THE YOUNG NATURALIST. 



157 



barren, but it was only comparatively recently that it was traced to its true 

 cause, the polygamous and dioecious character of the flowers. 



The Ash is a beautiful example of adaptation to environment. It is 

 essentially a wind-fertilised plant, so the flowers are produced in advance of 

 the leaves, and on the topmost boughs, the most exposed portions, the pollen 

 is exceedingly abundant, remarkably dry and powdery, and chiefly borne 

 on specialised trees, apart from the fertile flowers. The blossoms also are 

 not encumbered with any showy corolla or sheltering calyx, which would 

 only hinder the free transmission of the pollen. It may be a moot point 

 whether this is a case of evolution or degeneration, whether these organs have 

 never been developed as unnecessary, or become abortive and dispensed with 

 as useless under altered conditions. But in a closely allied species, the 

 flowering or manna ash (Fraxinus ornus), a native of the Mediterranean, and 

 often met in shrubberies and ornamental plantations in this country, there is 

 a well-defined calyx and a corolla of four narrow white petals, and the flowers 

 do not appear till after the leaves are developed, showing it to be adapted for 

 insect fertilisation. Any one who has an opportunity of comparing the two 

 trees cannot fail to be struck with the strong similarity of structure and yet 

 diversity of the two arrangements. The vernation, that is the manner in 

 which the young leaves are packed up in the buds is very curious ; it is an 

 interesting experiment to a young botanist to dissect one. just when it is 

 opening out. When the outer black shaggy scales are thrown off the infant 

 leaves are seen in pairs opposed to each other, their edges just touching, but 

 not overlapping. The little leaflets each folded lengthways down the middle, 

 ranged in two rows side by side, and so closely ranked that when once ex- 

 posed the deftest packer could not restore them intact to the same compass. 



The late leafing of the ash is a familiar fact, to again quote our Poet 

 Laureate, whose accuracy in details of nature is proverbial, he says — 



" Delaying as the tender ash delays 



To clothe herself, when all the woods are green." 



And it is very noticeable in all seasons, but particularly so in a late one like 

 the present, when as all leafing is late it might be supposed the laggards 

 would overtake the early ones, but this year at the last week of May the ash 

 stood gaunt and verdureless, whilst all its compeers were struggling to array 

 themselves in their vernal dress. Even the stately oak, with the dilatoriness 

 of royalty, allowing all its subjects to bedeck themselves before it should don 

 its regal garb, was at the same time striving to burst its swaddling bands, and 

 its branches were adorned with the golden tinted foliage of its opening buds. 

 The relative appearance of the leaves of the ash and oak has been woven into 

 a weather adage in rural districts thus : — 



