ing, cool and dark in summer, and in 

 the fall it is delightful to search for 

 nuts and hear the leaves rustling be- 

 neath one's feet. Tell me, Tree, if you 

 can, why the nuts are sometimes called 

 *beech-mast' ?" 



"That is a name commonly used in 

 some parts of England. Yes, I know 

 there is a wood there; we often form 

 entire woods, crowding the other trees 

 out. We are a tree that succors, and 

 we are very fond of our own brothers 

 and sisters ; then, too, our shade is so 

 dense that other trees do not flourish 

 near us ; again, we are a hardy tree, and 

 grow anywhere, from the lowlands bor- 

 dering the waterways and Covered with 

 water every spring, to the steep moun- 

 tain slopes. Squirrels love us because of 

 the secluded spots we furnish them for 

 nests, as well as for the abundant sup- 

 ply of food; but birds rarely, if ever, 

 build in our branches, no doubt because 

 of our thick shade — nor do insects 

 bother us. Look at those leaves," — he 

 shook himself, and some of last year's 

 leaves, sere and brown, fell near Mabel. 

 "You will notice what short stems they 

 have; that is why they bend and sway 

 with the branches : they have no inde- 

 pendent motion. Now this fact only 

 adds to our beauty when clothed in our 

 summer robes of dark green, for our 

 foliage lies in great shelving masses." 



*T think," said Mabel, who had been 

 intently examining the leaf, "that your 

 foliage in the fall cannot be tinged with 

 any shade of purple or scarlet." 



"Neither is it; we are a golden-yellow 

 mass, touched with russet, just as 

 though we had imprisoned in our foliage 

 all the beautiful life-giving rays of the 

 summer sun, and when the dark days 

 and chill winds of autumn come, allow 

 them to escape in a golden glory, and 

 as they flutter one by one to the ground, 

 leaving us with naked, upheld arms, the 

 symmetrical beauty of our branches and 

 twigs is more apparent. 



"Did you know," continued the Tree, 

 "that we furnished something more than 

 nuts, which is agreeable to the palate? 

 In fact, in some countries it is consid- 

 ered a dainty. Have you ever heard of 

 'trunics'?" 



"No," said Mabel, as she sat erect 

 and looked at the shapely young tree 

 with keen interest. "What are they?" 



"They are a fungus growth which 

 forms about the roots of trees and espe- . 

 cially about beech trees. They grow a 

 few inches beneath the ground, never 

 thrusting their dainty heads from out 

 the mould which surrounds them on 

 every side, never seeing the beautiful 

 sunlight, the delicate wildflowers and 

 green grass so near them. In England 

 and Italy they are highly prized for 

 their delicacy of flavor, which is some- 

 what akin to the mushroom." 



"If they grow beneath the soil like 

 that, how are they to be obtained?" 



"That is a very curious and interest- 

 ing bit of information. In England 

 dogs and pigs are trained to hunt them, 

 which is an easy matter, because of 

 their strong smell, but some person 

 must be near, or they will devour the 

 dainty tit-bit as soon as it is unearthed. 

 The Italians have trained their dogs 

 more successfully, for they can be sent 

 out alone and will bring the delicate 

 morsel to the one who sent them." 



The Tree ceased speaking, and Mabel 

 sat watching the swollen waters of the 

 creek, hurrying past to join the river. 

 Spring was here once more, glad, beau- 

 tiful spring, with its balmy airs, its 

 bursting buds and springing grass, its 

 feathered songsters and myriads of in- 

 sect life. She felt glad that the long, 

 cold winter was past, that the gladsome 

 outdoor life had come again, and she 

 looked forward to a summer of keen 

 enjoyment. A gentle breeze played 

 with the branches, and brought to her 

 ears these words: 



"St. Francis, that great and good man 

 who believed that trees had souls, loved 

 all the birds and beasts and trees. He 

 called the larks his sisters, and desired 

 the beasts to be well fed; the wolf, ac- 

 cording to legendary lore, put his paw 

 in his hand and promised to eat no more 

 sheep ; the birds were silent when he 

 preached ; a falcon awoke him at his 

 liour of prayer. He overcame all by his 

 love, his gentleness, and so, sweet maid, 

 can you." Evelyn Singer. 



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