202 



Canadian Forestry Journal, September, 1915. 



And the tree with all its branches 

 Rustled in the breeze of morning 

 Saying with a sigh of patience: 

 "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!" 



"Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!" 

 My canoe to make more steady. 

 Make more strong and firm beneath 



me. 

 Through the summit of the Cedar 

 Went a sound — a cry of horror, 

 But it whispered, bending downward, 



"Take my boughs, O Hiawatha." 



"Give me of your roots, O Tamarack! 

 Of your fibrous roots, O Larch Tree! 

 My canoe to bind together." 

 And the Larch with all its fibres. 

 Shivered in the air of morning, 

 Touched his forehead with his tassels, 

 Said, with one long sigh of sorrow, 



"Take them all, O Hiawatha." 



"Give me of your balm, O Fir Tree! 

 Of your balm and of your resin. 

 So to close the seams together. 

 That the water may not enter 

 And the river may not enter." 

 And the Fir Tree tall and sombre, 

 Answered wailing, answered weeping, 



"Take my balm, O Hiawatha." 



J 



Thus the birch canoe was builded 

 In the valley by the river 

 And the forest life was in it 

 "All its mystery and its magic. 

 All the lightness of the birch tree, 

 All the toughness of the Cedar, 

 All the Larch's supple sinews; 

 And it floated on the river 

 Like a yellow leaf in autumn 

 Like a yellow water lilly. 



The Deacon's One Horse Shay. 



A very clever observer, Dr. Oliver 

 Wendell Holmes, has put into a 

 humorous poem called "The Dea- 

 con's One Horse Shay" the result 

 of the work of a wise old deacon 

 who was determined to build a 

 chaise of materials so carefully 

 selected that no one part would give 

 out before the other. Dr. Holmes 

 writes of the building: 



"So the Deacon enquired of the village 

 folk 

 Where he could find the strongest oak 

 That couldn't be split nor bent nor 

 broke, — 



That was for spokes and floors and 



sills; 

 He sent for lancewood to make the 



thills; 

 The crossbars were ash from the 



straightest trees; 

 The panels of whitewood that cuts like 



cheese. 

 But lasts like iron for things like these; 

 The hubs of the logs of the "Settler's 



ellum," — 

 Last of the timber — they couldn't sell 



'em. 

 Never an axe had seen their chips, 

 And the wedges flew from between 



their lips, 

 Their blunt ends frizzled like celery 



tips." 



After explaining the good quali- 

 ties of the iron, steel, leather and 

 other materials which went into the 

 carriage he tells how it lasted one 

 hundred years' and then says : 



"Little of all we value here 

 Wakes on the morn of its hundredth 



year 

 Without both feeling and looking queer. 

 In fact there's nothing that keeps its 



youth. 

 So far as I know, but a tree and truth." 



Thus the deacon's experiment was 

 a great success and while we must 

 leave you to find out by reading the 

 poem how the end of the chaise 

 came in one grand smash when 

 everything went into powder at 

 once, yet we would advise you to go 

 over the woods he mentions. See if 

 you can name the trees on the 

 streets or in the woods and if you 

 can identify the wood in the wagon- 

 maker's shop the next time you have 

 a chance to visit one. 



No loyal citizen of Northern Ontario 

 will contend that forest fires perform 

 the slightest good senace for any part 

 of the community. The prospector, 

 who deliberately sets fire to a forest 

 so as to uncover the rocks, is actually 

 forfeiting for himself and his comm- 

 unity the biggest gold mine which the 

 country possesses. He is threatening 

 the employment of hundreds of men, 

 who in a few years, will look to that 

 particular belt of timber to provide 

 them with jobs.- (Smith's Falls News) 



