were camping in the snow, and feel- 

 ing no doubt that the end was near, he 

 wished to send his beloved nieces a 

 message and to bequeath to them the 

 wealth which he had acquired. Search 

 was made for paper but none was to be 

 found, so by the light of a taper, prob- 

 ably made from the portion of the bark 

 of a birch tree, he wrote his will on a 

 piece of birch bark. Then Death seized 

 him for his own, and he was buried in 

 the snow." 



''How sad it is," said Mabel, as she 

 watched the scene beneath her. Far off 

 she could see men at work in the hay 

 fields, and mellowed by distance the 

 whirr of the mower was b'orne to her 

 ears. Brilliant hued butterflies were 

 flitting about like animated blossoms, 

 and the joyous notes of an oriole 

 sounded near. She looked about for 

 him, and espied his gorgeous form 

 swinging on a drooping limb of a 

 maple, as he sang to his more sober 

 colored mate on the nest. A light wind 

 stirred the trees, but gaily he sang on 

 his airy perch ; the same breeze played 

 with the graceful, drooping twigs above 

 her and the rustling of the thin and 

 dainty leaves took form : 



"The grand old oak grows slowly, it 

 takes its time and does its work well; 

 we. grow quickly, for our life is short. 

 Our wood is often converted into shoe 

 pegs and also into furniture which 

 passes for mahogany; but our bark is 

 lasting. We grow on windy hillsides 

 and on breezy tops, where often a 

 great storm blows one of our number 

 down. If allowed to lie, the heartwood 

 decays, but the bark remains intact, like 

 a huge pipe whole and sound. 



'Tn the peat bogs of Lancashire and 

 Cheshire, England, pieces of birch bark 

 have been dug up which must have 

 lain there for thousands of years. The 

 wood has long since become a portion 

 of the peat, but the white bark was 

 sound and tough and bright as ever. 



''Along the rocky shores of some of 

 your northern lakes, you would see 

 strange sights, and so would any one 

 who loved Nature and sought for her, 

 shall I say hidden, secrets? No; for 

 tliey arc plain enough to those who 

 look." 



"I understand your meaning. Birch 



Tree. Many take a glance and pass 

 on without a thought; others again, see 

 so much in a glance because they love 

 Nature and all her marvellous ways. 

 Some see trees and know that they 

 have life because they grow, others be- 

 lieve that they have feeling." 



"There you have it ! Which one of 

 your great writers said: 'A bird alight- 

 ing on a small branch sends a thrill 

 through the whole tree,' and again : 'I 

 believe that every little rose has its own 

 sorrows and joys'?" 



The tree was silent as though mus- 

 ing on the different phases of human 

 character. Mabel waited for a while 

 and then asked: 



"Have you forgotten what you were 

 going to tell me about the rocky shores 

 of those lakes?" 



"Oh, said the Birch Tree as it roused 

 from its reverie, "well, a birch seed 

 will perhaps be carried by the wind or 

 dropped by a bird in a fissure of a 

 rock. It sprouts, there is sufficient 

 moisture for the tesder roots and it 

 grows quickly; the roots become 

 stronger, and sometimes split the rock 

 open in their search for deep earth and 

 food. Or again, the slended roots wan- 

 der over the surface of the rock unti» 

 they reach the earth, and the tree grows 

 tall and straight to the height of sixty 

 feet or more, with the roots still encirc- 

 ling the rock." 



"There are indeed strange things in 

 Nature's world," said Mabel. 



"Yes, if one has but the seeing eye to 

 search them out ; you, for instance, have 

 enjoyed life more thoroughly since you 

 have carried about with you the 'ears 

 of imagination.' " 



"Indeed I have," said Mabel, and then 

 she fell into a train of thought. How 

 many wonderful things she had learned 

 of late! What new zest was imparted 

 to her life! Long and earnestly she 

 waited for the Birch Tree to speak but 

 although It rustled its dainty leaves and 

 the long tendrils swayed gracefully in 

 the wind, no sweet, low words like the 

 voice of the Tree reached her ears. 

 Still she remained, for the breezy hill- 

 side was a delight to her, and the 

 scene beneath her was a pleasant one 

 indeed. Evelyn Singer. 



101 



