A LEGEND OF THE FIR SS 



Nothing daunted, the Fir prayed again : " Sweet 

 Spirit of the Woods, grant that my leaves may be 

 of glass, and then shall I be content." Scarcely 

 were the words uttered, than the tree glittered 

 and sparkled with its new burden, only to discover 

 that it was at the mercy of the stormy winds, 

 which cracked and scattered its brittle finery. 



" Hear me yet this once," pleaded the Fir, " and 

 make my leaves of gold." Once again the desired 

 transformation took place; but what woodsman 

 could resist taking toll from a tree whose leaves 

 were so rare and precious ? 



Then, indeed, did the Fir learn its lesson, and 

 never again was it heard to complain of its strange 

 but useful leaves, for it realised that a wiser 

 mind than its own had ordained that these things 

 should be. 



In the deep pools by the river you may see a 

 somewhat dark, green-coloured fish, prominently 

 banded on the back and sides, with a prickly fin 

 on the back which penetrates the skin sharper 

 than a needle, and rich red fins below. It is fond 

 of travelling about in shoals, is a very voracious 

 feeder, and affords fine sport to the angler who 

 loves to go a-fishing. This, then, is the Perch. 

 Several years ago now I used to be an ardent 

 fisherman, but I want to let you into a little 

 secret, if you promise to keep it to yourselves! I 

 now prefer watching the fish rather than catching 



