i8o ARBOR DAY 



of tinting leaf and fern, for so soon as they commence 

 the green hues begin to disappear. There are 

 swathes of fern yonder, cut down like grass or corn, 

 the harvest of the forest. It will be used for litter 

 and for thatching sheds. The yellow stalks - 

 the stubble will turn brown and wither through 

 the winter, till the strong spring shoot comes up and 

 the anemones flower. Though the sunbeams reach 

 the ground here, half the green glade is in shadow, 

 and for one step that you walk in sunlight ten are 

 in shade. Thus, partly concealed in full day, the 

 forest always contains a mystery. The idea that 

 there may be something in the dim arches held up by 

 the round columns of the beeches lures the foot- 

 steps onward. Something must have been lately 

 in the circle under the oak where the fern and 

 bushes remain at a distance and wall in a lawn of 

 green. There is nothing on the grass but the upheld 

 leaves that have dropped, no mark of any creature, 

 but this is not decisive; if there are no physical signs, 

 there is a feeling that the shadow is not vacant. In 

 the thickets, perhaps the shadowy thickets with 

 front of thorn it has taken refuge and eluded us. 

 Still onward the shadows lead us in vain but pleas- 

 ant chase. 



The oaks keep a circle round their base and stand 

 at a majestic distance from each other, so that 

 the wind and the sunshine enter, and their precincts 



