^ 



v^ 



v^ 



^ 



IS bound to occur if we don't stop and 

 think. I know all this quite well. But 

 it is of the forest out there on the other 

 side of the road that I am ignorant. I 

 spend hours in it daily, and we strive 

 like two untrained deaf mutes to make 

 out something of one another's mean- 

 ing, but I cannot understand. 



Why, in the middle of the mile of 

 mixed trees, do we find a whole hill- 

 side of pines ? Is it true that the moss 

 under the pines is dififerent from the 

 moss under the mixed trees, or do we 

 only fancy so, or is it only accident? 

 Is there a rotation in crops with trees, 

 or why, when there is not one oak in 

 the forest, did they plant the whole last 

 clearing to oaks? 



The roads are splendid in every di- 

 rection ; they are of broken rock, with 

 sand and gravel crushed in with a road- 

 roller. The underbrush is all cleared 

 out, and the carpet of dead leaves is 

 only broken by patches of moss. The 

 prettiest mushrooms grow everywhere ; 

 some are exactly like edelweiss, and 

 some are pink. There are pink-shelled 

 snails, too, and great red snails without 

 shells. The fairy very justly observes 

 that when one goes barefoot she notices 

 snails and mushrooms much more than 

 when wearing shoes. What I notice 

 more than anything else is the unspeak- 

 able order of it all ; not a dead tree, not 

 a broken branch — all is so quiet, so still, 

 so clean. 



For miles along these hills it is all 



"planted wood," as the Germans say, 

 and all is in the same order. And yet 

 one rarely sees a workman. Deer, yes, 

 and rabbits often, but hardly ever a 

 man. Perhaps in August there is no 

 need to give the trees attention — that 

 is another thing that I must learn. 



There is one very interesting tree 

 among them all. In the midst of the 

 forest, on the crown of the ridge stands 

 a ruined castle where Barbarossa and 

 all the rest have often come and gone. 

 Mausfield besieged it and took it and 

 wrecked it, and on the mounds of its 

 ruin very large trees have grown and 

 been cut down. But the strangest tree 

 of all lies across the way from the old 

 entrance. I thought at first that it was 

 a mound with trees growing upon it, 

 but the fairy pointed out to me that the 

 mound itself was a tree, vast and 

 hollow. Around the top of the hollow 

 the old shell bunches, as if to cover 

 some sort of ancient scars, and out of 

 each bunch springs a thriving tree, six 

 to ten inches in diameter, which seems 

 in some odd way to serve itself through 

 the medium of the roots of the old 

 stump. It is so odd. One sees willows 

 do something like this, but this tree is 

 not a Willow. I don't know what it is. 



Oh, I have much to learn. Even this 

 husre old tree must have its lesson when 

 I can read it. I want so much to learn. 

 I sympathize as I never did before with 

 Alfred the Great. And he learned. 



(To be continued) 



N^ 



V^ 



v^ 



v^ 



541 



