TREES IN UNDRESS. 1 55 



you can not perform the work of taking the car- 

 bon from the air ; so, when you feel the breath 

 of Autumn withdraw the starches, sap and other 

 nutritive material from your tissues into the infant 

 bud you have guarded so tenderly through the 

 Summer under the base of each one of your stalks, 

 then die in all your glory, and drop off without a 

 struggle, as those that have done their duty well. 

 The young bud, in whose body your blood is 

 stored, is like the seed fallen in the soil, which 

 lies dormant during the wintry reign, but at the 

 first warm breath of Spring will burst forth to 

 produce another generation of leaves and twigs." 



But the season of rest in the deciduous trees is 

 brief. Hardly has the sun crossed the vernal 

 equinox when they begin to "show belief." The 

 juices, confined all Winter in the wooden cells, 

 expand, and the veins of the topmost twigs are 

 charged with the colorless blood. The sweet 

 birch trunks and limbs are overflowing with the 

 exuberant sap, which drips on the dead leaves 

 below them. The white and red maples are 

 fountains sending up streams of delicious hydro- 

 mel, and bursting asunder the garnet blossom 

 buds, while the importunate bees, with their pollen 

 baskets, are early to their market, and garrulous 

 over the scarcity of bread-stuffs. 



The elms have bloomed and gone to seed 

 almost before we know it. A mist of many hues 



