THE BEECH WOODS 



ings, no single tree is destitute of some 

 individual touch. Here we see ^ giant 

 rearing its head far above its fellows, 

 straight and clean of limb, stroked with 

 a mammoth brush nearly to its top. 

 Now we meet a sturdy cousin, strong 

 of build, wide of girth, with limbs far 

 spreading, low to the ground. Again 

 we see the graceful rounded form of 

 one painted in a dozen tints of delicate 

 colour, with here a touch of blue and 

 there a touch of purple, now a shade of 

 green and even a suggestion of unob- 

 trusive yellow, all rare and pleasing. 

 Mosses and lichen cling to the older 

 trees, often supplying the distinctive 

 touch that beautifies some otherwise 

 plain guardian of the wood. Out in 

 the soft loam the beech trees sink their 

 roots like giant fingers clutching the 

 earth. The elemental forces may wreck 

 their tops, but seldom does it loose that 

 splendid grip. 



The Neighbour came to the woods one 

 May day when all nature was busy per- 

 forming her wonders. A chipmunk 

 who had his home under the stump by 

 the gap waited in silence until he came 

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