A RECORD OF THE PAST. 191 
A Record of the Past and a Prophecy of the 
Future. 
BY WIREIAM H. HUSE. 
In a sense, everything that grows is a record of the past 
and a prophecy of the future, but it is not always that we 
see on the same plant the fruit of last year’s flowering and 
this year’s inflorescence at the same time. 
We find all this on the alder in early spring. 
East year’s blossoms were fertilized by the 
wind, matured and gave way to the little 
green knobs gathered in growing clusters 
on the ends of the twigs. These spent the 
summer in growing, and then, when the 
winter winds blew cold and all nature curled 
up to keep warm, the alder cones were ready to uncurl and 
spread their seeds on snowdrifts in field and wood. How 
much like little cones they look! Not all are perfect. 
The elongated scales are leaves which did not succeed in 
being metamorphosed into perfect scales. Every part of 
the cone is of interest, and well worth study. 
It is not the cones, however, which alone would attract 
much attention. Before they have unloaded all their seeds 
the buds for this year’s blossoms will have developed and 
opened. They are open at this date, among the earliest of 
the spring flowers in New Hampshire, if not the earliest. 
The pendent catkins of the staminate flowers are the curls 
with which girls trim their hair and hats. Swinging grace¬ 
fully in the breeze, they are the banners of the approach¬ 
ing army whose vanguard is but a few days behind. How 
daintily they flutter in the wind and shake down gold dust 
from their el dorados into our outstretched palms. 
Above the catkins are the smaller and less conspicuous 
pistillate flowers. The delicate, little, dark red stigmas 
