BAH i I MY TRI I 379 



one. Strang* as it may seem, I did not i 

 long with my new Wend. Instead I gathered mj • her and 



made my way hark to the house NVvcr again V !»c quite 



the same boy that I had hern. What had happened to me I 

 course did not then know; hut I now know that a spiritual 

 regeneration had taken place in my soul. I would not have ipokexi 

 of my experience to my cousins, had I been able B [Wl not -to 

 put it into words. Even childhood has its seerets which it hides 

 from all its companions. But I did spend my days — and I would 

 have spent my nights, had I been allowed to do so, — with mv new 

 friend. Early in the morning I was beside it; reluctantly I left it 

 when I was called from the farmhouse to my dinner and my su] >i 

 Sometimes in the long light evenings of late June and July and 

 early August, I would slip away and spend a little time with the 

 tree. It seemed to bid me a goodnight when I was called from the 

 house, and I left it with the less reluctance, for the window of my 

 room looked out towards it and I could see it from my bed. Some 

 times the moon was very bright and all the stars were out. Then 

 my tree was wide awake too, and seemed now and then to nod and 

 beckon to me from its place there by the road. 



I cannot say that I learned so very much about my tree. I 

 knew that my cousins spoke of it as the old elm tree, but so far as I 

 was concerned with names, it might just as well have been called by 

 any other. To them it was an elm tree and nothing but an elm 

 tree. To me, it was my friend, my only friend. Never could I 

 have brought myself to talk about it to them. Too well I knew the 

 shouts of laughter with which any attempt to tell my feelings would 

 have been greeted. Experience had taught me wisdom and I held 

 my tongue. No doubt this very reticence on my part was what 

 made the tree so dear a friend. We had a secret ; and as I trusted 

 the tree, so must I prove myself worthy of the trust which I never 

 doubted it reposed in me. 



I have learned many things about elm trees as the years have 

 passed by. No doubt my friendship for the tree in the hollow has 

 stimulated interest in all its brothers and cousins. I know that 

 varieties of the elm are found in all parts of the globe — at least upon 

 all the continents; I know that it flowers before the leaves appear; 

 I know that its wood is put to widely different uses; I know that 

 the inner bark of some varieties is used in making roj)e, that parts 

 of other varieties are supposed to have medicinal value, and that 



