WHEN THE LEAF IS WOO'D 



which dyes the hardy oak leaves and bleaches 

 those of birch and beech. One by one the 

 oaks yield to the spell, till their deep hues 

 of scarlet, wine, russet, and umber are woven 

 into rich woodland tapestry which better 

 satisfies the eye than the gaudier pageant 

 of color made by the maples. Far beyond 

 the outposts of winter the oaks sturdily 

 flaunt their deep warm colors, only com- 

 panioned and sometimes outstayed by a lonely 

 birch or beech, which, even in the teeth of 

 late winter gales, doughtily waves its rust- 

 ling banner of buff or white. 



Finally, the last leaf is vanquished ; but be- 

 fore the surrender, each has bequeathed to 

 the parent stem or stalk that bore it all the 

 stores of nutriment which it has industriously 

 garnered from air, sun, and rain, when it 

 seemed to be idly dancing in the breeze. 

 How great this bequest may be to a tree, one 

 may estimate from a computation made by 

 one who attempted the seemingly impossible 

 and counted seven million leaves on an elm. 

 From this leaf surface of about two hundred 

 thousand square feet, or five acres, the sur- 



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