A STORY OF SOME MAPLES 



must do to carry out the life -round, for the 

 graceful two -winged seeds that follow them are 

 picked up and whirled about by April winds, 

 and, if they lodge in the warming earth, are 

 fully able to grow into fine little trees the 

 same season. Examine these seed-pods, keys, or 

 samaras (this last is a scientific name with such 

 euphony to it that it might well become com- 

 mon ! ) , and notice the delicate veining in the 

 translucent wings. See the graceful lines of the 

 whole thing, and realize what an abundant pro- 

 vision Dame Nature makes for reproduction, — for 

 a moderate- sized tree completes many thousands 

 of these finely formed, greenish yellow, winged 

 samaras, and casts them loose for the wind to 

 distribute during enough days to secure the 

 best chances of the season. 



This same silver maple is a bone of contention 

 among tree -men, at times. Some will tell you it 

 is "coarse"; and so it is when planted in an 

 improper place upon a narrow street, allowed to 

 flourish unrestrained for years, and then ruthlessly 

 cropped off to a headless trunk! But set it on a 

 broad lawn, or upon a roadside with generous 

 room, and its noble stature and grace need yield 



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