WOODLAND PATHS 



float down the field to the even more rudi- 

 mentary pistillate flower, but they are big 

 enough to change the gloom of rocky hill- 

 sides to a glow of delight, seemingly in an 

 hour. You have but to look about you if 

 you will visit the pasture cedars on May- 

 day, and you may see the place light up 

 with the change. 



There is no fragrance to these blooms 

 other than the resinous delight which the 

 leaves themselves distil at the caress of 

 warm suns. It was no odor of the pasture 

 cedars which had given an object to my 

 walk. 



The larch is not a native of Massachu- 

 setts, but it will grow here fairly well if 

 you plant it, and there are long rows of 

 these trees by the roadside on the way to 

 the pasture. These are all coming forth in 

 the fragile beauty of new ideas. The larch 

 is the mugwump among conifers, dallying 

 184 



