in a level breeze it often holds its
own, while in the upward slanting streams of air which flow so
often along and away from the earth's surface it rises easily. The
stronger the wind the more the whirl of that tiny propeller tends
to keep it in air and with a good September gale thrashing seed
out of its cones a pine tree may be planting its kind for miles to
leeward. The seed that brushed my cheek this morning made no such
offing. Caught in a back eddy it whirled round a sunny glade for a
moment, then in a sudden lull spun directly downward to the grass.
There again its shape favored it. The first grass spear stopped
its spinning and it dived plummet-like out of sight, the thin
propeller becoming a tail that kept it head downward while it
slipped most cannily to the very mould. There I found it, still in
such a position that every movement, every pressure, would carry
it dawn out of sight of all seed eating creatures where it might
rest and ripen till spring when it would be ready to germinate.

Searching the pine grove and the scrubby country that outlies it,
I found all stages of pine growth, from the gnarled patriarch four
feet in diameter at the butt to the germinating seedling. The
patriarch is nearly a hundred feet tall, and though I know many
pines of his height, I have found none of quite his diameter, and
I am very sure none of his age, hereabouts. His age I can but
guess, yet I know that fifty years ago he was as large as he is
now. Indeed, he had more wood in him, for his lower limbs that
then were green and flourishing and six to eight inches in
diameter have since decayed and fallen away. Recently a pine was
felled in Pennsylvania which was 155 feet tall and 42 inches
through at 4 feet 6 inches from the ground. This tree was 351
years old. I have reason to believe my patriarch is as old as that
one. His height is not so great, but he has three trunks instead
of one, springing from that gnarled butt at a number of feet above
the ground: There are occasional trees like this one still
standing in eastern Massachusetts. They have seen their children
and grandchildren grow to marketable size and fall before the
woodchopper's axe. They have seen one or two generations of
hardwood grow between these cuttings, yet they still are allowed
to remain. In cutting off wood it used to be the custom of our
forefathers to leave here and there a particularly gnarled and
difficult pine that the seed might furnish a grow