klein THE PINE 287 



ment. Only in very smoky cities, St. Louis and Pittsburg, for 

 instance, do pines and other conifers decline after a few years of 

 growth. It is believed that sulphur and other substances in the 

 noxious gases that constantly pour from great chimneys choke 

 the evergreens. Nobody is able yet to give a final answer to the 

 question. 



The by-products of pine trees include oil, pitch, turpentine, 

 and rosin, products of the resin that impregnates the wood of 

 pitch pines. Minor products are the seeds of the nut pines, used 

 as food; pine wool, spun from the leaves of certain species; and 

 pine shoots used for Christmas decorations. 



All pines are evergreens and cone bearers. They are distinguish- 

 ed from other genera of the family Conifera by bearing their 

 needlelike leaves in clusters of one to five leaves, each of which is 

 enclosed at its base by a sheath made of popery scales. No other 

 conifer has this sheath. The soft pines, so called from their soft, 

 light wood, shed their leaf sheaths as soon as the young leaves 

 are fully developed. The pitch pines, so called because their 

 heavy, dark-colored wood is full of resin, retain the leaf sheath 

 until the leaves are shed. The number of leaves in the bundle 

 helps to determine the tree. For example, the white pine has 

 five needles in each bunch, the pitch pine has three, while the 

 Austrian pine has two. The first two we shall endeavor to study. 



The White Pine (Pintts strobus, Linn.) 



The white pine is the most beautiful of trees. The fragrance of 

 balsam, the freedom of the atmosphere seems to come to our 

 nostrils with the very name of a pine; but there are few among 

 them that can claim as much admiration as the white pine. Much 

 of the peculiar charm which distinguishes our scenery from that 

 of other lands is owing to its great whorled branches which stand 

 out regularly against the sky. Thruout the winter how magnifi- 

 cent is this living creature of the forest, when it stretches out its 

 arms to uphold the snow and ice that bend them without mercy 

 to the ground. And how must it be thrilled with delight as it is 

 touched with the soft air of spring which lovingly dries its needles 

 by fanning them in its breezes. Then as the silver sheen of their 

 underside passes thru the hazy blue of its green, Thoreau de- 

 scribes the effort as similar to that of cold flashes of electric 

 light. 



