A SUMMER AT HOME. 191 



poses, tlie main one to take a model ramble on this, the 

 1st of June. 



Bagging our game, we botanized, after a fashion, as 

 we neared the "great elm " — that one possession of my 

 neighbor that I yearly covet. 



To attempt a detailed description of the tree would 

 be madness. A photograph would tell you its shape, a 

 cunning artist give you an idea of its summer glory, 

 but it can only be said that it, like other trees, is made 

 up of a trunk and branches — but such branches! It 

 is a tree that invites you. Whether there be a breeze 

 or not, its long, outstretched boughs ever nod a wel- 

 come as you near them. Not only this ; they lift you 

 up tenderly, if you wish, and hold you as carefully and 

 comfortably as a mother holds her child. It was there 

 that we sat that long summer morning, discoursing of 

 birds and flowers. Surely this was a fair beginning of 

 the anticipated joys of a summer. 



Later in the day we took yet another stroll, and made 

 our goal a sturdy beech. Unlike the elm, it depended 

 upon the surroundings for its attractions, being, of it- 

 self, quite like beeches everywhere; yet, had it a tongue, 

 what pleasant stories of the past it could relate — stories 

 of naturalists that have paused to drink of the clear wa- 

 ters rippling at its roots, and often carving an initial or 

 a date while they tarried. We could decipher but one 

 name positively, and this was carved sixty-five years ago 

 — that of Conrad the paleontologist. Here, in the cool 

 brook, he often placed watermelons, fresh from the 

 dusty field near by, that they might be chilled to the 

 very core ; and here he truthfully wrote of them : 



