THE PLAY OF LEAVES 



colts, and calves are still making them- 

 selves admirably ridiculous in fenced mea- 

 dows. And neither hunter, hawk, nor 

 wildcat makes allowances for the youth 

 and inexperience of debutante game. 



It is different with little leaves. They 

 are as playful as kittens, with their dances, 

 poses, flutters, their delicate bursts of glee. 

 Unless involved with flowers, or with tim- 

 ber or real estate, they are safe, not alone 

 in winter babyhood, but through spring 

 and summer, that minister to them with 

 baths of dew and rain and with the som- 

 nolent wine of the sun. Only when old 

 age has brought weariness with winds and 

 heat, and even with the drawing of sap, 

 are they confronted by their enemy, frost. 

 You will say, caterpillars, forest fires, but 

 they are the fault of man and an unan- 

 ticipated flaw in nature's plan for letting 

 the leaves off easily. We brought foreign 

 trees that had their own mysterious pro- 

 tection at home into lands where that 

 immunity vanished, and so the chestnut 

 has left us, and apple and rose are threat- 

 ened by foes whom their mother had not 

 foreseen. Were it not for man's mistakes 

 the leaves would have had an outrageously 



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