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the trees in the neighborhood and began already to 
hang out its wreaths of white flowers. The very 
name of Clematis means a tendril, and it loves to 
lend its own grace and beauty to every thing around. 
It told Mary its germs and seeds grew on a sister 
plant on the other side of the meadow, and that a 
little gnat carried the pollen when it was ready, to 
scatter it over the stigmas there. 
Mary saw that where the Clematis vines found no 
supporting trees, they clung together and rose in a 
beautiful pyramid toward the sky, as if they would 
catch hold of the very clouds, to help them rise. 
“We are like many trees in one thing,” said the 
pretty Virgin’s-bower, for this is one of the names of 
the Clematis, our stamens and pistils fjrow on 
different plants. The wind often blows the pollen 
of a tree to the stigmas on its sister plant, and I 
believe the winds are very faithful messengers, but 
