70 THE MAPLE AND THE SYCAMOBE. 



berry, or anything of the apple form, these two produce a curious fruit, 

 technically termed a double samara. Originally, so far as can be 

 gathered from the use of the word by Columella, this term was applied 

 to the fruit of the elm-tree. The application is now extended, all fruits 

 of structure similar to that of the elm (the little seed-like fruits, for 

 example, contained in the quasi-cone of the birch-tree) being classed as 

 samaras. The main distinction in the maple and sycamore is the grow- 

 ing of the samaras in couples, instead of singly. 



The samara is a one-celled and one-seeded, dry, and indehiscent fruit, 

 provided with a long or broad membranous wing, whkh enables the wind 

 to waft it far away. Hence the frequency with which trees producing 

 fruits of this nature are found perched aloft upon old church towers and 

 castle walls, where they compete for the monarchy with trees that have 

 had their seeds conveyed thither by birds. While young, these wing-like 

 parts are semi-translucent, and on being held between the eye and the 

 light, show a beautiful net-work of veins. In old age, when beginning 

 to .dry up, they become elegantly reticulated, and in the depth of 

 winter it is not uncommon to find them reduced to the condition of 



Double Samara of Sycamore. 



skeletons. Capital toys are they, too, for children. A properly- 

 ripened samara of the common sycamore (easily known to be so by the 

 roundness and solidity of the seed at the end), thrown up into the air, 

 spins and gyrates during its descent to the ground with a rapidity that 

 baffles the attempt to follow. It seems some queer insect in circular 

 and downward flight ; and when many are thrown up at once, the busy 

 wheeling becomes quite an entertainment. The seeds of the conifers, 

 when provided with the usual wing, similarly circle downwards. A 

 beautiful and familiar natural law is, of course, the explanation of this 

 curious spinning. At present we care to notice it only as an illustra- 

 tion of the pretty charities with which nature abounds, the child having 

 its simple plaything provided, just as the philosopher has noble ideas 

 suggested, and the pious man happy reflections. Few would suppose, 

 until they come to be reckoned up, how many of these little playthings 

 our boys and girls manage to find. The round, white head of the 



