106 THE AMERICAN BOTANIST. 



when without any apparent motion, he hears this echo of 

 the sea. 



Each tree has a language of its own, and the sylvan 

 philologist leams to know them all. Sometimes he may 

 be puzzled at an unusual expression, but he will soon 

 understand. A perfect S3'mpathy between man and tree 

 abolishes all little word difficulties, and brings two souls 

 in harmon3^ Many a lovely story have the beech-trees 

 told me of the classic times of dryad and of nymph. The 

 chestnuts sing of Andalusian maidens, of poor Boabdil 

 and the ruins of Granada ; the oaks narrate the glories of 

 the Roman legions, whose heroes its leaves have crowned ; 

 the birches recall the too frequent admonition of child- 

 hood ; the hickories suggest the memory of autumn da3'S 

 when "the sound of dropping nuts was heard," and the 

 gentian opens its holy eye; lasth', the "wild witch-hazel 

 tree," as Drake calls it, deceives us with stories of buried 

 treasures, which so far, we have failed to unearth. 



It is comforting when all else fails, and even in the 

 midst of the whirl of life we often feel alone, to hold com- 

 munion with Nature, she that "never 3^et forsook the heart 

 that loved her." Through her ministers, the trees, she 

 tells us never to despair ; while to her sisters of mercy, the 

 flowers, she intrusts the task of leading us to the feet of 

 the bounteous Giver. 



The hammock, once associated with rolling billows 

 and general unpleasantness, is now the s\aion3'm of ter- 

 restrial enjoyment. It is all ver\" well for the poets "to 

 sit on rocks and muse." But the true dreamer, he who 

 has Nirvana in view, takes to the hammock as the oriole 

 does to the pendant elm branch. If there be such a thing 

 as profitable laziness, which the super-energetic will, of 

 course, deny, it is this hammock revery. 



We swing our cradle between two old cherry trees, up- 

 on which thejuic}^ globes are still luscious and enticing. 

 Lying with an umbrella to shield us from too dazzling 

 light, and a palm-leaf fan to ward off flies, we gaze up 

 through the rustling foliage. 



