Geo. I have sometimes brought home my pocket full to burn. They make a fine clear flame.
Tut. Well—do you know where the seeds lie in them.
Geo. No—have they any?
Tut. Yes—at the bottom of every scale lie two winged seeds; but when the scales open, the seeds fall out: so that you can seldom find any in those you pick up.
Har. Are the seeds good for anything?
Tut. There is a kind of pine in the south of Europe called the stone-pine, the kernels of which are eaten, and said to be as sweet as an almond. And birds pick out the seeds of other sorts, though they are so well defended by the woody scales.
Har. They must have good strong bills then.
Tut. Of this tribe of trees a variety of species are found in different countries, and are cultivated in this. But the only kind native here is the wild-pine or Scotch-fir. Of this, there are large natural forests in the Highlands of Scotland; and the principal plantations consist of it. It is a hardy sort, fit for barren and mountainous soils, but grows slowly.
Geo. Pray, what are those very tall trees that grow in two rows before the old hall in our village?
Tut. They are the common or spruce fir, a native of Norway, and other northern countries, and one of the loftiest of the tribe. But observe those trees that grow singly in the grounds opposite to us with widespread branches spreading downward, and trailing on the ground, thence gradually lessening till the top of the tree ends almost in a point.