28 Travels in a Tree-top 



and level that one could walk upon them, it is 

 not strange that earth, dead leaves, and water 

 should lodge in many places. Indeed, besides 

 the two gardens I have mentioned, the oak 

 had also an aquarium. But I cannot go 

 into particulars. The parasitic plant-life — 

 not truly such, like the mistletoe — was a 

 striking feature. Maple seeds had lodged and 

 sprouted, and in a saucer-shaped depression 

 where dust and water had lodged a starved 

 hawkweed had got so far towards maturity 

 as to be in bud. 



It may appear as utter foolishness to others, 

 but I believe that trees might in time become 

 tiresome. Whether in leaf or bare of foli- 

 age, there is a fixedness that palls at last. 

 We are given to looking from the tree to 

 the world beyond ; to hurrying from beneath 

 their branches to the open country. To live 

 in a dense forest is akin to living in a great 

 city. There is a sense of confinement against 

 which, sooner or later, we are sure to rebel. 

 We long for change. The man who is per- 

 feftly satisfied has no knowledge of what satis- 

 faftion really is. Logical or not, I turned 



