THE ROAD TO MUDDY POND 



flat, wing-margined seeds were still 

 tangled by the two pistils which still re- 

 mained, seeming like tiny black roots, or 

 something like those hooks by which 

 the tick-seed fastens to you for a free 

 ride. 



Surely the wilderness families have 

 strongly marked individuality. Both the 

 white and yellow birches must hold their 

 seeds and scatter them little by little the 

 whole season through, that they may have 

 the better chance to germinate and con- 

 tinue the race, and I can never see why 

 they should not do it in the same way. But 

 they do not. Perhaps this infinite varia- 

 bility is arranged wisely so that people 

 who blunder about with half seeing eyes 

 may now and then have them opened a 

 little wider and so be pleased and teased 

 into blundering on. Another season I 

 shall watch the yellow birches and find, 

 197 



