, each bearing away a tiny white seed. This is the end of the story. Before the chestnut trees have begun to blossom, the poplars have scattered their seeds, and have all the summer to spend in growing long, supple shoots covered with their dancing, shining leaves. They look as if they enjoy life!

The pussy willows push their fuzzy noses out in winter. Some are even showing in autumn. But the yellow pollen is not seen on these flowers until the catkins are full grown, and they wait till winter is past. They dare not risk a frost.

Among pussy willow trees there is a difference in the catkins. On one tree they turn yellow when mature; the golden pollen dust rises in a cloud when the twig is disturbed. These catkins soon fall off.

On other trees the catkins are greenish, and they stay on after reaching full size. They are the fertile flowers, which develop into seed pods. Pollen brought to them by the wind or by visiting insects in search of nectar, insures the setting of seed in these flowers. Though the gayer flowers fall, they are quite as necessary to the making of seeds as the fertile ones. In all the willows and poplars, it requires two trees, bearing the two kind of flowers, to make the seed. And the wind and nectar-seeking insects are necessary as pollen-carriers.

In marshy land, or by a brook or river, or even just outside the window at home, there is a tree that turns rosy in March with a multitude of small red flowers clustered on the sides of its twigs. It is the swamp maple, the red maple, the river maple, the scarlet maple. Two of these names tell of the tree’s thirst; two name its colour when in blossom, and also when the leaves change colour in autumn.

Each flower is a red bell, for the petals are red. One has a red forked pistil thrust out; another lacks a pistil, but has a cluster of yellow stamens. One tree may be deep red throughout, having only pistillate flowers. Another may have only staminate flowers; it will be orange coloured, by the blending of the colours of the yellow stamens, and the red petals. Another tree may have flowers of both kinds. Occasionally flowers will be found that have both stamens and pistils.

The bees are in the scarlet maples at the first loosening of the bud scales. There is nectar in those flower bells. The colour and a faint fragrance tell this secret. From pollen flowers the busy insects carry the golden dust to the forked pistils that set seeds.

The wind helps by scattering pollen in the tree tops, and very soon the flowers are gone. The staminate trees turn green when the opening leaves lose their vivid red. The pistillate trees hang out red clusters of winged seeds below the opening leaf clusters. These red trees keep their name written plainly as long as the seed clusters swing.

Early in March, the side buds on the elm twigs begin to swell, and soon clusters of purplish flowers, small but very pretty, come out of the largest buds, and the tree top has a purplish haze upon it, that means that spring is coming. The bees come to get nectar from these early blossoms, but few people speak of the blossoming elms. They do not notice that elms ever blossom; and are rather incredulous when a spray is shown them covered with the graceful little tassels. “Who ever _heard_ of elms having flowers?”

The truth is that every tree, when it is large enough, bears flowers. Not every one bears fruit, for some have pollen flowers only, the seeds being borne on the fertile trees. Elms have perfect flowers, and soon after the leaves open, the green fruits are seen in clusters, and before May passes, the seeds, each surrounded by an oval wing, flutter off in the wind.

THE AMERICAN ELM AND ITS KIN

Beautiful and stately, yet full of grace is the form of a big elm tree against the grey sky of a cloudy winter day. The tall trunk is crowned with many main branches, which spread into a widening funnel shape, subdividing into numberless smaller branches, whose direction is outward and downward. The numerous twigs have the droop of a weeping willow. The tree top is wonderful when every limb is bare.

In summer the same tree is a great fountain of green leaves. The long, leafy twigs of new wood are flung out to the wind, and the twinkling blades dazzle the eyes like spray. This is the time that we love the elm for its shade, and as an ornament to home grounds and parks. Roadside elms are the favourite nesting trees of the Baltimore oriole, whose hanging pocket of grasses and yarns swings at the end of a high outer branch.

When winter is still in the air, and snow on the landscape, the dark twigs of these bare elm trees change colour. It is the purple flower clusters that are flung out from opening buds in late March. It takes sharp eyes to see the cause of the wine-coloured flush in the tree top. With the opening of the leafy shoots in April, the trees get an added colour from the pale green seed discs that replace the flowers. These are winged, and they soon turn brown, and fly away on the first breeze. This is the elm’s way of sowing seeds. A crop of young elms grows each summer in fields and gardens near these seed trees. The leaf of the seedling is exactly after the pattern of the parental tree, but smaller.

