A SPRAY OF PINE. 43 



in midsummer, though I have known all the pines to 

 delay till October. It is on with the new love before 

 it is off with the old. From May till near autumn 

 it carries two crops of leaves, last year's and the pres- 

 ent year's. Emerson's inquiry, 



*' How the sacred pine-tree adds 

 To her old leaves new myriads," 



is framed in strict accordance with the facts. It is 

 to her old leaves that she adds the new. Only the 

 new growth, the outermost leaves, are carried over 

 till the next season, thus keeping the tree always 

 clothed and green. As its molting season approaches, 

 these old leaves, all the rear ranks on the limbs, 

 begin to turn yellow, and a careless observer might 

 think the tree was struck with death ; but it is not. 

 The decay stops just where the growth of the previ- 

 ous spring began, and presently the tree stands green 

 and vigorous, with a newly-laid carpet of fallen leaves 

 beneath it. 



I wonder why it is that the pine has an ancient 

 look, a suggestion in some way of antiquity ? Is it 

 because we know it to be the oldest tree ? or is it not 

 rather that its repose, its silence, its unchangeable- 

 ness, suggest the past, and cause it to stand out in 

 sharp contrast upon the background of the flitting 

 fugitive present ? It has such a look of permanence ! 

 When growing from the rocks it seems expressive of 

 the same geologic antiquity as they. It has the sim- 

 plicity of primitive things ; the deciduous trees seem 

 more complex, more heterogeneous ; they have greater 



