But for me there is deeper reason for the 

 THE GARDEN . c , , 



trees in my garden. Sentiment demands them. 



What so human as an old tree around which 

 family traditions have clustered for genera- 

 tions! What in nature so spiritual as the ether- 

 ialized trees on a winter evening when twi- 

 light settles down chill and still, or the length- 

 ening shadows of a day in summer as it grows 

 toward the night! Then too the garden has 

 its voices, not only of suggestion, but actual 

 audible voices, most of which would be lost to 

 us were the trees not there. The birds, where 

 would they nest but for their homes in the 

 trees ? 



How we would miss the call of the robin 

 from the tree-tops, or the pretty plaintive notes 

 of the blue bird! Poor indeed is the garden in 

 which birds find no homes. And the wind, that 

 "oldest of master musicians," how we would 

 miss his hymnings among the dark leafage! 

 What would the garden be without the green 

 of grass and the sheltering trees with the sha- 

 dows as they come and shift and steal away? 



[44] 



