The Rambles of an Idler 



ante-dates all else, save the Indian trail hard by, 

 now the very type of a village street. 



Does this old oak wool-gather? 



Here, amid rolling fields stands an old oak, 

 the sole, remaining witness of a half millennium 

 of change ; perhaps of a longer time. Happily, 

 it is immediately surrounded by the meeting- 

 house yard and that this should be encroached 

 upon is unthinkable. What a grand thing if 

 more old trees were equally safe. To rever- 

 ence an old oak is ennobling. Every man is the 

 better for it. This great tree stands for very 

 much so far as every contemplative rambler is 

 concerned and doubtless for much more for it- 

 self. We say frequently of a relic: If it could 

 but speak! Herein this aged oak differs from 

 an old house or old furniture ; it can speak. It 

 is not a poet's whim that there are tongues in 

 trees. This oak is Nature's spokesman, too, 

 and her only historian. 



Standing now by the massive trunk of this 

 great Crosswicks oak^ I wonder what secrets 

 are hidden in its heart. This is not so idle 

 as crying for the moon. Trees are not as 

 sphinx-like as the Sphinx. The passing breeze 



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