IN LEAFLESS WOODS. 



marked an ashy feature that you can tell 

 an ash by it afar off in its wintry nakedness 

 as you whirl by in a train at a mile's dis- 

 tance, especially if it happens to be sil- 

 houetted against the sky on a bare ridge 

 or hilltop. The growth of the oak, on the 

 other hand, so gnarled and irregular, is quite 

 equally characteristic ; while the disposition 

 of the buds soon reveals the fact that this 

 very irregularity itself owes its origin in 

 the last resort to a survival of the fittest 

 among many abortive branches. For the 

 oak tries, as it were, to grow symmetrically 

 like a conifer ; but frost and wind play such 

 havoc with its delicate young shoots that it 

 never succeeds in realizing its ideal, but 

 grows habitually distorted against its will 

 by external agencies. 



Nor does our winter leave us wholly 

 leafless. Even in England we have a fair 

 sprinkling of native-born evergreens. And 

 I really don't know that I would wish them 

 more frequent ; for nothing can be more 

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