GREEN TRAILS AND UPLAND PASTURES 



thing as the influence of line and contour on the human 

 mind, and no such thing as affection for the inanimate 

 which is nonsense." 



But one tree this pamphlet did not picture. It was a 

 great chestnut, full five feet through, storm-torn and 

 lightning-scarred, which stood high upon a windy sum- 

 mit, the shepherd of a hundred hills. They were little 

 hills, green and rolling, and from the first great limb of 

 the chestnut (which was as big as a barrel) they looked 

 like a patchwork quilt stitched with stone walls. Over 

 them the cattle browsed, or the reapers clicked their 

 midsummer locust song, or just the breeze passed 

 whispering. And four feet dangled from the great limb 

 of the chestnut, and four eyes looked out across the little 

 hills to a far pond and the misty horizon, and two 

 hearts sang a song as old as the hills themselves. When 

 the sun declined, the shadow of the great tree swept out 

 eastward; the cattle filed down to the bars and lowed, 

 the leader shaking her bell protestingly ; one pair of arms 

 must needs be raised to assist the more encumbered 

 climber down to the top of our ladder, which was a huge 

 piece of broken limb propped against the trunk, and 

 then again be raised from the ground to swing a burden, 

 all too light, to earth. Then there must follow a little 

 ceremony the cutting of a tiny notch in a deep and 

 secret recess of the bark to signify one more day of hap- 

 piness spent in that protecting shelter, and sometimes 

 a warm pink cheek was laid against the furrowed 



