OUR BROTHERS, THE TREES 



cut and color of their leaves, and their beau- 

 tiful tracery against the dome of blue; their 

 soothing carpet of shade on the grass, or the 

 swaying shadow on a curtain, made by a 

 leafy branch at the will of the wind all 

 these and scores of other charms fugitive and 

 perennial spell the infinite variety by which 

 a tree holds us in thrall. 



But most of all, the tree-lover delights in 

 the empire of wildness which it is the prov- 

 ince of the kings of the forest to maintain 

 against all the heedless encroachments of 

 civilization. How invaluable this wildness 

 is to the world is little understood by the 

 Philistine, who, if he could, would barber 

 all the forests of their captivating individu- 

 ality, and leave dear old nature never so 

 much as a fairy ring where she might let 

 down her hair, and go barefooted. 



In a city we may tolerate a park ready for 

 callers, with all its trees shampooed and in 

 full coiffure, and its grass looking as if the 

 last finishing touch had been given with a 

 fine-toothed comb. But never a light-footed 

 fairy or sylvan god shall we find in such a 



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