THE TREE FOLK 7 



its ancestors, maintained through countless generations. 



Compared with our common trees, we men are recent 

 and pygmy and as temporary as the morning dew. 



From my window as I write I can look out upon an 

 old Red Cedar who has stood on what I am pleased to 

 call my hill, for some four hundred years. He was there 

 before the Pilgrims landed. His aerials reported to him 

 the din of the French and Indian wars, of the Revolu- 

 tion, of the War of 1812, of the Mexican War, of the 

 Civil War, of the Spanish War, of the World War. They 

 are tuned now to catch the thrilling news of universal 

 peace. Fie is as vigorous as Mars, as handsome as Apollo, 

 and as dignified as Jove himself. As I look at his maj- 

 esty, I feel like lifting my hat, as my friend Wesley 

 Cushman once removed his in the presence of a pedi- 

 greed Jersey cow. "Why did you do that?" I asked. 

 *' Because," said he, with a hint of tears in his voice, 

 " because she is so much better cow than I am a man." 



GOOD FORM is one of the traditions. The trees 

 have their ancient standards of shape, the ideal 

 proportions every member of the family should aspire 

 to achieve. 



You know of course that some human families tend 

 to plumpness in the individual. Willie, for example, may 

 rise early, do his daily dozen, take cold baths, avoid 

 starchy foods, and work from sun to sun, but his Weight- 



