334 ARBOR DAY 



Fifth Pupil. 



And the Beech, how cheerful its snow-spotted trunk 

 looks in the deep woods! The pattering of the 

 beechnut upon the dead leaves, in the hazy days of 

 our Indian summer, makes a music like the dripping 

 of a rill, in the mournful forest. 



Sixth Pupil. 



The Birch is a great favorite of mine. How like 

 a shaft of ivory it gleams in the daylight woods! 

 How the flame of moonlight kindles it into columned 

 pearl! 



Seventh Pupil. 



Now the Oak, what a tree it is! First a tiny 

 needle rising grandly toward the sun, a wreath of 

 green to endure for ages. The child gathers the 

 violet at its foot; as a boy he pockets its acorns; as 

 a man he looks at its heights towering up and makes 

 it the emblem of his ambition. 



Eighth Pupil. 



We now come to the Pine, of all my greatest 

 favorite. The oak may be king of the lowlands, 

 but the pine is king of the hills. There he lifts his 

 haughty front like the warrior he is, and when he is 

 roused to meet the onslaught of the storm, the battle- 

 cry he sends down the wind is heard above all the 

 voices of the greenwood. 



