1 1 6 Next to the Ground 



Hence they fell and lay flat one upon another, 

 shingling the earth as it were, and shedding 

 rain for hours. You might find dry ones at 

 the bottom of a deep drift after an all-day 

 rain. Beyond that they were of much stouter 

 fiber. The yellow leaves crisped and crumbled 

 to powder in a month if they stayed dry. Oak 

 leaves varnished all over never crumbled, and 

 took three years to rot, unless they were 

 packed wet and covered. Joe wondered some- 

 times if the oaks did not grudge the light ground 

 to the trees of better fruit, or if they were 

 content to rest on use. 



He wondered too how the ash, which is so 

 great a robber of the soil, ever came to be 

 known as the farmer's tree. To his thinking 

 it was rather the lumberman's tree, for, though 

 it did not grow so big as some of the rest, the 

 wood was so tough and springy it was fit for 

 many special uses. His mother had, he knew, 

 insisted upon having ashen floors all through 

 the new wing to match the rest of the house. 

 In summer the floors were all bare and the ash 

 showed a clean beautiful grain after the weekly 

 scrubbing. Then it split so straight and freely 

 it was fine for plantation carpentry- making 

 a hoe-handle, or replacing one accidentally 

 broken upon a plough. Still he did not like 

 the tree, as he did some of the rest. It might 

 be only fancy or coincidence, but he was cer- 



