228 ARBOR DAY 



lean and branchless from the pressure of neighbor- 

 ing trees; for trees, like men, cannot grow to the 

 real nature that is in them when crowded by too 

 much society. Both need to be touched on every 

 side by sun and air, and by nothing else, if they are 

 to be rounded out into full symmetry. Growing 

 right up by its side, and through its branches is a long, 

 wifely elm beauty and grace imbosomed by 

 strength. Their leaves come and go together, and 

 all the summer long they mingle their rustling har- 

 monies. Their roots pasture in the same soil, 

 nor could either of them be hewn down without 

 tearing away the branches and marring the beauty 

 of the other. And a tree, when thoroughly dis- 

 branched, may, by time and care, regain its health 

 again, but never its beauty. ^ 



Under this oak I love to sit and hear all the things 

 which its leaves have to tell. No printed leaves 

 have more treasures of history or of literature to 

 those who know how to listen. But, if clouds kindly 

 shield us from the sun, we love as well to crouch down 

 on the grass some thirty yards off and, amidst the 

 fragrant smell of crushed herbs, to watch the fancies 

 of the trees and clouds. The roguish winds will 

 never be done teasing the leaves, that run away and 

 come back, with nimble playfulness. Now and then 

 a stronger puff dashes up the leaves, showing the 

 downy under-surfaces that flash white all along the 

 up-blown and tremulous forest edge. Now the wind 



