colors prevail. I always have red and 

 gold tints; over yonder is one in green 

 and gold, still another whose green 

 leaves are mixed with red and gold. 

 The tree beneath which you are sitting 

 always dons red. It is a Red Maple, 

 and well it deserves the title, for its 

 blossoms flush red in the April sun- 

 shine; the warm kisses of the sun ripen 

 the keys to a glowing scarlet ; its young 

 leaves come out red and the full grown 

 green leaves swing on scarlet stems ; its 

 young shoots are the same deep color 

 and in the autumn it is always as you 

 see it now, a brilliant, glowing crown 

 of flames. How the Red Maples bright- 

 en up the landscape when seen beside 

 the somber pines. 



**I believe there is quite a controversy 

 as to the cause of our leaves changing 

 color. One claims that all our brilliant, 

 autumnal beauty is due to the Frost 

 King who touches us with a gentle or a 

 ruthless hand, as the case may be ; 

 another claims that when the leaves 

 become old, they lose their power to 

 separate the gases perfectly, and so' take 

 in some of your oxygen — of course, you 

 know that all plant life lives on what 

 the human lungs expel, carbonic acid 

 gas — which gives them brown and red 

 and yellow tints. Still another author- 

 ity contends that our beauty is due to 

 the character of the preceding summer, 

 claiming that if the summer has been 

 rainy, keeping our leaves full of sap and 

 our cuticle thin and distended, the 

 autumn tints are brilliant and we are a 

 marvel of beauty in our glorious loveli- 

 ness ; but if the summer has been dry 

 our tints will be dull and somber." 



"Well," said Mabel, ''I rather fancy 

 the latter theory is the true one, for we 

 have had but little frost; the summer 

 was a wet one and I am sure I never 

 saw the woods as beautiful as they are 

 now." 



''There may be another and a deeper 

 reason for your thinking thus. You 

 have never carried the 'ears of imagi- 

 nation' with you before this season; 

 therefore never wandered about in the 

 new world which lies on all sides and 

 through which you roam at will. You 

 look at trees as you never did before, 

 the wind in their branches is but the 



voice of the tree ; the birds sing and you 

 interpret their notes ; the brook flows 

 past, and you listen to its murmuring 

 and know that it is singing in the glad- 

 ness of its existence." 



"Tell me. Tree," said Mabel, as she 

 looked upward and saw some deserted 

 robins' nests in the branches, "why do 

 you not shake down those unsightly 

 nests which I see in your branches?" 



"I would not do that, in fact I try to 

 keep them, for then next summer the 

 birds will see that I am a good site for 

 summer residences and perhaps build in 

 my -branches again. It gives us pleas- 

 ure to have the b'irds about us, flitting 

 through our branches and rearing their 

 young, for the birds are our friends. 

 They destroy the myriads of insects 

 which prey upon us and rob us of our 

 vitality. If the birds are allowed to be 

 ruthlessly destroyed the insects increase 

 in enormous numbers. It cost the state 

 of Massachusetts in one year over one 

 hundred thousand dollars because it 

 did not protect its birds. 



"A great Frenchman once said that 

 if it were not for the birds, human 

 beings would perish from the face of 

 the earth. 



"Perhaps," continued the Maple, 

 musingly, "we have a deeper feeling for 

 the birds than any other trees. Did you 

 know that we have certain markings in 

 our wood which resemble a bird's eye, 

 and therefore is called "Bird's eye Ma- 

 ple ?" This wood is very valuable owing to 

 the beautiful markings ; then there is the 

 Curly Maple, also very valuable. Now 

 these markings appear in all members 

 of our family, but there is no outward 

 indication by which it can be told, and 

 only experienced woodmen can detect 

 them in the living tree ; this they do by 

 some peculiarity of the bark." 



The Maple ceased, and although its 

 graceful branches swayed in the rising 

 wind, and although Mabel listened long 

 and earnestly she could hear nothing 

 but the wind, which seemed to touch 

 her with a chill hand, so, rising, she 

 said : "Good night, dear Tree, how 

 much I would like to attend this grand 

 ball ! But as I am not invited to remain, 

 I had better go home." 



FvELYN Singer. 



210 