The English elm is less graceful than our American tree. It has more the stature of the white oak. The head is compact, and the foliage mass thicker, and longer-lived. The robin red-breast nests close to the sturdy trunk, shielded by the earliest leaves.

An old couplet guides the farmer in the old country:

“When the elm leaf is as big as a mouse’s ear,
Then to sow barley never fear.”

The toughness of elm is remembered by all who have “read of the wonderful one-hoss shay.” Nothing but “ellum” was proper stuff for the hubs, you know. As it is durable in soil, elm is good timber for posts and railroad ties. By its toughness and flexibility, it is fit for waggon tongues, and all kinds of agricultural implements. The ancient warrior of England was likely to carry a longbow made of the tough British elm.

Slippery elms grow more irregular in form than the American, and are usually smaller trees. Both kinds grow together in the wooded regions east of the Rocky Mountains. The difference between them can be easily detected by a blind person. Twigs, buds, and leaves of slippery elms are made rough and harsh to the touch by coarse, reddish hairs.

Boys and many other people like the taste of the glutinous inner bark of this tree when the sap is running, and the limbs and trunks peel easily. Many a tree is sacrificed to this appetite. The same delectable mucilaginous substance quenches the thirst and allays hunger,—so hunters say, who have eaten it when lost in the woods, and threatened with starvation. Poultices of it relieve throat troubles, when there is congestion. It is a home remedy for inflammations and fevers. Dried and ground, the rich cambium is mixed with milk, and forms a nutritious and tasty food for invalids. It is a staple on the shelves of apothecary shops.

The rock elm might be mistaken for a bur oak were the leaves not decided proof that it is an elm. The limbs are shaggy, and the twigs winged by the corky bark. Indeed, another name for the tree is the cork elm. The framework of this tree is stiff and irregular, a decided contrast to the graceful drooping top of the American elm, whose symmetry is one of its best points.

The wood has its fibres so interlaced that no wood excels it in toughness and springiness. It is the wheelwright’s choice. It makes the finest bridge timbers, and the best axe handles, and wheel hubs.

The winged elm is the smallest and daintiest of the elms. The twigs are broadened by a corky ridge on each side. This gives the tree its name. The Indian name, Wahoo, is also heard in the South. The leaves are of the elm type, but unusually small.

It is seen as a street and lawn tree in cities and towns south of Virginia, and west to Illinois and Texas.

THE MAPLE FAMILY

If you meet a tree of good size, with slender branches, and small buds set opposite upon the twigs, you may suspect it of being a maple. The leaves are needed to assure you. If it is winter time, and the tree stands on the street, the leaves may all have been raked away. If the tree grows in the woods, the chances are that there is a leaf carpet over its roots, and that most of these leaves have fallen from its branches. You can make sure of this point by picking up a dead leaf, examining the base of its stalk to see if it fits the leaf scars on the twigs. If the leaves are simple, that is, if they have a single blade, the evidence that this is a maple is very strong. There are a few small trees with simple leaves set opposite on the twigs, but they do not grow as large as maples.

Does the leaf have three main divisions, each with a vein which is one of three large branches of the leaf stalk? Then you may be sure that the tree is one of the maple family.

Simple leaves, of three main lobes, set opposite on the twigs, and the twigs set opposite on the branches,—in these are the plain signature of the maples. They write their names in these characters, across every branch throughout the growing season, and on the leafless branches, and the dead leaves under the tree in winter. Another signature is the one-sided maple key, which hangs on the trees all summer, and even late into the winter on some kinds, but is shed in early summer by a few.

The two early-blooming maples are commonly planted as street and shade trees all over the Eastern half of the country. It is easy to recognise these, and to know them apart by the leaf alone.

The red maple is a spreading, symmetrical tree, of medium size with slender, erect branches. The leaves are red when they open in spring; so are the flowers which cluster on the bare twigs in early April, before the leaves are out. The clustered fruits that dangle in pairs all along the stems in May are red, and in the autumn the tree changes its green robe of foliage to scarlet before winter comes. The buds that cluster at the joints are red as rubies, and the slim twigs glow with the same warm colour, which is warmer by contrast with the snow.

All maple leaves are more or less cleft into three main divisions. The red maple has two shallow clefts, V-shaped, at the top, and the lobes are pointed and triangular. The margins are irregularly saw-toothed. These leaves are often downy beneath, and always white-lined when young. In summer they have pale green linings. As a rule, red maple leaves are small, averaging less than three inches in the length of their blades. They are larger on young trees.

