"I think the ^laplcs are sueh pretty 

 trees, and they seem to Hoiirish any- 

 where. In an old book which I was 

 readini^ this morning I saw a nice piece 

 of poetry and the writer evidently 

 thought similarly, for he said : 



Down sunny slopes and valleys 



Her graceful form is seen; 

 Her wide, umbrageous branches. 



The sun-burnt reapers screen; 

 'Mid the dark-browed firs and cedars 



Her livelier colors shine, 

 Like the dawn of a brighter future 



On the settler's hut of pine. 



She crowns the pleasant hill-top, 



Whispers on breezy downs, 

 And casts refreshing shadows 



O'er the streets of our busy towns; 

 She gladdens the aching eye-ball, 



Shelters the weary head. 

 And scatters her crimson glories 



O'er the graves of the silent dead." 



''One member of our family, the 

 Moosewood, is an extremely beautiful 

 tree, especially in the spring- when the 

 delicate, exquisite coloring of its open- 

 ing foliage clothes its slender, graceful 

 branches as with a misty, rosy sheen. 

 Its blossoms are yellow and hang in 

 graceful drooping racemes, which are 

 followed by large, showy keys. It bears 

 the largest leaves of all our family." 



"Moosewood is a very peculiar name. 

 Surely there must be a reason for such 

 a name?" 



"Yes, there is. Years ago there were 

 plenty of moose in the New England 

 States, and these animals were particu- 

 larly fond of the bark and branchlets of 

 this tree, because they were filled with 

 a saccharine juice which just suited the 

 palates of the moose, who -would com- 

 pletely strip the trees. 



'There is a member of our family, the 

 Silver Alaple, which in poise and out- 

 line resembles the elm. It, too, divides 

 into secondary stems and its branches 

 have the same airy upward and out- 

 ward sweep, ending in slender, drooping 

 branchlets ; but it is a much prettier 

 tree when its finely cut leaves sway in 

 the passing breeze because their under- 

 side is of a silvery whiteness which adds 

 much to the delicacy of foliage. It is 

 also like the elm in another respect, as 

 it likes a moist situation for its roots, 

 and will not flourish in dry ground. It 



is the first tree of the wildwood to fling 

 out its blossoms on the spring air, nor 

 does it don any brilliant colors in the 

 fall, wearing a dress of dull, pale yel- 

 low. 



"Another member of our family 

 which has not a tinge of red in its 

 autumn coloring is the Box Elder, some- 

 times called Ash-leaved Maple, because 

 its leaves are compound. This tree, if 

 allowed plenty of room, is very useful as 

 a shade tree, for it grows to an enor- 

 mous size, its great wide-spreading 

 branches throwing their protecting arms 

 around the cozy little home nestling 

 beneath its shade." 



'T know of one whose shade is a wel- 

 come retreat in hot days. It is a fine 

 tree ; I have stood beneath it and looked 

 upward into its great leafy dome and 

 admired it beyond measure. . I never 

 knew though that it was a member of 

 your family." 



"Yes ; the fruit of a tree determines 

 the family to which it belongs, and the 

 double samara is a characteristic of the 

 Maple family." 



"Do you know," said Mabel, as she 

 looked at the glowing picture before her, 

 "that the country would not be nearly 

 as beautiful in the fall, were it not for 

 the Maples?" 



"Yes, I do know it and our beauty, 

 if nothing else, should be a sufficient 

 reason for our being. While the ashes 

 assume a purple tint; the poplars, elms, 

 birches and willows don robes of yel- 

 low ; the oak a golden brown, with a 

 glint of red; w^e, the Maples, revel in 

 shades of crimson, red, gold and orange. 

 Look at that tree yonder, all save one 

 branch is still in its summer robe of 

 green, that branch is as if dyed in 

 blood ; look at those leaves of mine," 

 and he shook himself until the beautiful 

 leaves flew hither and thither on the 

 light breeze, like gorgeous tropical birds. 

 Mabel gathered a few of the brilliantly 

 marked leaves of crimson and golden 

 yellow, fingering them lovingly. 



"Now," came from the tree, "I will 

 tell you something which, perhaps, you 

 never noticed. A tree assumes the same 

 color year after year and never departs 

 from it.' The colors may be deeper 

 some vears than others, but the same 



