Trees, Shrubs and Vines 
of animal life have we the semblance of fraternal feeling, 
none other commands such an instinctive respect. Some 
ancient oak or elm, standing near the old home, with 
observant silence has entered into the joys and sorrows 
of a century of human lives; it seems consciously in the 
confidence of the whole family, charged with sacred 
secrets it will sacredly keep, and we begin to love that 
tree as if it were our own kin. Does not many a reader 
find some such old tree a central figure in the memory 
of his childhood home? A reminiscent mind can scarcely 
pass by such a majestic figure without suspecting that its 
broad, swaying boughs are whispering of by-gone days. 
If there be any conscious being in the world of vegeta- 
tion, we surely find it here, spreading its cool, kindly 
shade over children and children’s children, and stamped 
with the dignity of a long and useful life. 
The impression of age belongs only to objects of 
growth. ‘That huge bowlder perchance lying near our 
venerable friend, and a thousand times older—who ever 
gives it reverence? Spectator of all the tree has seen, 
it yet has no link with human life—a changeless, unre- 
sponsive granite rock. Is it not the frailty of mortality, 
the mystery of ‘‘a future all unknown,’’ that overcasts 
the landscape with its finest tinge of sentiment, and 
gives almost a touch of sanctity to every evening twi- 
light hour? Human nature is so taken with itself, that 
one of its most pleasing occupations is to feel the kin- 
ship of earth’s lower types, and it never tires of find- 
ing itself mirrored there. 
46 