The silver maple is much more easily grown from seed than the red maple, but it has a far more irregular tree top. The limbs branch low on the trunk, and these limbs grow very long, giving the tree a loose head of great height, and great horizontal spread. The small branches curve downward, and the twigs are held erect. The wind twists and breaks these great weak limbs, or wrenches them loose from the trunk. It is dangerous to have these trees near the house, for wind and ice storms are constantly snapping off branches large enough to break windows, or knock down chimneys as they fall.

The flowers of the silver maple show no red. They come out greenish-yellow on the twigs when the red maple’s flowers are glowing on their red twigs in March, and early April. The leaves are pale green, white beneath, and set on long flexible stems. They are larger than the leaves of the red maple, and cleft in a distinctly different way. A narrow, deep fissure divides the leaf in thirds, and two side clefts divide the lower lobes in two unequal halves. These fissures reach two-thirds of the way through the leaf blade, and each lobe is cleft along its sides, into many irregular bays and capes. These leaves are always silvery white beneath in summer, and they turn to yellow in the autumn.

In late May the pairs of winged keys hang on short stems. Each key is about two inches long, fuzzy green, until ripe, twice the length of the smooth keys of the red maple, which are ripening at the same time.

It is good fun to lie under a maple tree, and watch the seeds as they fall. If the wind is strong, they shower down like rain. Each key separates from its mate, and as it lets go its hold on the twig, the wind catches its thin wing, and sends it whirling round and round. The heavy seed makes for the earth, while the flat blade above it acts as a parachute, or a sail, to keep it in the air.

How far does a silver maple send its seeds in these summer days, when they are falling? It is easy to answer this question by pacing the distance from the tree trunk in a straight line to the point where the farthest key falls. Go in the direction towards which the wind is blowing, in determining this distance. It will be interesting to run out another line from the tree trunk to find out how far the seeds are thrown on the side that is against the wind.

From the silver maple go to a red maple, and watch the harvest of these small-winged keys. Do a little measuring here, and find out if their smaller size and weight enables these seeds to sail further in the same breeze than those of the silver maple.

The sugar maple is known also as the rock or hard maple, because its wood is harder, and therefore slower to grow, than the two quick-growing soft maples just described. This is the one whose trunk is tapped in spring, and the sap boiled down in great kettles over an open fire in the woods. When the water is all evaporated, solid cakes of maple sugar remain. If you are walking in the woods in winter, and come upon any trees bored with small auger holes, several near the base of each trunk, you may suspect that this is a grove of hard maples which the New England farmer calls his “sugar bush.”

Look at the twigs, and you will see that the plump round buds are set opposite, and the twigs are opposite on the branch. This is the way with all maple trees. Are the branches many, and do they shoot upward rather than outward, and form an oval head? This is the typical habit of young hard maple trees. As they grow older the heavy lower limbs become horizontal. They are clean, hardy, vigorous trees, long-lived, dependable, able to meet the storms, and to suffer the theft of their rich sap every spring without apparent loss of strength and vitality.

The leaves come out later than those of the soft maples. They are firm, and broad, with five pointed lobes between wide fissures that reach half-way to the stem. Margins of these lobes are wavy, never saw-toothed, like those of the silver maple. They are dark green above, with paler linings. In autumn they turn to yellow, orange, and red.

The flowers open in May, shortly after the leaves appear. They are in thick, hairy, yellowish clusters. Some are pistillate, some staminate, in the same cluster. Those with the forked pistils remain and grow into smooth fruits towards the end of summer. The keys of sugar maples are short-winged, like those of the red maple, but have stouter, thicker seeds. They are shed in late autumn and early winter.

Hard maples are among the best of shade trees, and the glory of their autumn colouring makes them one of the most to be desired among trees planted merely for ornament. A street planted to hard maples is well planted always. But people are impatient for trees to grow up. The slow growth of the sugar maple is discouraging. It is a good plan to plant the quick-growing soft maples, and alternate with them the slow-growing species. For a few years the soft maples are pretty, and with each year’s growth they give more abundant shade. By the time the wind has crippled their long arms, and made the trees unsightly, the hard maples are coming on to take their places, and they need the room which is given them by the removal of their neighbours on to the left and right.

