LORD 



A WISE OLD OAK 283 



all this when you were paymg hardly any attention at all, when you 

 were just going past. Think how much more it could have told 

 you if you had just stopped and listened. 



People are funny that way. They think that anything that 

 isn't somebody's brother or sister can't talk. And all the time dogs 

 are wagging their tails and cats are purring and the winds are 

 making soft sounds in the top of our wise old oak. None of us can 

 remember what we used to think to ourselves in our cradles before 

 we could talk, what we used to have to say to ourselves before we 

 knew a single word of the English language. But if we have baby 

 brothers. and sisters we know that we did have a lot to say to our- 

 selves and all without words — they do it, we know, and we were as. 

 smart as they are, cA^ery bit. 



Well, that's about the way to talk to a tree — without words, just 

 with ideas. And when you've had your talk you can put it in 

 words, if you want to, the same way I'm going to do mine. Some 

 grown-up people may not believe what you tell them about your 

 talk with the tree, but what does that matter ! It only means that 

 they don't understand the tree language of thoughts instead of 

 words. 



The Wise Old Oak that told me all the things I am going to tell 

 you stands all alone, almost in the middle of the largest field on our 

 farm. It is a Black Oak — you can tell its brothers from the cousin 

 Whites and Scarlets by the big broad leaves, with rounded cuts, not 

 so very deep. The points of these leaves are not so sharp as those 

 of most of the other oaks and the acorns are large and bitter, with 

 caps too small for their heads. 



We had hay in that field, I remember, the summer I had my talk 

 with the Oak. The reason I remember that is because I was lying 

 on a haycock at the edge of its shade when I ought to have been out 

 in the sun piling up more haycocks. But it was late in the after- 

 noon and mighty hot, and I was lazy, so I just loafed in the shade 

 and presently began to wonder about the old oak over my head. 

 That's one of the best ways to get an oak to talk — to wonder about 

 it. Almost before I knew what was happening, the Oak was 

 answering the questions that were in my mind. 



"No," it said, " I'm not a bit lonely up here on my hill, altho I 

 am very glad you have come to talk with me. There was a time 

 when I had plenty of company- — a little too much, I thought, when 



