TREES AT LEISURE 



in such a graphic manner that 

 the wayfarer, though a fool, 

 need not err therein. Such is 

 the elm that graces our meadows 

 and fields, where it marks the 

 sites of fences present and past. 

 At no other time of year is the 

 American elm more beautiful 

 than when it traces its flowing 

 lines against snow and gray 

 skies. Whether the tree be 

 young, slender, and svelte or 

 grown to full stature, whether 

 it be vase- or fountain-shaped, 

 there is in its dark twig-fringed 

 bole a grace shown in up- 

 ward expansion, which is con- 

 tinued in the uplift of spreading 

 branches and finds perfect ex- 

 pression in the final twigs that 

 droop as if in loving memory of 

 their summer burden of leaves, 

 in token of which the oriole's 



[17] 