When I went into the woods of Oregon, I found the vine maple trees, which seems not to have sufficient backbone to stand upright. These trees start to grow erect, but their weight soon overcomes their strength, and they droop, but keep on growing, with their limbs prostrate on the ground. The wet land in many places was covered with a network of the interfering branches of these serpentine maple trees.

The leaf is about the size of the palm of my hand, and almost circular. The border is cut into many shallow lobes. The seeds are characteristic keys, smooth, and the wings of each pair are spread almost opposite each other.

The Norway maple is a most popular street tree. Its foliage is very dense, and the tree forms a round, symmetrical head. The broad, five-lobed leaves are remotely toothed, smooth, thin, and dark green on both sides. Break a leaf stem, and a milky juice appears. The seeds are very flat, and have broad, flaring wings. The flowers are yellowish. Great clusters of them come out with the leaves. The seeds are ripe in autumn.

We shall find that the foliage of the Norway maple stands the wear and tear better than that of many shade trees. The crown of a Norway maple turns to bright gold in autumn, and most of the leaves are still unmarred when they fall.

The box elder is the one native maple which has compound leaves. The leaf blade is cleft quite to the stem, and the thirds form separate leaflets, each mounted on its own stalk. These leaves are set opposite on the twigs, like those of other maples.

In spring pink fringes like corn silk decorate the branches of certain box elder trees. Other trees of the same kind hide little green flowers among the opening leaves. The pink fringes are the pollen-bearing flowers, which fall when ripe. Staminate trees never bear fruit. All through the summer the trees which bore the greenish flower are dangling clusters of pale green seeds, each with the peculiar wing, which proves it a maple. When the ragged, yellowing foliage falls, these seed clusters remain on the branches, and all through the winter the wind is plucking and carrying them away.

The wood of box elder is very soft. The tree is planted because it grows so quickly and surely, and its seeds are so easily obtained. But broken branches give the older trees a crippled, unhappy look, and the ragged clusters of seeds give them a disheveled appearance all winter. Fortunate is the man who has planted elms or hard maples along the road, so that he may take out the decrepit box elders, and have the better trees coming on to take their places.

The striped maple is a little tree, which hides in the woods, and only a few people know the tree, and love it as it deserves. The stripes are on its smooth green bark, which breaks into a network of furrows as the stems increase in diameter. These furrows expose a very pale under-bark, so that at a short distance the trunk seems to be delicately traced with white lines.

In its blossoming season the striped maple has a loose, drooping cluster of yellow, bell-like flowers. The leaves that surround them are broad and shallowly three-lobed, and saw-toothed all around. The seeds are little maple keys, smaller than those of the red maple.

The mountain maple is another little tree quite as modest and retiring as its striped cousin. It has longer, more taper-pointed leaves. The flower clusters are much smaller than those of the striped maple, and they stand erect. The fruits hang late in the winter, on the grey downy twigs, which are brightened by red buds.

THE WILLOW FAMILY

One of the first tree families whose name we learn is the willow family. The members are numerous, and the botanists find great difficulty in distinguishing certain species, which closely resemble each other; but these troubles we shall leave to the scientist. The point for us to consider is this: When we see a tree which we know to be a willow, _how_ do we know it? “It looks like a willow,” some one says. But who knows, and can tell _how_ willows look—how they differ from other trees?

First, willows have slender, flexible twigs that give the tree tops grace and lightness. Second, willow leaves are nearly always long and slim to match the supple twigs. They are always simple, and short-stemmed. The wood is light and soft, so the trees break easily in storms of wind and ice. An old willow tree is likely to be crippled, but its scars and wounds are covered in summer by the arching branches and the abundant foliage.

The first trees to blossom in spring are the shrubby pussy willows, a distinct kind whose catkins are so eager to push out of their scales that their grey, silky noses are often seen in November. Frequently, they are out and the scales dropped in February; but the yellow stamens and the long-tongued pistils do not rise above the grey fur until March, at least. The most attractive stage of these catkins is the earlier one, when the flower buds are concealed by the grey silk.

By cutting pussy willow twigs in the late fall, or any time during the winter, and putting them into a jar of water, we may see the blossoming, quite out of season. Sufficient food is stored in the twig to force out the blossoms, even to the shedding of the pollen. It is a charming thing in the winter to have a vase of these twigs in full bloom on a window sill when snow banks are piled high just outside.

