[TO BE CONTINUED]
Kind wishes and good deeds—they make not poor
They’ll home again, full laden, to thy door.
Richard H. Dana
A RAMBLE IN EARLY SPRING
By Julia McNair Wright
GOING out for a walk on some March morning, we find the air soft and warm, the skies of a summer blue, the water rippling in every little runnel. We look about, half expecting to see a bluebird perched upon a fence post, a robin stepping among the stubble. The stems and branches which appeared dry and dead all the winter have now a fresh exhibition of life. We can almost see the sap creeping up through their vessels and distributing vigor where it goes.
Let us go to the woods, to some sunny southern slope where maples grow.
Turning over the light, soft earth, we shall find the maple seeds that ripened last autumn and are now germinating. The seeds of the maple are in pairs, which are called keys. They look more like little tan-colored moths than keys; the distinctly-veined, winged husk is very like the narrow and veined wings of many moths.