I02 



OLD PLYMOUTH TRAILS 



radiate a feeling of parental protection. Man 

 often voices this, and in ancient times there 

 were ceremonies which recognized the tree as 

 a kindly deity to whom reverence was done and 

 thanks given. To "wassail" the trees was more 

 than a jovial excuse for cider and song, it had 

 roots in a deeper feeling of reverence and grati- 

 tude. But those humbler than men have the 

 same feeling. In the pastures I often find the 

 apple trees literally brooding seedling cedars 

 which seem to flock beneath the outstretched and 

 low-hanging boughs as chickens huddle beneath 

 the mother hen for protection and warmth. 

 Where tender nurslings of this sort are scattered 

 wide in other portions of the pastures to find 

 them grouped here by the score means that some 

 selective thought has brought it all about. I can- 

 not, of course, say that the seedlings consciously 

 choose. Nevertheless, somehow, that spirit of 

 protecting love of which I am, myself, definitely 

 conscious when I come near an apple tree has 

 somehow drawn beneath it these plants of other 

 fibre that need its shelter. 



To more sentient beings we may accord a 

 more conscious purpose, and that the wild apple 

 tree is more beloved of bird and beast than any 



