UNDER THE APPLE-TREES 
up out of the top of the stalk, bold, rigid, conspicu- 
ous, rustic-looking, — “topping out,” as the farm- 
ers say, — and then, following down the stalk with 
my eye, see among the leaves the female blossom 
timidly putting out her delicate silk fringe, like a 
lock of greenish-golden hair, — one tender thread for 
each kernel of corn that is to be, — and awaiting the 
caresses through the agency of the wind of her suitor 
above, I am witnessing one of the most pleasing 
illustrations of Nature’s great law that is to be seen 
in our fields and gardens. 
In the case of no other tree in our Northern for- 
ests does the male principle assert itself so conspicu- 
ously as in the chestnut—a tree that now, alas! 
seems in danger of extinction from some obscure 
fungus disease attacking its inner bark. In early 
summer its masses of creamy-white staminate flow- 
ers make the top of the woods gay, while its small, 
modest, greenish female flowers are seen only by him 
who closely searches for them. But the gala day of 
the males is brief, while the obscure mother-bloom 
goes forward and develops her polished triple nuts 
of autumn. 
The odors of the blooming corn and blooming 
chestnut in some way suggest fruition and the sex 
passion. 
In the hazel, masculine and feminine contrast in 
the same way asin the chestnut. The long, showy, 
pollen-yielding tassels are seen from afar, but the 
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