THE EARTH'S BOUNTY 



very grand, until the dad proposed saying 

 good-night to me in a strange room. Then 

 dignity evaporated, and a very nervous, small 

 child begged for a story. 



The dear dad was never very good at fairy 

 tales, and usually responded to such requests 

 with simplified scraps of history or mythology. 

 That night, the storm, and the wood fire burn- 

 ing on the hearth, must have turned his 

 thoughts to German forest-lore, for he 

 related legend after legend, not realizing 

 that he was frightening me half to death, 

 and inculcating ideas that would last 

 into maturity. But so it was; and even now, 

 alone in the woods, when the trees sigh aloud, 

 or sitting before a log fire that hisses and 

 splutters, I invariably find myself wondering 

 what special kinds of spirits are clamoring for 

 pardon, or what incarcerated diabolicalness is 

 being consumed. 



But even without these foolishly supersti- 

 tious ideas, ancient sentinels such as these wal- 

 nuts would have claimed regard. They looked 



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