SOME OTHER TREES 



always to be called, one wet September day, 

 when an old tree - lover took me out on his 

 lawn to see the rain accentuate the polish on 

 the starry leaves and drip from the little many- 

 pointed balls. I found that day that a camera 

 would work quite well under an umbrella, and 

 I obtained also a mind- negative that will last, 

 I believe, as long as I can think of trees. 



The next experience was in another state, 

 where a quaint character, visited on business, 

 struck hands with me on tree -love, and took 

 me to see his pet liquidambar at the edge of 

 a mill-pond. That one was taller, and quite 

 stately ; it made an impression, deepened again 

 when the third special showing came, this time 

 on a college campus, the young tree being 

 naked and corky, and displayed with pride by 

 the college professor who had gotten out of 

 his books into real life for a joyous half day. 



He wasn't the botany professor, if you 

 please; that dry-as-dust gentleman told me, 

 when I inquired as to what I might find 

 in early bloom, or see with the eyes of an 

 ignorant plant- lover, that there was "nothing 

 blooming, and nothing of interest." He added 



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