tbe fIDapIee. 15 



an individual tone when the wind breathes through 

 it. But there is a difference in the voices of the trees 

 which even the least experienced dweller beneath 

 them must observe. If the pines utter a deep con- 

 tralto note, full of pathos and suggestions of the un- 

 dying solemnities of the world, surely the voice of 

 the maples is the stirring tenor, breathing the lively 

 song of action, the chant of good cheer, and the 

 prophecy of weal. The note of the pines is the 

 murmur of the sea repeating itself in the depths of 

 the forest. The note of the maple comes nearer to 

 the blending sounds of a great city, where human 

 life surges and breaks upon the pavements. It seems 

 as if the maples had imbibed something of the life and 

 spirit of that race by whose homes they have grown 

 lo, these many ages, and as if they wafted back to 

 the heart of the listener who stands beneath them 

 the chorused voices of his own deep thoughts, his 

 strong impulses, his vigorous ambitions. To be sure 

 the maple is still associated with the forest, and so 

 far has a suggestion of wild nature. But seen near 

 the homes of man, sheltering his roof and shading his 

 dooryard, it sheds its wildness as the house-dog 

 sheds his wolfish traits. 



Perhaps it may seem as if with such an impression 

 of the maples one might not find them restful trees, 

 nor draw from them the sweet anodyne of oblivion 

 to the year's busy days and works. But the sug- 

 gestions of human life which rustle in these leaf- 

 voices, the echo of one's activities of brain and heart 



