WILDWOOD WAYS 



woodsmen in a big-footed dance. A 

 chestnut tree standing by itself on a plain 

 is as stately and dignified as a village 

 patriarch. Grouped together in level, 

 rich woodland, chestnuts are prim and 

 almost lady-like. Why these particular 

 trees in the little glen at the east side of 

 Blue Hill summit should skip about in 

 clumsy riot is more than I can tell, but 

 they certainly seem to do it, and I am not 

 the only one who has seen it and been 

 shocked by it. 



Right near by is a company of school- 

 girl beeches, very straight and slim and 

 fair-skinned and pale. These have drawn 

 together in a shivering group and show 

 every symptom of feminine dignity, very 

 young and quite outraged. They whisper 

 and draw themselves up to the full tenuity 

 of their height and you can hear the dry 

 snip of indignation in their voices long 