Willows are lovers of wet ground, and we shall see groves of them scattered along streams and on the margins of ponds and swamps. A few species thrive in dry soil, and seem to prefer it. Some grow at sea level, others are found on high mountains. From small shrubs they vary to mighty trees. There is no climate and no soil that does not have its native willows. The family is distributed from the Equator to the Arctic Circle.

It is very common in many places for farmers to plant a grove of willows for a windbreak, to protect their houses and barns. This is especially seen in prairie states and other treeless regions. Willows are quick-growing trees, and sure to grow. All one needs do is to cut limbs from a growing tree, chop these limbs into pieces the length of stove wood, and drive them into the ground. Each one takes root, and grows into a tree, if the soil is at all moist.

Another plan is to cut fence posts from the willow grove, and drive them into the ground. Each of these posts forms the trunk of a willow tree, which soon has a great head of branches.

In Holland and other countries, willows are thickly planted to form hedges and for their roots to hold the soil along the banks of streams and ditches. The same trees may perform a double service. Willow wood makes good summer fuel, where a quick, hot fire is desired. The twigs make the best charcoal used in the manufacture of gunpowder. The long, flexible twigs of a low-growing willow are used in the manufacture of wicker chairs, tables, and other furniture. These trees are grown on a large scale in France and other European countries, and the industry is being introduced in some parts of America.

When spring comes on, we may notice a peculiar change in the colour of the bare willows that line the stream borders. The twigs turn gradually green, and the long, pointed buds prepare to cast off their single scales. These are shaped like the long, knitted caps which children wear in winter time, although there is no tassel at the end. The cap fits snugly over the long bud, and is fastened in a circle at the joint. The swelling bud simply pushes it off.

Under these trees, we shall find a good many fresh twigs. Reaching up to break one, we find that it snaps off short at the base. It is not brittle along its whole length. Try a dozen twigs, and off they snap, almost at a touch. The wind has broken off those that fell to the ground. Some that fall in the water, float away down stream. They catch on sandbars, and strike root. Some swing in to the shore, and grow on the banks.

We have discovered a habit of certain kinds of willow trees. The shedding of their twigs at the season when they are fullest of life is the tree’s method of colonising new territory. These twigs float away, and blow away, and those which lodge in wet ground before they dry are almost sure to grow. The billowy acres of green which cover sandbars and stream borders are willow trees, children of parents that grow far up stream.

Along roadsides in this country a large willow is much planted, whose leaves are pale beneath, so that they look very cheerful and cool in midsummer. The most striking thing about these willows is that their twigs are yellow as ducks’ feet, and particularly bright in early spring. The older trees grow very stout, and great branches leave the trunk close to the ground. This is the golden osier willow, one form of the white willow of Europe, which does not grow vigorously in this country.

The weeping willows, whose long, supple branches sweep out and downward, sometimes yards in length, from the tree top, came originally from Babylon. Who were they in that far country who “hung their harps on the willow trees”? A great many weeping willows in the Eastern states are said to be sprung from the parent tree, which grew on the Island of St. Helena. What famous prisoner probably sat under the shadows of this willow tree, and dreamed again of conquering the world? The weeping willow has the habit of snapping its twigs off, short, at the base. One of these long withes, cut into bits with one or two buds on each cutting, will start as many weeping willow trees, if the bits are stuck into wet sand and kept wet until rooted, and then set out and given plenty of water until they become established in the ground.

The black willow is named for the black bark of the old tree. It is the only one of the narrow-leaved willows whose leaves are uniformly green on both sides. These leaves are often curved like a sickle. At the base of each leaf is a pair of heart-shaped, leafy blades, called stipules. Many trees have stipules that come out with the leaves, and are dropped off, but these persist, as a rule, all summer. The black willow is one of those with the twigs that snap. It takes possession of stream borders, and its offspring may cover miles of new territory in a single season.

The balsam willow we shall know by the fragrant coating of wax, or balsam, on its young shoots and buds. Its broad leaves are blunt at the tip, and look scarcely willow-like, but the tree is known by its buds and its catkins. To find it we shall have to go into the boggy regions in the Northern tier of states, where it is numerous, but never more than a shrubby tree.

One use is served by no tree as well as a willow. When the sap rises in spring, the willow branches are in prime condition to make whistles. I wonder if there is a boy, in town or country, who does not know how to make a willow whistle that will “go”? Surely not, unless his supply of uncles and grandfathers is short. You cannot make a willow whistle by following printed directions. Some skilful person, who has been a boy, must show you, and one lesson is enough.

WHY TREES NEED LEAVES