A Tale from the Skidway 41 



the dew; glad for the rich mold in which I 

 stood, and for the blue sky above me. 



" I could never tell you all my thoughts 

 as I stood there, while spring and summer, 

 autumn and winter, went by. Sometimes 

 when the sun warmed my needles, a rich aro- 

 matic odor, full of sweet memories, the mem- 

 ories and longings of a pine, would float out 

 on the merry breeze. 



" I saw the beech and the maple put forth 

 their first tiny buds and open their myriad 

 leaves in the springtime, and I saw them 

 stripped of all their glory in the autumn to 

 make a carpet for the forest. They were 

 changeable, sometimes gay and glorious in 

 green or scarlet robes, but I was always the 

 same. I never changed my deep blue green 

 mantle, and to the nature lover I was always 

 the dark, restful pine, perhaps sad, but I 

 merely reflected the life about me, or maybe 

 my melancholy was tinged by that of the 

 wind, which was always moaning and sighing 

 in my needles. 



" Who shall guess my thoughts on lonely 



