OUR SENTIMENTAL GARDEN 



that funny noise : he-he-he-he." " One would say/' he 

 added with elaborate airiness, "that they make a mock 

 of one!" 



When informed that "Tremble" was the name thereof, 

 he became sunk in fresh unpleasant musings, and was 

 fain to look back, fascinated, over his shoulder, each 

 time the chuckling called after him. 

 The sound of the breeze, as it ruffles through the leaves 

 of "Populus tremula/' is like nothing else in the woods. 

 I have always retained my interest in the " Tremble " of 

 my young days/ and in the course of time it became 

 one of delight instead of terror. I would give a good 

 deal to have one of my own: one living not far from 

 my bedroom window. It would be good to hear it 

 laughing gently outside, when one first woke, and to know 

 that it was powdering itself, so to speak, under the 

 rays of the rising sun. But there are no Aspens in our 

 part of the world. And, as for planting a council of 

 these in the hope of silvery rustle and light effects, 

 why, it is perhaps somewhat too late in the day! But 

 I still seem to hear and see them with the ears and 

 eyes of that dawning spring of life in the St. Cloud days. 



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