unknown to me, so I could make no response. All I could do 

 was to walk up to it, and lay my hand, with some feeling of 

 reverence, on its massive trunk, and sometimes detach a little 

 piece of lovely moss from its bark, put the dainty fragment 

 in my pocket-book — and then resume my ramble. 



One pleasant day during the first week of January, 19 17, 

 I started out to take one of my usual walks upon the island. 

 The "cut-off," as the modern new channel of the river is 

 called, is now clogged up, and water no longer flows through it, 

 unless in time of a freshet. So I crossed it dry-shod at the 

 place where the old Barnhart saw and grist mill stood about 

 fifty years ago, and proceeded in the direction of the big elm. 

 I casually glanced towards its locality while approaching it, 

 when, to my surprise, its towering dome was not perceivable! 

 What did that mean? Quickening my steps, the cause was 

 soon ascertained. Prone upon the ground, crushed, broken, 

 and mangled, lay the trunk and branches of the giant patriarch 

 of the forest! The fatal work had been done mainly with a 

 saw, and so evenly had the tree been balanced that it had been 

 necessary to sever it almost entirely from the stump before 

 it tottered and fell. The motive for this vandalism was next 

 my subject of investigation, and it was apparent on a slight 

 inspection. A medium-sized lateral limb contained a ' ' squirrel- 

 hole," leading into a cavity that the squirrels had doubtless 

 enlarged with their teeth and claws until it afforded space for 

 their home. Later, when it was unoccupied, a little swarm 

 of bees had come along and appropriated this hollow interior 

 for a woodland hive. Some prying eyes had discovered this, 

 so, when winter had come, and the bees were numb and dor- 

 mant from cold, the finders of the "bee-tree" had come with 

 saw and axe to garner their spoil. Their proceedings were all 

 plainly evident. A section of the branch containing the hive 

 had been cut off and split open, and then the pitiful little 

 hoard of the bees had been extracted and carried away. 

 Judging from the size of the cavity and all other indications, 

 there was probably not more than a gallon of clear honey in 

 the tree. And it was for such beggarly gain as this that the 

 life of the grand elm, which had extended through centuries 



5 



